Page 8 of The Shape of Your Heart
* * *
With everything slowly getting sorted, I take a break from unpacking the remaining boxes and drive down the lane to the beach.
One of Cornwall’s lesser-known beaches, it’s inaccessible by car and disappears underwater as the tide comes in. Stopping in the small parking area, I get out, standing there for a moment, taking in a view that seems to stretch for ever.
By chance, I’ve timed it right and the sea is some way out. Climbing down the rocks, I feel my feet hit the sand. It’s a while since I last went to a beach – too much life, stuff has got in the way. But as I breathe in the saltiness of air filled with the sound of the waves breaking, I promise myself that’s going to change.
There’s something about the sea – the constant motion of the water, the way no two days are ever the same. Today it’s a vivid green-blue that contrasts with the clouds that are gathering. Glancing down, my eyes settle on some small shells, then newly washed pebbles as I find myself bending down to gather them.
Studying the shells more closely, I make out the flecks of colour in them, the intricate patterns, the way they glisten where the sun catches them, aware that I’ve never really taken the time to notice them before.
I glance towards the sea. It’s surging with energy, the water white where the waves are breaking on to the shore, the pale sand contrasting against slate cliffs. It seems unbelievable that in the height of summer, apart from me, there’s only one other person here.
Standing there a moment, I watch as she stops now and then, bending down, picking up shells, just like I have. I glance around to see if anyone is with her, but as far as I can tell, she’s alone – a solitary figure in jeans and a white T-shirt, with honey-coloured skin and the wind in her hair.
5
CALLIE
I tell no one how close I came to giving up and in the days that follow, change is still painfully slow. But it’s as though I had to reach my lowest point to begin to claw my way out of this.
The morning before my sisters arrive, I head for one of the beaches Liam and I used to love. As I collect tiny shells, my heart leaps almost instinctively as I see a man doing the same. Shocked, I stand there for a moment, watching him. In height and build, he reminds me of Liam – though, as he comes closer, apart from the fact that he’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, he doesn’t look anything like him.
He appears oblivious to me as he carries on along the high-water mark, now and then bending down, scrutinising his bounty, before eventually he walks up the beach towards the car park.
The wind picks up and I shiver slightly. Finding an empty stretch of sand, I arrange my shells into a heart shape. But the weather doesn’t hold, and feeling the first raindrops start to fall, I give up and make my way home.
I arrive back just before the heavens open. Opening a window, I gaze out at the garden, breathing in the scent of rain on dry earth. After long, hot weeks, the downpour is welcome, as is the respite from the heat, revitalising the parched ground.
If only it could do the same to my heart. I think of the year that’s passed since Liam died; how I watched the bleached colours of late summer turn to autumn’s glorious shades, before the leaves fell and the stillness of winter set in. It was a winter to hermit away and wait for spring to breathe new hope into my life. But I’m still waiting.
* * *
In honour of my sisters’ arrival, for the first time in weeks, I properly clean the house. When the rain stops, I even go outside and pick an armful of flowers and foliage to arrange in a couple of jugs. But as I stare at them, all I can think of is our wedding flowers, Liam’s funeral flowers.
By mid-afternoon, the shopping arrives – a veritable mountain of food and wine that leaves me wondering how long my sisters are planning on staying. I cram it all into my not very big kitchen, only just finishing when they arrive in the little Alfa Romeo that’s Rita’s pride and joy.
Standing in the doorway, as I watch them climb out, I can’t help envying them their energy, the brightness of their smiles, while in my cut-off denim shorts and halter neck vest, I feel dull and faded.
Coming over, Rita flings her arms around me, before Alice and Sasha do the same.
‘I can’t believe we’re all here together! I’ve just remembered something…’ Running back to the car, Rita retrieves a plant from the back. Coming over, she passes it to me. ‘For you – from all of us.’
‘Thank you, it’s beautiful.’ A white rose. The symbolism isn’t lost on me. ‘New beginnings, huh?’
Alice looks as though she’s been caught out. ‘We thought you’d probably find a corner in your garden for it.’
‘I will. Come on in. I hope you’re hungry – there is enough food in here for about twenty people.’
With my sisters in the cottage, it seems smaller somehow. Going through the double doors that are open at the back, I leave the rose on the low wall that demarcates the terrace from the lawn.
‘Oh, wow.’ Sasha comes and stands beside me. ‘Callie, I’d forgotten how awesome this is.’
As the others come out, they stand there in silence.
I turn to look at them. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s your garden…’ Alice is speechless.
