Little Kiosk By The Sea (21 page)

‘If you’re selling something, we’re not interested. We’re not interested in being saved either. So please don’t waste your time – or ours!’ A woman about his own age stood on the doorstep of the cottage.

‘No, I’m not doing either of those things,’ BB said, opening his file and taking out a photocopy. ‘I’m looking for somebody.’

‘You’re American?’

BB nodded. ‘I’m afraid so. May I?’ And he opened the gate and walked up the path. ‘Do you recognise this lady?’ He handed her the photocopy of Lance and Florrie. Saw her start as she looked at the picture.

‘That’s my grandmother,’ she said, looking up at him and handing back the paper.

‘So your mother must be Mrs Elisabett James?’

When the woman said a simple ‘yes’ and nodded her head, BB wanted to punch the air. ‘Is your mother still alive? Does she live here? Can I meet her?’

‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Braxton Brael – always called BB – and I think we may be related.’

‘You’d better come in,’ the woman said. ‘Mother’s in the back garden. I’m Patricia, by the way.’

Expecting to find Elisabett James simply sitting in the garden enjoying the sunshine, BB smiled when he saw her bending over, vigorously weeding a flower border. Like his own mother, she clearly refused to give in to age.

‘Mum, this is BB from America. He’d like to talk to you about Grandma Florrie,’ Patricia called out.

BB watched as Elisabett straightened up, a hand placed in the small of her back and turned to face him.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,’ BB said, striding forward, hand outstretched.

Elisabett shook his hand but didn’t respond. Her blue eyes, regarding him from behind rimless glasses, gave nothing away as she waited for him to continue.

‘I’ve been researching my family history and I think we’re related.’

‘Now what makes you think that, young man?’ Elisabett said in her soft Devonshire accent.

BB handed her the photo. ‘The man in the photo was my Great-uncle Lance and I understand the lady was your mother.’ Watching her as she looked at the picture, BB saw her hand tremble and tears glisten in her eyes.

‘I’m sorry, it must be a shock for you,’ he said, looking across at Patricia, who was also watching her mother.

‘Mum, why don’t you and BB sit on the patio and I’ll go make us all some tea?’

Once she’d settled herself on one of the cushioned teak chairs, Elisabett glanced at BB. ‘This is the first time I’ve ever seen a photo of my father. Mother didn’t have one. He was a handsome man, wasn’t he?’ She looked at BB. ‘I can see the family likeness.’

‘Jessica, my sister, is sending the original over. When it arrives, it’s yours,’ BB said. ‘There’s also some letters Florrie wrote to him on the days they couldn’t meet.’

‘She was never told officially, you know, that he’d died,’ Elisabett said. ‘The official channels of information were all denied to her because they weren’t married or related. It was only when news of the tragedy started to circulate in town that she knew something dreadful had happened to him.’

‘That must have been so hard for her,’ BB said quietly.

Elisabett nodded. ‘It was. She rarely talked about the war or him when I was growing up, although my stepfather never let me forget I was not his.’

Elisabett took off her glasses and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘It wasn’t until I was a teenage rebel that I demanded to know everything about him and announced that I was off to find my American family that she finally opened up about him.’ Elisabett shook her head.

‘She had very little to tell me really, except she was heartbroken when he died. Said he was the love of her life.’ Fiddling with her wedding ring, she continued, ‘She never even had the chance to tell him about me. Didn’t have an American address for the family either. All she knew was that he came from somewhere in South Carolina.’ Elisabett laughed. ‘Imagine if I’d carried out my threat and gone looking – it would have been like trying to find a sprat in a shoal of mackerel.’

‘I, of course, have spent many years dreaming of my American family arriving on the doorstep and whisking me away, and now you’ve finally turned up.’

Patricia arrived just then with a tray laden with tea and scones.

‘You all right, Mum?’

Elisabett nodded, blinking back the tears.

BB took her hand in his. ‘Did your mother know Lance’s brother Randy, my grandfather, was a GI too?’

‘She never said. Did he die in the tragedy too?’

‘No. He wasn’t on board the boats that night. If my grandparents had known about Lance and you, I know they would have made every attempt possible to contact your mother.’

‘Nobody knew about them,’ Elisabett said. ‘That was one thing mother did say. The locals weren’t really allowed to mix with the army. Security was tight – although not tight enough, it seems. Their love had to remain a secret from everyone until after the war was over.’

She took the tissue Patricia handed her and wiped her eyes.

‘So how did you find me?’

‘Serendipity,’ BB said honestly. ‘Randy met a Dartmouth girl too, Mary Seale – maybe your mother knew her? Their love had a happier ending, even though Mary’s family disowned her. Mary ran away to America and they were married in 1946. Jessica – that’s my sister – and I have been researching, trying to find the Seale relatives. Who, incidentally, appear to have died out. I just happened to see the record of your christening with Lance named as your father.’ He took the cup of tea Patricia passed to him. ‘Thanks.’

‘I couldn’t believe it, to be honest. I haven’t told Jessica yet about you. I wanted to make sure it was true before I said anything. I only wish Grandpa Lance and Grandma Mary were still alive. My mother though, will be thrilled.’

‘That was something else I missed out on – loving grandparents. My mother’s parents never got over the scandal,’ Elisabett said. ‘After mother married, she and my stepfather moved to Brixham and simply lost touch with her family. Probably still got relatives over there in Dartmouth too that I know nothing about.’

She picked up the plate of scones that Patricia had placed on the table in front of them and offered it to BB, along with a bowl of clotted cream and jar of homemade jam.

‘Dysfunctional families existed long before the twenty-first century,’ she said, laughing as he helped himself to a scone. ‘I’m so happy part of mine is finally – how would you phrase it? Ah, I know, getting it together.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

SABINE

Sabine sat in one of the director’s chairs outside the kiosk and fanned herself with the Dartmouth Chronicle she was too hot to read. Just gone three p.m., and the heat was intense. She didn’t dare look at the thermometer pinned to the kiosk wall. The last time she’d looked it had said twenty-seven degrees and that had been hours ago. It felt hotter than ever now, the gentle breeze coming off the river doing little to cool things down.

The town was quiet with very few people wandering around. Families had gone to the beach, day-trippers had taken refuge in various cafes and sensible locals were staying indoors until things started to cool down. The trip tonight, due to set off at seven o’clock, was only half full but Sabine anticipated a last-minute rush of bookings as the heat died and people visualised the enjoyment of spending a couple of hours out on the water in the cool of the evening.

Looking out across the river to where Owen’s boats were moored, she caught the occasional glimpse of Owen and Peter on board
Queen of the River
, doing some routine maintenance. Since he’d learnt about inheriting the business, Peter had taken over more and more responsibility for the day-to-day running of the business. Even telling Owen they needed to talk as he had lots of plans for expansion next season, much to Owen’s amusement.

She smiled as she saw Johnnie walking towards her, clutching ice creams in one hand and struggling to push Carla in her pushchair with the other.

‘You’re a star,’ she said, accepting the coffee-flavoured ice cream cone with its 99 chocolate flake. ‘Just what I needed. I was too lazy to walk up and buy one.’

For several minutes they concentrated on eating their ice creams before the sun melted them. Johnnie, though, fought a losing battle with Carla’s face and hands as her chocolate ice cream dripped faster than she could lick it.

‘Owen talked to you recently about the trip?’ Johnny asked as he searched in the pushchair bag for a wet wipe to give Carla’s face a clean.

‘You mean apart from constantly nagging me to go with him?’

‘He’s planning to go to Thailand now, you know,’ Johnnie said. ‘He’s made contact with a woman over there.’

Sabine stared at him.

‘Maybe he’ll come back with a mail order bride,’ Johnnie said, not looking at her.

‘Over my dead body!’ The words were out before she realised the significance of them. How jealous she felt at the suggestion.

‘See, you do care. Don’t worry, I made that up to see your reaction.’ Johnnie looked at her.

‘Seriously, Sis, why the hell don’t you a) go travelling with him and b) marry him.’

‘Travelling with him would mean leaving you to cope with Carla without any backup,’ Sabine said, ignoring the second question.

‘Not a good-enough excuse,’ Johnnie said. ‘Carla and I are settling in together just fine. Besides, I do have women friends in town, you know. Harriet and Rachel, to mention but two.’

‘Ah, Rachel. You deliberately keeping her away from me?’ Sabine said, glad of an opportunity to steer the conversation away from her and Owen. ‘If she knows I’m your sister, I’m surprised she hasn’t come by the kiosk and introduced herself.’ She looked suspiciously at Johnnie. ‘She does know I’m your sister?’

Johnnie nodded. ‘Of course. She was busy the evening I suggested supper and now she’s away for a couple of weeks. When she gets back I’ll introduce you. Promise.’

‘Make sure you do.’

‘So,’ Johnnie said. ‘No worries about me not coping with Carla while you’re away. And then, when you get back, Carla will love being a bridesmaid at her Auntie Sabine’s wedding. Won’t you,
ma chérie
?’ He looked at Carla, smiling.

‘Hey, slow down,’ Sabine said. ‘Agreeing to go travelling with Owen is one thing. Getting married is maybe a step too far.’

‘It’s a step you should have taken years ago,’ Johnnie said. ‘Right, we’re off to the park.’

Sabine bent down and kissed Carla. ‘Have fun. See you soon.’

Johnnie was so much happier these days since Carla had appeared in his life. It was because he finally had a purpose again, Sabine decided. She couldn’t help wondering though whether it was just Carla who’d put a spring in his step, or whether this Rachel had something to do with it as well. She must make a real effort to meet and become friends with her.

Folding up one of the chairs to put away, the Save the Kiosk poster she’d pinned to the door at the beginning of the season caught her eye. Faded by the sun, the writing was illegible and she reached up and took it down. No point in leaving it up there.

The petition itself was languishing on the shelf by the biscuit tin. Guiltily Sabine realised she hadn’t accosted anyone to sign the petition for weeks now. Thoughts about the kiosk had slid to the back of her mind recently. She doubted too that Johnnie had given it any thought since the arrival of Carla in his life.

Sabine turned to deal with a couple of holidaymakers who wanted to book tickets for a boat trip at the weekend. By the time she’d issued their tickets and entered the details on the boat’s booking form, Owen was standing at her side waiting for her to be free.

‘Seen BB recently?’ he asked.

Sabine shook her head. ‘No. Why?’

‘Remember the boat
Chevalier
? Used to belong to old Harry the river pilot years ago. BB’s buying it.’

‘Good for him.’

‘He’s planning to sail it back to America, September/October time,’ Owen said. ‘Looking for crew already. Reckons he only needs two.’

Sabine looked at him, already knowing what he was going to suggest but waiting for him to say it.

‘I’ve agreed to be one of his crew. You up for being the other one? You said you wanted to see America. Perfect opportunity.’

Sabine bit her lip, Johnnie’s earlier comments still resounding in her thoughts. Was this crunch time? Did she want to commit herself to this right now? If she agreed, there would be no backing out. She’d be letting BB down as well as Owen if she changed her mind.

She took a deep breath. ‘Bit rusty as far as sailing goes. I haven’t done any for years.’

‘It’s not something you forget how to do,’ Owen said. ‘Besides, you can always become the galley slave.’

‘Chauvinist,’ Sabine said. ‘Okay. I’ll do it. We’ll go see the world together.’

She placed a subtle emphasis on the word ‘together’ and hoped from the look on his face that Owen had heard and picked up on the unspoken message in the reply she had just given him.

LATE SEASON

CHAPTER FORTY

BB

Out on the garden terrace, BB switched on his laptop and opened the video calling feature. If he’d timed it right, both Mom and Jessica would be home. It was Jessica who opened the connection.

‘Hi, Bro. What’s up?’

‘Nothing. Everything is great. Really great,’ BB said. ‘Is Mom there? I’ve got news to share.’

He waited while Jessica shouted ‘Mom. Golden boy wants to talk to you!’

‘Do wish you wouldn’t call me that,’ BB said. ‘It’s so not true.’ He checked his video was up and running. He wanted to see both their faces when he told them the news.

‘Hi, Mom. How you doing?’ he asked as she appeared next to Jessica.

‘Fine. So what’s this news?’ Marilyn Brael said.

‘I’ve found the perfect boat,’ BB said, failing to fight his urge to tease Jessica, knowing how much she wanted an English connection. ‘It’s a beautiful wooden ketch. Everything I wanted in a boat.’

‘Pleased for you,’ Jessica asked. ‘Is that it?’

‘Yes. No.’ He paused. ‘I’ve also found and met the English connection.’

‘Woah!’ Jessica said. ‘We really do have relatives over there? Seale or Holdsworth? How closely related?’