Little Kiosk By The Sea (16 page)

‘Not heard a peep from her.’

‘Which means I will at approximately one o’clock.’ Johnnie sighed. ‘Any idea when she’ll start sleeping through the night?’

Rachel shrugged. ‘Children are all different. I remember Hugo slept through from about a year old but I had friends whose children did it a lot earlier – and some a lot later.’ She hesitated. ‘You’ve got to remember too, her mother disappearing from her life and being with you, a stranger, is a major event in her young life. Bound to unsettle her.’

Johnnie nodded. ‘A big trauma for everyone.’ He glanced at her. ‘I realise I’m probably pushing my luck, but can I ask another favour? Will you come shopping with me? Sabine’s told me to get myself to the nearest Mothercare and given me a long list of things I need to get.’

‘Can’t she come with you?’

Johnnie shook his head. ‘Too busy working the kiosk at the moment. Please say you’ll come. I really have no idea what is good or bad when it comes to things like cots and stair-gates, which are top of the list. At least you’ve been there, done that.’

‘A long time ago,’ Rachel said. ‘It’s a different baby world out there these days.’

‘So come and help me explore and get to grips with it one day next week, please.’

‘OK.’ Rachel said. A couple of hours shopping for things for Carla could be fun. ‘Now, how was the exhibition?’

‘Good. Lots of people turned up – both locals and some from the art world. Tristan seemed pleased and Sabine couldn’t believe the amount of paintings that sold.’ He took a swig of his wine. ‘So pleased for her. She deserves a break.’

He took his phone out of his pocket. ‘I took a couple of photos.’ He moved across to sit by Rachel on the settee. ‘Mainly of guests rather than the paintings. Here’s Sabine hobnobbing with some London critic. ‘Here she is with Tristan.’

As Johnnie swiped through the photos, Rachel pointed to one of Sabine laughing with an attractive dark-haired woman.

‘Who’s that?’

‘That’s Tatty, sorry, Harriet Lewis. Sabine’s best friend from years ago. She’s just come back to live in town. Seeing the two of them laughing together is like turning the clock back more years than I care to think about,’ Johnnie said. ‘I’m hoping she’ll agree to be Carla’s godmother. Need two, of course,’ he paused.

‘I was thinking, hoping, that you … I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but would you be her second godmother? Seeing the way you are with Carla, I know you’d be a wonderful godmother for her.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

SABINE

Dinner with Owen after the opening night of the exhibition was, Sabine had to admit, rather wonderful. And full of surprises.

The first surprise came as they arrived. Owen was greeted warmly and told his favourite table had been reserved for him. Of all the restaurants in town, she’d never have guessed he was a regular at this particular, expensive, one.

‘Favourite table?’ she looked at him and mouthed.

‘The new chef’s a friend,’ he shrugged. Besides, you know how much I like French food.’

Sabine nodded, remembering the times in the past she’d cooked Provençal daube or coq au vin for Dave and inevitably Owen had shown up around dinnertime. In the years since Dave’s death, she’d invited Owen to share similar dishes with her and Peter more times than she could count.

Sipping a champagne cocktail, waiting for their starters to arrive, she sighed happily. ‘I suspect tomorrow will see me brought down to earth with a bump, but I have to say this evening has been one of the best times of my life.’

‘No-one deserves it more,’ Owen said. ‘Tristan is likely to exhibit your work regularly now, do you think?’ Owen asked. ‘He’s certainly made a profit on tonight’s show, if all the red stickers are anything to go by.’

Sabine smiled happily. ‘He did mention something about another exhibition maybe around Christmas time.’

‘Did you tell him you’ll be travelling then? So maybe a later date would be better,’ Owen said, looking at her intently.

Carefully Sabine put her glass down on the table. ‘Owen. I’m sorry but, as I keep telling you, there is no way I’m going travelling this year – or any other year come to that. It’s just not on.’

‘Why not? You’ve said you’d like to see more places. Mexico. India. America. Might give you some fresh inspiration for your paintings.’

Sabine nodded. ‘Possibly, but like many things in my life, I’ve left it too late. If I go anywhere, it will be a week somewhere in Europe at the most. Nothing that remotely resembles your plans.’

‘Trust me, Sabine – it’s
never
too late to change things. Of course, you have to want to.’

Sabine picked up her wine glass and took a sip. ‘Please, could we not argue tonight?’

‘Sorry,’ Owen said. ‘Consider the subject changed, but be warned I shall return to it another day. Now …’ He paused while the waitress placed their starters in front of them. ‘Thanks.’

‘I need to talk to Peter soon and tell him what I’ve arranged with the business. Where and what time would suit you?’

‘You want me there?’ Sabine said, surprised. ‘It’s your business. I don’t have anything to do with it.’

Owen looked at her. ‘Sabine, you know the business wouldn’t be the same without your “gift of the gab”.’

Sabine laughed. ‘Maybe, but it’s yours to give to Peter not mine.’

‘I want us to do it together,’ Owen said. ‘So when? Where? Shall I book a table here? Or somewhere else?’

‘Why not do it at my place? I’ll can cook something special. Something French.’

‘Okay. It’s neap tides next week so no evening river trips. Wednesday would be good for me.’

Sabine shook her head. ‘No can do. Johnnie’s asking this Rachel woman to supper that night for the two of us to meet. No way am I cancelling. I need to meet this superwoman who has arrived in my brother’s life. How about Friday?’

‘Friday evening it is. Johnnie seems to be revelling in his new role,’ Owen said. ‘Saw him the other morning happily pushing Carla around town.’

Sabine smiled. ‘In typical Johnnie fashion, he’s thrown himself completely into doing the single father thing. Reckons he can stay at home until she’s two before his savings run out. After that,’ she shrugged. ‘No idea what he’ll do then. Long deliveries will be out, that’s for sure.’

‘He can always come and skipper one of our boats on a freelance basis if he needs work,’ Owen said. ‘Next time I see him, I’ll let him know the job is there if he wants it anytime.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

JOHNNIE

‘Who knew places like this even existed?’ Johnnie said, looking around him in amazement as he pushed Carla in her buggy into the large baby emporium.

Rachel laughed. ‘You’re going to need deep, deep pockets this morning. Now, where’s the list? We’ll start with finding the cot section.’

Two hours later, a mountain of shopping on one side near the cash desk waiting to be paid for, Johnnie was exhausted. Sabine had told him the list contained only essential items. How could one small child need all this?

He glanced at Carla, now sleeping in her buggy after being cooed at and admired by all the assistants during the morning. Her slumped position didn’t look very comfortable, Johnnie thought guiltily.

‘How long do children stay in pushchairs for?’ he said, turning to Rachel.

‘A couple of years.’

‘Right. I know it’s not on the list but let’s find her something more comfortable than this buggy then,’ Johnnie said.

Fifteen minutes later, a top-of-the-range pushchair had been added to their purchases and they made their way to the cash desk. Johnnie glanced at a box and a pink embroidered dress complete with a matching sunhat Rachel was holding.

‘I’m buying her these,’ Rachel said. ‘All little girls love pink and I think Carla will look lovely in this. I couldn’t resist buying her this musical mobile.’

Half an hour later and with his credit card heavily in debt, Johnnie was attempting to fit everything into his car while Rachel held Carla and watched.

‘Good job it’s an estate,’ she said. ‘Never have got all this in a normal car.’

Johnnie grunted as he tried to wedge the cot mattress in over the top of everything. Finally he slammed the boot lid down. ‘Right, lunch. There’s a place down on the front that does great sea food and a glass of wine that has your name on it.’

By the time they’d found somewhere to park and walked the short distance to the restaurant, Carla was awake and grizzly. Rachel watched, amused, as Johnnie quickly found the bottle of milk and jar of baby food he’d placed in the buggy pocket and politely asked the waitress to heat them before they’d even looked at the menu for themselves.

‘You’re adapting very well to your new role in life,’ she said, watching him feed Carla.

‘To be honest, I’m feeling overwhelmed by the responsibility,’ Johnnie answered quietly. ‘She’s stopped crying now every time I pick her up so I guess she’s getting used to me. But in the middle of the night when she wakes and nothing can soothe her … then I do worry that I’m out of my depth.’ Carefully he tested the temp of the milk on the back of his hand before giving the bottle to Carla to hold.

‘
Votre lait pour toi ma chérie,’
he murmured before placing a gentle kiss on Carla’s forehead.

‘On the other hand, getting down on my knees to tickle and play with her is a sheer delight. I can’t believe I have a daughter. I’m terrified of doing the wrong thing. Hurting her because I’m so inept. Sabine has been amazingly patient, answering my child-rearing questions and showing me how to do things, thank God.’

‘Children are resilient,’ Rachel said. ‘Give them lots of love and attention and you won’t go far wrong.’

‘I might be imagining it, but sometimes I swear she looks at me and then looks around as if wondering who this strange man is and where her mum has gone,’ Johnnie said.

‘That’s something you’re going to have to deal with in the future,’ Rachel said. ‘For now you just have to concentrate on giving her a loving childhood. But if it ever gets on top of you and Sabine isn’t around, well, I’m only up the road from you.’

‘Thanks. Appreciate it. I already owe you big time,’ Johnnie said. ‘Can you come to supper Wednesday next week? Meet Sabine. I have a feeling you’ll get on.’

‘Mmm, not sure about next Wednesday,’ Rachel said. ‘I’ve already got a couple of things planned. Maybe leave it for a week or two.’

‘OK,’ Johnnie said, smothering his disappointment. ‘Let me know when you’re free – but please don’t leave it too long. Even if Sabine can’t make it when you can, I’d still like to have dinner with you.’

What was it with Rachel? Every time he felt they were becoming real friends, she took a step back for no apparent reason and not exactly pushed him away, but it was as if she kept drawing a mental line between the two of them. A line he was finding it impossible to cross.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ELLIE

Ellie dutifully followed the strict instructions Harriet had given her to come via the Higher Ferry. ‘It’s the only way to come on your first visit. Your first view of Dartmouth will stay with you for ever. Shouldn’t be too much of a ferry queue on a weekday.’

Ellie knew it was her mum’s home town but they’d never visited before and she still didn’t understand this sudden waxing lyrical about the place from Harriet and her insistence on having a family holiday there.

The view of the town as Ellie drove round the final bend in the road would certainly stay in her mind – it was far prettier than she’d anticipated. But Mum had got the bit about the ferry queue wrong. There were at least twenty cars in front of her and the ferry was halfway across the river making for the Dartmouth slipway. Why the hell didn’t they just build a bridge in this day and age?

Ellie wound her window down, allowing a cool sea breeze to float into the car before settling in for the wait. Forced to sit and do nothing but look at the scenery, she found herself thinking about the way her life after redundancy and the breakup with Rod was working out. These days she rarely thought about him, so that was a good thing, wasn’t it? Meant that she was getting on with her life and not wallowing in self-pity like in the early days.

Initially after the break-up, she’d missed her old job more than Rod if she was honest. The lack of a work routine to bury herself in had made the empty days seem even longer. Estelle had been a real saviour there, putting freelance work her way while she pitched ideas to her own contacts. Her work diary these days had several deadline dates for various features she’d been commissioned to write in the next couple of months. She was getting to grips with her novel as well. Writing fiction was so much fun after doing features for all her working life. So things were good really. She was back on track with her working life at least. Plus, Rod was becoming a distant memory.

Cars disembarking off the ferry began to make their way up the hill in a steady stream and as the cars in front of her started their engines and edged their way slowly down towards the ferry, Ellie did the same. One of the last cars to drive on, she was flagged into the right hand-side of the ferry.

Quarter of an hour later, she drove along the embankment, Harriet’s instructions on how to get to Swannaton on the dashboard in front of her.

Seeing a parking space on the quay, Ellie pulled in. She had this sudden yearning for an ice cream. Coffee with clotted cream on top. Delicious. Stopping by the boat trip kiosk to finish off the ice cream before it dripped everywhere, she looked at the pictures hanging on the open stable door.

The artist’s signature had her taking a closer look. Wasn’t that the name of her mother’s friend whose exhibition she’d agreed to write a feature on? Mum had said her friend sold her stuff mainly to holiday makers via her summer job. The woman standing by the kiosk talking to a man with a child in a pushchair, looked about the same age as Mum.

When the woman broke off her conversation to look at her, Ellie said. ‘Excuse me, these paintings. Are you the artist Sabine Wills by any chance?’

‘Yes.’ Sabine smiled at her.

‘In that case I owe you an apology. I’m sorry I missed the opening night of your exhibition. I’m Ellie Lewis. Harriet’s daughter,’ she added by way of explanation.