Page 7 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
Hopefully some of those could be leased out to responsible new owners in due course. Others were retired and could maybe be fostered. A couple were his in-patients, needing his extra care.
Then there were the family’s horses, five of them, plus the children’s two ponies. And their pet, little Spice, the small white mountain pony. He was probably too nervous to ever be ridden, but with patience he had gradually been coaxed to be less shy, and even to take a slice of apple from Robyn’s hand.
That nice bay mare that his sister-in-law Julia rode now — he remembered Cassie riding her. They used to hack along the bridleway beside the coast path, the whole gang of them, or sometimes they’d load the horses into the trailers and drive up to Dartmoor for a longer trek, maybe stopping for a picnic on the banks of one of the fast-flowing rivers.
Good times, carefree times. Weekends, the long summer break from school and later from university — the sun had seemed to shine every day then. Or maybe that was just in his memory.
And then there had been just him and Cassie. The memories tugged at him. The first time he had kissed her, when she was seventeen. The first time they had made love, days after her eighteenth birthday. On the beach in the moonlight — her first time . . .
Shaking his head, he pushed those thoughts aside. There was no point stirring up those old embers now — they had long since gone cold. And he had a small daughter who would soon be waking up and wanting her breakfast.
* * *
Cassie strolled down the cliff steps, a soft breeze ruffling her hair as she breathed in the cool, fresh sea air, listening to the soft, sleepy whisper of the waves. Even with her eyes closed she would know she was home.
It was the height of the summer season. The mid-morning sun was already high in the clear blue sky, sparkling like diamonds on the waters of the bay.
The grey shape of a large ship hovered far out on the horizon — a cargo ship or a cruise liner — while closer in, a couple of small yachts set their white sails to catch the wisps of breeze.
Lazy wavelets edged with frills of white foam lapped at the edge of the sand. The beach was already crowded with families — children squealing and splashing in the waves, mums and dads flopping around on towels and deckchairs, seagulls stalking arrogantly between sandcastles and ball games, ready to snatch at any unguarded hamburgers or crisps.
Sturcombe was full of tourists staying in the guest houses along Church Road and the caravan site up on the cliffs to the east of the town. The little family-run bed-and-breakfast places would have their ‘No Vacancies’ signs in their windows, and most of the rooms in the Carleton Hotel would be booked.
The shops along the Esplanade would be eager to grab their custom while they could. The amusement arcade on the corner would be buzzing, the ice-cream parlour would be doing a roaring trade, and every table in the CupCake Café would be full.
At the foot of the steps she let Barney off his lead. He trotted off to sniff along the bottom of the sea wall, reading all the pee-mails and lifting his leg a little stiffly to leave some of his own.
“Cassie!”
Lisa was waving to her from the small encampment she had established with a picnic blanket and a colourful canvas windbreak a little way along the beach. Cassie waved back, the coarse-grained red-gold sand crunching beneath her feet as she called Barney to follow her, slipping him one of his favourite treats for obeying promptly.
“Hi. I was afraid I wouldn’t find you with the beach being so crowded.”
“I saw you coming down the steps. Noah, come and say hello to your Auntie Cassie.”
A small boy, five years old and dark-haired like his mother, stared up at her — still baby enough to be shy of a stranger, too grown up to let it show.
“Hello. So you’re Noah.” Instinctively Cassie hunkered down to his level. “I’ve got a little present for you, from Australia. A road train. You can have it later.”
He frowned, puzzled. “Trains don’t go on roads. I’ve been on one.”
Cassie laughed. “They do in Australia. It’s a very big country and the roads go on for miles and miles, and the trucks pull so many trailers they call them road trains.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
He nodded solemnly before another thought brought a wide smile to his face. “I’ve got a sister.” He pointed to the baby lying in an infant carrier in the shade of the windbreak.
“So I heard.” Cassie peered into the carrier. A small pink face topped with a fluff of dark hair, a pale-yellow Babygro with a teddy-bear print, two tiny hands curved into fists. “What’s her name?” She knew, of course, but she could see that Noah was almost exploding with the need to tell.
“Kyra. She’s asleep. But she’ll wake up soon and then she sometimes cries.”
“Ah . . .” She shared a smile with Lisa. “She’s so cute.”
Kyra’s mum was glowing with pride. “Isn’t she? And this is Amy — Debbie Rowley’s daughter. You remember Debbie? She and her mum run the CupCake Café.”
“Of course.” Cassie could have guessed who the child was. Half hiding behind Noah, she was the image of her mother — the same soft dark curls, the same wide brown eyes. “Hello, Amy. I’m Cassie. I knew your mum when she was at school.”
