Coming Home to Heritage Cove Page 5

  She laughed when the car’s tyres slipped into the same dip that had always been there in the car park of the inn. But maybe it was more nervous laughter than amusement. She hadn’t yet seen The Street, the modest-sized strip of road lined with a handful of businesses – a tea shop, a bakery, The Copper Plough pub, a small shop where locals bought their newspapers, a pint of milk, snacks. She’d traipsed The Street many a time with her parents, many more on her own. And she was already dreading the sting those memories would bring with them, the memories that hadn’t left her but had been dulled as though behind tinted glass when she was away.

  The inn looked the same as it always had as she parked next to a beaten-up old Mini. She’d get settled in her room and then brave walking to Barney’s. Assuming he was there, of course. Surely he wouldn’t have gone anywhere else – although perhaps Harvey had taken him to his place to recuperate. Wherever they were, Harvey hadn’t let her know and she was so annoyed she cursed when, mistiming her exit completely, she stepped out from the driver’s side just as a truck swung into the space next to her, its tyres hitting another dip that must’ve formed over the years and sending a shower of mud in her direction, all the way up the legs of her jeans.

  ‘Seriously!’ She tried to brush some of the dirt off but it wasn’t working.

  ‘You’ll make it worse,’ came a gruff voice she’d recognise anywhere.

  Her mouth dry, she hadn’t expected the confrontation with Harvey to happen quite so soon.

  ‘It’s been a while,’ was all he said as he strode towards her, his jaw tense, blue eyes unwavering. She suspected those words were almost as hard to get out of his mouth as these stains would be to remove from her favourite jeans.

  ‘Good to see you’ve finally got a more sensible vehicle.’ She couldn’t resist the jibe, she’d never liked the motorbike he had.

  ‘More room for my belongings in this,’ he said. ‘You never know though, maybe I’ll get another bike someday.’ She didn’t rise to the bait.

  ‘You could’ve told me Barney had been discharged.’

  ‘Sorry, didn’t get around to it. And I had no idea whether you’d even call, let alone show up.’

  She bristled but she wasn’t going to have a slanging match. ‘What are you even doing here at the inn?’ She tried again to wipe at the mud on her legs.

  ‘I was on my way back from the supermarket and I saw you, thought I’d let you know Barney was home. He’ll be glad to see you.’

  ‘I’ll take my things inside and then head over.’ But Harvey was already walking away. ‘Thanks for telling me the details about his fall, by the way,’ she called after him. She couldn’t stop herself.

  He stalked back over. ‘I let you know, I thought that’s what you’d want.’

  ‘You let me know next to nothing. Barney could’ve been close to death for all I knew.’

  ‘I think you’re being a bit melodramatic there.’

  ‘Re-read your own email, you tell me whether you, in my position, would’ve assumed everything was going to be fine.’ When he started to walk away again she called after him, ‘You did it on purpose, I know you did.’

  ‘I don’t have time for games,’ he called over his shoulder, cocky as you like. ‘It might surprise you that I had other things to think about besides worrying what you may or may not take from my message. Be grateful I even got in touch.’

  Ignoring him, she got a tissue from her pocket but it wasn’t much better at removing the mud than her bare hands had been.

  He hadn’t finished either. ‘Do me a favour, if you’re going to run off again, at least give Barney the heads up first.’

  ‘I said goodbye last time.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right, you did.’ He’d made his way slowly back over to her, no doubt wanting to keep their bickering between themselves rather than for the rest of the Cove to hear. ‘But I don’t think Barney realised it was goodbye for five long years.’

  Face to face with him in the car park, with the Heritage Inn that looked like it could use a good lick of paint on the outside now she was up close enough to see it in detail, she opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

  ‘Five years, Melissa.’

  Her voice came out small. ‘It was never my intention to leave it so long.’

  ‘But you did.’

  ‘And wait a minute, what about me? What about how I felt? Doesn’t that mean anything?’ It was as though he believed he’d played no part in any of this. The fact he hadn’t shown up to leave with her as promised had given him a lead role in this show as far as she was concerned. No real explanation either, just that he wasn’t coming, he’d changed his mind.

  The sooner she got back to Jay and her own life the better.

  ‘I called Barney often,’ she said defensively, unwilling to let the argument go. ‘I wrote to him, sent postcards.’

  ‘I know, he told me.’ Harvey’s expression gave nothing away. One of his most frustrating qualities had always been to shield his emotions, although right now perhaps Melissa should be grateful. Maybe if he let everything out she wouldn’t be able to stand hearing it and knowing that some of it was true.

  ‘I always sent him a card and gift for his birthday, never forgot him at Christmas,’ she went on.

  ‘He didn’t need all that, he just wanted to see you.’ He let out a sigh and his voice lost the accusatory tone. ‘Still, you’re here now, that’s all that matters. Can I help you with your suitcase?’

  ‘I’m not a helpless young thing, you know.’

  ‘Yeah, forgot. You don’t need me. Not anymore.’ And with an edge of animosity back in his voice he sauntered off, but not without calling over, ‘Welcome back,’ in a tone that suggested he didn’t mean it at all.

  She hauled her suitcase from the boot and manhandled it across the car park that’s surface wasn’t good enough to make use of the wheels. It took her a couple of attempts to yank open the front door but the inside was more inviting than the outside had been and it wasn’t long before a girl who looked to be in her early twenties came through from what Melissa remembered to be the kitchen.

  ‘Welcome to the Heritage Inn.’ The girl, dressed in a tangerine-coloured T-shirt with denim shorts, took up her position behind the desk.

  Melissa introduced herself before the girl caught sight of her jeans. ‘A splash from a truck,’ she explained.

  ‘I can wash those for you,’ she smiled, her olive-green eyes the same colour as the cotton headband holding blonde hair away from her face.

  ‘That would be brilliant, thank you so much.’ Melissa felt herself breathe for the first time since she’d arrived in the village.

  As the girl turned her attention to the computer to find the booking Melissa couldn’t quite place her. She was familiar for sure, but perhaps she was just expecting to know everyone here when in reality Heritage Cove had enough inhabitants that you could never know every single person.

  The girl handed Melissa a key. ‘You’ll be in room eight, up the stairs and towards the front of the inn. Breakfast is between six and nine, continental or full English, and it’s included in the price of the room. We use fresh produce here too – eggs, fruit and vegetables are sourced locally.’

  The previous owners had always done the same. Melissa remembered bringing fresh eggs here under her mum’s instruction. She wondered who was supplying the locals these days because she knew it was these little touches, the attention to detail, that would make this inn a winner if they could sort out that car park and give the place a spruce-up outside. The inside was a definite improvement. A bright, airy reception room with enough glass on two sides to let the sun in most of the day had a floral sofa and two armchairs with a low-lying pine coffee table that was scattered with home style magazines, a couple of newspapers and a menu for the restaurant.

  Melissa was about to head on up the stairs when a framed photograph on the side of the desk next to the guestbook caught her eye. It was of her best friend and her husband,
and suddenly it all clicked into place. ‘Are you Tracy and Giles’s daughter?’ she asked, before the girl could go back to what she’d been doing before Melissa arrived.

  ‘I am, yes.’ She noted the photograph. ‘That was taken the day my parents took over this place. Do you know them?’

  ‘I know your mum well, we’ve been good friends for years.’ Tracy was six years older than Melissa but they’d hit it off when they both worked a holiday job at one of the big supermarkets outside of the village. Melissa had never really hit it off with the girls at her school, her best friend had always been Harvey, so Tracy was a refreshing change.

  ‘You’re Melissa,’ the girl smiled as the penny dropped for her too. ‘My mum talked about you a lot, you used to live here in Heritage Cove. I’m Sandy, by the way.’

  ‘I can’t believe I didn’t recognise you at first, although I’ve been gone five years.’ She was also glad that Tracy didn’t appear to have painted her in too bad a light or she felt sure Sandy wouldn’t be quite so friendly.

  ‘Five years ago…’ Sandy did the maths in her head. ‘I would’ve been twelve, terrible glasses that did nothing for me, curly hair I hated.’

  Melissa chuckled. ‘Your hair and your glasses never seemed out of place to me.’

  ‘Mum always said the same.’

  It was wonderful to know Tracy had settled in the Cove like she always wanted. She’d never been sure of what to do career-wise, she’d drifted from job to job over time, but one thing she’d known was that she wanted to get married, have a family and stay in the village. Even Melissa’s postcards of far-flung places had never tempted her friend to travel, she’d much preferred the English seaside to anywhere exotic.

  ‘Does your younger sister work here too?’ Melissa asked.

  ‘Violet? Not yet. She’s finishing school and I’m not yet sure whether she wants to do this for a living, but I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.’

  ‘Well, it’s lovely to see you again, Sandy. And if I may, I’ll bring the jeans down after I change.’ She lifted the handle to her case. Sandy was the spitting image of her mum now Melissa knew who she was, with straightened hair that Melissa already suspected would spring into curls, or at least waves, just like Tracy’s had when the humidity outdoors did its worst, and she was the same blonde Tracy had been in her younger years before she naturally went a shade darker.

  ‘Of course, I’ll get them washed for you straight away. And I’ll talk to mum later, let her know you’re here.’

  Melissa could only smile. She wasn’t sure how that announcement was going to go down. Tracy had every right to give a frosty reception to the friend who’d walked away and not come back. Not even when Tracy’s mum had died, because Melissa hadn’t felt she could comfort her. She’d tried at first through phone calls and then a letter, but her own grief over losing her parents had snowballed every time and so she’d distanced herself, her much-used coping mechanism. She hadn’t come back for Tracy’s fortieth party either. She’d ignored the invite, knowing that if she went she’d be faced by a pub full of locals, receive the inevitable hostility. It wasn’t necessarily that they would all have wanted to say goodbye or hear from her over the years, it would be far more to do with them feeling protective over Barney, a man everyone liked, admired and looked out for.

  ‘Feel free to enjoy the balcony,’ Sandy called after her as Melissa took the stairs, ‘it’s beautiful in summer and gets the sun all afternoon.’

  Melissa smiled. It sounded tempting, but after she’d unpacked and got changed, she wouldn’t be putting it off any longer. She couldn’t wait to see Barney.

  *

  Melissa couldn’t keep up with the weather – one minute it was sunny, then the rain clouds appeared and the drizzle came, then it dried up again and the sun had another go at convincing them all it was still summer. She pulled on her sunglasses and set off to Barney’s, a ten-minute walk away.

  On the pavement outside the cottage with its little front gate that was easier to open as a kid than an adult who needed to bend right down, she looked at the place she’d visited more times than she could count. She smiled inwardly at the sight of the barn’s roof to the left, beyond the trees that obscured the courtyard in front. She was back and no matter the challenges she faced, it actually felt better than she’d expected.

  She bent down, lifted the latch to the gate and it creaked in its familiar way. She knocked on the door but no answer, she knocked again, then a third time a little harder. She didn’t use this entrance as a kid, she always came through the gate, turned and passed through the trees and then went in through the back door. This door was usually locked, the back door never was. But after all this time it didn’t feel right to come in any way other than the formal front entrance.

  When she still got no response she had no choice but to cut down the path, between the trees and across the courtyard around to the back door, where the June sunshine filtered into the large open space that contained the kitchen and lounge area. Barney had always said the kitchen was the heart of the home but he’d wanted guests to be able to talk to each other from the sofa and armchairs, from the large Aga cooker, from the table as they ate, and so he’d had the rooms knocked into one.

  She froze as she peered around the doorframe. Barney was sitting in the armchair closest to the fireplace, which had a dried-flower arrangement with purples and yellows to add a bit of colour when it was too warm to add logs and kindling and light the flames. His eyes were shut, his head leaning back, and her breath caught. The house seemed quiet in a way it had never been before. Barney loved noise, hustle and bustle, the craziness of kids racing about, or the radio for company if he found himself home alone. And even though the June sunshine streamed in through the glass, through the open back door where she was standing, the place looked cold and empty.

  He slowly opened his eyes as he sensed he was being watched but it took a while for him to realise what he was seeing. ‘Melissa?’

  ‘Hello, Barney.’ She couldn’t help the wobble in her voice as her eyes filled with tears. She raced over to him and wrapped him in a hug before kneeling down on the floor, her head resting on his legs, his hand clutching hers. It was as though she was a little girl all over again.

  ‘I can’t believe you came.’ His voice caught but he was still able to comfort her, shush her, even as his own tears flowed. The sniff gave him away.

  They stayed that way until they’d both recovered, although he got there before her. ‘Dry your tears, I’m not dead yet.’

  She looked up and laughed, wiping her cheeks. ‘Thank God.’

  ‘Came close though.’

  She grinned. ‘You look like you’re going to be fine.’ She hadn’t wanted to ask Harvey any details, but the fact that Barney was home and Harvey was going about his business told her that Barney was on the road to recovery.

  ‘I had a fall, they replaced my hip, that’s all.’

  Even though he tried an injection of humour, Melissa could tell he wasn’t himself. Or maybe that’s what a five-year absence did, it made you forget that ageing waited for no one. ‘How long before you’re up and about again, properly?’

  ‘No rush.’

  ‘That wasn’t what I asked.’

  ‘Who knows? Maybe I’m too old to get back to what I was.’ His cold hand covered hers again as though he daren’t let her out of his sight. ‘Don’t look at me like that. Let’s face it, I’m no spring chicken.’

  She pulled a tissue from the pocket of a fresh pair of jeans she’d thrown on with a creased white T-shirt that could’ve done with a good iron before she came over. ‘Of course you’ll get back to normal, give it time, be patient with yourself.’

  ‘I’ve got a walking frame.’ He glanced over at the grey contraption he must’ve used to get to the chair. ‘Ugly thing. What’s next? Having to install those thick monstrous safety bars everywhere?’

  ‘I don’t think you’re at that stage yet.’ She watched him shuffle uncomfo
rtably in the armchair. The skin on his hands seemed thinner, age spots peppered the surface, and he’d definitely lost weight since the last time she’d seen him. But she didn’t know how much to put down to this setback or how much of it had happened over time.

  ‘I’m old, I’m past it, and I’m cancelling the Wedding Dress Ball too.’

  She sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of him. ‘Barney, you can’t be serious.’ She might have been away for a while but the memories of the event still held a special place in her heart.

  ‘It’s too much work, too much for me anyway, I’ve had enough. Let someone else do it, but it won’t be me, and it won’t happen at the barn either.’ He wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  She opened her mouth to say something else but shut it again. He looked like the Barney she knew but he certainly didn’t sound like him. In all the time she’d known him he’d never once said he was fed up with the ball, never so much as hinted that one day he wouldn’t want or be able to do it.

  Had things changed that much?

  ‘What did the doctors say? What was their advice to get you on the road to recovery?’ She decided to steer the topic away from the ball for now; perhaps Barney wasn’t thinking straight.

  ‘They’ve given me a list of exercises to follow when I’m up to it.’

  ‘Then I’ll help you.’

  ‘You’re not only here for the day?’

  ‘I’m here for three weeks.’ If ever she’d doubted he would smile at her in the same way he had when she was a little girl, all doubts were erased now as he beamed back at her. ‘Do you think you can put up with me hanging around that long?’

  ‘You really mean it?’

  ‘Of course. Now, what are the exercises, maybe I could help you do some now?’

  The smile faded as he adjusted himself in the chair again. ‘I’m not ready.’ He winced.

  ‘What hurts?’

  ‘Everything, and moving around doesn’t appeal to me right now so sod the exercises. I just want to sit here in peace.’