When they both went back to their own lives, Bonnie wondered if she would ever see that photograph or the young man she’d met in the summer of 1977, the man who’d promised to write and come and see her. A week after Howard left Blackpool, she realised he’d meant every single thing he said and along with the photograph of them in front of the ice-cream van came a letter through the post. They wrote as much as they could – him from Coventry, Bonnie from Derby once she was back there to continue her nursing training, and they arranged to meet up as much as possible. And when she missed him more than she could bear in the winter, she painted the picture she was looking at now in the cottage in Driftwick Bay, the painting that hung in the back room, bringing the summer of love to the forefront of her mind all over again.
She let out a little laugh, putting her hand across her mouth as if she shouldn’t have done it, when she heard the ice-cream van going down the hill in Driftwick Bay towards Lulworth Cove. It was as if Howard was saying hello.
And then she took her tea back to the bedroom, climbed beneath the duvet and hid from the rest of the world the same way she’d been doing ever since she lost him.
12
MARGOT
Margot’s sleep had been all over the place since she arrived in the bay and found out about Howard. It had been as if the news had nudged the reality of her own situation to the forefront of her mind all over again. She had no financial stability, she had no job or experience that employers might recognise, and she still hadn’t told her sons that she’d left their father. Her mind kept leaping from one thing to the next, like a monkey swinging from branch to branch.
She’d briefly thought about getting in touch with Faye as soon as she was here, but she wasn’t ready to meet up with anyone yet. It was funny, here she was, free to do what she liked, and yet it still felt like she had to give herself permission. She wondered too whether when Faye saw her she would sense this was no holiday for one and somehow she’d end up having to admit the truth, and the misery of her marriage before she really felt ready to talk to anyone other than herself. Howard had been different, perhaps as he’d felt like a parent figure the night she told him the whole truth.
The cottage she was staying in was old but cosy. She was used to everything being modern, but loved the Victorian bathroom suite, the flagstone tiles, the small windows with iron fittings and framed with cute little curtains. She imagined it would be even cosier in the winter. There was a cast-iron flame-effect log fire in the little lounge, an old-fashioned trunk filled with thick woollen blankets at the side of the room, and a lovely slipper bathtub upstairs that she hadn’t yet used.
She’d just had breakfast and once she’d done the dishes she sat down and lifted her laptop onto her knees. She logged on and although she should’ve expected the contact, her mind went into overdrive when she saw four emails waiting from Perry.
It looked like he’d given her what felt like a cooling-off period and now he wanted answers.
She abandoned the laptop and the blanket, got up, paced the room.
Should she delete them without reading them? Or was it better to know what they said?
She wished she could ask Howard and for one ridiculous moment thought about looking up to the sky to ask the question.
She’d look at the messages quickly she decided. She had to know what they said.
But they only said the sorts of things she’d heard already.
The oldest email asked when she was going to come to her senses, the next said to let him know when she was finished playing games, the one after accused her of breaking up a family and the final one demanded to know where she was and end this ‘fucking ridiculous stunt’ she’d pulled.
She deleted every single one of them.
And then her spirits lifted when she saw an email land from Faye. She must be online now so Margot replied straight away.
They chatted back and forth a couple of times, mainly about Howard, until Margot suggested they switch the conversation over to WhatsApp to make it easier. She’d blocked Perry from WhatsApp already and the only reason she hadn’t done it on email too was in case she needed to correspond with him. If he got much more abusive she might have to stop him from being able to contact her at all.
She told Faye in her message:
I’ve become an insomniac like your auntie.
Faye replied:
I’m not sleeping too well either since I found out about Howard.
Margot continued typing without really thinking.
I thought opening my window to hear the faint sounds of the ocean might help me to doze off.
It was only after she’d pressed send that she realised she’d let on that she wasn’t in Berkshire right now.
And sure enough Faye replied with:
My geography isn’t great, but I’m sure Ascot is quite far away from the coast.
Margot moved to the other end of the sofa away from the glare of the sun streaming through the window, reminding her that across the entire country they were being treated to an extended burst of summer despite the month flipping to September. Perhaps the brightness of the days could pull her through if she felt she might go under with the enormity of what she’d done over the last week or so.
She typed back:
