18 Things That Were Left Unsaid

18

Things That Were Left Unsaid

It feels good to be heading back down to Cornwall on a gloriously sunny Saturday morning. This time around I’m feeling a lot more relaxed about the visit itself, even though it’s been a trying week.

‘And you still don’t know for sure whether this mystery man was Liam, hoping to bump into you at the Hall?’ Oliver questions, after I tell him what happened on Monday.

‘No. The second time this mystery person was spotted was when Georgina went out to put some vegetable peelings on the compost heap next to the kitchen garden. The guy didn’t hear her approaching and she said he was equally as shocked as she was. She shouted at him, saying he was trespassing, and he turned tail and ran. It’s a shame that she’s never met Liam and neither has Victor, but the description they gave really sounded like it might be him.’

‘Without proof, there’s not a lot you can do.’

I shrug my shoulders. ‘Well, if it continues that might be possible. Victor suggested Elizabeth should consider having some security cameras installed. She’s horrified at the thought and I feel guilty it’s come to that. I should just go and confront Liam, let him say what he needs to say and hope that’s the end of it.’

‘I’m not sure it would be a clever idea to meet up with him alone, Sienna. I’m more than happy to drive you to meet him and wait around just in case you need some backup.’

I try to contain a smile. ‘That’s kind of you to offer, but he’s just angry with himself, not me.’

‘Yeah, well … it’s better to be safe than sorry. Anger can turn ugly when you least expect it.’

Gosh, that sounded personal. ‘It can?’

‘Trust me. I know you think Nigel has an even temper but everyone has their breaking point. The signs might be subtle, but they’re there.’

And what about Oliver? He was certainly quick to action when he saw me barring Liam access to Oakleigh. Now I’m curious about what exactly happened at the dinner party to make him leave early. Did Nigel say something to upset him and he was already riled up when he arrived?

‘That’s out of character for him. Like most people, I guess if he’d had too much to drink …’

‘Yeah, the age-old excuse.’ Oliver isn’t buying it. ‘Anyway, let’s move on. How are your festive preparations going?’

Talking about the master plan for getting the lights put up in and around Silverberry Hall, hits home to Oliver what a massive task it is. It takes a small team of guys to get everything prepped in advance of what I call decoration day and a lot of organisation to pull it off. We put up three large fir trees in the actual house itself and a twenty-six-footer graces the front lawn. Then there are the lights that run the length of the stable block and continue on past the barn to our new outdoor food preparation area. This year Elizabeth wants the whole of the courtyard to look colourful.

‘Oh, I have an envelope from Ruby in my bag. Remind me to give it to you. It’s the script you lent her last weekend.’

‘She could have kept it as a souvenir,’ he chuckles. ‘Daniela has just issued what she assures us is the definitive version. Honestly, you’d think we were going straight from Silverberry Hall to perform at Covent Garden. But we’re all on a high about it. I know Elizabeth and your grandma are going to be delighted on the night.’

‘It’s exciting and the closer it gets to the big day, the more I’m feeling it’s finally coming together. Let’s hope there’s nothing I’ve forgotten and there are no last-minute panics.’

‘It’s no mean feat to organise, that’s for sure.’

‘It’s not just that. Elizabeth doesn’t count the cost because it’s in aid of her favourite charities, but I do, on her behalf. Thankfully, local companies reach out to offer freebies – like some of the presents we wrapped for the children the other day. And the use of the two cherry pickers when it comes to putting up the lights in and around the grounds. I make sure we recognise their generosity in the official Christmas Eve at Silverberry Hall programme.’

‘There’s a printed programme?’

‘Yes. This year, the printing company I work with have linked up with the local schools. They held a children’s painting competition, and twelve winners have had their artwork used to create a calendar. The resulting profits, together with the ticket sales for the main party, should make it a bumper one. Everyone who offers services at cost – including our printers – feature in the programme, as well as those who donate goods for free.’

‘And all of this is down to you.’

‘No!’ I reply, emphatically. ‘Elizabeth, Grandma and me. We’re a team.’

‘And a formidable one, at that!’

This time, when Mum flings open the door of Anchor House, I don’t feel apprehensive. The first time around I hadn’t appreciated that I wasn’t the only nervous one; in hindsight, Mum, and Greg, were a little anxious too.

What helps is that Oliver just seems to fit in with ease. When Greg says he has something to show him outside in his workshop, the two of them head off like old friends, nattering away.

‘Greg’s been working on this boat, restoring it for a customer and he wants to show it off,’ Mum laughs. ‘You look well and happy. Thanks for coming down again so soon.’

‘I’m good and everything is ticking over nicely back in Darlingham, as the Christmas plans are now well under way. So, why wouldn’t I come?’

I put my overnight bag down next to Oliver’s and follow her into the kitchen.

‘Coffee, tea or hot chocolate and marshmallows?’

‘Ooh … it has to be hot chocolate,’ I reply, as I lean against the countertop. ‘And how are the two of you doing?’

‘We’re fine. Greg has been busy, despite the fact that it’s the quiet season, so that bodes well.’

‘And you?’

Mum pauses for a second, the kettle halfway to the tap. ‘I’m much happier than I was a couple of weeks ago.’

I catch my breath. ‘My first visit didn’t unsettle you, did it?’

‘Yes, and no. Greg says it’s time I let go of the guilt.’

‘Guilt?’ I question, my voice wavering a little.

‘There are so many things that got glossed over in the weeks leading up to my move here. Things that normally you and I would have talked through in detail.’

‘Hey, it was a hectic time. And my head was somewhere else, you know that.’

‘I do. But when I came here it didn’t just …’ Mum clears her throat, taking a few moments before continuing. ‘It didn’t just turn my life upside down, but yours and your grandma’s, too.’ She finishes filling the kettle and I wait anxiously until she turns back around, glancing in my direction. ‘You both encouraged me to take a risk, but I know how hard that was for you in particular. To have you here with us for this meal tonight means a lot to me. It means you’ve forgiven me.’

The gas burner beneath the kettle sparks into life and she steps away. I move closer, wrapping my arms around her affectionately. ‘There’s nothing to forgive, Mum. I’m the one who should feel guilty for not being more supportive. I’d retreated into my shell because I knew things weren’t right between me and Liam. I was so caught up in my own troubles that I wasn’t there for you at a time when you needed me.’

We hug each other with a fierceness that tells me this is long overdue.

‘That’s not true, you helped whenever you could. The timing was awful, and it just seemed that almost as soon as I got here—’ Her voice sounds full of regret.

‘Nothing that happened after you left was because of you, Mum. Freddie … Liam … my return to the village and now Grandma’s plans—’

‘I know, but I should have been there …’ Her words trail off and I stand back so we have eye contact.

‘It wouldn’t have made a difference, would it? It takes time to adjust to life-altering events and come to terms with the changes. I was mad at myself for messing up my life and, believe me, I wouldn’t have been good company. Finally, I’m beginning to see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. And you and Greg needed some time alone to start your new life together. That’s only natural.

‘What I loved when I first walked into Anchor Cottage, was that everywhere I looked I could see the little touches you’d added to make it feel like home. And, clearly, Greg appreciates it.’

Mum sniffs, squaring her shoulders and giving me a watery smile. ‘Home from home, my darling. And you’re always welcome here.’

‘Now, why aren’t you helping at the fayre in the church hall today?’

‘Because my daughter and her friend are here, naturally.’

As I pull out a chair to sit down at the table, I cast her a disapproving glance. ‘I don’t think you should get off that lightly. How about we ask the guys to drop us off in town and we can both lend a hand for a few hours. What do you think?’

Mum’s face brightens. ‘You don’t mind?’

‘Not at all. I still haven’t finished my Christmas shopping and if I can slope off for half an hour, I’d like to pop into Driftwood and pick up another of these.’ I reach out to run my fingers over the wooden tea-light holder I ordered that Mum picked up from the shop. I can’t tell her that Grandma insisted I give the one I took back for her to Elizabeth, but I could tell it caught Grandma’s eye, too.

‘What I love about it is the simplicity of the design and how tactile it is. Sometimes I pick a few sprigs of holly or cut a twig or two of eucalyptus and just lay it either side. No one can resist reaching out to feel the smoothness of the grain.’

‘I wonder how long it floated around in the sea before a swell washed it inland, awaiting an eagle-eyed beachcomber.’

‘Well, hopefully Ash will have more on display, certainly after the storms we had last week. All manner of things turn up and he told me that once he reclaimed a small tree. It took two of them to carry it back to his workshop. Here you go. I’ll let you add the marshmallows yourself.’

‘Thanks, Mum. It’s just like old times.’ Home from home indeed, and I couldn’t be happier for her.

Lending a hand providing cover for some of the stallholders to have a comfort break is fun. Everyone is in a festive mood and the Charlestown village hall is full of eager shoppers.

Mid-afternoon, Mum sidles up to me. ‘I think I can manage if you want to take a wander around the shops. There’s only another hour and a half to go and I think the main rush is probably over.’

‘OK. Is there anything I can get you?’

Mum beams at me. ‘I haven’t even drawn up my Christmas present list yet but if you see anything that takes your fancy, ask Jasmine to put it to one side and tell her I’ll pop in on Monday to pay for it.’

‘Mum!’

‘Go on … take a stroll, it will do you good. And head down to the cove afterwards. On a day like this, as long as you’re wrapped up well, it’s heavenly.’

She dismisses me with a laugh and a wave of her hand. Once outside, I take a few deep breaths of sea air and it’s invigorating. I can almost taste the salt on my tongue, and I listen to the raucous calls of the seagulls circling overhead as I pick up the pace.

There are two beaches at Charlestown, which is a short walk from the church hall. It sits at the top of the hill leading down to the main hub. The part sand, part cobble swathes of beach sit either side of the harbour. One is accessed by steps from the harbour wall and the other via a slipway.

I walk with purpose, determined to find a suitable decoration for Grandma and then while away half an hour just gazing out over the sea. I think I deserve a little quiet time and I don’t feel at all guilty that Greg and Oliver are off doing their own thing. Fishermen love sitting around telling tales of the one that got away, and as someone who has never fished, it all sounds a bit dreary to me.

There’s a constant stream of people coming and going. With several eateries close together, there’s something for everyone, and when I climb the stairs to Driftwood, I’m surprised how busy it is. In the background, Christmas music is playing, but it’s low level and atmospheric, as opposed to some of the more raucous compilations. Being on the top floor has its advantages with the view, but the two long flights of stairs are a bit of a drag.

However, the shop is warm, cosy, colourful and inviting. Jasmine and a younger woman are busy serving and I’m glad that there’s no sign of Ash as I begin to nosey around. Perhaps I should look for something slightly different for Grandma. It doesn’t take long for an item to catch my eye and I find myself immediately breaking into a smile, knowing that she’ll love it.

It’s another driftwood item, but it stands about twelve inches high and it’s a clever use of what I should imagine was originally a large knot on a tree trunk. Weathered until it’s silvery-smooth, it’s been hollowed out to hold two attractive cranberry-coloured shot-size glasses. They could be used for tea lights, or to hold small items of jewellery, or even a little potpourri.

I wait in line to pay, and when it’s my turn to step forward, Jasmine smiles at me with her eyes. ‘Back again, I see.’

‘I couldn’t resist. The driftwood pieces make such a lovely gift. My mum was thrilled with hers.’

‘I didn’t realise you were Helen’s daughter. My parents are long-time friends of Greg’s. They make such a lovely couple, and your mum has settled in really quickly.’

Jasmine wraps the awkwardly shaped item with ease, covering it in bubble wrap before placing it into the stout paper carrier bag.

‘Yes, thankfully. I think having been born in and growing up as part of a small community makes it easier to understand life outside of a town, or a city. People need to know they can rely upon each other in an emergency, don’t they?’

‘They sure do. I live about a twenty-minute drive away in a row of houses set in a bit of a dip. Every winter without fail what we call the hollow in the middle of the lane gets flooded and we need to get the sandbags out. Everyone mucks in. There you go. That should survive your journey home intact.’

‘Thank you. I doubt I’ll be back again this side of Christmas, so have a lovely one.’

‘You, too!’