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‘I am the former fashion model, but I think you’ll find my figure is no longer to die for… well, it could be. Depends how you look at it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Let’s just say that I’ve changed in the two years since we last met. You’re going to be in for a big surprise.’
From behind the slats at the window, I watch a battered blue VW Camper trundle along the unmade beach road and pull up outside. Bloody hell, Demi must have had that for nearly ten years. It was old when her dad gave it to her for her sixteenth birthday, but that was Demi all over. Why change it if it still worked? Besides, it fitted with her laid-back, adventurous nature and surf-dude style. I watch her get out of the van and the breeze tug at her tangle of copper curls as she turns her expectant green eyes to my beach house. Oh, it is so good to see her again. A little piece of my past right there and ready to reunite with my present. A little piece of the past that I missed more than I realised until this moment.
Demi runs up the sandy incline, a carrier bag of groceries in her hand, and I dodge away before she sees me at the window. I don’t want to give away my secret until I open the door. I want to see the expression on her face. With a giggle in my throat I fling open the door, just as she’s raising her finger to press the bell. The wide-as-the-sky smile on her face falters, her mouth drops open, becoming just as round as her eyes.
‘Oh my WORD!’ Demi points at my bump in disbelief. ‘You’re… you’re… oh, my word!’
‘Pregnant? Is that the word your brain is scrambling for?’ I laugh and throw my arms around her. Not easy with a mountain between us.
She hugs me as best she can and then says, ‘But why the hell didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because I wanted to see your face! I couldn’t tell you before, could I, because you’ve been travelling around the world for the last hundred years, finding yourself, or whatever you young folk do.’
Demi narrows her eyes. ‘I went to work with Save the Children in India, for six months, and that was ages ago – before your wedding. And then to Greece working in a bar. Listen to you with the young folk? There’s three months between us.’
I do love winding her up, it’s so easy. I hold the door open and usher her in. ‘Well, I am soon to be a mother, so therefore much more mature than you, don’t you know?’
She takes a few steps inside and shakes her head, her eyes fixed on my belly. ‘I just can’t bloody believe it. You’re the last person I thought would get pregnant. And you are SO… massive!’
I ignore the first bit and say, ‘That’s because I’m having twins, a boy and a girl.’
‘Shut up! You’re not!’
‘Am.’
‘Wow! Are you happy about it all, then?’
I grin at the little furrow in her brow. ‘Do I look happy?’
‘Why yes… yes, you do,’ she says with a laugh.
‘Then that’s your answer. Now come through and I’ll get that bacon on.’
Soon the kitchen is full of breakfast smells and laughter. Demi is still as crazy as she ever was, and it’s a wonder I can cook at all, I’m giggling so much. Suddenly serious, she pulls herself up onto the countertop, looks round the room and spreads her arms wide.
‘My God, Holly, you have done incredibly well for a Cornish maid. This house is like, humongous; in fact, this kitchen is bigger than my entire flat! And the view from the living room over the ocean…’ She gives a wistful little sigh. ‘What I wouldn’t give.’
I nod. ‘It is very lovely and I am so lucky to have such a generous husband. Simon bought this place for me when I started to get homesick last year.’
Demi’s eyes grow round. ‘He must be a bloody millionaire then. Most guys buy their wives a bunch of flowers from the local garage.’
I laugh and crack an egg into the pan. ‘Perhaps not quite a millionaire,’ I say, though he probably is. I don’t know for definite as he keeps his finances close to his chest. ‘But, as you know, a London private consultant’s salary isn’t peanuts.’
She takes a sip of her tea and rolls her eyes. I think I catch a look of disdain in that eye-roll and crack another egg more forcefully. Demi and Simon have met just the once, at our wedding two years ago, and though my best friend had been polite and pleasant, I knew she didn’t like him. When I’d asked her what she thought of my new husband, she had been non-committal, just said she was glad I was happy and then gone off to get a drink. Afterwards, despite numerous invites to spend time with us in London, Demi had always come up with an excuse as to why she couldn’t make it. Then she’d gone off to Greece.
‘Why don’t you like Simon, Demi?’ I say as I tip the eggs onto a plate with the bacon.
She pulls her neck in and gives me a frown. ‘Eh? Who says I don’t like him? I’ve only met the guy the once.’
‘Exactly.’ I put the plates on the table and Demi jumps down from the countertop. ‘You never visited us and I know you inside out – I should, shouldn’t I? We have been friends since we were nine.’
Demi cuts the fresh white loaf and slathers thick butter across it. ‘Oh, this is still warm, Holly.’ She gives a groan of pleasure and stuffs more bread in her mouth. ‘I swear to God that Kendra’s bake the best bread in Cornwall. I bet if Terry Kendra went on Bake Off he’d win hands…’ Demi looks at my set face, swallows the bread and sighs. ‘Look, do we have to do this now, just as we’re about to enjoy this wonderful breakfast?’
My heart sinks. How bad can it be? ‘No… not if you…’
‘It’s just that he’s a bit, you know, controlling…?’ Demi’s words burst out around forkfuls of breakfast shoved rapidly into her mouth and I have to concentrate really hard to hear them. ‘It’s as if you were some kind of trophy for him. He saw you, decided he wanted you, but then what man wouldn’t? A stunning, tall, blonde, blue-eyed model?’ She pauses and points an eggy fork at me. ‘And, I might add, one of the nicest people in the known universe. So he got you clean of drugs and then took you.’ Demi shakes her head in bewilderment. ‘All within three bloody months. I knew within ten minutes of talking to him that it was a case of whatever Simon wants, Simon gets.’
I watch her push her plate away and pour more tea. A mouthful of my breakfast refuses to be swallowed, just sits in my cheek like a lump of cardboard. I hadn’t expected that… even though I might have thought along those lines myself. More than I’d like to admit.
‘Hey, I’m sorry, but you did ask.’ Demi touches my hand briefly but her eyes dance away from the hurt in mine. ‘And we promised early on that we would be honest with each other, didn’t we? If you’re happy with him, that’s all that matters.’
I nod briefly, swallow my food with a swig of tea, and push my barely touched plate away. ‘You don’t really know him, so I suppose he could have come across as a bit controlling. But I was out of my depth when I met him… had been for nearly a year. The modelling scene in London is mad… a never-ending round of parties, drugs, photo shoots… it all went to my head. I wasn’t eating properly, sleeping…’ I hear my voice catch and Demi takes my hand across the table.
‘Let’s stop now. I’m sorry I upset you. Let’s talk about the babies…’
‘No. I want you to understand.’ I take my hand back and tuck my hair behind my ears. I was on antidepressants, booze, as well as the cocaine… I wanted to come home, leave it all, but I couldn’t come home a junky, could I? Imagine what it would have done to Mum only the year after Dad died? I wanted her to be proud of me, make something of myself, but the way things were going I’d have been dead before I was twenty-five.’
Demi puts her hand to her mouth. ‘I didn’t realise it had got that bad. Why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped you.’
I look at her shocked little face, soft green eyes as big as saucers, and want to laugh. How the hell could she have helped me? What did she know about my life at the time? Me, a girl from a Cornish village, drunk on the glamour and bright lights of London. Swayed by promises of making the big time, becoming a supermodel even… And I had done very well, very quickly. Perhaps could have gone higher in my career, but the scene began to beat me back as if I were driftwood against the returning tide. Swept me away, down and under…
‘You wouldn’t have been able to help me, Dem. I needed specialist help and Simon got that for me. He rescued me from drowning, saved my life…’
‘Well, that’s good then.’ Demi shoots me an unconvincing smile, stands and turns to the kettle. ‘Shall I make more tea?’
What the hell is wrong with her? Doesn’t she believe me? ‘No tea for me. And Simon honestly did save me, you know?’ I stand and take the plates over to the sink.
Demi gives me a searching look. ‘Simon might have saved you, but don’t you think he did it for himself, not for you? I had it from the horse’s mouth at the wedding. He told me he came to that fashion show with his then girlfriend, saw you on the catwalk and decided he must have you. So he gets your agent to set up a meeting, tells you he’s in love with you, sweeps you off your feet, and arranges for you to see a top drug therapist. Then you’re in rehab for a few weeks and, meanwhile, he arranges the wedding of the year. Job done.’
I’m puzzled. ‘This isn’t news, Demi; I told you the same story myself. He was in love with me; that’s why he had to have me, help me. It was love at first sight on his part and I fell for him pretty quickly afterwards.’
‘It might have been the same story, but you didn’t see his face when he told me his version. It was as if you were some acquisition, something he’d bought, just like he buys his houses, cars…’ Demi stops and holds her hands up. ‘Right, that’s it. No more now. I want to hear all about these precious babies, and as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.’
I return her smile and we link arms and walk across the living room and out onto the balcony. The tide is on its way in, the sun is playing chase with the clouds, and the wide expanse of Crantock beach is occupied by dog walkers, kite surfers and a few brave paddlers in the cold spring breakers. A thought pushes itself to the front of my mind. Perhaps there’s a little bit of Demi that’s jealous? Hasn’t she just said she would love a place like mine – what she wouldn’t give? Maybe she’d like to settle down, have the life I have, a husband that’s successful?
‘This is just an amazing view; I bet you never want to go back to London,’ Demi says quietly.
I push those thoughts to the back of my mind again. If she’s a bit jealous, then that’s only natural, isn’t it? I’d probably be the same if our roles were reversed. I smile. ‘To be honest, no I don’t. Especially since I’ve been pregnant. I want my babies to breathe in fresh sea air instead of pollution and listen to seagulls, not car horns.’
I look at Demi and the smile dies on my face. She has tears standing and she swallows hard. ‘You know you always say that everything is all okay as long as you’re happy?’
I nod.
‘I’ve asked you if you’re happy three times since I’ve been here and you haven’t said anything back. You are happy, aren’t you? I’d hate to think that you…’
I slip my arm around her shoulder and give her a squeeze. ‘Hey, of course I am, silly,’ I say to the beach. I don’t want to look into her searching eyes; she always could read me far too well. ‘Why wouldn’t I be? I have everything I’ve ever wanted.’
Chapter Two (#ulink_5e33bfde-4f51-5ea5-a3a5-0244441a173e)
Simon ended the call to his wife and poured a whisky. After the day he’d had, he needed one, and he needed Holly too, but she’d just told him she wasn’t coming home until the end of the week and he missed her. She’d originally said she’d be back tomorrow and now it would be three more days. Yes, the beach house was his gift to her to make sure she still felt connected to Cornwall and all that romantic stuff about the wild ocean she talked about. But she needed to realise that London was her home now. He’d make her realise it. He had to. The babies were due in five weeks and if she postponed again he’d be worried she might go into labour out in the sticks instead of at his clinic where she’d be safe. If anything happened to her or the babies, he’d never forgive himself.
The light of the reading lamp behind him in the otherwise dark apartment made a mirror of the floor-to-ceiling windows. In them, a tall, dark-haired man wearing a black pinstriped suit glowered at himself and then lifted a heavy crystal tumbler to his lips. Except that it was empty. Simon strode over to the drinks cabinet and refilled the glass. The apartment always felt so empty when Holly was away. He wished he didn’t miss her so much… love her so much. Simon put the glass to his lips and took a big mouthful, his breath taken by the whisky burning a path to his stomach.
In the bedroom he threw off his clothes and ran the shower in the en suite. He’d planned to stay in tonight, but it wouldn’t hurt to go out for a bit, would it? Simon needed a distraction, a bit of fun. He thought about the determined tone that had crept into his wife’s voice on the telephone earlier when he’d said he’d like her to come home tomorrow like she’d agreed. Simon was sure that little witch Demelza had changed Holly’s mind. He knew she’d be trouble when he first laid eyes on her. All thick as thieves and hugs with Holly, yet as cold as ice with him. That was unusual. He had the opposite effect on women mostly.
Half an hour later, Simon shrugged into his jacket and, with some trepidation, examined his appearance in the dressing-table mirror. These long days and late nights were taking their toll. He leaned closer and ruffled the hair around his temples. No, he wasn’t mistaken when he’d looked at himself in the window earlier; there were a few grey hairs amongst the dark. And yes, the fine lines around his eyes were becoming more pronounced. Fuck, he was only thirty-four. Perhaps he should stay in after all, have a warm drink, go to bed… the gaming tables hadn’t been kind to him lately either. Then he thought about the empty flat and the bed that was too big.
Grey hairs or no, the cocktail waitress couldn’t take her eyes off him. She’d welcomed him into the casino bar as if they were old friends and called him by his name. Yes, he was a regular, but still a nice touch given that he couldn’t recall seeing her before. He watched her now as she mixed his drink: dark sparkly eyes, generous mouth, curvy figure poured into a slinky red dress, and bouncy chocolate curls tumbling over her shoulders. The complete opposite of Holly, admittedly, but then he didn’t really have a type. A gorgeous woman was a gorgeous woman. He liked them and they liked him.
Simon had been very good since he’d been married where the ladies were concerned, however. Not so much with the gambling… but that was another story. It was blatantly obvious that many of the nurses and some of female doctors at the practice were his for the taking, should he ask. He hadn’t asked though. Holly was enough for him; she was everything he’d ever wanted. Why she was, he didn’t know. Apart from her stunning looks, she was kind of average in other areas: intelligence, ambition, creativity… Simon had always thought that any wife of his would be outstanding in everything she did. But he’d seen her on that catwalk three years ago and he’d just known she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
‘Penny for them, Mr West?’ Chocolate Curls set the glass down and leaned her elbows on the bar to give him a good view of her cleavage. ‘My name’s Lauren by the way.’
Simon took a drink and looked at her cheeky smile. ‘I’m thinking about my wife, Lauren, as it goes.’
Lauren’s eyes lost a bit of sparkle, but she said in a bright voice, ‘Oh, that’s nice. She’s a very lucky woman to be married to you.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Well, good-looking, successful, polite, charming. Did I say good-looking?’
Her throaty giggle and a wink made Simon laugh too. ‘Thanks. My wife doesn’t agree though. Seems she prefers the company of her old school friend and the wiles of Cornwall to her husband and Thameside apartment.’
‘Really? No accounting for taste is there?’ Lauren smiled again and twirled a strand of hair round her finger.
Simon smiled back and let his gaze slowly travel from her eyes to her cleavage, deliberately lingering there before flicking his eyes back to hers again. She looked back at him without a trace of embarrassment, and though she didn’t say anything, her message was loud and clear. Simon took another drink and watched her over the rim of his glass as she mixed a drink for another customer at the other side of the bar. She really had the most amazing arse. Would it hurt if he slipped just this once? Because she was heavily pregnant, Holly hadn’t felt like sex much lately; understandable, but very tedious…
‘Simon! Not joining us tonight, matey?’
He felt the heavy hand of Giles, an old school acquaintance, on his shoulder and the alcohol fumes from his breath nearly singed his eyebrows. ‘Evening, Giles. I’m not sure that I am… might give it a miss,’ he said into his glass while still eyeing Lauren.
‘Nonsense! You have to let me win back what I lost a few weeks back, eh? ‘Slonley right.’
Simon looked at Giles’s red, gin-soaked face and listened to his slurred gabble for a few moments. He could do with a win. The bank was on his back ever so politely and he’d had a card refused at The Ritz the other day. Very embarrassing, as he’d been with the senior partner of the practice at the time. Giles had more money than sense and at the moment looked to be pissed as a fart. Easy money. Perhaps Lauren might still be on shift later… Then he thought better of it. He was being ridiculous, self-indulgent. Holly was everything to him; she was carrying his children and soon they would be a happy little family. Something he’d never really been a part of. Next to his wife, the Laurens of the world were ten a penny. Simon glanced over at her and she gave him a slow, sexy smile. He smiled back, but that was all she was getting from him. Simon followed Giles to the poker table.
A few hours later, he’d stopped smiling.
Chapter Three (#ulink_85fa3d4f-a756-51db-9801-b4f825ada370)
Paddling in the Atlantic in late March is not something I would go in for normally, but Demi’s enthusiasm won’t let me sit on the dunes huddled in my duffle coat. A duffle coat and a blanket, to be exact, because my coat will no longer fasten over my bump. So here I am, ankle deep in the surf and actually loving it. The biting cold has subsided and it feels almost warm.
‘So refreshing, isn’t it?’ Demi asks, rolling up the hem of her jeans, which are already damp.
‘Actually, yes it is. Makes you feel alive and connected to nature,’ I say, looking at a fishing boat, a red splash on the horizon.
‘It does; told you it would do you good. Wash all that city pollution out of your skin.’
Talk of the city brings an image of my husband’s disgruntled face to mind, soft grey eyes steely with contempt. He wasn’t best pleased the other night when I told him I wanted to stay until tomorrow. I don’t normally go against his wishes, but I’m just not ready to go back yet. I think it might be that I am at the nesting stage, and nests are built at home. I never think of London as my home, but I’d never tell Simon that of course. Also, I wanted to spend another day with my bestie. It’s been far too long… and I am happier being here with her than I have been in a long time, if I’m honest with myself. I don’t usually allow that – honesty. It’s no good for me.
‘You okay?’ Demi asks and splashes a few droplets of seawater at me. I raise a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Well, you look kind of far away.’
‘I was back in London, so yes, I was.’
Demi frowns. ‘Hmm. We can’t have that, can we? Right, first one back to the beach chairs eats all the Scotch eggs and sandwiches!’ She takes off like a hare towards the dunes, sending her laughter back to taunt me.
‘Hey, that’s not fair! I have a lot to carry, you know!’
The sea air gives me an appetite and before I know it there’s just a few crumbs left at the bottom of the sandwich container. With a sigh I lean back in my beach chair, stretch out my long legs, rest my feet on a rock and sip my tea. This is the life. Contentment builds a home in my chest and seeps through the rest of me until I am truly relaxed. Any thought of a return to London is absolutely banished to the darkest recesses of my mind, and all I can see is sunshine, sea and sky. Oh, and Demi’s daft grin as she brings her face close to mine.
‘You look so much better for being out in the elements.’
I laugh. ‘You make it sound as if we’re on the top of Mount Everest or something.’
‘Well, you do have a mountain for a tummy these days.’
We laugh and I pretend to strangle her. Then we do synchronised tea sipping for a while in a comfortable silence.
‘Do you ever think about Jowan?’ Demi asks in a quiet voice and the silence turns uncomfortable as I struggle for an answer. Why the hell did she have to spoil the day with that?
I sigh. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Just wondering… childhood sweethearts do tend to have a special place in a girl’s heart, I hear.’ She digs her toes into the sand and looks away from me up the beach.
‘Sometimes, I guess. But he smashed up that special place when he buggered off and left me for the army.’
‘That’s why you went to London, isn’t it – to heal your heart and forget him?’
‘You know it is.’ Why the hell she’s bringing this up, I have no idea.
‘Hmm.’
‘Hmm, what?’
‘So if he hadn’t gone in the army, do you reckon you’d be together now?’
Oh, for God’s sake. ‘How do I know? Yes. No.’ I lift my arms and let my hands fall to my thighs with a slap. ‘Who bloody knows!’
‘You seem to be getting a bit pissed off… a sure sign you still have feelings for him,’ Demi says, scrutinising my face.
‘That’s rubbish. I just can’t see the point in bringing all that up now. It’s ancient history.’ I bite the inside of my cheek to dislodge an image of Jowan’s smiley face, mop of blond curls and sky-blue eyes.
‘Four years ago is hardly ancient.’ Demi gives a wistful smile and puts her hand on my arm. ‘I guess he’s on my mind because he’s back. Saw him in the bank yesterday actually.’
Jowan’s back? To my surprise my stomach does the little roll of excitement it used to do when I thought of him. My heart rate steps up a pace too, but I take a breath and make my voice behave itself. ‘He was visiting his family then? Home on leave?’
