I scramble up from the bed and hold my head up high. ‘Last night was wonderful, but it’s been enough to show me that I can’t handle this.’
There’s so much pain in his eyes, but his voice is quiet and collected. ‘In that case, let me run you home.’
And that’s it. Five minutes later we’re in the stable yard climbing into his car. Half an hour after that I’m back on the harbourside staring into the emptiness of the rest of my life.
48
Climbing Rose Cottage, St Aidan, Cornwall
A rescue, the boy next door, and signing on dotted lines
Sunday
Once again Tia proved herself to be the best friend in the world. She took my sobbed early morning call from where I was hiding behind the Sardine Club, hauled herself out of bed on her only lie-in day with Thom, and hurried down from the attic to let me into the shop. I howled and poured my heart out to her over a tumbler of Hendricks gin that came from the filing cabinet, and by the time I reached the bottom of the glass my tear ducts were as wrung out as my heart and I was ready to face the kids.
Back home I went straight to my room and stripped off the party dress and Lando’s jacket, then got on with the day. I delivered the borrowed clothes to Brides by the Sea on a hanger the next morning suggesting they should be picked up by Lando at a time I wasn’t working, and quietly explained that due to his conservation commitments Lando would no longer be doing weddings or shop promotions. And then I tried to get back to life as it used to be before it was tipped upside down and shaken by one man on a boat sailing into the harbour.
The change has less impact than it could have because our wedding bookings are running to nothing as summer fades. Tia helps with a couple of midweek ones, and I handle a couple of informal parties for vow renewals over the weekend on my own while Mum and the kids pitch in with the clearing up. The one piece of good news on a dismal horizon is that Tia decides Thom’s injuries are as healed as they’re going to be, and they book the registrars to marry at the end of October.
At home I make so many waffles with the kids, we go through industrial quantities of Nutella, and I bake so many buttercream cupcakes that they begin to beg for cauliflower cheese instead. There are loud remonstrations from Dale, Zara and Nemmie when they find out I’ve asked Mum not to call in at Smugglers End without prior arrangement with me, but they die down when they realise Lando’s never there anyway.
All Mum knows is that Lando and I have come to the end of our work together and he’s moved on to other projects, but she must have heard something else because a couple of times she gives me one of her hardest stares, then tells me Lando has the most integrity of anyone she knows.
When I severed ties with Lando it was my only way forward and there was no time to anticipate the fall-out, but it leaves me with a sadness that weighs me down with the force of a rockfall. It takes me an age to walk out to Oyster Point as my limbs feel like they’re made of lead, and my life-force feels like it’s ebbing away. The only time I let myself cry is in the dark under the duvet, and then I weep silently until the soft light of dawn spreads in through my roof light, which means I’m exhausted as each day begins.
There’s a burning ache in my chest that won’t go away, and an overwhelming feeling that there may never be anything in the world to look forward to, ever again. There’s something unbelievably crushing about having had another night with Lando, when we came so close to sorting our differences, and then finding that it’s too beautiful and I care too much– that there’s too much at stake to carry on.
And in the middle of all this, I get a call from the solicitors on the quayside asking me to call in at nine the next morning.
When I ease into my chair in front of George Trenowden’s desk after dropping the kids at school and see his friendly face across the expanse of mahogany I half expect him to ask about booking the beach hut for a baby naming party, but instead he’s opening a file.
‘I appreciate you coming in at short notice, Maeve. Our client, Mr Orlando Nancarrow, has asked us to make an approach on his behalf.’
I wince as I hear the name. ‘I’m sure he can tell me himself if it’s important.’
George’s eyebrows go up. ‘He felt this would be better coming through me… as you’ve requested not to see him.’
I sink lower in my chair. ‘That is the situation.’
George’s secretary comes through and puts a mug in front of each of us, then comes back carrying a bake box from the Little Cornish Kitchen.
I shake my head as he opens the box and pushes it towards me. ‘If you’re charging him for these at Law Society rates, I’d rather not, thank you.’
George smiles at me. ‘The confectionary is included in the service. I can’t work on an empty stomach. Let’s have a muffin or two with our coffee before we discuss the proposition.’
It’s amazing what a difference an Americano and a calorie boost make. By the time I’m brushing the crumbs of dark chocolate sponge off the front of my jumpsuit I’m more ready to listen.
George pushes the box to one side, opens the file and smiles at me. ‘We’re here to talk about Albertine Cottage, which I understand is the property adjacent to Climbing Rose Cottage, which belongs to your mother.’
I put my puzzlement to one side and nod. ‘That’s right. It was on the market, but it’s sold now.’
George smiles. ‘Mr Nancarrow has agreed to purchase the cottage from the current owner, and the conveyance is proceeding.’
I wrinkle my nose. ‘Lando’s bought the cottage? Why has he done that?’
George carries on. ‘I asked you here because Lando intends to put the cottage in your name, by way of a gift, with no charge to you.’ He leaves a few seconds for me to take that in. ‘If you agree to that, we’ll need some signatures from you to take this forward.’
He looks at me expectantly.
