Page 17 of Sun, Sea & Strawberry Shortcake
‘My fault, I’m afraid,’ says Ellie. ‘After the fire, we gotthe builders in and it was clear it was going to take a good few weeks to getthe café back to normal, so it seemed like the perfect time to get away for awhile.’
‘We don’t often get the chance to go away together likethis,’ points out Madison. ‘I’m absolutely loving it!’ She grimaces guiltily atEllie. ‘I mean, I’m not loving the fire damage to your lovely café. Obviously.’
Ellie smiles. ‘I know what you mean, Maddy.’
I feel nauseous listening to them talk about the fire. Ithink I’m even more devastated by what happened than Ellie herself, because itwas all my fault.
‘Ellie I’msosorry,’ I begin, but she cuts me offgently.
‘Jaz, don’t. You know I don’t blame you for what happened. Idon’t know how many times I need to say it to convince you. It was no one’sfault.’ She shrugs. ‘It was just something that happened. If Maisie hadn’tfallen off the wall at Jessica’s house and bumped her head, I’d have taken thepan off the stove as I’d intended and I’d have noticed that the tea towel was abit too near the hob, and everything would have been fine.’
‘I know. But youtoldme about the pan on the hob andI said I’d take care of things, but I forgot all about it.’
‘Yes, but you were distracted by Harry turning up on thegreen with little Emma in the pushchair. EvenIforgot about the pan inmy rush to get to Maisie as soon as I could. It was no one’s fault, Jaz.’
I swallow, feeling guilty also about the half-truth I toldEllie. I couldn’t bring myself to mention that the reason I was so distractedwas because Harry and Emma were sitting on the green with a woman I’d never metbefore, looking all cosy and familiar together, and turning me into a stupid,green-eyed monster! I’ve never been an envious sort of person but somethingcame over me that day.
And no matter how many times Ellie tries to reassure me shedoesn’t blame me, Iknowit was my fault the fire started. I’m thereason she’s had to close the cafe. And it’s all because of my ridiculousjealousy...
Ellie’s explaining how Anita showed her pictures of thevillage Ruby had told her about. ‘And I thought it would a lovely place for usto visit,’ she concludes.
I stare out to sea as everyone chatters on.
I shouldn’t have come here. It was a stupid idea. My head’sall over the place, what with the fire and Harry – even though Ellie keeps reassuringme that she doesn’t blame me, and I know for a fact that Harry’s not the sortof man to ever have an affair. Sure, we have our arguments, and intimacy hasbeen a little thin on the ground since Emma burst into our lives with her massof blonde curls, dimpled cheeks and irresistibly chubby thighs. But Harry wouldnever stray. He loves me and he’d walk through fire for his daughter. He usedto tell me he loved me every day, although it’s been a while since he did. Butthat’s normal, right? You can’t stay madly and passionately in love forever...
Suddenly frightened I’m going to cry when everyone is sohappy and upbeat, I stand up, paste on a poor imitation of a smile and mumblethat I’m curious to find out what’s beyond the headland, so I’m going to have alook. And before anyone can stop me, I pick up my canvas slip-ons and hurryaway.
‘I’ll come with you,’ calls Madison, but I pretend I haven’theard her and continue ploughing through the fine sand up to the back of thebeach, a lump in my throat and tears blurring my eyes. I’ve no idea where I’mgoing. I just know I need to be on my own, to pull myself together...
At the rocks, I slip my sandy feet into my shoes and startwalking up the path that Ruby and Hudson said they took to get here. (The girlsand I did the coastline route along stretches of seaweed-strewn sand and clamberingover rocks to arrive at last in this picturesque little cove.)
It’s an uphill trek and after only five minutes, I’m hot andpanting. But the exercise feels good. And at last, after climbing with treesand brambles on either side of me, I emerge into a little grassy clearing atthe top. It’s beautifully cool in the shade of these giant trees and when I gazeup through the branches at the blue sky beyond, my head spins a little. I’mabout to sit down on the grass when I suddenly spot a little track leading to abench that’s positioned close to the cliff edge.
To my surprise, I realise there’s a woman already sittingthere, staring out across the vista. She has grey curly hair and she’s wearinga pale blue sweater with a purple scarf around her neck, and she seems so lostin thought, I don’t think she’s even noticed me – despite the fact that Iarrived huffing and puffing, my feet scraping on the stony path.
I’d have liked to see the dramatic view across the sea fromthat bench, but I don’t want to disturb the woman’s reverie. Maybe, like me,she’s here because she wants to be on her own...
So instead, I take another path leading down to the beach.This one is steeper than the path I took coming up, and at one point, I’mhalf-sliding down on my bum. But I make it down in double-quick time, emergingat the other end of the beach to where the others are sunning themselves on thesand. Where I am, waves are swirling around a rocky promontory, and when I lookup, I can see the bench where the woman was sitting.
But she’s no longer there.
I scan the headland, searching for her.
Then I see her. She’s standing near the edge of the cliffnow, looking down at the water, and panic flutters inside me, wondering whatshe’s doing. As I watch her, she raises her arm, draws it back and launches asmall object into the sea.
I watch it arc over the cliff and fall, but as the womanturns away, a brisk wind off the sea lifts the object off course, sending itback towards the cliff face where it tumbles down onto a small patch of sand justa few metres away from me, on the other side of some rocks.
I have an urge to let the woman know what’s happened – sheobviously meant to throw it into the sea – but I can’t see her now. So Iscramble up onto the rocks and make my way gingerly over the uneven terrain toget to the object, constantly having to leap out of the way of the wavessplashing over the rocks.
There it is, nestled next to a small rockpool.
Curiosity spurs me over the seaweed-covered rocks to rescueit and at last, I’m holding it in my hands. A small red velvet box with agold-coloured clasp. It looks like a keepsake box. The sort of thing I had whenI was small, to keep my treasures safe. What sadness could have prompted thewoman to throw such a beautiful box away?
I glance up, hoping to spot her again.
But she’s vanished.
Ruby
