Little Kiosk By The Sea (13 page)

‘So not a complete break, then?’ Johnnie said. ‘Tell me: what happens if it all goes wrong with Herve and you return? You going to want to take her back? I tell you now, if you leave her with me I shall get official custody to make sure she stays with me. Messing her about is not on. Even I know children require stability in their lives.’

Josette smiled wanly. ‘I promise I’ll never demand you return her to me. She’s a shared responsibility between the two of us, but you get to do the fun full-on day-to-day stuff for the next eighteen years. Right.’ She took a deep breath. ‘There’s everything you need there,’ she said, pointing to a suitcase and two large bags in the corner of the room Johnnie hadn’t even noticed.

‘Nappies, jars of baby food, milk powder, clothes, toys etc., etc.’ She delved into her bag. ‘Better put these somewhere safe.’ And she handed him a passport and a birth certificate.

‘I’m leaving for Paris this evening. I’ll go now before Martha gets back with Carla.’

Seeing the tears glistening in her eyes, Johnnie sighed before pulling her towards him and hugging her. ‘I promise I’ll take good care of her.’

Josette kissed his cheek. ‘I know you will, otherwise I wouldn’t give her to you. One last thing, don’t ever tell her she was a mistake. We might not ever have been “in love”, but we were lovers for a short time.’

The door banged behind her and she was gone.

Left alone, Johnnie swore loudly, ‘
Merde
!’

He was still standing there, dazed, trying to make sense of the situation, when Martha returned with Carla asleep in the buggy.

In that moment, the reality of his situation hit him. Josette had literally left him holding the baby.

‘She’s gone then?’ Martha said.

Johnnie nodded. ‘I wish you’d warned me what I was coming over to.’

‘Josette asked me not to. She was afraid you wouldn’t come if you knew what she planned. She’s not done this lightly,’ Martha said. ‘She knows you won’t let Carla or her down.’

‘I’m a yacht deliverer, for god’s sake – I’m away for days, weeks sometimes. How the hell am I expected to cope with this … child?’ He gesticulated at the sleeping baby.

‘Carla’s a sweetie. You’ll find a way of coping.’

‘Any chance you could keep her here if I pay you? No, forget it. I shouldn’t even be thinking like that,’ Johnnie said, running his hands through his hair.

‘You and Annie always wanted a child, well, now you’ve got one,’ Martha said gently, echoing Josette’s earlier words.

‘I wanted a child with Annie,’ Johnnie said. ‘Not with a woman I barely know.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

RACHEL

After Johnnie left the cafe to go to his cousin’s, Rachel ordered herself another cup of coffee and sipped it thoughtfully. Over the months since she’d been back in Dartmouth, she’d grown used to being economical with the truth. Used to mixing with incomers rather than the true locals. Used to shopping in the newer shops with their younger assistants. When people asked her about her past, or where she was from originally, she never named anything or anywhere specific. Never gave them any encouragement to ask more questions. Last night she’d broken her golden rule by telling Johnnie where she grew up.

The wine and the growing intimacy between the two of them had been her downfall, lulling her into forgetting the need to be careful. The need to keep her guilty secret hidden from nosey parkers. Not that Johnnie Le Roy fell into that category. He seemed a genuinely nice man. A sexy one too.

Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to come on this trip. Being back on board a yacht again though was good. She’d thoroughly enjoyed the sail over and had been looking forward to the journey back. Now she couldn’t wait to get it over with. Their friendship had to stop before it had really begun. There would be no more crewing for him or sharing a coffee in The Royal, that was for sure.

After paying the breakfast bill and leaving the café, Rachel wandered around the town. She was glad Johnnie had elected to use the old harbour rather than the new marina just outside of town. It did at least give her a chance to explore somewhere she’d never been before. Beautiful granite and historical buildings were everywhere, many decorated with baskets full of red, white and blue flowers.

Scattered amongst the usual touristy shops with their postcards and souvenir items, there were art galleries, bistros, jewellers, takeaway food shops and boutiques selling nautical-influenced clothes. There was even Celtic music drifting out of an open window to add to the atmosphere.

From the tabac, Rachel bought a postcard with various views of Roscoff on it, quickly addressed it to Hugo before scrawling across it, ‘Surprise! Sailed across the Channel yesterday! Love, Mum.’

Slipping the card into the yellow post box on the wall, Rachel glanced at her watch. Nearly twelve o’clock. Better return to
Annie
in case Johnnie returned and wanted to get down to his cabin. Sitting on deck in the sunshine with her Kindle would pass the time if he wasn’t back yet.

At one o’clock, when he still hadn’t returned, she made herself a sandwich and a cup of tea and settled herself in the cockpit to eat. Clearly Johnnie’s family business must have been more difficult to deal with than anticipated – he’d been gone for four hours now.

Eating her lunch, Rachel watched the activity in the harbour, something she’d done many times before in various harbours in the south when Hugo and his father had gone off on some errand or other. Watching a fishing vessel return to its mooring, squawking gull circling above, the smell of fish and diesel mixed together drifting on the wind reminded her more of Dartmouth and its crab boats returning from Start Bay though rather than Antibes in the south of France.

Unlike Antibes, there wasn’t a single large yacht of the floating gin palace variety in the harbour as far as she could see whereas Antibes with its millionaire quay was a veritable honeypot of international, foreign-registered boats flying the flag of their tax haven registered country.

A few of the private yachts in the harbour here were flying the English red ensign, but in the main the boats were French registered and flying the French flag. If there were any super-yachts up here in this channel port, they were all probably moored against the pontoons in the new marina with its ‘Capitaine’ and twenty-four-hour security.

It was mid-afternoon before Rachel saw Johnnie marching along the quay towards her.

Carrying two large carrier bags and pulling a suitcase he wasn’t, judging by his body language, in the best of moods. Rachel eyed him warily. And who was the woman pushing a child in a buggy at his side?

‘Rachel, meet my Cousin Martha,’ Johnnie said, placing the two bags on
Annie
’s deck before heaving the suitcase on board.

‘We’ve got a passenger for the trip back,’ he said.

‘Pleased to meet you, Martha,’ Rachel said. ‘Welcome aboard.’

‘Martha’s not coming,’ Johnnie said.

‘So who is?’ Rachel asked, surprised.

‘Carla,’ Johnnie said as Martha unbuckled the safety harness and handed the child to him before folding up the buggy.

Rachel, stunned into silence, could only watch as he carefully climbed on board holding Carla tightly. She looked at Martha, hoping the woman would give her a clue as to what was going on but only got a shrug in response, followed by a sympathetic smile.

‘Johnnie, just think what Annie would want you to do. You’ll cope. Give Sabine my love. See you next trip. Pleasure to meet you, Rachel,’ and she was gone.

‘You look a bit shell-shocked,’ Rachel said quietly. ‘Give me Carla. I’ll hold her while you get things down into the cabin.’

‘Thanks. Then if it’s okay with you, I think we’ll start back. Going to be a long haul – wind’s not right.’

Rachel nodded. ‘Fine by me.’ The wind was not the only thing that was not right, that was for sure. Johnnie’s stiff body language as he sorted ropes and prepared to cast off was speaking volumes. He was clearly one unhappy man. Would he talk to her on the way home? Or would he do the British stiff upper lip thing, bottle everything up and pretend everything was under control?

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

HARRIET

‘Mum. Dad. Wait!’ Ellie shouted, coming out of the house as Harriet was about to get into Frank’s car, waving her mobile in the air.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘I’ve just got a commission to do a feature on a new hotel opening in Bath. They want me there on Thursday for a day or two. Means I won’t get down to you in time for your friend’s exhibition opening.’

‘But you were going to write a piece about it,’ Harriet said, smothering her dismay. The thought ‘And I was going to tell to you about the legacy and … things’ ran through her mind. And what about the latest letter from Trevor Bagshawe, asking her and her daughter to make an appointment to see him ASAP now that the legal stuff was sorted and ready for signatures. That in part was what this ‘family holiday’ break she’d persuaded Ellie to come on was all about really. Of course she hadn’t told her the real reason behind it, but time was rapidly running out to tell Ellie the truth. And yet more lies had been added into the deceit of decades. Now it was all falling apart.

‘I know, sorry about that. The thing is, I don’t have a commission for that whereas this I do and I need the money. I’ll get there before it finishes though and still write a piece about the exhibition, like I promised and try to find a home for it,’ Ellie said. ‘I’m sure your friend will understand.’

Knowing there was nothing she could do, Harriet sighed. ‘Okay. We’ll see you when we see you.’ And she got in the car.

Frank glanced at her. ‘Best-laid plans and all that.’

‘Hmmm,’ Harriet said, before muttering a swear word under her breath.

‘You still want a lift to the station?’

‘Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I? Ellie thinks I’m coming with you on a business trip and then we’re going on down to Dartmouth together. She didn’t know I was going there on my own first to finish preparing things.’

‘Just thought you might like to stay and talk to Ellie here.’

Harriet shook her head vehemently. ‘Definitely not. I want to do it in situ, so to speak.’ Superstitiously she felt telling Ellie about the legacy and everything had to be done in Dartmouth. In Amy’s house. Everything would be all right if she talked to Ellie there. The spirit of Amy would soothe the hurt that Ellie was sure to feel over the deceit. Ridiculous? Maybe, but that’s how she felt and how she intended to do it. She simply had to be in Dartmouth, in the house itself, when she told Ellie everything.

Letting herself into the house later that day after the taxi ride from Totnes station, Harriet heaved a sigh. It felt good to be back. Living here for a year wasn’t going to be the hardship she’d feared, although there was still the little problem of Ellie’s reaction to everything. Trying to second-guess just how she would react was an utter waste of time. She could only pray that Ellie would realise that everything, everything they’d done in the past had been done out of love and the desire to protect her.

Making herself a cup of tea, she took it through to the sitting room and drank it standing in front of the large French doors, watching the activity on the river. A bank of large rhododendron bushes and a holly tree were blocking the view somewhat and she made a note to get Frank to trim them back over the weekend.

With the house cleaned and polished from top to bottom, apart from the locked studio, which she was deliberately ignoring as having too much of Amy’s personal stuff in there to cope with yet, the garden would be her project for summer. Maybe Ellie would like her thirtieth birthday party here? It was a superb setting with its river views and the twin castles visible at the mouth of the estuary. Amy had held some wonderful parties here in the past with the garden transformed into a fairy-tale place with garden lights and candles everywhere, soft music playing in the background.

Amy’s friends were an eclectic bunch and it had always amazed Harriet how they all fitted seamlessly into the party spirit. Anywhere else they would surely have been at loggerheads with each other. The last party she’d attended here had been different, of course. It was the evening her life, as she’d known it, had started to unravel.

Harriet remembered she was wearing a summer dress with bunches of cherries all over it the evening of the party. Definitely not high fashion, but a dress she’d always felt comfortable wearing. Oscar, in his trademark attire of jeans and a white shirt buckled at the waist with his wide leather belt, honey-coloured cashmere sweater slung over his shoulders, faded blue deck shoes on his feet, had looked what he was; a sexy, successful man.

A last-minute hitch with a babysitter for Ellie had meant she and Oscar had arrived half an hour after the party had begun. Amy had immediately swept them out into the garden, saying there was somebody whom ‘you must absolutely meet. I know you’ll be great friends’.

Sabine, glass of wine in her hand, and standing under the wisteria-covered pergola talking to an unknown woman, waved them over the moment she saw them. ‘Tatty, Oscar, meet Vanessa.’

Oscar, once the introductions had been made, said he needed a word with Dave and left the three women to chat. At the time she’d been surprised by how quickly he’d left the three of them. It wasn’t until later that Harriet realised just how hasty his retreat had been. How desperate he’d been to put distance between himself and Vanessa.

Listening to Sabine and Vanessa progress from small talk to genuine getting-to-know-each-other questions, Harriet sensed how much they liked each other with an instant rapport springing up between them. Usually she and Beeny were on the same wavelength as far as friends went, but strangely this time she didn’t feel a scrap of empathy with this self-contained women and her air of quiet competence. As friendly as she appeared to be. But Beeny liked her, so she tried.

‘How long have you been in town?’ she’d asked.

‘Me? A month. Tom came down on his own eight weeks ago. Bit of an emergency replacement for his predecessor who had to retire early due to illness. No idea how long we’ll be here. Might be a permanent position,’ Vanessa shrugged. ‘Might not. Secretly, I hope we stay. I love it here.’