Winter Wishes (6 page)

Danny had risen to his feet now. “Dad, if you did take it just say so, for Christ’s sake, and save us the arse-ache of calling the bank.”

“OK, so I took it. What’s the big deal? It’s my money too.” Jimmy glared at Alice, his grey ponytail bobbing in outrage. “So what if I have some now and then? The last time I looked I was the head of this family. It’s technically my money anyway.”

“It’s money to pay the bills!” Alice cried despairingly. She looked close to tears. “Jimmy, isn’t it bad enough that you use the business like your own personal cash flow? Have you started raiding the bills account now? What’s next? Do you want to sell Seaspray? Or have you equity-released it all and not told us?”

“It’s one solution,” Jimmy shrugged.

“Dad, you can’t sell Seaspray!” Issie wailed. “It’s our home.”

Jimmy blew her a kiss. “Of course I won’t, baby girl. That was a joke. Don’t worry about a thing. Granny’s just making a fuss.”

“A fuss?” Jake echoed in disbelief. “You call our being twenty grand in hock to the bank already
a fuss
?”

Jules fought the urge to clap her hands over her ears. Oblivious to her presence, the family were now happily airing all their dirty laundry, and doing some ironing and folding to boot. Resentments, old wrongs and grudges were flying everywhere. There were some things a vicar really didn’t need to know about her flock.

“I’ve booked a holiday,” Jimmy was now explaining, an aggrieved note in his voice. “I’ve worked bloody hard all summer.”

This was news to everybody in the room. Although he was supposed to run the family’s marina business with Jake, on most days Jimmy was more likely to be found in The Ship chatting to tourists than doing anything useful at Tremaine Marine.

“I deserve a holiday, don’t I, Vicar?” Jimmy turned to Jules now, his eyes wide and guileless.

“Don’t you dare try and drag Jules into this!” Danny thundered.

“Oh chill out, son,” Jimmy said airily. Turning to his mother he continued, “I’ve booked a trip to California. So shoot me, Ma. There’s some stuff I have to deal with and I need a bit of sun. Don’t look so frightened. I’m not off to Vegas to marry a showgirl.” He winked at Jules. “If I did want to marry one, I’d bring her back here and boost the numbers for the church, Rev, so don’t worry. We’d make Mo and Ashley’s bash look tiny!”

In spite of everything, Jules’s lips twitched. Jimmy’s irreverence was part of his charm. It was also what made him so frustrating to deal with. Even Jake laughed, although it was a very despairing sound.

“California! Cool!” Issie’s eyes were wide. “Can I come too? Please?”

“Better pawn the silver first,” Nick suggested.

“If Dad hasn’t already,” Mo muttered, glowering at her father, who merely shrugged.

“I loved being out in San Francisco back in the nineties,” Jimmy continued, sensing that some of his audience were becoming ever so slightly less antagonistic. “After Penny died, only going out there saved me, you know? I wasn’t myself when I lost your mum.”

Danny exhaled impatiently. “None of us were. We lost our mum, and then our dad pushed off to ‘find himself’. It was really considerate. None of us are at all fucked up by it, Dad. I’d never do that to Morgan and I’ll never understand how you could do it us. Still, at least you ‘found yourself’, eh?”

“We’re all different, son,” said Jimmy sagely. “And I’m sorry if you still find what I did hard to accept, but I was grieving and I needed to come to terms with things my own way.”

“In a Californian hippy commune?” Danny scoffed. “Smoking dope and dropping out?”

His father laughed. “It wasn’t the sixties, Dan, although truth be told there was a bit of weed now and again. I just fixed farm equipment and helped out. It was a healing time.”

“It sounds good to me.” Suddenly Issie couldn’t see anything wrong with blowing the month’s bills money on a trip to San Francisco. “Please, Dad, can I come? I’d love to go with you.”

“Another time, doll,” promised her father. “I’ve got business this trip.”

Jake’s eyebrows leapt into his thick blond fringe. “Business? Come on, Dad, don’t take us for idiots. You’ll drink whiskey and smoke too much. What
business
could you possibly have out there?”

“I can’t tell you that, son, but it’s important and you’ll just have to trust me on this one.”

Danny and Jake glanced at one another. It was clear that they didn’t trust their father as far as they could throw him; even that short distance would be pushing it.

“Jim, we really can’t afford that kind of expense,” Alice said wearily. “You’ll have to cancel the ticket and get a refund.”

Jimmy, busy pulling his ponytail out of its rubber band and running his hands through his grey locks, frowned. “I can’t do that, Ma. The tickets are non-refundable. If I don’t fly then I’ve lost the money. I’ll have to go, with or without your blessing.”

Alice closed her eyes in despair. “Where did I go wrong with you? What don’t you understand about paying bills?”

“Can’t Summer help with all that?” Jimmy asked Jake hopefully. “She’s got loads of money surely?”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “It’s not my girlfriend’s job to pay this family’s bills.”

“I’m happy help out,” Ashley offered hesitantly. He was holding Mo tightly and his chin rested on her bright red curls. Everything about his body language said that he would protect her from all this nonsense no matter what it took.

“You’ll do no such thing and neither will Summer,” Alice said hotly. “This is a family matter and we’ll handle it as a family.”

“Ashley’s part of our family now, remember?” Mo pointed out, waving her left hand at her grandmother. Her wedding ring sparkled as she did so.

“He’s not a Tremaine though,” Danny said. “No disrespect, Ash. We appreciate the offer but this is our business and we’ll sort it ourselves. That’s the Tremaine way.”

Ashley nodded. “I understand. I’d feel exactly the same – but the offer’s always there if you change your minds. You’re Mo’s family and there’s nothing I won’t do for Mo.”

“Are you lot mental?” Issie said, looking from Danny to Jake in disbelief. “Ashley’s bloody loaded. Why can’t he help us?”

“Because we have our family pride,” Alice told her staunchly, “although your father’s doing his best to destroy that. And besides, it isn’t Ashley’s job to bail us out of financial trouble.”

There was another knock on the door, followed by more furious barking.

“I’ll go,” said Jules quickly, glad of a pretext for stepping away from the argument. She’d make her excuses and slink off to the vicarage once she’d answered the door, she decided. She could always plead urgent sermon-writing or a prayer meeting. Nobody tended to argue with those.

Leaving the family deep in discussion, Jules made her way to the front door, pausing only to scoop up the entire bag of mini Mars bars from the hall table. It was a cold and murky night and any child who’d made the effort to climb all the way up to Seaspray deserved a good haul.

“Coming,” she called cheerily, as she fiddled with the latch and gave the heavy door a good hard shove. “Give me a minute: the door’s stuck! Ah! Here we go!”

With one more concerted push, cold night air laden with the scent of woodsmoke came rushing inside. The door swung open but, rather than the gaggle of excited costumed children Jules was expecting, there was just one child on the doorstep.

One child holding the hand of a pale-faced woman who had two suitcases set at her feet. Jules’s mouth fell open.

“Happy Halloween, Vicar,” said Tara Tremaine.

Chapter 4

The last person Tara had expected to answer Seaspray’s front door was the vicar. For a brief moment she was lost for words. She’d considered all sorts of possibilities – it was hard not to when you were about as popular with your ex’s family as a bout of  diarrhoea – but the chance that Jules Mathieson would be in situ hadn’t featured on her list. Rather than the confrontation she’d been expecting, here was a smiling, if rather surprised, face and a warm welcome. Tara was completely thrown.

Maybe returning to Polwenna Bay wasn’t going to be quite as dreadful as she’d feared.

As she’d walked through the dark village, only half listening to Morgan’s endless chatter about pumpkins and fancy dress, Tara had been psyching herself up to face Issie – or, even worse, Morwenna. Neither of them would be thrilled to see her. Issie would probably slam the door in her face, Tara had decided, while Mo was bound to make some biting remark about tricks rather than treats. As she’d lugged the two suitcases up the steep path that led to the elegant whitewashed house, Tara had prayed very hard that Alice or maybe Nick would answer. Alice would be gracious even if she was horrified, and Nick would probably be in such a hurry to get to the pub that he’d scarcely care who was calling.

The thought that Danny might answer the door was one that Tara hadn’t dared contemplate. She hadn’t seen her estranged husband for months, but this hadn’t stopped her heart from skipping a beat whenever she caught sight of a tall blond man in the street or saw from the corner of her eye somebody she thought for a split second might be him. The inevitable surge of despair when it turned out to be a stranger was overwhelming. Tara wasn’t sure how she would handle the reality of being near Danny again. The last time they’d met, the ice in his voice had almost been enough to give her frostbite. He’d loved her so much once – they’d been everything to each other – and it was painful beyond belief to see this turn to indifference.

It was even worse to know that she had nobody to blame for this but herself…

“All right, Jules?” Morgan said as he charged past into the lamp-lit hall. Her son didn’t seem at all surprised to find the vicar at Seaspray, thought Tara. So she was a regular here, then. Interesting. Jules certainly looked at home in the hall in her socked feet and clutching a bag of Mars bars. She’d lost weight since the start of the summer, though. She was still very full-figured – way bigger than Tara’s own slim size-eight frame – but defined cheekbones and killer curves were starting to emerge. Jules had changed her hair too: it was definitely longer, with soft tendrils curling around her face, and that awful maroon home colour had been replaced by a glossy brunette shade.

A ripple of unease spilled down Tara’s spine. What else had changed in her absence?

“Tara, hi! Come in out of the cold!” Setting down the packet of Mars bars, Jules pushed the door wider open and reached for the bags that Morgan had abandoned in his haste to reach the kitchen. She was smiling warmly and didn’t look at all upset to see the unexpected visitor.

Tara took a deep breath and pushed her paranoia aside. Dragging her suitcases behind her, she stepped into the hallway and into a rush of warm, soup-scented air. Alice’s cooking, of course. Tara’s mouth watered. When had she last eaten? Not today, at any rate. Her Visa card had been declined and what money she did have had been spent on breakfast for Morgan and their journey to Polwenna Bay. Right on cue, her stomach rumbled loudly.

“Hungry?” asked Jules.

Tara shrugged. “I’ve not eaten for a while.”

“We both know Alice will happily sort that out,” Jules smiled. She had a nice smile. It crinkled the corners of her eyes and made dimples dance in her cheeks, so that you couldn’t help smiling back. Tara thought this was probably one of the things that made her so good at her job.

“Don’t struggle with all that lot: leave your bags by the door. Dan and Jake can fetch them,” Jules protested as Tara wrestled with her baggage. “Let’s get you warmed up and find something to eat.”

Maybe her worried prayers had been answered by having Jules answer the door, Tara reflected as she abandoned her suitcases and followed the vicar’s more generously proportioned backside along the hall and into the kitchen. The family would have to behave themselves if the village vicar was present, and even Mo would have to button it. Having psyched herself up for a confrontation, Tara felt relieved now. Confrontations would come, that was inevitable, but at least she could prepare herself and hopefully talk to Danny first.

Seaspray was blissfully warm after the bitter chill outside, and every inch of it was achingly familiar. Tara glanced around as though reacquainting herself with an old friend, one she’d known for years and maybe taken for granted sometimes, but that she loved dearly nonetheless. Yes, it was a place she’d very much missed. Seaspray had seen some of Tara’s happiest times and her most unhappy ones too. She’d grown up in this house, studied for her GCSEs at the kitchen table, had her first kiss in the garden, been carried over the threshold by Danny, brought Morgan home here, drunk tea with Alice and cooked dinner on the temperamental old Aga. Every corner of the place rang with echoes of the past. That John Dyer painting on the wall opposite had been a wedding present. Over there were long scrapes on the skirting board, made by Danny attempting to manoeuvre their garage-sale bargain sleigh bed through the back door. The frame of Morgan’s pram was probably still in the cupboard under the stairs, buried like a metal dinosaur skeleton beneath old wellies and coats. Tara knew without having to look that there was dust on the tops of the door frames, that the kitchen tap leaked and that a kettle would be boiling away on the Aga.

How was it possible that nothing and everything had changed?

On this bitter October night, unemployed and down to the last few coins in her purse, it was hard for Tara to remember exactly why she’d walked out on her life here. In the months that had passed since she and Danny had last flung accusations at one another, the sharpness of their angry words had dulled. The reasons that had driven her away, so intense and so pressing at the time, now cast only faint shadows. A broken relationship, a lost job and several very hard lessons on, Tara was no longer so convinced that she’d made the right decision.

How much life could change in just a heartbeat: all it took was a drink or two, a rash choice, a foolish mistake, the wrong words spoken…

Now isn’t the time to dwell on all that
, Tara told herself sharply. Seaspray might have been her special place for years, and these people staring at her now with expressions of mingled horror and surprise on their faces might have been her family once, but all that was in the past. It didn’t matter to them that she’d stood by the Aga a thousand times waiting for the kettle to boil, or that she and Danny had spent many an evening kissing on that battered old sofa, or that she’d sat with him to eat supper while the baby laughed and cooed from his high chair. Even though the tide of nostalgia breaking over her now was as powerful as any waves rolling into the bay below, she was the only one feeling it. The others were bristling with antipathy. She was no longer wanted here, that was a given, and it was a measure of her desperation that she’d even thought of returning, let alone made the journey back.