‘Ah, I didn’t think.’
‘So, if it’s not too nosy, how’s it going?’ Rita took a sip of coffee.
Jude gave her a look. ‘Well, we are still at the talking-into-the-early-hours-of-the-morning stage. I’ve been walking around like the happiest of zombies all week.’
‘Aw, I love this for you both…’ She stuck out her bottom lip. ‘And I’d forgotten how amazing new love is.’
‘Well, I’m not sure if it’s love yet.’ Jude winked. ‘But there’s a healthy dose of lust going on.’
Rita felt sad for a moment, and Jude clocked the change in her expression. ‘You’ll find it again, Rita. You’re far too beautiful for someone not to fall for you… someone who won’t be able to bear being anywhere but by your side.’
‘You should write a book.’ Rita laughed.
‘Or next best thing, become a bookseller, eh?’ Jude pushed his glasses back up his nose and grinned. They both noticed Teo walking across the courtyard.
‘Go to your boy.’ Rita smiled.
‘To love again, I felt my heart consenting.’ Jude declareddramatically.
‘Who wrote that?’
‘I just made it up.’ Jude grinned, blowing her a theatrical kiss. As he headed for the front door, he was completely unaware of how deeply that quote had struck a chord with her, too.
THIRTY-THREE
The next day, the rain had stopped, making way for another beautiful summer morning. Rita quietly placed the last breakfast hamper against Michael’s yurt then crept across the top of the field to the Singing Tree. The morning was still. Not silent, however, with gulls wheeling overhead and the soft rushing of the tide far below.
Something about the other night on the beach had helped her to find her inner boho. Had made her dig out clothes that she had always felt she wanted to be wearing but hadn’t felt confident enough lately to do so. Wearing a loose, tiered maxi skirt in a rich rust-red, a soft cream vest showing just a flash of midriff and a floppy sunhat, she could easily have come straight from the Glastonbury Festival. Sitting on Archie’s bench with a sigh, her eyes drifted out to sea, and she let herself think of Jago. Of the way he’d looked at her yesterday. Of the kindness in his eyes, and the hurt and the danger of sorts.
Then, inevitably, she thought of Paul, and despite the sheer wildness on her part, how tender the whole encounter had been. She also realised that she hadn’t spoken to Sennen in a while, or Kelly for that matter. And then Thom, whose name landed like a stone in her gut. Her boy. Her beautiful, distant, furious boy. Herdear old dad had always said if she had a tantrum to think about ‘what the matter was really’.Because nine times out of ten it wasn’t what she had been kicking off about. ‘Thom, what is it?’ she said aloud as if the tree would have the answer for her.
A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. She brushed it away with the heel of her hand, half annoyed with herself. But it didn’t stop the ache. She leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sea breeze lift her hair and the faint rustle of the Singing Tree whisper above her. Somewhere in the wind, she could almost hear Archie’s voice, quiet, knowing, full of that dry old humour. Another tear fell. Just then, a white feather floated lazily through the air, dancing its way to the ground and landing at her feet, right by the entrance to the old cubby hole.
Heart skipping, she bent forward, slipped her hand inside, and, groping blindly, her fingers brushed against folded paper. With a small gasp, she pulled it free.
Another note. Neatly typed. Familiar.
Her hands trembled as she unfolded it.
When the time is right, you will start looking
‘Who are you? What do you want?’ she shouted, her voice cracking as she shoved the note into her pocket. Tears began to stream down her face. Whoever it was, she thought, they were trying to tell her something, something she needed to hear. Ithadto be Hilda. She was the only one who seemed to have been looking out for her lately, in her own Hilda way. But maybe it was time to stop wondering who and why and start listening to what the notes were saying instead. Because whoever was leaving them wasn’t just doing it for fun.
She was aware of someone approaching, soft footsteps on the earth. ‘Rita?’ Paul’s voice was low, gentle.
She startled, and turned to greet him, wiping hurriedly at her cheeks. ‘Hello,’ she said through a watery smile.
‘Hello, you.’ Paul’s eyes crinkled with mischief. His faded bandT-shirt and a pair of tatty cargo shorts that hung low on his hips, revealing just a hint of tattoo ink curling around one thigh, made him look effortlessly cool.
‘You’re here for your peace and quiet, not a hysterical woman breaking all of the above.’
‘We’re all human,’ Paul soothed. ‘And you were far from hysterical the other night.’ He smirked, then softly said, ‘I can’t even imagine how difficult it must have been for you, being with someone new.’
Rita sniffed loudly. ‘And you made it so easy, thank you.’
‘Sometimes us humans just need to feel things. If we don’t feel sadness or anger or fear or love or hate or any other feeling I can’t think of at the moment’ – Paul smiled – ‘then how boring would life be. Get it out, lady, I say.’
‘Andwhatabout us?’ She swallowed, then began to gabble. ‘I’m worried, worried that if I don’t take things further, I’ll upset you. I don’t want to make it weird between us, either, and I don’t think I want a relationship. And I think you’re amazing and…’
