Page 24 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
That night, gazing out of her bedroom window at the village and the long crescent of the bay, she felt as if her heart was being torn in half. She loved Sturcombe, but was it her future — all her future? If she stayed, would she begin to feel trapped? Maybe not in the next few months, but what about the next few years?
And though she didn’t want to believe it would happen to her and Liam, she knew that the odds were against a youthful marriage lasting the course.
The crunch came at the end of the summer vacation. Liam had finished at Bristol and was taking up his internship at an equine medical practice near Exeter. He had been talking about them getting a flat together when she went to Exeter University.
“I’m . . . not going to Exeter University.”
He frowned sharply. “But you got great A-level results,” he protested. “And anyway, they’ve offered you an unconditional place, haven’t they?”
“I know, but . . . I’ve got a job as diving instructor.” There seemed to be a cold weight in her chest, making it difficult to speak. “In Florida.”
The way he stared at her — shocked, wounded . . . She felt as if her heart was breaking.
* * *
She became aware that her grandmother had opened her eyes and was watching her shrewdly. “And you followed your dream too.” She smiled, reaching out one thin hand and laying it over Cassie’s. “I know it was a difficult choice for you, but I was very proud of you for having the courage to do it.”
Cassie nodded. “Itwasdifficult. But it would have been difficult to stay, too. Maybe not at first, but . . . You were right to make me think about five years down the line.”
Nanna nodded, smug. “I’m always right.”
“Everything okay?”
Cassie glanced over her shoulder, dragging her mind back from old memories as her mother poked her head round the door. “Yes, fine.”
“What day is it?” her grandmother demanded.
“The twenty-third of August.”
“No, no, not the date. Whatday?”
“Oh. It’s Saturday.”
“Right. So tomorrow will be Sunday. I’m going down to watch the cricket.”
“What? Oh, Mama, no! Don’t be silly. You can’t.”
“Don’t call me silly,” Nanna grumped impatiently. “I can and I will.” Then she grinned toothlessly, her eyes sparkling with humour. “Don’t fret, I’ll go in my wheelchair. And if that useless son of mine won’t drive me, my little Pickle can push me.”
Helen threw up her hands in exasperation. “Very well, I’ll see what Ollie says.”
“Huh! If that nincompoop son-in-law of yours tries to say I can’t go, I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”
Chapter Five
The Smugglers Arms was on a corner on the Esplanade, a few doors along from the fish and chip shop. Cassie had gone down with her brother and his latest girlfriend, a very attractive, long-legged blonde.
With the season at its height, the pub was crowded. As Paul pushed the door open, the cacophony of voices and laughter, and the music from the jukebox, wafted out into the street.
The place hadn’t changed a bit in the past ten years. The wooden floor was worn and uneven, the bar was of the same rich dark oak. Oak beams crossed the ceiling, and one wall was rough stone, with a large inglenook fireplace. In winter they would light a log fire there. It was so cosy to sit in the circle of its warmth and listen to the waves thumping against the sea wall across the road.
But the crowd had changed. There was almost no one she recognised, apart from Alice and Wes behind the bar. Most of the people seemed to be holidaymakers — it was easy to tell from the clothes they wore, plus the peeling noses and lobster-red foreheads
She followed Paul as he eased his way to the bar. The landlord grinned at him. “Usual?” he enquired.
“Thanks. And what are you having, Cassie?”
Wes glanced at her, then looked back again sharply. “Cassie? Well I never! Alice, come and see who’s here!”
