The Beach Hut Next Door (25 page)

Lillie shut her eyes and shook her head. ‘I’m so very tired.’

Her voice was barely there. It faded away to a whisper. Her head fell to one side and a moment later she was asleep, her breathing shallow. Elodie had no idea if this was normal, or what her mother’s official state of health was, but in that moment, she made a decision.

She would take her mother back to The Grey House. She could have her old room, with the view she loved so much. She would hire a carer to look after her when she wasn’t there. She couldn’t bear to see her alone in this place a moment longer, with its sterile, efficient service that had no heart. It was time to forget what had happened and to set things right. To let the house heal the rift.

Lillie opened her eyes.

‘I want you to come home with me,’ Elodie told her. ‘It will be a couple of months, because there’s work to be done.’

‘Home?’ Lillie’s eyes clouded with confusion. ‘Where is that?’

‘The Grey House. I bought The Grey House.’

‘You did?’ Lillie took in the information, a veil of bewilderment over her face. ‘But why?’

‘It was the place where I was happiest. It’s where I belong. It’s where we belong.’

‘I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you could … want me there.’

Elodie sighed.

‘Because you’re my mother, and what happened doesn’t matter any more. And because …’ she took in a deep breath for the last revelation. ‘Because I am going to marry the love of my life. And I want you to meet him. And I want you to meet my son.’

‘Son …’ Lillie seemed to be trying the word as if for the first time. ‘You have children. I have a grandson.’

‘You have a wonderful grandson.’ She wasn’t going to break the news that Otto was Jolyon’s. She thought perhaps her mother had taken on enough that afternoon. She seemed, if it were possible, even frailer than she had when Elodie arrived. ‘And great-grandchildren. And all of them are reasons for my coming back here.’

The picture was clear in her head. All of them, her existing family and her new family, on the beach, spilling out of the hut, talking, laughing, eating, arguing, running, making sandcastles, playing rounders. And she and Colm in the centre of it. Their rocks.

Lillie held out a hand – a shrivelled little claw. Elodie grasped it tight.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Lillie. ‘I am so, so sorry.’

A trail of glittery tears seeped out of her eyes and down the paper-thin skin on her face. Elodie reached out and brushed them gently away.

‘This is not a day for tears, Maman,’ she said.

TIM AND RACHEL

Only a few weeks ago, the midday sun would have made Rachel feel sick. But now she had passed into the middle trimester, the nausea had passed as swiftly as it had arrived. She felt stronger and more full of energy, even though her condition was now apparent to anyone who cared to look closely. She held her shoes in her hand, walking on the damp sand the tide had recently vacated. It was cool on the soles of her feet. The dry sand further up would be scorching: she would walk along the beach as far as she could before venturing onto it, once she became level with the hut.

She didn’t know how she was going to approach him. There was no script for what she was about to do, of that she was certain. But she had to ask. She’d be crazy not to ask. Though she felt slightly uncomfortable when she thought of his possible reaction. Her proposition, she thought, could go either way.

It wasn’t how she’d planned it. It really wasn’t. A suspicious mind might assume it had been premeditated from the word go, but Rachel had honestly thought it was all going to be all right with Lee. He had been shocked when she told him she was pregnant at first, but his shock had quickly turned to pride and excitement. He had wanted to shout the news from the rooftops, but she had urged him to wait until the crucial first three months were over before broadcasting it to all and sundry.

By which time, he had started to get cold feet. The weekend she had got back from the beach hut, the weekend she had confessed her condition to Tim, she could tell by the state of the flat that Lee had been out on the razz. His nights out had become more and more frequent. He ended up sleeping on the sofa – so as not to disturb her, he said, but she sensed a reluctance in him to touch her. A reluctance that almost became a revulsion as her condition became more apparent.

She’d called him on it. This was important to her, this baby. All babies were important, of course, but she felt even more protective than the average first-time mother, given what she had been through.

‘You’re not happy about this, are you?’ she asked him one night while he sat in front of the TV screen, manipulating the handset of some intergalactic computer game – it had seemed to become his escape, this world fraught with danger and noise.

She wasn’t being confrontational, just matter-of-fact.

He didn’t bluster or protest. He paused his game and looked her straight in the eye. ‘I don’t think I’m ready.’

She nodded as she considered his reply. ‘Fair enough.’

He picked up his bottle of beer and starting picking at the label.

‘I’m sorry. I just can’t get my head round it. I mean, it’s going to be like a prison sentence, isn’t it?’ He peeled off a long strip and crumpled the paper up in his fingers.

She tried not to show the ice in her eyes. ‘The baby’s going to be our priority, yes. If that’s what you mean. Of course it is.’

Lee looked awkward. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs, the bottle dangling between the fingers of one hand, staring down at the floor. His long fringe fell forward; his shoulders were slight. He seemed like a boy, although he was thirty-four. Perfectly old enough to take the responsibility. But she wasn’t going to force him into it. She wanted the father of her baby to be one hundred percent dedicated. She could sense the tension and the arguments already, and the baby was barely bigger than an orange. Already it had come between them.

‘It would be better if we split now, than put the baby through all the arguing.’ She couldn’t believe how calmly she said it.

He looked up. The relief on his face was palpable. ‘I’m really sorry, Rach. I just think I’ll be a shit dad. I’ll give you money and everything …’

The baby had been unexpected, but he knew what she’d been through, so they’d agreed to give it a go. Rachel had been so bowled over by being pregnant, she hadn’t read the danger signs or picked up on his underlying reluctance. She’d mistakenly expected Lee to be as thrilled as she was, which in retrospect was a huge error of judgment. But her judgment had been skewed – by the drugs, the disappointment, the divorce.

‘It wasn’t fair of me, to force you into it.’

‘You didn’t force me.’ Lee seemed distressed. ‘You so didn’t. I wanted it too. At least I thought I did. But now I just don’t know …’

‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘If you want to go, go. I’ll be fine. I know I will.’

‘But it’s a terrible thing to do.’

‘No,’ said Rachel. ‘What would be terrible would be for us to stay together and end up hating each other and splitting up anyway. This way we can stay friends.’

Her clarity astonished her. She found a strength inside she didn’t know she had. The choice was up to him, though. She wasn’t going to force him into anything. He was the baby’s father. It was up to him to decide.

He went. They wept together, and hugged, and he packed up his clothes and his Xbox and his bike and went to stay with his mate. And Rachel glided around her empty flat for three weeks, turning things over in her mind, examining her conscience, reassuring herself that she hadn’t used or manipulated Lee. Her fear was that he, or people, might think she had just used him and then thrown him to one side when he had served his purpose, but she genuinely hadn’t. She’d gone into their relationship with optimism. She had liked him. His aversion to the situation had come from him, not any particular pressure she had put him under. Of that she was quite sure.

So when she drove down the motorway to Everdene, her conscience was clear. She had no inkling what her reception would be. If this was the craziest idea ever. But she had to give it a go.

She’d tried not to overthink what she was doing. She hadn’t run through all the possible scenarios. It was too stressful. She had decided that what would be would be. And anyway, the most likely outcome would be that she would head back home on her own. That she would have the baby on her own. And she would manage.

And now here she was, in front of the beach hut. The beach hut that Tim wanted to be hers. The beach hut that had once been theirs. Even now, she could remember their euphoria as they took possession of it on that first day. It wasn’t the most salubrious hut on the beach: it was ramshackle and wonky and really needed knocking down and re-building, but it had been theirs and they had loved it.

The door was shut. There was no way of telling what sort of shut. A just-popped-to-the-shop sort of shut, or something more permanent. She felt wrong-footed. On a glorious Saturday like this, she had felt sure he would be there. She felt the key in her pocket. It would be wrong of her to go in. It would be an invasion of his privacy. And she didn’t know what she might find.

But she felt so tired. The drive, the walk, the heat – it overwhelmed her. She needed something to drink. She could walk back up the beach to one of the vans selling cold cans and ice cream. On the other hand, she knew he wouldn’t mind. He just wouldn’t. That’s how well she knew him.

She slid the key into the lock and pushed open the door. Inside, nothing much had changed since she’d left it. She tried very hard not to examine everything for evidence of anyone else. It took a supreme effort of will. But nothing was apparent. No female detritus. No scarves or dinky little size ten wetsuits or lipstick traces.

She filled up a glass of water at the sink and drank. She’d overdone it, she realized. She would have to sit down. She collapsed onto the sofa, remembering the last time the two of them had sat there. When he’d made the incredibly generous offer that had made her realize there was never going to be another man for her. Had that subconsciously made her send off negative signals to Lee, she wondered? Had something deep within her driven him away? She hoped not.

The thoughts spinning round her head became jumbled and she felt herself drifting. She lay her head down on a cushion. Just for a moment, she thought. Just a moment …

‘Hey.’ The voice was gentle and kind. ‘Hey. Goldilocks.’

Rachel started awake. Oh God. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. And now she’d been caught, bang to rights. Tim was standing over her. He was in his wetsuit, his hair still damp and slicked back. He looked concerned.

‘Are you OK?’

She sat up, insensible with afternoon sleep. ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I just came in for some water. You must think I’m really out of order—’

‘Rach …’ He put out a hand to touch her shoulder. ‘Don’t be daft.’

‘But it’s your month.’

He rolled his eyes and shook his head with a smile. ‘You’re being silly.’

She felt sticky; her hair had stuck to the side of her head where she’d lain on the pillow.

‘What are you doing here?’

She blinked at him. Now she was here, her idea seemed mad. She didn’t know what to say.

‘Is everything all right?’ He looked down at her stomach. There was a noticeable bump; a perfect dome, hard under the soft fabric of her T-shirt. She saw him take in the slightest breath.

‘Yes. Yes, everything’s fine. Absolutely fine.’ She couldn’t think what to say.

‘So …?’

What should she tell him? She swallowed. Put a hand on her stomach with one hand; brushed her hair back with the other.

‘I …’

She was going to tell him. She was going to tell him about Lee going, and leave it up to him. But before the words came out of her mouth, another figure appeared in the doorway. A slight woman, with equally damp hair and a freckled face, also in a wetsuit. She was carrying two Magnums.

‘Quick – before they melt. I got you the dark chocolate one. Better for you than the white …’

The woman stopped and looked at Rachel.

‘This is Rachel,’ said Tim.

‘Oh,’ said the woman, a million meanings in the word.

‘She can have my ice cream.’ Tim took one of the Magnums and passed it to Rachel. The woman did not look best pleased.

Rachel floundered for an explanation.

‘I just called in because … I was down seeing some friends and it seemed rude not to come and say hello.’ It was lame, but it was the best she could come up with.

‘Really.’ The chill in the woman’s tone was arctic. ‘I’ll go, then, shall I?’

‘No!’ Rachel panicked. She didn’t want to cause trouble. ‘Honestly. I was in Everdene and I thought …’

‘Yeah.’ The woman marched across the hut to grab what Rachel could now see were her clothes, hanging on the back of a chair – a sweatshirt and jeans she had mistaken for Tim’s.

‘Honey—’ Tim put out a restraining hand.

‘Don’t call me honey.’ She jerked away from him, her face full of fury.

‘Please,’ said Rachel. ‘It’s a misunderstanding.’

The woman stood in front of her with her clothes bunched up in a bundle. ‘Mystery pregnant woman appears from nowhere? I’m not an idiot.’

Rachel and Tim looked at each other.

‘Oh God. It’s not mine! If that’s what you’re thinking,’ said Tim.

‘You would say that.’ The woman shoved her ice cream at him. ‘You can have that one. I’ve lost my appetite all of a sudden.’

She turned and marched out of the hut.

Tim raised his eyebrows and gave a heavy sigh. ‘Well.’

‘Oh God,’ said Rachel. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ said Tim. ‘She was getting a bit much. Nice girl but a total control freak. Won’t even let me choose my own Magnum flavour.’

He started unwrapping the ice cream nevertheless. They ate in silence for a moment, looking at each other. Tim started to laugh. ‘Talk about getting the wrong end of the stick.’

Rachel joined in. ‘I know. Gotta love irony.’

They carried on laughing, almost until it hurt, the tension and weirdness of the situation fuelling their mirth. Tim had always been able to make her laugh, thought Rachel. And laughing was so important. She realized she hadn’t laughed, not properly, for a very long time.

Tim suddenly stopped, and stared at her. She stared back. Time stood still. Should she tell him? Or should she make her escape; face the journey on her own? Pretend she really had just called in to say hello.

‘We’ve split up.’

‘What – you and—’ He still couldn’t remember the bloke’s name. Something footballer-y.

‘Lee. Yes.’

Tim nodded. Swallowed and nodded, wondering what was coming next.

‘I’m sorry. I guess? If you are? I don’t know …’

‘I’m not sorry. I’m relieved.’ The words tumbled out of her.

‘Good. I suppose.’

He felt so awkward. He didn’t know the rules, or why she was here, or what he was supposed to say. He turned away, because he realized he had the tiniest of hopes and he didn’t want her to see it. Just in case.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ God, how banal and English.

‘I don’t really drink tea at the moment.’

‘No. Of course not. What would you like instead?’

She didn’t answer. He turned around. ‘Rach?’

She was sitting up straight, staring at him. He wanted to touch her hair. Her beautiful hair. He wanted to take her in his arms.

‘Is it too late?’ she asked.

‘For what?’

‘Us?’

His heart was hammering. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘I don’t want to have this baby on my own. If I have to, I will, of course. But …’

‘Oh my God.’

‘Or is it just too weird?’

‘Weird?’ Tim shook his head in disbelief. ‘Yes, it’s weird, because it’s like a dream come true. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left. I haven’t stopped worrying about you. I haven’t stopped wanting you, Rachel – wanting to look after you. Wanting to spend the rest of my life with you …’

His voice broke. The emotion was too much. He came and knelt in front of her, holding her hands.

‘I feel the same,’ she whispered.

He pulled her in tight, ran his hands through her hair, that silken hair he had never forgotten.

‘I didn’t plan it,’ said Rachel. ‘I didn’t use Lee. I honestly didn’t. I thought it would work. But it wasn’t what he wanted.’

‘Shhhh,’ said Tim. ‘I know. It’s OK. You haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘People will think it’s strange.’

‘People can think what they like.’

‘It’s my baby,’ said Rachel. ‘It’s my baby, first and foremost. Isn’t it?’

‘Of course it is.’