CHAPTER ELEVEN TAWRIE GUNN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T AWRIE G UNN

A UGUST 2024

The early sun was showering Ilfracombe in a golden glow. The only thing brighter and more joyful was Tawrie Gunn's mood. From the moment she announced she really had to leave, to this point where Edgar now lingered on the top step of Corner Cottage as she dawdled on the one below, was an age. Hours, in fact. Neither of them, it seemed, was in a hurry to put an end to this date. Dusk had slipped to evening, which had become night, and as they had sat on the sofa, chatting, laughing, swapping wine for tea and crisps for toast, dawn had broken. Their encounter had been chaste, and all the more exciting for it. It was uncomfortable, the thought of leaving, exiting the bubble they had created – a space that might have been in the middle of Fore Street, but felt like a secret bolt-hole for them alone. They had idled in an alternate universe where all was wonderful and the future hung like a bright thing, tantalisingly within reach.

Her reluctance to leave was unparalleled, even if it was only to head home to grab her swimming kit and then, after her dip, to go off to work. What she wanted to do, however, more than anything, was stay beside him, keeping him within reach and in sight, unwilling to waste a second. These were new feelings and the strength of them was more than a little frightening. But mostly wonderful – entirely wonderful, in fact! Connie's warning about ‘men like him' had been well heeded, but right now, as she stood within touching distance of him, she felt almost smug at how right things felt.

‘Do you have to go?' He reached out and let a lock of her hair slip through his fingers. ‘I've got bacon.'

‘Bacon? Well, why didn't you say!' She made out to walk back inside. ‘I really do have to go, sadly. I have a thing about lateness and I can't miss my swim.'

‘Obviously!' he laughed. ‘Is it my imagination or did that whole night last about an hour?' He smiled at her, taking in her face from this different angle, which she found simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. Would this light show off her large pores, was her scalp greasy?

‘Not your imagination.' She smiled. ‘It was like we put it in a microwave and ping ! Here we are.'

‘And now you've got to go and I have to eat bacon alone, and I'll probably finish off the crisps. Plus, there's lots I still want to say! So much to talk about!' he enthused, as if he'd just woken from a deep and restorative sleep and was keen to tackle the day.

‘I'm sure you'll manage. And Ed, thank you for ...' She hesitated, knowing this was not a simple, single date, unsure of what words could both adequately describe her happiness without freaking him out with her enthusiasm. ‘I don't know, I guess, thank you for a great selection of nibbles and for my first and possibly last ever Uno tournament.'

‘You never stood a chance, to be fair. I'm an Uno master.'

‘Well, good for you!' she laughed.

‘Do you want to go for a drink?' His suggestion was as surprising as it was welcome.

‘What, now?'

‘Good God, no, it's breakfast time! What kind of offer would that be?' He pulled a face in mock horror.

She gave a small smile, thinking of the times she'd come down the stairs to find her mum at the table, a coffee in a mug, a cigarette simmering on the edge of an ashtray and a small shot glass full of vodka.

‘A scary one,' she admitted.

‘I was thinking tonight we could go to the pub, or the Terrace Tapas.' He pointed to the restaurant and bar immediately opposite. ‘We can sit outside, have a couple of cocktails. Do you have plans? Or I could open a bottle here at home, if that's not too dull two nights in a row? We don't have to play Uno if you're still smarting from your defeat? Or we could go for a long walk? Whatever, anything, I just need to know I'm going to see you.'

She bit her lip to avoid saying that two, three hundred nights in a row she would jump at the chance, dropping any plans without hesitation. And Uno or not, she couldn't care less how they spent their time as long as she was next to him.

‘Home?' This word resonated. ‘Well, you're certainly making the most of your holiday let! And no, I don't have plans.' She laughed, as if this idea was what fuelled her absolute delight. Whereas it was the fact he was arranging to see her again, taking her for a drink. She felt a rush of joy spread through her veins. This was what happened to other people, this was how men treated women who were shiny haired and giggly, not a slightly moody waitress who only owned jeans and was in love with the sea.

‘Oh.' He looked over his shoulder into the pretty interior. ‘It is a holiday let most of the time, but my family own the house. In fact, we do – my sister and I. Don't know why I didn't say, didn't want to sound ...'

Tawrie tried to speak but the words cued up on her tongue got buried under an avalanche of nervous excitement. Did this mean he might be sticking around?

‘All right then.' She twisted to leave before taking one last look at him. ‘I think a long walk would be nice. About seven?' she suggested, as she shoved her hands in her jeans pockets and tried to calm her flustered pulse.

‘About seven. Come and knock for me!'

‘I will.' It felt wonderful, unifying, to already have in-jokes, a history, no matter how brief.

Without warning, he reached out and pulled her to him, and it happened.

He kissed her.

It was sudden, unexpected and all the more exciting because of it. She had thought he might at various points throughout the evening, but there was a reticence that she found sweet, respectful, despite being desperate to take things up a notch.

It was a wonderful kiss.

Their first and one she would never forget; the start of them , the beginning. It was a kiss given chastely and without embarrassment, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to lean in. A tiny peck that turned into something lingering, open-mouthed, wet-mouthed, soft-lipped, and gloriously life affirming! Each moment of contact an electric shock of bliss that evoked teenage lust and a desperate, desperate desire for more. Her fingers roamed his bare arms as he stroked her neck and she placed her hands in his hair and felt the solidity of his form beneath her touch as the fire built and built ...

Right there on the doorstep, anyone could be passing! She moved backwards and found it hard to breathe, to find words, quite overcome and entirely consumed by the physical contact.

She felt him watch her leave.

‘Hope the day passes as quickly as last night!' he called, and she thought she might burst.

He had kissed her.

She had kissed him!

And it felt wonderful!

This was not merely a vague hope that lived in her imagination, nor was it the fanciful imaginings of another life while she swam, or one of the daydreams that comforted her before sleep claimed her; this was Edgar telling her that he too wished he could magic time forward until they saw each other again. Edgar, Ed , who part-owned this lovely house on Fore Street. A house she had walked by a hundred thousand times without knowing how significant it would become. Ed, who just might be sticking around. She felt a little dizzy, a little out of sorts; this no doubt due to the heady and complex emotions that filled her right up and the fact she'd polished off three large glasses of the other, pink stuff on an almost empty stomach, and hadn't slept.

‘Tawrie?'

‘What?' She stopped outside the table tennis club and looked back to the step on which he perched, leaning on the doorframe, his arms folded, as if there was nowhere he'd rather be. She put her hands on her hips in a mock huff. ‘What?' she called again.

‘Just ...' He smiled at her and she got it. Just ... for the sheer joy of saying the other's name out loud. Just ... in anticipation of the evening ahead. Just ... in memory of that kiss. No matter that her loins had gone into overdrive and she wanted nothing more than to run back inside and take the kissing malarky upstairs, she was also aware of Connie's wise words:

‘ You're sweet, lovely, slightly grumpy, serious-faced Tawrie Gunn and I don't want you to get hurt ... Just don't give too much of you away ...'

And she hadn't. The most intimate part of their evening was when Ed had grabbed a wool blanket and thrown it over their legs as they lay on that wide, comfortable sofa.

Having managed to grab her kit without disturbing the other two Gunn residents of Signal House, her ride down to Hele Bay Beach was swift. She waved to Jago and Maudie who were already pulling strokes a little way out in the bay.

‘Morning, fellow Peacocks!' she yelled, and heard their laughter by way of reply. It seemed only natural to share the joy that wanted to explode from her. The water felt warm today – of course it did – and as she let her shoulders dip beneath the surface she closed her eyes.

‘Here I am ... here I am, Dad,' she whispered. ‘Where to start? I have news, I guess. The man I told you about, he and I ... I can hardly get the words out! We spent the evening together, well, longer, actually. And it was sweet and easy and I think I would have been happy sitting on that sofa with him for eternity. I know it sounds crazy, impossible! We've literally only just met and yet, I hardly dare say it, it feels like something incredible. I wish you'd felt that, I wish you'd had it. I can't imagine Mum staying sober long enough for you to have shared what we did last night. And my heart breaks for all that you missed out on. I would so love for you to meet him. I really would.'

‘Are you going to bob around all morning, Ms Gunn, or is there swimming to be done?' Maudie came alongside and cut her chat with her dad short.

‘To be honest, I'm rather liking just being still.'

‘I get that. Sometimes it's the best way to clear the head. And there's no better place to do it than right here in the water. Aren't we lucky?' The old lady cupped a handful of water and splashed her face, which was wrinkled, sun-damaged, freckled, and beautiful with all the life it spoke of.

‘We are. Very, very lucky. Especially me right now. I think ... I think I might be in love, Maudie.' She had to tell someone. Had to let the news out!

‘Tawrie! Oh well, that's absolutely marvellous! Good for you! Is it with the young man you were chatting to on the beach?'

‘Yes.' Her smile a visceral reaction at picturing his face. ‘I feel daft saying it – dramatic even. Like some infatuated teenager. Even I don't think it's possible! But it's how I feel.'

Maudie turned in the water to face her. ‘Never feel daft about it, Tawrie. It's a story not everyone gets to tell: how they started, when they started and how they knew.' It was almost instinctive, the way her eyes sought out Jago as he swam through the waves. Tawrie couldn't help but wonder if a long love was possible for her and Ed, and the very thought sent a ripple of joy right through her.

‘How did you and Jago start and when did you know?' She was curious.

‘It was a very, very long time ago, when dinosaurs roamed the earth!' They both laughed out loud; she loved this woman's humour! ‘Oh, Tawrie, so much has happened in our little lives, lots of things that I probably should remember but have forgotten, but meeting him ...' She closed her eyes briefly and lay back in the water. Tawrie did the same and the two bobbed alongside each other like plump, recumbent starfish on a rock. ‘Every detail is etched in my mind like a photograph. Even the scent of the gardenias that my mother had cut from the garden and put in an earthenware jug on the hall table. If I close my eyes I can smell them.' Maudie closed her eyes again and inhaled deeply, as if doing just that. ‘Our parents were friends and my mother mentioned that Jago Bray was coming over with his mum, and honestly, my heart sank. I wanted to go and see my friends, play tennis, not make polite conversation with some ghastly boy my mother was introducing me to. I knew for a fact that if she liked him then I most definitely would not! Besides, I had my eye on Gerald McIntosh from the youth club.'

‘So what happened?' Tawrie trod water and let the waves soothe her muscles and ease her spirit.

‘What happened is that in he walked and he was smiling, and I got this feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was powerful, surprising, and in my mind I said, "There you are!" Like ... like ...'

‘Like you'd been waiting for him, you just didn't know it.' Tawrie spoke softly of her own experience.

‘Yes. Exactly like that, Tawrie, and here we are, a thousand years later, and I still don't like to be apart from him. I would still rather sit somewhere with my hand in his than anything else on earth. We take care of each other.'

‘I can see you do, every day, and I love how you laugh together and at each other.'

‘We do. Laughing is important. It helps get you through the tough times, the challenges. We've learned that taking care of each other isn't only a physical thing; it's not just going to fetch a blanket.'

Tawrie pictured the moment Ed had tucked the blue wool blanket around her legs, making sure she was warm, taking care of her, and her stomach rolled with pure happiness at the memory.

Maudie wasn't done. ‘Driving safely, preparing food, giving medicine, they're all important, but it's about taking care of each other's mental health too. Not easy in this world with all its pressures, but we've always made sure we don't add to the burden, we're kind to each other. We're reliable. We provide a haven.'

Tawrie felt the sting of emotion that swelled in her throat. It was a beautiful sentiment.

‘And I wish for you every bit of love and luck that the universe can gather. I want it all for you, Tawrie. You are a smashing young woman.'

‘Thank you, Maudie.' Her words were as touching as they were sincere. ‘What happened to Gerald McIntosh?'

‘Who knows?' Maudie laughed and pulled through the water, off to swim alongside her great love. ‘But he missed out on me and for that alone we should pity him, because I'm quite wonderful!'

Yeah, you are! Tawrie watched as Maudie caught up with her lover of a thousand years.

Tentatively she walked through the front door of Signal House, unsure, in that moment, if she wanted to face the other Gunn women. It was different to confiding in Maudie, who was a little removed from the situation. She was wary of filling Freda with expectations that might set the gossip train in motion, knowing that would only feel like a pressure, because despite her strength of feeling and earlier conversation with Maudie, it was still early days. Very early days. And when it came to her mother, she didn't want her involved in any way, knowing her knack of sarcastically stomping on the roots of anything that brought Tawrie joy, whether intentionally or not. Her mother's behaviour was also unsavoury, grubby, and she didn't want what she and Ed shared to be sullied by association. Not that this realisation made her happy; it didn't. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Her nan was washing dishes in the kitchen and for a moment Tawrie watched from the sitting room, through the wide doorway where the door was permanently propped open as the older woman plunged her hands into the deep dome of suds in the sink before lining the plates up in the wooden rack that graced the draining board.

‘Is that you, Tawrie?' Freda called over her shoulder.

She should have known any plans to avoid detection would fail miserably. ‘Yep. It's me, Nan.' She walked over and placed her palms on her nan's shoulders. The woman turned her head and kissed the back of her hand. An act so loving, so tender that, with thoughts of her mother's sordid habits still lingering in her mind, Tawrie greatly appreciated.

‘Where've you been, love, out for your swim?'

‘Yep, just got back.'

‘And how was your date? Connie's already texted to ask if I've seen you yet!'

It might, she realised, already be a little late to stop the gossip train from leaving the station.

‘It was lovely. Really lovely. We sat and talked and laughed and I'm seeing him again tonight.'

‘Tonight?' Freda whipped round and placed one bubble-covered hand over her mouth. ‘Goodness me! That's a bit keen, isn't it?'

‘I guess.' She shrugged, going for coy, trying to hide the flames of delight that she was sure shot from her.

‘Is he lovely?' Her nan looked at her earnestly. ‘Cos he needs to be.'

‘He is lovely.'

Freda nodded and reached for Tawrie's hands, which she held in both of her soggy ones.

‘You deserve the best. You're the most wonderful granddaughter; your dad would be so proud.' This was the trigger for her nan's face to crumble with distress. In a practised response, Tawrie stood tall and swallowed her own surge of sadness, being strong for her nana, allowing the old woman to metaphorically fold her into her lap.

‘I've got to go and get changed for work, Nan, will you be okay?' She hated leaving her like this.

‘Course I will. You go get ready, little love. I'm going to do my crossword.'

As she trod the half landing, her mother came out of her bedroom.

‘You coming in or going out?' Annalee asked as she leaned on the wall; her whole body seemed to wobble with the effort of staying upright.

‘Both.'

With no more than a cursory glance to take in the state of the woman, she dashed to her room to get ready for work.

Looking out of her bedroom window over the harbour, her mood was further elevated by the sight of her very favourite kind of day. It was not yet seven thirty and the sky at this early hour was pink – pink! Sugared-almond coloured, the air already warm. It did something to her spirit to look out and feel the anticipation of the day ahead softening her bones and putting a smile on her face. It never occurred to her to take a picture, knowing that a photograph couldn't truly capture the marshmallow palette nor the feeling that came with it. Plus, it was a view so perfectly preserved in her mind's eye, a single image would only fail to do justice to the shift that came immediately after or immediately before; it was a scene that fluctuated in colour and subject, a hypnotic movie.

It was a feeling no doubt enhanced by the happy, intoxicated state in which she found herself. This girlish lightness to her footfall, the flutter of joy in the base of her stomach, all down to the fact that she would see him again tonight. She was also certain that, just as she thought about him, so he was thinking about her. It wasn't logical or rational, but Maudie was right: she knew .

Do you have to go? She liked to replay this in her head. Not only to capture his voice, which was clear and just the right level of deep, but also the way he had looked at her and she at him. It had been intense, gut-stirring, and spoke of an interest that one date should ordinarily be no basis for. But there was nothing ordinary about any of it.

She had spoken sincerely to Maudie when she'd used the word love. Love! Or at least how she thought love should feel: warm and like coming home, fascinating and raising more questions than it answered. But how could she feel like this after two conversations and one date? It was crazy! Irresponsible. Literally madness! Her of all people! She didn't do this, didn't feel this! She was practical, level-headed, the person who paid bills, cared for Freda, wrote letters, bolted the door, and checked on her mother to make sure she wasn't going to vomit in her sleep, or that the man she was trying to sneak up the stairs wasn't an axe murderer. And yet there she was: giddy. That word in itself reserved for flighty teens and romantics, the butterfly girls who flitted from beau to beau.

Tawrie was not and never had been one of those, and she hardly recognised herself, as she stood in the window of her bedroom, looking out over the pink blush of a summer morning. She could see his face dancing in the clouds, hear his voice above the call of the gulls and if she closed her eyes ... She shivered, as if able to recreate the way she had felt when the universe saw fit to make them collide. Aware of how it sounded, making her utterly, utterly certifiable, she was also unable to deny that it was an important collision, a life-changing event for her. Excitement surged in her veins and hope and happiness had a new name and that name was: Ed!

‘Taw?' Her mother called from the green bathroom on the half landing, drawing her from her delightful musings, as she rushed to get changed for the start of her shift.

‘Yep?'

‘I've got the shits and there's no loo roll, can you grab some from the airing cupboard?'

And just like that, real life was restored.

‘Morning, Needle! Early start?' she called as she passed the King Billy where Needle was loading crates on the pavement.

‘Yep, got a delivery.' He looked up. ‘What in the world?' He clutched his chest and leaned dramatically on the wall. ‘I thought you were Tawrie Gunn. I mean, you look like her, you sound like her, a bit, but you can't possibly be her, because you're smiling and chatting so I know you're an imposter! Where's that sour-faced, half-hearted hand wave that you give as you walk on by?'

‘Very funny!' she tittered, knowing that if her mother's shits hadn't dented her mood, Needle's sarcasm wasn't going to come close.

‘I'm pulling your leg, Taw, but I have to say it's good to see you looking happy!'

‘It's good to feel it!' she confirmed.

‘So what's all this in aid of? You won the lottery?'

She stopped and looked at the man she had always known, as an image of Ed topping up her wine glass before counting out the Uno cards floated to the fore of her mind. Then that kiss! Oh that kiss on the step ...

‘I have kind of, yes.'

‘Well, in that case, lend us a fiver?' He winked. ‘Oh and don't forget to—'

‘I know, I know' – she waved as she walked away – ‘ask Connie if she'll go out on your bloody yacht!'

‘Atta girl!' he called after her. ‘I'll wear her down, you know! Or I'll die trying!'