Читать книгу Christmas at Butterfly Cove - Sarah Bennett - Страница 7

Nee Thorpe stared at the brown oblong of modelling clay sitting on the workbench in exactly the same spot she’d dropped it two hours earlier. The tactile material had always been her favourite medium to work with, but these days the earthy scent of damp clay did little more than bring bile to the back of her throat. After a month staying with her sister, Mia, and her new husband, Daniel, she’d run out of excuses as to why she wasn’t working on anything. Daniel had recently opened a set of bespoke artist studios in the old barns adjacent to his wife’s guesthouse in the idyllic coastal village of Orcombe Sands – known to the local population by the far prettier nickname of Butterfly Cove. They were still taking regular bookings, even this late in the season, with sun-worshippers giving way to the hardier walkers who wanted to make the most of the outdoors before winter set in and kept them closer to home.

Perched on the edge of the cove, at the head of a private beach, Butterfly House had provided a welcome haven for Nee’s tattered spirits. It had also become the new hub of their family. Her middle sister, Kiki, had relocated to the village in the spring, finally escaping her disastrous marriage. With her two small children in tow, she’d not only made a new start, including running the latest family enterprise – a beautiful little teashop and gallery in what had recently been a scruffy-looking garage block – she’d also found a new love in the shape of Daniel’s best friend, Aaron Spenser. Nee swallowed. She should be thrilled Kiki had found happiness with someone who would finally treat her in the way she deserved, and in truth she was. She would just have preferred it if Aaron hadn’t been the elder brother of the man whose heart she’d broken, smashing her own to pieces in the process.

Desperate for a distraction, anything to avoid the lump threatening to choke her every time her eyes strayed to the formless block of clay on the worktable, Nee rinsed her still-clean hands at the sink then pulled the studio door shut behind her. Soft music drifted from the open door of the space next door, accompanied by a deep baritone hum which was enough for her to identify the occupant. Bryn was a broad-shouldered, softly spoken car mechanic who also produced the most delicate, ethereal watercolours she’d ever seen. He was staying for a week and appeared to be relishing the calm serenity of the cove. Not wishing to disturb him, or to be caught up in an awkward discussion of what she was working on, or wasn’t working on as the case may be, she tiptoed past his door then hurried down the corridor to escape onto the gravel driveway which separated the barns and the house.

A quick glance towards the teashop put paid to her hopes of drowning her sorrows in a cup of tea, and she checked her watch. If she was quick, she might still catch up with Mia and Kiki in the kitchen. Tuesday was turnaround day at the guest house, and in addition to running the teashop, Kiki helped out changing the beds and cleaning the rooms.

Opening the back door, she paused to toe off her shoes and caught their familiar voices deep in discussion over arrangements for Aaron’s upcoming birthday. Circumstances had led to her middle sister and her two children sharing a nearby cottage with Daniel’s best friend. After a shaky start, the two had finally admitted to feelings that were obvious to everyone around them, and they were a picture of domestic bliss. The kids adored Aaron, and it sounded as though they wanted to throw him a surprise party.

‘It’s such a sweet idea, especially when you think they came up with it themselves. I just wish things weren’t so awkward, with … you know.’

Awkward. Nee stopped short at the word, her call of greeting frozen on her lips. Heart dropping with a knowing premonition, she waited anxiously for Mia’s response.

‘I know.’ Mia sounded sympathetic and resigned in equal measures. ‘But we can’t keep ignoring the situation.’

Kiki sighed. ‘You’re right, but I don’t want them thinking I’ve manufactured a situation to force them to face each other. But how can we possibly have a party for Aaron without Luke there?’

Nee sagged against the cool plaster wall, shivering from more than the cool air gusting through the open door behind her. The soft, familiar voices of her sisters continued their discussion, but she couldn’t make out the words over the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. Tightness filled her lungs and the walls of the cloakroom seemed to constrict around her. She had to get out. Had to get away. Reaching blindly for a jacket, she spun on her heel and fled across the grass. A bitter voice whispered in her ear. That’s right. Run away, just like you always do.

Nee huddled deeper into the padded jacket she’d borrowed from the row of pegs beside the back door at Butterfly House. The sleeves hung past the tips of her fingers, and the material smelled faintly of the kind of citrusy scent that spoke of aftershave rather than perfume. She hadn’t stopped long enough to examine her choice, just grabbed for the first one her hand reached as she flew out of the kitchen and into the beautiful, sprawling garden behind the guesthouse. Her headlong flight carried her down the flagstone path to the short flight of steps leading to the beach. Only once her shoes sank into the soft, pale sand did she slow her frantic pace.

The thick fleece collar blocked the worst of the wind howling in across the open water, and she narrowed her eyes against the sting of sand whipped up by its fury. The approaching storm transformed Butterfly Cove from a seaside idyll into a wild, desolate space. The normally gentle waters churned and roiled as though a monstrous beast twisted below the surface. Gone was the peaceful blue blanket she’d grown accustomed to over the summer, replaced by a murky, green-grey morass. Dark clouds scudded across the sky, and the first icy drops of rain hit her raw cheeks. It had to be rain because, after the past few weeks, Nee was sure there wasn’t a tear left inside her.

The rain fell harder – fat, cold drops that soon plastered her short blonde hair flat against her skull. Her face began to ache, a combination of the harsh bite of the wind and the desperate clench of her jaw. Everything was such a bloody mess, and she had no one to blame but herself. Luke had committed no sin, unless falling in love with her could be considered a sin. A bubble of hysteria formed a tight knot at the top of her chest. He would probably consider it more of a curse. And who would blame him when she’d done the unthinkable and left him alone in their marriage bed without a word.

Her decision to leave had made sense at the time. They’d acted impetuously; wouldn’t be the first couple to confuse a heady rush of lust with something deeper. Better to make a quick break, go out on a high before the humdrum reality of life crept in and shattered their perfect fantasy. The hurt would fade, leaving behind fond memories of a foolish summer of love. All perfectly sensible and rational conclusions, and every one a complete and utter lie. The moment she’d seen him staring at her across the platform, the one hope she’d clung to, that Luke had moved on without her, had been destroyed. She’d put her own ambition before his heart, and ruined both their lives in the process.

‘One cannot make true art without first suffering, my dear.’ The only voice she hated more than her own guilt intruded on her thoughts, and Nee raised her hands to her temples. She squeezed her fists into the sides of her head, as though applying the right amount of pressure could force him back into the skittering darkness of her deepest subconscious. It didn’t help. The moment she let her guard down, he was there.

Staring out across the tossing waves, Nee could almost sense him reaching out across the miles to drag her back across the ocean. ‘I won’t come back. You can’t have me!’ She shouted her defiance. The wind swooped to snatch her words away, stealing her strength with it. Dropping to her knees on the wet sand, she lowered her head and acknowledged the truth. Devin Rees had stolen the most important thing from her, leaving nothing but an empty shell behind.

Even if Luke could be persuaded to give her another chance, what could she offer him? She stared down at her shaking hands. Short nails edge with raw skin. Stubby fingers bereft of any traces of dark clay. An artist who couldn’t create – was there a more pathetic kind of creature? Putting pen to paper to help her niece make the place cards for Mia’s wedding had been an exercise in torture.

Staying in Butterfly Cove, watching week in and week out as her former peers descended on Daniel’s studios to paint, carve, sculpt and hammer beauty from nothing had become an exercise in self-flagellation. The thought of sitting in the sweet, cosy warmth of Kiki’s new teashop, gorging on slabs of cake which were masterpieces in their own right, as the visiting artists added new pieces to the planned gallery collection, might just break her.

There was nothing here for her. Mia and Kiki tried their best to help her, but she kept them at arm’s length. She didn’t want their sympathy, feared even more turning it into something harder, colder, if they discovered the reason she’d left Luke. They would continue to love her, of that much she was certain, but Kiki’s loyalties were already divided between her sister and the brother of the man she loved. The conversation she’d overheard earlier had made it crystal-clear. It hurt Nee to be the cause of any distress to her middle sister, who’d borne the brunt of so much already. But it hurt even more to watch her unfolding joy and contentment in the arms of the man who reminded Nee of everything she’d lost.

No. Not lost. Thrown away. Lying to herself had caused this ugly mess. There could be nothing but truth from now on. Nee would not become a millstone for her sisters to bear. They’d been happy before she’d shown up, would be happier once she left again, regardless of how much they would protest otherwise.

And, most important of all, she owed it to Luke.

She’d usurped his place here in Butterfly Cove and it was time to give it back. Never one to indulge a sulk for long, Nee gave herself a mental kick in the arse and forced her cramped body to stand. The lower half of her jeans were soaked, and her bones ached from the cold and rain soaking her skin. She folded down the collar of the coat, the once-cosy fleece now wet and clinging unpleasantly to her cheek. Shoving her frozen hands into the depths of her pockets, Nee trudged across the beach towards the beckoning warmth of the guest house.

A hot shower and a change of clothes did wonders for her outward appearance, though they couldn’t help much with the growing coldness inside her. Telling herself she needed to leave was one thing, but where the hell could she go? Not back to London, that was for damn certain. She’d find herself making excuses to hang around the places Luke liked to go, the way she had in the intervening weeks between her return from New York and her fateful decision to attend Mia’s wedding. Perhaps the answer lay in finding somewhere new …

Energised by the idea, she hurried down the remaining stairs and into the private sitting room Mia had created away from the guest spaces. The large wooden bookcase in the corner was stacked high with myriad different books, and she knew her brother-in-law had an old atlas somewhere around. She’d seen him poring over it with Kiki’s little boy, Matty, the other weekend. Bursting into the room, she pulled up short. A white-faced Kiki clung hard to Mia’s hand whilst their older sister frowned and nodded at something the person on the other end of the phone pressed to her ear was saying.

Kiki glanced up and Nee could see the tear tracks on her cheeks. ‘It’s Mum,’ she whispered.

A wave of relief washed over Nee, followed swiftly by a sharp stab of guilt. Of the three of them, her relationship with Vivian was the most fractured, having never known the kindness and care she’d been capable of before her alcoholism had dug its claws deep. The two women sitting opposite her had, to all intents and purposes, raised her. Given her more than enough love to buffer their mother’s neglect and their father’s indifference. She crossed the room to sit cross-legged on the carpet in front of them, placing a hand on Mia’s knee in silent support.

Kiki leaned towards her. ‘She’s taken a turn for the worse,’ she whispered.

‘What else did the doctor say, Dad?’ They both turned towards Mia, who was staring off into the distance, uttering soothing noises as she listened to George’s response. The curve of her shoulders increased, as though the words she heard had a physical weight to them. Nee patted her leg, wishing there was something she could do to help. Mia sat up straighter, spine going ramrod-straight. ‘Okay. I need to sort a few things out and then I’ll be up first thing.’

Nee closed her eyes. Mia to the rescue, just like always. She dug her fingers into the rich pile of the carpet beneath her. An image of the sitting room, all warm creams and soft browns with splashes of rich red, filled her mind’s eye. She thought about the other rooms, the stylish bedrooms, the cosy warmth of the kitchen, each one a testament to the beautiful home Mia had built from the ashes of her past. Love and laughter infused every corner of the guesthouse. Just a few short weeks since their beautiful wedding, Mia and Daniel should be on their honeymoon, but they’d postponed it to throw all their energies into the guesthouse and studios. They had enough on their plates as it was without facing the prospect of spending time apart so soon.

Decision made, she opened her eyes. ‘I’ll go.’