They held each other, as tight as tight could be.
‘You can teach the baby to swim,’ said Rachel. ‘I can watch while you teach the baby to swim.’
Tim buried his face in her neck, breathed in the scent of Rachel that he had never forgotten. He had gone from feeling empty, a shadow of himself, like a very bad actor playing a part in a play he didn’t believe in, to feeling invincible. So filled with happiness it hurt.
She held his hands and pulled herself to her feet. ‘Let’s walk down to the sea,’ she said. ‘I want to feel the water on my skin.’
They wandered hand in hand down to the sea edge. The beach was crowded, but they felt as if they were the only people in the world. Rachel rolled up her skirt and they walked into the water. The waves lapped around them, eager, as if welcoming them back after a long time away.
‘Cordelia,’ said Rachel. ‘It means daughter of the sea.’
‘Is it a girl, then?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Rachel.
‘Well, definitely Cordelia,’ said Tim. ‘If it’s a girl. Obviously.’
She nudged him with her elbow, smiling. ‘What if it’s a boy?’
They both thought for a moment.
‘How about Neptune?’ Tim suggested. ‘Going with the sea theme.’
She frowned. ‘I thought Poisedon.’
They turned to look at each other. They were both trying desperately to keep a straight face. Rachel cracked first. She bent double, laughing, and Tim pretended to look wounded and confused but then he gave in, and they leaned into each other as the water swirled around them, helpless with the kind of laughter that makes you want to live forever and ever.
Elodie stood at the top of the cliff path. It was only just before dawn, and a soft breeze ruffled the marram grass. Pink started to spread across the sky, like paint being squeezed from a tube. It lit up the horizon with a rosiness that lifted her heart. There was nothing more uplifting than daybreak by the sea.
Earlier in the week she and Colm had married, very quietly, in a civil ceremony at a hotel in Hampstead, with afternoon tea afterwards. She had eschewed a reception and a honeymoon; just told him that she had a surprise. She had left him the night before with a white envelope he wasn’t to open until the morning, which contained instructions on how to get to Everdene. All their children had a similar envelope, and instructions to pack overnight bags for themselves and the grandchildren.
Fifteen altogether, they would be, their enmeshed family. The bedrooms were all made up and ready. The house had been painted in a pale limewash, the wooden floors stripped; the kitchens and bathrooms replaced with simple white units. The drawing room had lost its formality – now there were low, squashy sofas and sheer curtains in different shades of grey and silver. There was very little else yet – Elodie wanted the house to grow with her and Colm in their new life, rather than inflict what she already had upon it. They would choose books and paintings and ornaments together over the next few years. She wanted the house to be allowed to breathe; to let it evolve.
The pièce de résistance, for the youngest ones, was the beach hut. She’d had it completely renovated, re-using all the old wood, so it still had the feel of having been there decades, yet had all the mod cons needed for an overnight stay. There were curtains and cushions in ice-cream stripes, and bunk beds and built-in cupboards, as snug as a gypsy caravan.
The hut still felt special to her. The memories from her childhood were still good ones; she wouldn’t let them be spoiled by what came after. And actually, she wouldn’t go back and change anything. She loved who she was, what she had become, the people she had spent her life with, the life she wasn’t meant to have had. Lady Bellnap, Edmund, and now Colm – she would never have known their kindness and strength and wisdom had things gone according to plan.
All that was left of that part of her past was Lillie. But they had reforged their bond and it was stronger than ever. Some of her mother’s old strength and spirit seemed to have been restored to her since she left the home. She had put on weight and she was a far better colour. Her interest in her appearance had revived – thanks to Elodie, Lillie had discovered the Internet, and there was hardly a day when a new silk scarf or flacon of perfume didn’t arrive. Elodie had found a local woman who was happy to come in and keep house while she was in London, so she knew Lillie was looked after properly, and she had been in to see the local GP to make sure that if her mother needed medical attention, they were on hand.
And now she waited for the rest of her family to arrive – her own flesh and blood, and her offspring by marriage. Everdene was the perfect place for the generations to co-exist. She wanted The Grey House to be there for all of them, for them to come and go as they pleased, for them to be able to invite their friends. She wanted security and happiness and a sense of place for all of them, a sense of coming home.
After all, if she could have that feeling, after fifty years, then Everdene would work its magic on them too. She put her face up to the breeze, marvelling at how happy she felt, how contented, how calm.
At half past ten, she heard the crunch of tyres on the new gravel she’d had laid on the drive. She rushed to the front door, flinging it open, and her heart swelled with joy as she saw Colm get out of his car, a smile of bemused wonder on his face.
‘Nice gaffe,’ he said, with his usual dry understatement.
‘Well,’ said Elodie. ‘It’s sort of my wedding present. Not just to you, but to all of us.’
Colm took his overnight bag out of the boot and slammed it shut. ‘It’s a lovely present. Much nicer than a wedding reception. A family weekend at the seaside.’ He breathed in the sea air appreciatively.
‘Um. Not just a weekend.’
Colm raised an eyebrow as he grinned at her, and Elodie looked a bit sheepish. But that was what she loved about him – the fact that he wouldn’t question what she had done or complain that she had kept a secret from him. They trusted each other so completely. They were as one, yet two distinct individuals.
Elodie drew him inside and walked him through the hall towards the drawing room. She threw open the door. It had never looked more perfect, the sunshine streaming in, turning the grey to silver; the sea a haze of pewter in the distance.
‘Wow.’ Colm nodded. ‘Just … wow.’
‘This is ours,’ said Elodie. ‘It’s for you and me, and all the children. All of us. For ever.’
‘Really?’ Colm looked at her.
‘I’m not trying to hijack our life,’ Elodie told him, ‘but this place means more to me than anywhere on earth, and I want you and I and our families to enjoy it.’
‘You’ve bought it?’
Elodie bit her lip, but she couldn’t help smiling as she nodded. ‘Brings new meaning to the words impulse purchase.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘Though it wasn’t an impulse purchase, really. It was a … compulsory purchase. I didn’t have any choice in the matter.’
‘I can imagine. It’s a magical place,’ said Colm. He took her hand, and together they walked out through the French windows and onto the terrace. The sea breeze rushed forward to caress them. Elodie felt a rush of joy; a huge sense that everything had come full circle after all these years.
‘There is a story, of course.’
Colm smiled. ‘Of course there is. It wouldn’t be you if there wasn’t.’
‘Do you want to hear it?’
‘Does it have a happy ending?’
She smiled. ‘This is the ending.’
‘Then yes. I’d love to hear it.’
Elodie led him down onto the lawn. She couldn’t begin to count the number of times she had walked across it. But this time, she was with the love of her life. The man she wanted to spend the rest of her days with. They reached the top of the dunes and she heard Colm take in a breath of wonder as he took in the full view of the beach below and the sea beyond.
‘Once upon a time,’ she began, ‘there was a girl who spent every summer by the seaside …’
Veronica Henry worked as a scriptwriter for
The Archers
,
Heartbeat
and
Holby City
, amongst many others, before turning to fiction. She lives with her family on the coast in North Devon. Visit her website at
www.veronicahenry.co.uk
or follow her on Twitter @veronica_henry
By Veronica Henry
Wild Oats
An Eligible Bachelor
Love on the Rocks
Marriage and Other Games
The Beach Hut
The Birthday Party
The Long Weekend
A Night on the Orient Express
The Beach Hut Next Door
THE HONEYCOTE NOVELS
Honeycote
Making Hay
Just a Family Affair
First published in Great Britain in 2014 by Orion Books
Ebook first published in 2014 by Orion Books
© Veronica Henry 2014
The right of Veronica Henry to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978-1-4091-4672-8
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