‘It’s lovely to see you too.’ She had hold of both of Nina’s hands now, looking into her eyes. ‘You look well.’
‘Is that Camille?’ came Grandad’s voice.
Camille bustled inside and Nina closed the door after her. Although she’d seen Camille a handful of times when she’d come back to see her grandad, she still didn’t have much of an idea what to say to a member of Leo’s family because the cloud of her leaving Leo hung over her on a permanent basis. But Camille didn’t seem ruffled by her reappearance in the bay this time, or indeed the previoustimes, and in fact seemed to be carrying on as usual chatting away to Walt, which was nice. Her grandad had a good friend in Camille. He might have lost his wife but he had company and the thought warmed Nina right through that Camille had stuck around rather than drifted away as she so easily could have done when things didn’t work out between her grandson and Nina.
As Walt and Camille continued to talk at a speed Nina couldn’t quite keep up with – they were talking about someone’s rabbit that had gone missing but was found this morning, alive and well – Nina put the kettle on, and from the assortment tub of biscuits she’d brought for her grandad, she laid out a selection onto a plate.
‘Do you still live nearby?’ Nina asked Camille as the kettle reached its crescendo and she positioned mugs and dropped in teabags. It occurred to her that every time they’d seen one another she’d never really asked Camille many personal questions. She’d felt it too prying when she wasn’t a part of their family any more. Of course she never had been officially, but she’d been with Leo for so long she’d honestly felt a part of it and when she left him she’d had to walk away from the rest of them too.
‘I’m around the corner in a little bungalow now I’m all on my own. No sense having that big house when there’s only me.’
‘You must miss Malcolm.’ She’d sent a card when she heard from Walt that Leo’s grandad had passed away. She’d donated to their nominated charity too, but apart from signing her name on any correspondence she hadn’t given any extraneous details. All she’d wanted to do was let them know she thought of them despite her absence.
‘Thank you, dear. It’s been six years now, but the pain of loss never goes away completely. It lessens a little and for that I am grateful.’ Camille shared a look of understanding with Walt that told of the dedication and depth of love they’d both felt for the people who’d been taken from them.
Nina remembered something special about Camille. ‘How’s the fudge-making going?’
Walt laughed. ‘I’m surprised I’ve got any teeth left the amount I eat. She’s forever bringing over new flavours for me to try. Some better than others.’
Camille laughed along with him and looked to Nina. ‘Yours and Leo’s favourite was always—’
‘Salted caramel,’ Nina and Camille finished together.
‘Oh his mum used to have a fit that I gave you both so much,’ Camille chuckled. ‘She said you’d both have cavities before you were ten, false teeth by the time you were thirty.’
Nina pointed to a full set of teeth she’d had straightened in her mid-twenties. ‘Still all there and happy to report no fillings.’ In her mid-teens she’d resisted all attempts from an orthodontist to straighten her teeth and finally decided to go for it after university when she realised he’d been right all along. The braces had been off for some time now, but she still appreciated the difference they’d made.
‘I’ll make some fudge and bring it over to you,’ Camille decided, her matronly figure a testament to her love of the kitchen and the delicious food she created in there. ‘If you’re hanging around in the bay that is.’
‘I will be for a while yet.’ She wasn’t sure whether Camille was fishing for information or not. ‘I’ve the cabinto sort.’ But she didn’t miss the look between Camille and her grandad, a look that suggested they’d talked plenty about her and Leo and what might have been.
‘Talking of the cabin,’ Nina went on, gathering herself and leaving them where they sat. ‘I’d better get down there. There’s plenty more to clean before I can even think of getting out a paintbrush.’
And all she hoped was that she wouldn’t bump into Leo again for a while, never mind his girlfriend or son. It still felt odd that Walt hadn’t told her, but again she realised perhaps he’d done it to protect her, although a heads-up might have been nice.
Chapter Seven
Leo
Leo kept looking at the door to the boathouse as he stood at the counter, having just closed it to take payment for a surf leash, but Jonah still hadn’t come in after school the way he usually did. And the hour Jonah usually spent at the boathouse went slower than ever as Leo wondered whether the young boy would ever be allowed to come down here again.
Maeve had taken Jonah home yesterday as soon as Leo had walked them both inside to retrieve Jonah’s bag from beneath the counter and reopen the shop. Maeve had barely said another word to either of them and Leo had kept his mouth shut too. That night of the party on the boat was a part of the past they all shared – Leo, Maeve, Adrian, Nina, others too although they’d drifted on with their own lives, and they were forever bonded in a way none of them had either predicted or wanted.
Despite Maeve’s fury, or fear, or a combination of both emotions yesterday on the beach, Leo had hoped Jonah would show his face again today. In fact, Leo’s mood sank that little bit more every time the door opened and it wasn’t Jonah. He’d grown accustomed to the young boy’s company and chatter and help around the place. And soonce he’d turned off all the lights at the end of the day and locked up, instead of going home he decided he’d make his way to the little café at the end of the pier. He could do with a long walk anyway and hearing Maeve say yesterday that she was working late he thought he’d go and talk to her, not just about Jonah, but because she was back in town after all this time and with the drama on the beach it hadn’t really been the time for a normal catch-up.
The drizzle continued as he walked away from Stepping Stone Bay, down the hill into Salthaven town and turned left to head along the pier. The Victorian lamp posts elegantly lined the way and Leo passed the ice-creamery now closed for the evening, the shop that sold beach bits and bobs, and carried on all the way towards the end and the café that had sat here for as long as he could remember. Come winter this place would be a cosy escape, and even now, as summer faded away for another year, it was a place of solace for the locals. Save a paintwork touch-up and a new sign, as well as a few little alterations inside the café, not to mention a change of ownership, this place was a town favourite and felt the same as it always had.
What Leo hadn’t expected was to see Jonah sitting inside the café as he arrived. He’d assumed Jonah would be at home under the watchful gaze of a childminder or grandparent, but here he was sitting in the corner with school books opened out in front of him; but when his eyes lit up at Leo’s arrival Maeve intercepted any interaction between the pair.
‘What are you doing here?’ She was a pretty young woman with dark hair, eyebrows neatly shaped and anaturally olive complexion. The frown she had on her face now didn’t suit her at all.
‘I’ve come in for a coffee and a pastry after a hard day at work.’ He hunched his shoulders as though it were obvious. She hadn’t been back all that long, so she wasn’t to know he didn’t do this all the time. He did it occasionally but to be fair, he wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for their strained encounter yesterday.
‘I’m sorry.’ She closed her eyes briefly, a dirty plate in one hand, a glass with the dregs of a juice in the other after she’d cleared a table. ‘I’m being rude. Forgive me and please, sit wherever you like.’
He waved at Jonah but sat closer to the counter away from the boy until he knew what was what. And Maeve didn’t miss it.
She wiped down his table. ‘You can talk to Jonah, I don’t mind. He likes you.’
