The Sea Garden Read online

  ‘Tom never forgets a beautiful woman,’ says Kate drily. ‘However many years it might be. I’m just glad you’re not overwhelmed.’

  ‘No. It’s amazing. I feel a part of something again. I belong in the story.’

  ‘Good,’ Kate says. ‘Well, let’s hope the Trehearnes add something good to the story. We’ve been invited to lunch next week.’

  * * *

  Next morning Oliver telephones just after Kate’s waved Jess off in her little car on a solo expedition. She’s supplied Jess with an Ordnance Survey map and a flask of coffee, and explained that mobile phone signals are unreliable out on the moor.

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine,’ she tells Oliver. ‘She’s very self-sufficient. So what’s happening?’ Oliver is using his mobile so she suspects that this is a private call.

  ‘Gemma and the boys arrived yesterday,’ he says, ‘and Ma is wondering whether you’d like to come over to see them. I think she’s going to phone in a minute, so this is just to prepare you.’

  Kate is silent. She wrestles with the strong urge to say something rude. She’s shocked at how much she does not want to see Gemma. Gemma has played around and messed up her marriage with Guy, and she, Kate, is going to find it difficult to stroll in and greet her daughter-in-law with the usual affection. Of course, there are the twins …

  ‘Kate,’ Oliver is saying, ‘if you need time, just don’t answer the phone. I thought you might find it hard to refuse if you were taken by surprise. They got an early flight and I went up to fetch them yesterday morning.’

  ‘Then they’ll all be exhausted,’ says Kate quickly. ‘I’ll wait a few days, Oliver. Thanks, though.’

  ‘Ma thought you’d want to see the twins.’

  ‘And I do. Of course I do. But…’

  ‘But it’s rather tricky seeing them all here happily in the bosom of their family? And poor old Guy left in Canada?’

  Kate gives a bitter little snort of laughter. ‘Absolutely right. Can you imagine how hard that will be? Does Cass? How am I supposed to react? I don’t know how to handle it and I don’t see why it should be at the Rectory. I shall be outnumbered.’

  ‘I think it will be embarrassing all round,’ he says. ‘I don’t think Ma has quite taken it on board. Pa is angry but trying not to show it because of the boys. I really do believe it will be sensible to stay cool and prevent this from turning into some great drama.’

  ‘I know you do. And I think you have a point – when I’m not feeling very angry. None of this is Guy’s fault, after all. What am I supposed to say to Gemma? “How lovely to see you, darling. Welcome home. Shame the marriage didn’t work out because of your flirtations and infidelity.” What about my loyalty to Guy?’

  ‘I do understand, Kate. That’s why I’m phoning. I think everyone needs a bit of space.’

  ‘Sorry, Ollie,’ she says. ‘Honestly, it’s nothing to do with you. Sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK. Just don’t answer the phone.’

  ‘I shall go and do some shopping,’ says Kate. ‘Take Flossie for a walk. Thanks, Ollie.’

  ‘See you soon,’ he says.

  * * *

  Driving slowly in her little car, Jess gazes out at the unfamiliar landscape. The tors, piled like untidily squashed granite pillows, rear up out of fold upon fold of close-nibbled turf where small, hardy ponies graze, and whitish, bundly-looking sheep wander at the grey road’s edge. She carefully manoeuvres the car around them, afraid that they might suddenly dash beneath the wheels, and then pulls up on the verge so as to be able to take in the unexpected glory that presents itself. She has no idea where she is but this doesn’t worry her; there is a kind of magic in being lost in these untamed surroundings. She notes crimson berries clustering on a silver-lichened thorn; the herringbone pattern of the trampled bracken. It is the minutiae, the tiny details, that fascinate, though the strange power of this bleak wilderness beneath its infinite sky-scape continues to assault her senses.

  She drives further off the road, into a small ancient quarry, switches off the engine and reaches for the flask of coffee. It is sheltered here, out of the sharp north-easterly wind, and Jess steps out of the car. She pours the coffee, wanders away, pauses to sip. The sun is hot and she turns towards it, closing her eyes, listening to the sore-throated rasp of a raven somewhere nearby. A rowan tree clings to the edge of the quarry’s lip and, between its exposed bony, tenacious roots, she sees the faded foxglove.

  Jess sets down her cup upon a ledge of rock and feels in her jacket pocket for her camera. The foxglove immediately brings David to her thoughts and she photographs it along with a patch of stunted yellow tormentil. She climbs a little way up the worn path out of the quarry but the wind is cold up here and she turns back to drink her coffee perched in the car with the door open to the sunshine.

  ‘Some people are frightened on the moor on their own,’ Kate told her. ‘I’ve never felt that. The moors and the sea have always been important to me. That sense of infinity makes me feel very peaceful. My problems are reduced by the sheer size of them and that calms me and heals me. Rather like God. Anyway, stick to the big roads and you’ll be fine.’

  ‘I’m not frightened of being on my own,’ Jess answered. ‘I’m used to it. Daddy encouraged me to be self-sufficient. He must have been fairly tough when you think about it. To come all the way from Australia at eighteen to join the army. Of course, he’d been born here so he had a British passport, and he had a few relatives here, but even so, it was a brave thing to do. He used to say that we shouldn’t allow our lives to be controlled by fear and desire but I was too young, back then, to understand what he was really trying to tell me. I think it was important to him, though.’

  She felt a bit foolish then, wondering if she sounded rather like a silly pretentious kid, but Kate didn’t say toe-curling things like: ‘He’d be so proud of you,’ or anything like that. She simply held out an Ordnance Survey map and the flask. ‘Enjoy,’ she said.

  Sitting in the sunshine Jess finishes the coffee, thinking about Kate and Oliver, Tom and Cass and David; she feels that she belongs amongst them, that she is a small part of their story. She is completely happy.

  * * *

  ‘I can’t get hold of Kate,’ Cass is saying. ‘She’s probably shopping.’

  ‘Just as well,’ says Tom grumpily. ‘For goodness’ sake, Cass, give us all a breathing space.’

  Cass stares at him. ‘What is the matter with you? Anyone would think you aren’t pleased to see your daughter and your grandchildren.’

  ‘I don’t particularly want to see them like this,’ he hisses, an eye on the door. ‘Not without Guy. Not talking about divorce. I don’t want this for them. You know that.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ she protests. ‘Of course I don’t. But things had come to a head and Gemma needs somewhere to go.’

  ‘Well, just don’t expect Kate to come rushing round with cries of joy,’ he snaps. ‘How d’you think she’s feeling about it, for God’s sake?’

  ‘I’m sure Kate will understand,’ says Cass rather uncertainly. ‘She can see that Gemma had to make a stand…’

  ‘She can see that Gemma was unfaithful, that she got herself into a mess and that Guy decided that the move to Canada was a nice clean break. Gemma very gratefully agreed. She didn’t want to leave Guy then, remember? She said it very loud and clear.’

  ‘I know all that,’ whispers Cass crossly. ‘But things haven’t worked out. Mark was supposed to be retiring and leaving the running of the boatyard to Guy. But he hasn’t. He’s stayed around and Guy’s just doing what he’s told and getting very frustrated. Gemma says she can’t stand it any more. I don’t blame her. I remember Mark of old, and how he was with Kate. I should think she’d have every sympathy with Gemma.’

  ‘I don’t agree,’ says Tom stubbornly. ‘Guy gave her a chance, a really big chance, and she should be giving him one now. Not running home to us with the twins. If they want to sort it out they should be doing it on neutral g
round where nobody else is involved. It’s difficult for us and impossible for Kate—’

  ‘And embarrassing for everyone if Gemma or the twins hear you,’ says Oliver, stepping through the slightly open door and closing it behind him. ‘Amazing how whispering carries, isn’t it? And just because it is whispering it makes one want to listen even more. They’re all still asleep, actually.’

  Tom glares at him and Cass laughs. ‘God, you frightened me. Look, can’t we have a kind of what-d’you-call-it? A moratorium, is it? Just a space of time where everyone comes off the boil and nobody asks questions.’

  ‘It’s interesting, isn’t it,’ says Oliver quietly, ‘that Gemma doesn’t want to discuss the divorce now she’s here? I think she’s bluffing.’

  Cass and Tom stare at him and he nods at them.

  ‘I think she’s given Guy an ultimatum. It’s not working as they’d hoped in Canada and she wants out, for all of them. Guy is dithering. He’s busy, frustrated, confused and he won’t talk. So she’s decided to make the move. She’s hoping that the shock will make Guy see sense. OK, it hasn’t worked, she’s told us all that. Guy and Mark quarrel, Guy can’t really do what he wants to do. He’s into the internet side of the business and Mark doesn’t want to know. So let Guy come home and do it here and Mark can retire just like he planned. That’s what Gemma wants, but they’re at an impasse and Gemma has decided to break it. It’s a big chance but I think she’s quite right. She’s threatened divorce and it hasn’t worked so she’s simply walked out on him. But I don’t think it’s a divorce that she wants. She’s hoping he’ll follow them home before very long.’

  ‘And what would you know about it?’ Tom is still cross but he’s listening; he would like Oliver to have a point, though he’ll never admit it.

  ‘Oh, I know I’ve never been married and all that, but I know Guy and my sister very well indeed and I think it’s worth giving it time. Why not look on it as an extended holiday? If you start questioning Gemma about the future she’ll begin to panic and think about making other plans and then other complications might arise.’

  ‘I’m sure he’s right,’ Cass says quickly to Tom. ‘I agree it’s worth giving it time, anyway. We’ve got nothing to lose.’

  Tom snorts. ‘Except the cost of supporting three extra people indefinitely.’ He glances at Oliver. He’d like to say ‘four extra people’ but Oliver contributes very generously to the household when he’s staying and Tom can’t, in all fairness, make such an accusation. Oliver grins at him.

  ‘And on a fixed income,’ he adds, using one of Tom’s favourites phrases. ‘I’ll sub Gemma and you look after Ben and Julian. That’s fair, isn’t it?’

  Cass bursts out laughing. ‘I’m sure we’ll manage between us. So that’s settled then. No questions, no decisions.’

  ‘And what about Kate?’ asks Tom, reluctant to quit the field without a last small victory. ‘I still think it’s a bit much to expect her to come here knowing that Gemma has walked out on Guy.’

  ‘I agree,’ says Oliver. ‘I think, to begin with, Gemma should take the twins to see Kate in Chapel Street. Once the first meeting is over it’ll be easier.’

  * * *

  Two days later Gemma is driving back from Tavistock. Her meeting with Kate is over and she feels equal measures of guilt and relief. She’s glad now that she decided to leave the twins at the Rectory. She and Kate couldn’t possibly have had a heart-to-heart with Ben and Julian within earshot. Each time she thinks about her boys Gemma’s gut twists with fear at the huge risk she’s taking. It’s impossible to imagine her life without Guy, and however could she explain to the nine-year-old twins that Daddy wasn’t coming back to live with them? At the same time it was also impossible to remain in such a damaging situation.

  Gemma wants to weep at the thought of Guy, back in Canada, furious that she’s simply taken the boys and left; returning from two days away, delivering a boat, and coming home to find her letter. But he’ll know why she’s done it. She’s talked, explained, pleaded, threatened divorce, but he simply won’t respond. Even now he is still in complete denial. Although she has texted him he hasn’t replied. He’s clearly very angry. She’s desperate to know how he is but some instinct warns her to remain silent now and wait. Guy has never been a demonstrative man but lately it’s been getting much worse. It’s like he’s morphing into his father and becoming detached and cynical and sarcastic. Gemma shakes her head, gives a little shiver. Soon this might begin to affect the twins more seriously and she simply can’t stand for it. And, just as importantly, it’s not good for Guy to be like this. It’s not just about her and the boys; it’s about Guy too. She’s simply got to get him home and she’s chanced everything on this desperate course of action: the sudden departure and the threat of divorce if he doesn’t follow. She clutches the steering wheel tightly as she imagines how Guy has reacted to her going. But the situation demanded a desperate remedy. Guy needs to come back and be in charge of his own life again. To be at the beck and call of his father is crushing him, sapping his confidence.

  As she drives out of the town through Whitchurch she has to fight down her own guilt lest it disables her and makes her weak. If she hadn’t played around, had a silly affair while Guy was away, the drastic move to Canada would never have happened; the offer to run the boatyard, to take over so that Mark could retire, would have simply remained a possibility at the back of Guy’s mind. She knew very well that getting them out there had been a feather in Mark’s cap, a kind of two-finger gesture to Kate, and very quickly she’d seen that Mark had no intention of allowing Guy any kind of real power.

  She’d been fascinated – not in a good way – to see how Mark maintained control over his son with a mixture of biting sarcasm thinly veiled with humour – ‘Can’t you take a joke?’ – irritation barely concealed, and detachment. It was rather frightening: Guy has that same detachment, the short fuse, but he is capable of great affection and loyalty – and his sense of humour is genuine and not cruel.

  Watching him with his father she’d felt the first stirrings of genuine fear for them all – and it was her fault. This was the price she must pay for foolishness, disloyalty, a quick physical fix, all masquerading as a harmless bit of fun. Guy, continually humiliated and frustrated, began to withdraw from her; Mark simply ignored her or treated her as if she were mentally deficient. She’d grown angry, had a few rows with him, but he was quick to point out to her how dependent she was, so far from home and at the mercy of his goodwill. Guy, trying to keep a balance between them, ashamed at his own inadequacy in defending her, grew more morose. And now there is the new wife, who is very anxious to assert her rights. Mark always seemed cool with living in the flat above the boatyard and renting the manager’s house to Guy, but now his new wife doesn’t see why she should be in the flat when there’s a nice house going.

  Gemma stops the car on the open moorland between Horrabridge and Walkhampton and gets out. Now that she has left, and Guy is on his own, what if Mark is able to influence him even more strongly; what if he persuades Guy that he is in the right, that he must not allow himself to be blackmailed? The conversation with Kate has made her a bit shaky, though Kate was understanding.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Kate,’ she said. ‘I really, really tried. I promise. But I still love him and I want him back. I have to take this huge risk. Have I got it wrong?’

  ‘Probably not,’ answered Kate. ‘If your instinct is telling you to do this then it’s probably right.’

  ‘It’s head and heart, isn’t it?’ Gemma said anxiously. ‘It seems absolutely right one minute and then I have the mother and father of a panic attack the next.’

  ‘It’s a bit late for that,’ said Kate drily. ‘So let’s hope you have very good instincts, darling.’

  Gemma’s having one of those panic attacks right now. The cool little breeze fans her hot cheeks and she takes slow breaths. The deep rural silence washes over her, calming her, and she can see the square tower of Walk
hampton church amongst the trees. It looks solid and reassuring; like a rock. Gemma feels she might burst into tears. She’s between a rock and a hard place: the slow disintegration of her family or divorce.

  She gets back into the car and heads for the Rectory with dread in her heart. Everyone’s being so tactful and discreet, it’s humiliating. Even Pa is restraining himself. She can actually see the effort he’s making and she just can’t quite bring herself to explain about the ultimatum. Not just yet. Ma’s OK, but Gemma feels a bit like a bone between the two of them. Pa wants everything cut and dried, and then she says things she doesn’t mean and commits to things she’s not ready for simply to shut him up. Ma comes to her defence, which generally leads to a row. She doesn’t want it to be a big thing with the boys, and she’s praying her gamble comes off before any damage is done. They’re too young to know anything’s really wrong and they believe that they’ve come back to live here and Daddy will follow as soon as he can.

  She tries not to imagine a conversation in which she has to tell them that Daddy isn’t coming back, and she thinks again about Kate and how she must be feeling; after all, Guy is her son. It was clear while they were talking that she was remembering her own relationship with Mark and trying hard to be fair about it all – but Guy is not Mark. Suddenly Gemma’s longing for Guy is intense; tears sting her eyes, but she braces herself. The twins will be waiting for her and she must be strong and cheerful.

  * * *

  From the landing window Cass watches Gemma drive in and park the car on the gravel. She stands for a moment, head bent as if she has forgotten something, but Cass knows that she is bracing herself and she wonders how the meeting with Kate has gone. Gemma turns, swinging her bag over her shoulder, hurries towards the house and is lost to sight below the window.