‘No!’ She inhaled deeply, her chest trembling as the air sucked into her lungs. ‘Take me to Daymer Bay. I want to see Sam.’
* * *
The bay was no more than seven miles from Wadebridge, but to Rose, who had no transport of her own, it may as well have been fifty. Nicholas parked his car some way from the beach and got out. He walked around the bonnet and opened the car door for her.
‘I want to see him alone.’
Nicholas watched her beneath hooded lids as she got out. ‘I understand. I will be waiting for you.’
Rose stood for a moment and inhaled the sea air. At least the short walk to the beach would give her some time to be alone, before finally coming face to face with the man she once loved. She glanced at Nicholas and found he was still watching her. Saying goodbye to him as if it was just another day seemed inappropriate somehow, but what farewell would suffice in such circumstances? In the end neither of them spoke and she set off towards the beach, knowing Nicholas would be watching her until she was no longer in sight.
Eventually the bay came into view. Rose paused and took a deep breath, taking some comfort from the fact that it had changed little since her last visit. The stretch of golden sand was far wider today, as the tide was out and had exposed the full width of the beach. In the far distance, to her right, was the lapping tide, fringed with white water, whilst at the far southern end, rising up from the sand, was Brae Hill. Its green, steep, rounded bulk appeared out of place in a land of sand and sea. On the left, windswept sand dunes shielded the beach from cold, damp easterly winds. There was no sign that Christmas was approaching here.
Rose noticed the solitary figure of a man on the beach and recognised the familiar shape. It immediately stirred old emotions best suited to a young girl looking for love. With a stab of sadness, she realised she was no longer that naive girl she had once been. She mustered her courage and forced herself to take the first step of many which would take her to him.
As she walked across the sand to meet him, he did the same. It had been well over two years since she had last seen his face. He looked the same, yet it felt as if he was a stranger. He was not as tall as she remembered and his shoulders were less broad. Had war done this too him, or had his absence changed her memory of him? She had always believed Nicholas and Sam shared the same build, but today it appeared that Sam was the slighter of the two. His face carried far more years than the two that had passed as his features were etched with dark shadows she had not seen before. Was this the result of the horrors of war, or did shell shock leave its own unique lasting mark? His tentative smile unlocked another wave of emotions from deep inside her, each linked to memories she had fought hard not to forget. And he had been alive all the time.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she did not brush them away. She wanted him to see the pain his silence had caused.Hold on to the anger. Let him know how he hurt you.
‘I’m sorry, Rose.’
Three simple words and her anger threatened to tumble down and expose her. She felt lost at sea again; unsure what she should be feeling or how to react. So Rose said nothing, uncertain what to say to a man who was meant to be dead.
‘You look well.’ His eyes lifted to her hat. ‘The colour suits you. Is it new?’
Was this what it had come to? Small talk filled with meaningless compliments?
‘Nicky thought you would like to meet . . .’ he shrugged, embarrassed ‘. . . although, from the look on your face, you don’t look too pleased to see me.’
Rose tilted her chin. ‘I apologise if I am reacting inappropriately. You see . . . I have just spent the last year and a half grieving for a man who did not die so I feel my appropriate reactions in the past have turned out to be rather a waste of my time.’
Sam had the good grace to drop his gaze. He nudged a shell with the tip of his shoe. ‘Did Nicky explain?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did he say?’ Sam looked up, expectantly. Rose wondered if he was concerned if their stories matched. Despite her anger towards Nicholas, she felt confident that what he had told her had been the truth. Was it the same as what Sam wanted her to know?
‘He explained about your illness, the army’s lack of understanding, the desperation for you to leave in the way that you did. He told me your mother knows and that you now go by another name. He told me you would face the firing squad ifit was known that you still lived. He explained many things . . . except for one.’
‘What was that?’
‘Why you did not tell me.’
Sam bowed his head and nudged the shell again. Rose watched him turn it over and fought the urge to stamp on it.
‘I told no one for a long time,’ replied Sam. ‘I was ill.’
‘But then you improved and made your way back to England.’
He nodded.
‘You must have missed England greatly to risk coming back.’
Sam looked up, his familiar crooked smile curving his lips. ‘I did. England is my home.’
‘But you didn’t tell me. Nicholas told me you are well now and have a home of your own.’ She could not bring herself to mention the woman in his life. Nicholas had been sparse with the details and she had not pressed him for them. At the moment she did not have the motivation to learn more. She felt she had learnt too much already and was struggling to process it. Sam no longer wanted her or he would have got in touch.
‘Your mother must have been delighted to learn you were still alive.’
