Jennifer Bohnet - Summer at Coastguard Cottages

Karen grabbed hold of the steps’ rail to climb out of the pool, pausing for a moment on the second one to look up at the moonlight-illuminated terrace of houses. Beautiful.

‘I love this place. I don’t know how Derek can even think of asking me to sell it,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘It’s been a part of my life for so long.’

‘How is Derek?’ Hazel asked.

Karen shrugged. ‘Nothing changes,’ she said before swearing under her breath and climbing out of the pool, reaching for one of the towels they’d left on a chair and wrapping it around her body.

‘What’s the matter?’ Hazel said, joining her by the chair.

‘Quick, you’d better have this,’ Karen said, handing her the other towel. ‘There’s a light on in No. 3. I hope to hell whoever it is hasn’t been watching us for the last twenty minutes.’

*

‘Which way?’ Bruce said, stopping at the T-junction. ‘Restaurant in town or a walk on the beach and a pub lunch?’

‘Oh, a walk and then a pub lunch,’ Karen said without hesitation. ‘Another week and it’ll be impossible to get a table for the hordes of holidaymakers.’

‘Slapton Ley, here we come then,’ Bruce said, taking the left turn onto the narrow coast road.

Lots of traffic meant Bruce needed to concentrate on his driving rather than talking, and Karen was happy to stay quiet and look at the passing countryside.

Empty fields shorn of their crops were sporting a yellow stubble. In others, tractors were racing against time to gather the last of the hay before the threatened rain arrived. Holidaymakers, with their exuberant holiday shirts and shorts, wandered aimlessly along the coastal road, happy to be enjoying their freedom from workday routines.

It wasn’t until they’d parked the car and were striding out along Slapton Sands that Karen said, ‘Charlie’s friend in No. 3 is keeping a low profile. Haven’t had sight nor sound of him. Have you?’ She didn’t mention the light the night she and Hazel had been skinny-dipping.

Bruce shook his head. ‘No. I did wonder if he’d venture out to join us one evening – he must have heard us. Maybe I’ll knock on the door later, invite him for tonight’s sundowner. Let him know the natives are friendly. Although if he just wants to be left alone...’ Bruce shrugged.

‘He’ll have to show himself sometime,’ Karen said. ‘So, what is it you wanted to talk about?’

‘Gabby’s ashes,’ Bruce said. ‘Ages ago, long before either of us ever thought it would happen, we both promised to scatter the other’s ashes in a favourite place.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘I still can’t believe I’m having to think about doing it.’

‘You want me to be with you when you do it?’ Karen asked gently. ‘Of course I will. Where did Gabby want to be scattered? By the coastguard cottages?’

Bruce shook his head. ‘That’s my choice, but she said she wanted them scattered in the sea by the American memorial along here. Said she’d feel close to both me and her American roots that way.’

Karen glanced at him. ‘I’d almost forgotten Gabby was American. Her accent was more Home Counties than New York City.’

Bruce laughed. ‘She worked really hard at it. She so wanted to fit in and not stand out. Yet she never really forgot her roots, despite never going back after her studies here finished.’

‘Did you bring her ashes today?’ Karen asked gently.

Bruce shook his head. ‘No. I was thinking I’d do it on her birthday and then in the evening invite everyone to have a drink and celebrate her life.’

‘That’s what we’ll do then,’ Karen said, threading her arm through Bruce’s. ‘I’ll do the food for you.’

Bruce squeezed her arm gratefully. ‘Talking of food, shall we turn round and get to the pub? I’m starving.’

By the time they got back to the pub the lunchtime rush was starting. Karen managed to grab a couple of seats at a window table while Bruce went to the bar to order and get their drinks. Half a lager for him and a glass of wine for her.

The pub had been one of her parents’ favourite lunchtime haunts and she remembered them dragging both her and her brother for lunchtime fish and chips whenever they were in Devon. They’d never complained about coming, even if as teenagers they’d found their parents’ company boring. The fish and chips were always worth it.

It was ages, though, since she’d eaten here. When Derek was down he always insisted on going to the fish restaurant in Dartmouth, and on her own she could rarely be bothered to drive out this way.

Derek. A few more days and he’d be here. Still no news on how long he was planning to stay. This last week being away from him had made her realise just how hyper-sensitive and tense she was whenever he was around. A fleeting visit would suit her better. Then she could relax and enjoy Wills’ company – and Francesca’s when she arrived.

‘You’re looking very serious,’ Bruce said, placing her glass of wine in front of her. ‘Did someone upset you?’

‘No,’ Karen said. ‘I was just thinking about…’ She hesitated, searching for something to say. She couldn’t tell Bruce yet what she’d really been thinking. ‘Food for when Wills gets here. Planning a welcome home dinner is a serious business. Cheers.’ Karen picked up her drink and took a sip. ‘You promised to tell me more about your plans today?’

‘I’m thinking of moving to The Bosun’s Locker permanently,’ Bruce said. ‘Selling my flat and doing something Gabby and I swore we’d never do – renovate something down here. I’ve seen a townhouse I rather fancy as a project. We liked keeping the business and our private lives separate, but now…’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t want to stay in town, or in the apartment with its memories, and I love it down here, so why not?’ He looked at Karen anxiously, seeking her reassurance.

‘Gosh. There are memories associated with the cottage and Gabby as well, though,’ Karen said. ‘You’ll have to live with those.’

‘I know. But I feel somehow it will be easier not having lived full-time down here. At least I won’t be sitting around staring at the wall, wondering what I’m going to do. Like I have been for the past months.’

Before Karen could answer, the waitress arrived with their lunch, carefully placing the plates on the table before asking, ‘Is there anything else? More drinks?’

When they both shook their heads and muttered ‘No thanks’, she beamed at them, said ‘Enjoy your meal’, and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

For several minutes the two of them concentrated on their fish and chips, enjoying them while they were hot.

‘You don’t have to stare at the walls in town. You could buy somewhere else in a different area and carry on with your business up there,’ Karen said eventually.

‘I know, but dealing with the same builders and interior designers, not to mention planning officers, will just serve to keep reminding me Gabby’s gone. Whereas down here I’d have to find a completely new team, deal with new officials, etcetera. I’m sure it would be easier.’

‘You could be right. But it’s a big change.’

‘It’ll take time to organise, of course. Selling the apartment, buying the townhouse. Probably be next year before it all came together.’

‘Putting business aside: what about friends and a social life? I know there’s lots going on out at the cottages in summer but winter is quiet.’

‘I’ve already got a few friends down here, so I’m sure I can build on that,’ Bruce said. ‘I’ll probably make more of an effort to socialise once I’m down here permanently.’

Karen picked up her wine glass and took a sip. ‘That last remark makes it sound as though you’ve made up your mind to do it.’