My mouth’s gone dry. ‘There wasn’t?’
‘Not on my side. If I had my time over, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Except this time I’d look after you better.’
All the air has gone out of my chest, and my body is limp. ‘So when you couldn’t bear to be around me here, it wasn’t because you despised me for making a mess of your life?’
‘I’d never have thought that.’ His chest rises and falls as he takes another long breath. ‘I’ve always blamed myself. Seeing you brought back the guilt and made it raw again.’ He pulls down the corners of his mouth. ‘Then, little by little, as I saw how together you are and what a success you make of everything you do, it became easier for me. I realised anyone as strong as you has no place in their life for someone who fails them. I’m truly sorry, Bertie. I couldn’t apologise at first, I couldn’t even bring myself to mention it, because I hated myself so much for everything I got wrong. But now I know who you are again, I can. I hope one day you’ll come to understand.’
I’m opening and closing my mouth, trying to take it in; I think he may just have said he’s sorry. And while it’s great to know he doesn’t regret what we had, it’s going to take a while for my brain to readjust. I fully appreciate how he’s been running to the ends of St Aidan to help me these last couple of months, and the effort he’s put in, but it’s still going to take time for me to erase the ‘bastard’ sign that’s been slapped across the top of his head whenever he’s popped up in my mind for the last twelve years … and replace it with one that says ‘may deserve to be forgiven’.
He’s staring down at his clenched hand. ‘And here’s the ultimate irony – there I was all those years ago trying to make myself better, and now I’ve got nothing to offer at all.’
My heart is aching for Ross and his situation. But I’m way out of my depth helping with his level of despair after the results he’s had today. ‘You can’t deal with this on your own.’ Bottling this up could be catastrophic for his mental health. ‘We’ll ask the mermaids, they’ll know someone good for you to talk to.’
Ross gives me a sideways stare. ‘That’s strange advice coming from you. When we mentioned your pregnancy before, you said you preferred to deal with it by yourself.’
I can’t deny he’s right. ‘At the time I had no one around that I felt comfortable to share that with. But I have now. So I’m not a hypocrite.’
His eyes flash open. ‘You have?’
I smile as I think of it. ‘For the first time ever I’ve had the support of a group of close friends. Meeting Millie brought a lot of things up for me; Sophie, Plum and Nell have been very helpful talking that through.’
He’s trying to play this down, but he can’t hide his incredulity. ‘Sothey know?’
I nod. ‘They do. And sharing did help. I feel much lighter and happier for it, which is why I’d recommend it.’
‘For eff’s sake.’
It was a mutter, but I’m straight back at him. ‘For eff’s sake what?’
He’s shaking his head. ‘It doesn’t matter. Now’s not the time. Just all of it. You haven’t even talked to me about it.’
He’s the last person in the world I’d ever have opened up to. ‘I’m sure we’ll talk if the time is right.’ I just can’t imagine it ever will be. I stare at the remains of my ice cream, then at the love in Diesel’s eyes as he looks at it. ‘Are you sure Diesel can’t have this?’
Ross rolls his eyes. ‘Not unless you want him up all night with an upset tummy.’ He pushes the last of his own cone into his mouth. ‘I could always help you out if you really don’t want it?’
I hand my cone to Ross and give Diesel’s hairy head a pat. ‘Sorry, mate, that’s the price you pay for hanging out with a vet.’
And five minutes later we’re back in the car, racing back along the coast road towards St Aidan. I sneak a sideways look at the shadows on Ross’s cheekbones and I can’t help wondering – where the hell are we going to go from here?
It’s not as if we have any time. It’s two weeks to the book launch, Clemmie and Charlie should be back soon after, and that’s me pretty much done. I’ll be saying my goodbyes to St Aidan and everyone here. I just can’t express how much that’s twisting my guts every time I remember it.
32
The baby sprinkle at Tide’s Reach
Men behaving badly
Thursday
‘There have been lots of arrivals – I can see loads of kids and a few babies – but I haven’t heard any men yet?’
We’re at the baby sprinkle, in yet another of St Aidan’s fabulous quirky cottages, and Ross is peering round the edge of the kitchen door, trying to get a better view of the guests in the living room.
This one’s called Tide’s Reach. It’s got a glorious wood herringbone floor, and so many tall palms in the room we’re in, it feels more like a hothouse than a kitchen. In fact, we’ve been to so many lovely places in the last few weeks, I’m tempted to write posts about country interiors as well as baking and Walter’s farmyard. Obviously, as there’s already a two-year-old living here, it’s a bit like a toyshop too, but most of the kiddie stuff is in the dedicated party play area next door, which is filling up with small children as the guests arrive. And as it’s only been mums arriving so far, there’s no wonder Ross is feeling a bit left out.
His mouth was disarmingly close to my ear as he whispered to me. I don’t know why I’m so jumpy about it. I was much closer yesterday evening as I was forcing icing into his stubble when we did our twenty-third buns-on-strings challenge. But that’s different somehow. The clips are so well-watched our customers all shout for the event now; it’s so expected it’s simply become part of the job. It’s also a matter of pride that he’s never beaten me yet.
As for today, I did warn him. ‘You knew it was a girlie do, but you still insisted on coming.’
