TWENTY-SEVEN
SIX WEEKS LATER
Ellie awoke to the sound of seagulls, and opened her eyes groggily against a shaft of light. She sat up in bed and pushed the curtain aside.
The sun was rising over the sea in Magpie Cove, and Ellie wondered if she had ever seen a sunrise as magnificent. It was as if a cup of molten, jewelled amber was being poured on the sky, with broad sweeps of orange at the horizon. Ellie took in a deep breath.
It was good to be back.
Ellie had spent almost six weeks back at work, and she couldn’t say that she had enjoyed being back in London much at all. She still liked her job, but there was no way that she could keep up with her previous crazy schedule of dawn runs along the Thames, or being in the gym by six thirty in the morning, and at her desk by seven forty-five.
If I’m going to be awake at six thirty, she thought to herself as she snuggled in the warm duvet she had added to Marilyn’s main bedroom,then I’d much rather be watching the sunrise at Magpie Cove from a vintage motorhome, any day of the week.
Ellie also had to admit that, though she would always love working in the legal profession, she had realised since she’d been back that corporate law was no longer for her. She just didn’t care about it as much as she once had. It all seemed rather pointless and impersonal.
Wrapping a fluffy robe around her, she tiptoed along Marilyn’s hallway and opened the side door of the motorhome, stepping down carefully onto the tarmac of the small road at the edge of the beach where they had parked up the night before.
The cove was completely deserted, although Ellie could see that the girls had been busy getting it ready for the sponsored wild swim: bunting hung from what seemed like every available nook and cranny; there was a Portakabin at the edge of the beach with a sign outside it where people could come and pay to take part; and there were already some food trucks lined up along the road from Marilyn, ready to fill up hungry post-swim stomachs with Cornish pasties, cakes, vegan wraps and ice creams.
It was as though Magpie Cove had been waiting for her while she was away.
Ellie took in a deep breath of the sea air, grateful for the way it made her feel calm and centred. Her cough had almost entirely gone now: occasionally, she felt a rasp in her lungs, but it was minimal. Her doctor in London had insisted that she went in for weekly check-ups, and had told her very specifically that she had to avoid doing crazy long hours in the office.
She wondered how the repairs on the beach house were getting on: it certainly looked back to normal from the outside, but from where she was she could only see the front. It felt strange that, for a while, it had seemed like home; she could almost see the ghost of herself sitting on the rocking chair on the porch.
And, of course, she could hardly forget that last night in Magpie Cove. Her heart beat faster as she thought of how Mark had made her feel: how he had looked at her as she lay naked next to him. How he had touched her with a gentleness that she didn’t think she had ever experienced before – and the fiery hot desire that had engulfed her in pleasure.
He had told her that he didn’t care about her mastectomy. That she was beautiful exactly as she was; the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. If he hadn’t known it before the fire, he said, then how he’d felt when he thought he might have lost her was more than clear.
At the time, she’d said,You don’t have to say that. But he held her in his strong arms and looked deep in her eyes and said,What do I have to do to convince you? I mean, I would have thought that all this would be obvious enough.
It is, it is. I’m sorry. She had kissed him then, still not quite believing what had happened.
Ellie had been thinking about Magpie Cove a lot whilst she was back in London, replaying that night with Mark over and over in her mind.
She’d fallen asleep in his arms, afterwards, but when she’d woken up as the sun streamed in the window the next morning, he was gone. He had left her a note:
I wish we had more time. I’ll miss you.
But that was all.
She’d run to the garage the next morning to say goodbye, but he wasn’t there. One of his assistants had mumbled something about Mark having to take the rescue truck down the coast to pick someone up who had broken down. Ellie hadn’t known whether that was true, or whether he was avoiding her after the night before. Perhaps he felt awkward. Perhaps he thought it had been a mistake.
Ellie had texted him as Fee drove Marilyn’s gleaming silver caboose carefully out of the village, but there had been no reply until the next day. His reply had been brief, and though she had stayed in touch, it was only because she had persistently texted him, and not vice versa.
Mark replied to whatever she sent – a few friendly GIFs, texts asking him how he was – but he never asked her anything or seemed to want to flirt at all. In the past couple of weeks she’d stopped getting in touch, disillusioned with feeling like she was the one doing all the work. However, she had made a point of asking him about Jamey’s court case, although he had been frustratingly brief with his replies. Ellie knew that it had gone well, but not the details. Also, she was busy, and it was hard keeping up – had she really done this job every day for years?
Fee had decided to take the job in Exeter and had been busy packing up her flat. Ellie wanted to support Fee’s decision, so she had worked hard at not showing her disappointment at losing her friend, but it was difficult. Fee said, after the fire, it seemed even more important to do something that made her feel alive. Ellie couldn’t disagree – she understood that better than anyone.
One thing that had got her through those difficult first weeks back was a WhatsApp group that Petra had set up for everyone in the Wild Sisterhood. They’d been messaging more or less nonstop for weeks. Ellie suspected that the group were keeping tabs on her and Fee, which she appreciated, but it was also a welcome distraction from work. On one memorable occasion, Esther had messaged everyoneOh hi my footwhich had puzzled everyone until Petra had suggested that she turn off predictive text and write it again.
When she’d read it, Ellie had to hide her grin behind her hands in an important meeting, but she was touched that Esther was getting to grips with owning her first mobile phone just so that she could be part of the group online.
Back in London, Ellie had intended to put Marilyn up for sale, but she hadn’t quite managed to have the heart to do it. She’d got very attached to the huge motorhome, and, rather than sell her on, Ellie had found a large private garage not too far away where she could keep Marilyn safe and dry.
In fact, despite the owner of that garage offering her a large sum of money to buy Marilyn himself, Ellie had been spending her evenings and weekends sourcing new interior flourishes for the motorhome rather than going out for drinks. She hadn’t seen her old crowd at all, apart from those she worked with; she was too tired, for one thing, and it was much nicer to spend an evening in her flat, looking up authentic 80s-style haberdashery with a glass of wine, sharing pictures of what she found with Fee and the girls.
The doctor had given her some brochures about breast reconstruction surgery on her last visit. Ellie had flicked through them, and the results did seem very good. But was she ready for more surgery? She didn’t know.
Ellie had assigned that decision to herself for a couple of weeks in the future: for now, she was really looking forward to seeing the Wild Sisterhood today, and she was excited to get back in the sea again. Perhaps more than anything, Ellie had missed that regular time in the water, where she could be by herself and head off towards the horizon with just the sound of seagulls to keep her company. Had Magpie Cove healed her? She didn’t know. As well as help her heal, it had hurt her too. But she was still glad that Marilyn had broken down where she had, all those weeks ago. It felt like fate.
