19 An Awkward Confrontation

19

An Awkward Confrontation

Five minutes after stepping back out onto the street, I’m strolling downhill towards the harbour, happily swinging my beautifully wrapped parcel in one hand and feeling relaxed.

‘Excuse me!’ I hear a voice somewhere behind me, but it isn’t until a hand touches my arm that I realise someone is trying to get my attention.

I turn, and to my dismay it’s Ash.

‘Sorry, I wasn’t ignoring you. Did I forget something?’

‘No. No. Um …’ He casts his eyes around nervously, but no one’s really taking any notice of us.

‘Can you spare me five minutes?’

I give him a questioning smile. ‘Is this a customer survey?’

‘Uh, no … this is about … do you mind if we find somewhere quiet to sit and chat?’

A lump rises in my throat. ‘Look, I’m just visiting, and I need to—’

‘I know who you are,’ he retorts, cutting me dead. ‘A friend rang to tell me that a couple were up at Rock House Hotel asking questions about the previous owners. Coincidentally, it was the same day that you called into the shop that first time, but I had no reason to think it was you. I do now.’

My stomach begins to churn as I glance at him momentarily. When I don’t make any attempt to move, he continues.

‘I took a trip to Silverberry Hall in Darlingham, and I saw you not once, but twice. Do you work there?’

I nod my head. ‘Maybe we should find somewhere a bit more private,’ I agree, albeit with an air of reluctance.

Ash indicates to our right. People are milling around, some with dogs on leads, and as we make our way down the sloping concrete run leading onto the smaller of the two beaches, neither of us says a word.

The pebbles crunch beneath my walking boots as I step off the ramp, giving way slightly with each step I take. I focus on avoiding knotted clumps of shiny black seaweed that look slippery. At one end there’s a low concrete section and we make our way over to it. It’s a good enough seat, and far enough away from the main hub to guarantee that we won’t be overheard.

‘On a day like this the sea is glorious.’ He’s nervous and trying to disguise it by making polite conversation. ‘It’s a bit choppy but when the sky is this blue, even though the water is freezing, it always looks inviting.’

‘You obviously enjoy living here,’ I reply, wishing he’d just get straight to the point.

‘I do. My life changed completely when we moved to Cornwall.’

The silence is awkward. I gaze around, fascinated by the foamy tide as it creeps up the beach. There’s a whooshing noise as the waves break, followed by a loud clattering sound of the pebbles when the water ebbs away, sucking them almost dry. He’s waiting for me to say something and there’s no point pretending I don’t know at least a little bit about his life.

‘It can’t have been easy leaving everyone behind.’

He turns to look at me. ‘I missed my friends at school, but it was always just Mum and me, really. We rarely had contact with family and when we did, we often received a frosty welcome. Mum never got on with her dad.’

‘That’s sad, for her and for you … I mean, not having an easy relationship with your grandparents.’

‘Hmm … it was all I knew, and I was on Mum’s side. No one had the right to tell her how to live her life. My grandparents were only worried about what people thought about their daughter being abandoned by the father of her child. I once overhead her dad ask whether she even knew who he was. I was too young to rush in and defend her, but if I’d been older I’d have lashed out at him for making her cry. It was easier after we came here. People didn’t ask questions, they just assumed she was a widow, and they were respectful.’

‘Changing names … why bother, when her family had no idea where you were anyway?’

Ash stares off into the distance, a fleeting smile playing around his lips as, no doubt, a distant memory replays inside his head. ‘And yet you managed to find me. Can I talk frankly, as I have a favour to ask.’

I nod my head, wondering where this is leading.

‘Good. Mum said a fresh start required a new name, something that wouldn’t constantly remind us of the past. She said that in life you get to choose your friends but not your family, and it was good riddance to the lot of them!’

‘That must have felt liberating for her.’

‘It was. She kept saying, “Your dad won’t forget us,” and, as it turned out, he didn’t. The move changed everything. We soon got to know the locals and then when the holiday season hit, well … I was old enough to lend a hand after school and at weekends. It was fun and she was so happy running the hotel – happier than I’d ever seen her before.’

He stares down at his boot, scraping it over the pebbles while deep in thought.

‘You said you have a favour to ask?’

‘Yes. I couldn’t get up the courage to go and knock on the door of Silverberry Hall. I tried … twice. I stayed one night in a B they were members of the same golf club, as was my employer’s late husband. I was simply asked to make a few discreet enquiries, that’s all.’

Trying to appear calm isn’t easy as my stomach is doing somersaults. What if he starts quizzing me about Elizabeth and Freddie?

‘But you succeeded where a professional investigator failed.’ He seems to find that thought rather amusing.

‘The intention was well meant, I can assure you. It’s all in the hands of an Italian solicitor; they simply needed an address.’

Ash leans back, gazing out to sea, where a large tanker slowly edges its way across the horizon.

‘Yes. I had a heads-up a while ago, when my maternal grandmother told me about the guy they employed to trace me. I get it, they have to exhaust all avenues, but I’d already made it clear to her that I didn’t want my details given out to anyone. At least she honoured that.’

‘You’re in touch with her?’ I let out an involuntary gasp. ‘I was led to believe that your family didn’t know where you were.’

‘It’s not common knowledge. My grandfather isn’t aware of it. He and Mum hadn’t spoken properly in years. The thing is, he’s always been a bit of a bully and Mum wasn’t one to just toe the line for the sake of a quiet life. When she died, I wrote to them, but I didn’t give any contact details. Then I had a change of heart. I found their number on Mum’s phone, and I rang them a few days later. I thought they might want to attend the funeral. He wouldn’t come. My grandmother sobbed down the phone, but she didn’t come either. To be honest, I think Mum would have preferred it that way. But I figured I owed it to them, to at least give them the option.’

‘ You owed it to them ?’

He shrugs his shoulders. ‘Some people think death is final, and if that’s what they believe, I didn’t want that on my conscience. My grandmother and I talk occasionally, but she respects my privacy. We don’t have a lot in common.’

How can he talk about this without any trace of emotion? I’m feeling tearful just listening to him because it’s so terribly sad.

‘You don’t understand, do you?’ he asks, his eyes searching mine.

‘I’m trying to, but—’

‘Look … my father’s hands were tied when he found out my mother was expecting a baby. He’d not long arrived in Italy, having made himself an outcast to his family.’

My jaw literally drops. ‘You know the full story?’

‘I do and I’m guessing that you do, too.’

That throws me into a bit of a spin. ‘No … um … only a little because of the task I was given. I wasn’t sure—’

‘Ah, you had to be talked into it. Well, that says a lot about you.’ He pauses, looking at me quizzically.

‘Oh, sorry! I’m Sienna … Sienna Sanderson.’

I stick out my hand and we shake.

‘I like that you’re loyal to your employer, but you don’t blindly do as you’re told.’

I feel myself recoiling. Is he goading me? ‘I’m sorry, this really is none of my business. No one, aside from the Italian solicitors, will bother you precisely because of your right to privacy in this matter.’

His expression changes and he frowns. ‘I get it. You thought you were doing me a favour, right? And the person who sent you thought the same thing.’

He has Freddie’s posture; his back is straight, and he holds his head high, but instead of dark brown hair, it’s a lighter colouring, sandier, and a mass of curls that seem to have a life of their own.

‘Well … yes. If I left someone a gift in my will I’d expect the people closest to me to honour my wishes out of respect, not just because of the legal aspect.’ He can see I’m growing anxious about this conversation. ‘You’re in touch with the right people now, so it’s entirely up to you what you do next.’

‘You think I’m ungrateful, don’t you? But money isn’t everything.’

This is exasperating. ‘No. It’s not for me to have an opinion about this at all.’

‘But we both know that your employer has an opinion.’

If he wants to play games, I have a few questions of my own. ‘Why go all the way to Darlingham without getting the answers you seek?’

He turns to face me, raising his eyebrows. ‘I don’t need, or want, answers. I was just being nosey, I suppose. I was told that my father’s family lived in London, so I didn’t understand the connection to the Cotswolds at first. He wrote me a letter, which my mother gave to me when I was sixteen years old.’

My pulse is racing, and my eyes are constantly drawn back to his face as he stares off into the distance.

‘You do know that his family had no idea you even existed until now? It’s not their fault—’

He gives a dismissive chuckle. ‘Ah … what if or … if only … but I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s all irrelevant now.’

Suddenly, a chilling thought strikes me. Does Ash blame Freddie and Elizabeth for what happened? Does he feel that by making contact, it would be disloyal to his father’s memory? That’s some messed-up thinking and I’m dismayed, because it seems his mind is already made up.

‘You have every right to be curious about your roots, you know,’ I encourage.

He draws in a deep and meaningful breath. ‘As I stood looking up at the Hall I thought to myself why rake up the past now? Who does it benefit? Certainly not the people living there. I can’t imagine it’s the sort of thing they want made public after all these years, is it?’

This is agonising. It’s sounds to me that he isn’t even aware that Freddie is no longer with us.

‘It benefits you ,’ I state firmly.

‘I am who I am, and knowing more about my father’s parents isn’t going to change anything. As Mum said, at least we get to choose our friends. I’m surrounded by some very loyal and kind people, who’ve been there for me through some tough times. I’ve never felt there’s anything missing from my life, so why get myself into something I might end up regretting?’

My breath catches in my throat. ‘Ash, why are you telling me this?’

‘Because there’s no one else I can talk to. I realised that knocking on the door of Silverberry Hall was a bad idea almost as soon as I arrived in Darlingham. I have no sense of connection to the people there, or the place.’

‘And you’re serious … you really want it to remain that way?’ I ask, my voice wavering as I think of Elizabeth.

‘I think it’s the best way to handle it.’

‘But you don’t have to prove who you are … you do know that? Peter’s widow accepts that you exist. You’re a beneficiary and it doesn’t come with any strings attached.’

‘Let’s not pretend it’s as clear cut as that. I don’t want the complication that comes with having to manage other people’s expectations. It’s better to quash them and move on. Like father, like son.’

‘But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it face to face at Silverberry Hall?’

‘No, I couldn’t. Then, when I glanced out of my workshop just now and I saw you, I knew it was the perfect solution.’

I stare at him aghast. ‘I can’t be your messenger.’

‘Why not? I could argue that it’s your fault I’m in this position.’ He doesn’t sound angry, just a little put out.

‘If you’d met Elizabeth Blakesley, you’d know why.’

He shakes his head. ‘None of it is my doing and it’s not right that I should be pressured into explaining my actions.’

‘I was asked to find you precisely because this is about protecting your privacy. It’s not about your father’s family, believe me. But now we’ve talked, I’ll be honest with you – I think you’re making a huge mistake for all the wrong reasons. The past is just that. But can you imagine the emotional impact of knowing you exist? You’re … their flesh and blood.’

He stands, looking down at me with a pinched expression on his face. ‘And I should feel guilty about it because … why? I don’t owe them anything. That’s a “no” then to delivering my message, which I thought was a kinder way of saying, “Thanks, but no thanks.”’

I ease myself upright. ‘Kinder, how?’

‘They can all go back to pretending I don’t exist and none of this ever happened. I have a house and I run my own business. As far as I’m concerned, my parents already left me a legacy, so my mind is made up. I don’t intend to get drawn into a past that is best left buried.’

‘Well, the decision is yours. I’m sorry, really sorry for the part I played in this, and I wish you well for the future, I really do.’

As he trudges away, I feel gutted. For him, and for Elizabeth. What is surprising, given the situation, is how calm he is about it. There’s no anger and no recriminations. He’s had a happy life and that was down to the strength and determination of his mother. His father supported them in the only way he could, and without interfering. A part of me can’t help but wonder whether there were times when he wished it could have been different.

The real tragedy is that I truly believe Freddie would have found a way to resolve whatever issues Peter was struggling with, if they’d just been able to sit down and talk calmly. I know that, because I knew Freddie and you can only judge a person by their actions. And, yes, he was a practical, law-abiding man in every way, but he was also compassionate. He treated me with respect, despite the mistakes I’d made which got me into a mess. He gave me a chance, an opportunity to feel good about myself again, when I was at an all-time low. Sadly, Peter taking flight didn’t give Freddie the opportunity to admit he’d overreacted. And even worse, it robbed Elizabeth – them all, really – of so much more.

What is heartbreaking is that if Ash met Elizabeth, he’d be left in no doubt at all about how proud she’d be to acknowledge him. She doesn’t care about the past, either. It’s today and tomorrow that count. None of us knows how many years we have left on this earth, but whatever time Elizabeth has would be joyously happy with a grandson in her life.

The Line and Sinker Bistro is quite a surprise. When Greg, Oliver, Mum and I bustle through the smart glass doors in an alleyway off Charlestown Road, my first thought was that it was a quaint little place. I had no idea how far back the narrow-looking building stretched, or that we’d be eating in a new glass addition to the rear. It looks out onto a small, but colourful courtyard.

‘This is a real gem of a place,’ I remark to Oliver, as he helps me off with my coat.

He grins at me. ‘It was worth dressing up for.’

I chuckle to myself, as he disappears to hang up our coats. I did have a bit of a what to wear crisis earlier on and got him to check out the two outfits I’d brought with me. It’s cold, so leggings were a must, but I’d brought a soft blue jumper to match my eyes and a cerise, mid-thigh-length figure-hugging top with large black flower heads that I wasn’t sure was really me. He said the cerise was the hands-down winner and I could tell from his face that he meant it.

The table is set for twenty people and we’re the first to arrive. I hover, looking at the artwork display on the walls, as Mum and Greg are deep in conversation with one of the waiters.

By the time Oliver returns, they’re seated, and he pulls out a chair for me next to Greg. I find myself biting my lip; maybe I should have sat down next to Mum, so Oliver could chat with Greg but it’s too late now.

Oliver slides onto the chair next to me and leans in while my thoughts are still churning. ‘It’s nice to look out over the courtyard, isn’t it? Do you know any of the people who are coming?’

‘No. They’re all long-time friends of Greg’s,’ I reply, keeping my voice low. ‘That’s why Mum was a bit nervous, you know, it being the first time they’ve all got together. I guess it’s a tradition and now she’s a part of it.’

Greg turns to me. ‘What’s your preference, Sienna? And Oliver, wine or beer? They have a few on tap.’

We both plump for red wine, as it’s just easier if we all have the same thing, but before the waiter returns a steady stream of people join us and the introductions begin. To my utmost surprise, Jasmine is among them, and she gives me a friendly wave across the table. She’s with her parents and a younger man, named Eric.

‘Welcome, folks! Here’s tonight’s menu and the specials are at the bottom.’ The waiter passes the menus around. ‘We’ll just sort everyone’s drinks and give you a few minutes to make your selection.’

The noise of the chatter around the table seems to fill the glass extension, which is very much like a garden room. I lean into Greg. ‘This is a wonderful restaurant. Do you always come here for the big meet-up?’

‘Yes. It’s owned by my cousin, Cole, and his wife.’ As the introductions were a little haphazard, Greg goes on to talk me through who’s who around the table. When he comes to Eric, I ask if he’s Jasmine’s brother.

‘No, they’re a couple. They got engaged a few months ago.’

I turn to look at him, puzzled. ‘I thought she was Ash’s partner.’

This comes as quite a shock. It was nice to think that at least Ash had someone special in his life.

He seems surprised. ‘No. Ash owns the store and Jasmine serves there three days a week in return for being able to display her jewellery. She has a website and sells stuff online, too. He was seeing a lady named Cali, but she hasn’t been around for a while.’

Jasmine’s father catches Greg’s attention now that everyone has a drink and Greg proposes a toast. ‘To friends, old and new, gathered around the table. I hope everyone has an amazing Christmas and New Year. Here’s to us all!’

A chorus of response fills the air. Mum had no need to worry; she’s deep in conversation with the woman next to her, leaving me to touch glasses with Greg. ‘Thanks for coming, Sienna. It means a lot and not just to your mum. Are you looking forward to the party on Christmas Eve, or will you be glad to get it over and done with?’ He gives a little laugh.

‘Honestly? A bit of both, but I put on a brave face until it’s in full swing, as it’s only then I can relax.’

‘Well, here’s to a successful evening in Darlingham.’ We chink glasses. ‘Your mum and I can’t wait. Last year I felt a bit out on a limb if you know what I mean. Like your mum feared she’d feel this evening, but it’s just a group of people having a bit of fun. And it’s the same for the party. If anything goes wrong it’s not the end of the world and everyone appreciates all the arduous work that goes into it.’

Aww. That’s exactly the sort of pep talk my dad would have given me if he’d been sitting in that chair. A little kindness goes a long way and I’m touched.