Chapter Twenty-One

Sea Scarr Hall, 1905

Lorelei was handed the note by the maid who served her breakfast.

‘Thank you,’ she said in some surprise. ‘Who delivered this?’

‘The summer visitor, Madam. He came to the kitchens very early – said he was up to catch the light or something.’ The girl blushed, clearly wondering if she’d said too much.

Lorelei smiled and nodded at her. ‘He’s a photographer, as you might know. That will be why he wants the light.’

‘I see. Thank you.’ The girl bobbed a curtsey, her red hair escaping from her cap, her cheeks beetroot.

‘Oh – did he want an answer?’ asked Lorelei, half-standing, wondering if he was still there, waiting for her. It had been a couple of days since she had posed for him and she was desperate to see him again. She had worried that she had done something to upset him, but then the reasonable side of her told her that the man had to work, and was quite probably busy with his photographs. Plus, Walter had returned and she understood that Julian wouldn’t exactly want to risk seeing her if her husband was around.

‘No, Madam. He said he would see you later.’

Lorelei’s heart leapt. ‘Thank you. You’re excused.’ The girl curtsied again and hurried away as Lorelei held the note, wondering if she dared open it in here. Walter was nowhere to be seen which was a blessing. But still – she didn’t want to risk his wrath. Her shoulder was still aching where he had slammed her up against the wall and shouted at her last night. Her bodice was too low, he had raged, and he could see the tops of her breasts. The whole time he was shouting at her, though, he had been shouting at her breasts, which was rather astonishing. However. She would go to her sitting room and open the note there – in the window, looking out at the Dower House.

Breakfast was a rushed affair after that, but thank God Walter did not appear. He was probably sleeping off his whisky. But still, it seemed too long before she was eventually settled by the window, in her own room, carefully unfolding the note:

Lady Scarsdale.

I wonder if you would oblige me with your company this afternoon? I am intending to set up some scenic shots of the cove and surrounding area, and will be interested to see how a painter portrays the scene.

Should you be available, I look forward to your company around one o’clock.

Yours,

Cooper

Lorelei laughed. How formal! And of course, formal it had to be. If that letter were to fall into Walter’s hands, it couldn’t demonstrate anything but propriety and an interest in art. Although any mention of art might damn her in any case. Still … Her eyes drifted back to one word in it, though. Yours.

She wondered if he really meant it?

Julian was on the beach fifteen minutes early. He was prowling around, nervous, anxious that she wouldn’t come.

He had kicked his shoes off and loosened his top button, his eyes scanning the pathway. Then he saw her, rounding the corner, running towards him, struggling with a portable easel and a paint box.

‘Lorelei!’ His heart rushed with love and he ran towards her waving. ‘Lorelei! Wait! I’ll help you!’

She saw him coming and stopped, dumping the things on the ground and waving back. ‘Julian! I brought my painting materials!’

‘I’m coming!’ he called and took a few long strides up to her. Instead of reaching down for the paint things, he caught her by the waist and swung her round, setting her on her feet as she laughed delightedly.

‘Do you even intend to do any work?’ she asked, ‘or was this all an elaborate ruse to get me here? Because it worked.’

‘It’s a little bit of both,’ replied Julian. ‘Come. I’ll carry your things for you. I do need to do some work, and I suspect that you don’t often get a chance to come down here and paint, so I thought I’d give you the opportunity.’

Lorelei put her hand up to her hair, pinning a dark strand back into place.

She winced a little as she raised her arm and Julian frowned. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m more than all right. I’m with you. I think I was sleeping in an odd position. My shoulder’s a little stiff, that’s all.’ She fixed him with a smile that shone as brightly as the sun. ‘Now, what exactly are we going to do this afternoon?’

‘I’m going to set your things up next to mine,’ said Julian, ‘then we can try to tackle the same views in our different mediums. Later, we can compare the results.’

‘That’s rather unfair.’ Lorelei followed him as he walked down to the beach. ‘After all, you can take a photograph much quicker than I can paint a picture.’

‘I can. But I can take lots of different pictures, develop them, and perhaps make us a cup of tea whilst you work on your masterpiece.’

‘It’ll be a seascape,’ said Lorelei wryly. ‘But I like them.’

‘Then play around with the seascape. Do something different with it. Add the cliffs at each side. Add the Dower House. Add two people sitting on a rock. Do whatever you want. This is your chance to express yourself, outside, in the fresh air, and nobody will tell you it’s silly.’

‘I do like that idea,’ agreed Lorelei. ‘Here?’

‘Here on this piece of beach. Right here.’

‘Good.’ Lorelei looked up to her left, towards Sea Scarr.

Julian followed her gaze. ‘Are we too overlooked here?’

‘No.’ Lorelei turned to him and smiled. ‘Let him look. He can see this is perfectly innocent. He asked where I was going with my things and I told him I was painting en plein air today. He had no argument. Apart from suggesting I bring a maid with me.’

‘And did you?’

‘Yes. Phyllis is on her way – look.’

Julian looked over Lorelei’s shoulder and saw a red-headed scrap of a maid coming around the corner, lugging a picnic hamper. ‘Oh.’ He felt deflated.

‘It’s all right. I’ve told her she doesn’t have to sit near us. I’ve given her some books to look at – Fairytales and what-not. Little Women. Alice in Wonderland. She loves reading, but she’s quite slow at it, and she doesn’t get the opportunity to do it very often, so that’s my gift to her; a day off on the beach! She’s got the books tucked in the hamper. I brought us all some food, anyway.’

Julian perked up and laughed. ‘God bless you, Lady Bountiful. I’ll go and help her bring them down. But, yes – Lord Scarsdale. I feared as much. I did see him return, which is why I have been keeping my distance. I hope you can forgive me? I didn’t want to stay away, not really.’

‘I know why you had to.’ Lorelei smiled. ‘It’s all right.’ She turned her back on the window and stretched. ‘But this is just perfect. A perfect afternoon. He also said that I should keep my clothes on.’

Julian stared at her. ‘Did he now?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, well. No swimming today then,’ said Julian more flippantly than he felt.

‘No swimming today,’ she agreed. ‘But it doesn’t matter so much because I’m still with you.’

‘That’s good.’ Julian knew he had a silly grin on his face. He couldn’t take his eyes off Lorelei. ‘I like you being with me.’

They were on the beach for several hours. There was nothing to complain about. It all looked very proper. Just as well he’d forced her to take that stupid little floozy with her – God knows what she might have done if she’d been alone. The thought of her flaunting her naked body in front of the summer visitor was abhorrent to him. It was disgusting. She was disgusting.

Walter moved away from the telescope, but he still wasn’t satisfied.

It did look very proper. But looks were deceiving and he knew that better than most. He thought he’d married an angel and he’d shackled himself to a whore. He caught himself thinking of her peeling a sea-soaked gown off and dropping it at his feet, apologising because she’d fallen into the water and spoiled her clothes, and all she had fit to wear was her undergarments.

He looked back out of the telescope. She was dry. Bone dry. Nowhere near the water and packing up to come back to the Hall, by the looks of things.

The filthy whore. The disgusting, filthy whore.

Staithes, Present Day

Lissy was ready long before eleven the next day. It wasn’t like her at all. She was usually a very careless kind of person – things in London ran on Lissy-time, and that was understood by everyone who knew her.

Here, though, it was different. She was peering out of the window, trying to spot Stef coming down the pathway. In her mind, just as he knocked, she would wait a couple of minutes, then saunter to the door and open it, all surprised that he had come: Oh, Stef. You came? I didn’t expect you to. I’m not quite ready.

In reality, she waited until about quarter to eleven and decided to have a walk up to the parking area where her visitors had all left their cars yesterday. She had a better view up there and could watch for him properly.

Good grief, what was she becoming? She dipped her head and frowned at the ground as she walked up to the road. The Springtime Lissy wouldn’t have given a damn if anyone was coming to see her or not, especially not him. They’d come and if she was there to greet them, she was there. If she wasn’t, she wasn’t. Her cheeks burned ferociously as she recalled the time Jon and Becky had driven down to London, poor Becky more than a little bit pregnant, to meet Cori and Simon. She’d been out when they arrived. She’d been shopping. Good Lord, what had she become? When had she polished up that brittle, unfeeling veneer; built up a don’t-care attitude and expected everyone to dance to her tune?

Summertime Lissy looked up and was ashamed to feel a couple of tears sliding down her cheeks. She was an awful person; she truly was. But then—

She stuck her chin out and dabbed the tears away. She had bloody good reason. Stef had done that to her. Stef and – that other man. Her ex, who nobody was allowed to mention.

‘Ugh.’ She sniffed and composed herself, and clambered the last few feet onto the road.

He was there, just pulling up, and she drew up short as the engine stopped and he opened the door.

He smiled, a huge, genuine smile as he caught sight of her. ‘Lissy! I’m so sorry – I’m early. Have I interrupted anything? A morning constitutional, perhaps?’

Lissy shook her head. ‘No. I was swimming earlier. That was my constitutional. This was me just coming up to meet you.’

‘I am privileged. Oh!’ He was by now in front of her and he caught her face in his hands and tilted it up to study it. ‘You are sad. What’s happened? Shall I go? Do you not want to come to Staithes?’ He dropped his hands and his brows knitted together. ‘I understand. Perhaps I am being too quick. You maybe don’t want to spend more time with me, just yet.’

‘No! I mean yes! Yes, I do want to spend some more time with you!’ Lissy was, uncharacteristically flustered. ‘I was sad. But I’m not sad now. I’m happy now. Look – happy!’ She smiled and pointed to her face. ‘Happy.’

Stef laughed. ‘I have been speaking your language long enough to understand the word, but nevertheless I am happy that you’re happy.’

‘Good.’

‘But why were you sad?’ he pressed, dipping down so he was eye to eye with her. ‘Hmm?’

Lissy dropped her gaze and pushed her toe into a tuft of grass on the verge. ‘I was just thinking of something.’

‘Was I in that sad thought?’ he asked, perceptively.

‘Yes,’ Lissy replied honestly. ‘Yes, you were.’ She lifted her gaze and stared directly into his eyes. ‘Don’t you ever dare make me feel sad again.’

‘I suppose I deserve that.’ He sighed and looked away over her shoulder, towards the sea. ‘So are we going to Staithes or not?’

‘Of course we are.’ Lissy reached out and took his hand, surprising them both. She smiled again, properly. ‘That’s why I came up here so damned early.’

‘Excellent.’ Stef looked down at her and squeezed her hand, before lifting it and kissing it in that way which made her skin tingle. ‘Come along, then. I have my camera with me. I shall try not to bore you with my work, but it’s a good opportunity for me.’

‘Oh, I won’t be bored,’ replied Lissy, letting him guide her to the car. He opened the door and helped her in. ‘I’ve been doing some research and there are some very interesting things in the town. I’d quite like to see them for myself.’

Stef got in beside her and they pulled away. ‘We have the rest of the day. We can do it all.’

Lissy watched the scenery melt, blue and green, into itself as she recalled some of the things she had wanted to see. ‘I’d quite like to see the Captain Cook Museum, and, strangely enough, I really want to see Roraima House. It’s a B & B now, so you wouldn’t think it that exciting, but it used to be a private house. It was built in the 1890s by John Trattles, you know. He was a Sea Captain, and he named it after his boat. Apparently it has wonderful stained glass windows.’

‘Stained glass would be colourful, and would probably make a very good photograph. I’m sure we could see it. I, myself, would like to see the Beck.’

‘She’s at Whitby today, I think.’ Lissy risked a joke and peeked up at Stef to see if he was amused.

Stef nodded seriously. ‘You would think so. But I have heard she runs into the sea at Staithes and is dotted with fishing boats. Fancy that.’

Lissy laughed. ‘Let’s not tell her that one! I’ve seen her paddle at Whitby and come into the water in the cove, but I don’t know if she’s ever been dotted with fishing boats.’

‘I think Jon has made a very good choice with Becky. When he was so broken without Fran, I did worry about him. He is happy. That’s good.’

‘I doubt he even thinks of Fran now,’ Lissy replied. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask whether Stef gave much thought to Brigitte Bardot, but she thought better of it and stared out of the window before she could pursue it.

‘He maybe thinks of her.’ Stef indicated and pulled onto a road which would take them towards the town. It wasn’t a long drive, but Lissy could understand it if he didn’t want to lug camera equipment on such a walk. ‘But I seriously doubt whether he thinks of her with love. Possibly with a great deal of embarrassment and also relief that he – what did you always used to say – binned her.’

‘She binned him,’ Lissy reminded him.

‘Very true. There is a big difference and it is never pleasant being binned. Sometimes, people deserve it. Sometimes, they don’t. Jon didn’t deserve it. Ah – here we go.’ He pulled into a parking space and pulled the handbrake on. ‘It’s not far is it?’

‘Not far at all. But it looks quite nice. I love all the cottages – look, you can see them huddled down there.’ She pointed to a collection of cottages and a ribbon of blue sea.

‘It is a fine day to explore Staithes,’ replied Stef. ‘Come on – let’s go!’

It was indeed a fine day to explore the town. Lissy delighted in finding all the alleyways she’d hoped for, and the little art galleries that she told Stef she could easily lose days in.

‘When Laura and Harold Knight were here,’ she commented as they had a cup of tea and some sandwiches in a little tea-shop in the old town, ‘they had a studio. They’d walk three miles from Roxby down to Staithes every morning and three miles back. With all their equipment! Easels and paints and canvases. Gosh.’ She shook her head and dusted the crumbs of a ham sandwich off her fingers. ‘Imagine it.’

‘It was quite a different time, then,’ replied Stef. ‘Imagine all the other artists, all doing the same thing. I wonder what the fisher folk thought of it.’

‘I suppose they were all just too busy getting on with their jobs. But even now, you get so many artists here, it’s not too hard to think of what it was like a century ago.’ She looked out of the window and smiled. ‘For instance, when we step out of here onto those cobbles, think about all of the feet that have done the same thing.’ She leaned closer to the window and pointed. ‘The road around there, for instance – imagine sitting here, so long ago and thinking “I’ll just pop into the town for something” and heading that way. And people have done the same thing millions and millions of times. We must all leave a stamp on the world somehow. That’s part of the charm of these little old towns. Apparently there are even shipwrecks in the water, not too far out.’ She looked at Stef. ‘Not quite like your Christ of the Abyss, but still part of another world. Fascinating.’

‘Fascinating. Just like you.’ Stef was leaning forwards, resting his chin in his hands, smiling at her. ‘Oh – but that reminds me.’ He sat upright again and rummaged in his camera bag. ‘I have this for you. I printed it out this morning. I hope you like it – a token of my undying—’ He stopped and coloured, looking instead further into his bag. Lissy had thought for a moment he was going to say the “L” word – his undying love. She shivered a little bit. She kind of knew where he was coming from; but he wasn’t going to say it after all. The moment had passed and she released a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. ‘—respect and affection,’ he finished, smiling at her.

‘Respect and affection?’ The words were out before she could stop them and she scowled. ‘Oh.’

Stef looked at her curiously. ‘What? Can I not respect and affect you?’

‘Respect and affect me? I thought you’d been speaking English a long time.’

‘So I have been.’ He grinned. ‘Do I not affect you? At all? Maybe not. I had hoped.’ He shrugged. ‘Here you are. For you.’ His eyes sparked with mischief. ‘With love.’

A gurgle of a laugh escaped Lissy. ‘With love? Very well. Thank you. I shall receive this in the spirit of which it is intended.’

‘That is a good start.’ Stef handed an envelope over to her. ‘I didn’t have time to frame it, but you might want to discard it anyway. He flapped his hand in the direction of the door. ‘I think I will leave before you open it. I do not want to be here when you shout at me.’

‘I won’t shout! I promise. Wait – please. Just wait.’

Stef shook his head and grinned. ‘No. I will pay, and I will head outside. Promise me you will count to fifty before you open it, then another fifty before you come to chase me so you can shout at me.’

‘Stef!’ But it was hopeless. He blew a kiss at her, winked and hurried away to the till. ‘Count to fifty!’ he shouted as he handed over the money. ‘Promise me!

‘I promise!’ called Lissy, laughing and clutching the envelope. For a moment, there was just him and her in the world; she didn’t care that other customers were staring at her curiously, noticing, perhaps, her odd eyes and the way they met Stef’s and the way they connected, in some strange way, in that little old teashop.

It was the first time she’d been in it, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. With Stef here, everything felt right – like they’d done it before and would most certainly do it again. She knew, also, that she had to count to fifty as he’d asked her – she simply had to.

She watched him disappear down the street and smiled again.

A couple of moments later and she tore open the envelope carefully. ‘Oh! My goodness!’ She looked at the photograph as if she’d never seen anything like it before. It was her, standing on the rock last night, her mermaid dress skimming her knees, matching almost perfectly the greenish blue of the sea and the vibrant hues of her eyes. He had digitally enhanced it all, of course he had. But it was stunning; absolutely stunning.

She turned it over, her hands shaking. On the back, he had written in his confident, scrawling handwriting: Bella Miranda. Always.

Lissy looked out of the window. He had, quite thoroughly, disappeared.

She dragged her chair back with a noisy scrape that had more of the customers stare at her, and hurried out of the tea shop onto the cobbled street. She looked left and right, and hazarded a guess – right. She would turn right and she’d find him up there.

Of course she would.

She dashed up the street and saw him outside a shop, not looking in the window, but instead on his mobile phone. He was running his fingers through his thick, springy curls and looking perplexed.

He turned as she walked towards him, and quickly finished the call.

He shoved the phone in his pocket and, switching on a smile, he began to walk towards her.

‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Did you like it?’

‘Who were you on the phone to?’ There was more of an accusation in her voice than she had intended; but it was there. She couldn’t help it.

‘The phone? I was on the phone?’

‘Of course you were on the phone.’ Her voice was steel. ‘Was it her?’

‘Her? By “her” I assume you mean Kerensa.’

‘Yes. I mean her.’ Lissy couldn’t even bring herself to say the woman’s name. ‘If that was the naked blonde you were amusing yourself with, I mean her.’

Stef rolled his eyes and raised his arms. ‘No. It was not Kerensa.’

‘You look guilty.’

‘I am guilty of nothing, my love. Tell me, Miranda—’

‘Don’t call me Miranda. Who was it?’

‘Lissy!’

‘Who was it?’

Stef swore in Italian and ran his fingers through his hair again. ‘Lissy. My love. Must it always be like this with us?’

‘Stef! Tell me.’

‘Jon! It was Jon, okay? I was on the phone to your brother!’

‘Jon?’

‘Yes! Oh, dear God. Here. Look here.’ He pulled the phone out and thrust it at Lissy. ‘Look. Look at the call list or whatever you call it.’

Lissy hesitated for a second, hating how she felt, hating how she wanted to look at the phone; but for her own sanity, she knew she had to check.

Sure enough, there on the call log, were Jon’s details.

‘You can check it all,’ said Stef. ‘I have nothing to hide. Jon was contacting me with a question about our project. Would you like access to my emails as well?’

‘No! No I don’t! Oh, no. Here. Take it. Take your phone. I’m so sorry.’ Lissy began to shake. ‘I’m sorry – it’s just …’

‘I know, I know. And I must take the blame for some of the way you feel. But I swear, Kerensa is not in my life – nobody is. No woman, except, if you will allow it – you.’

‘You mustn’t take the blame for it. It’s not all you.’ Lissy laughed, mirthlessly. ‘You are responsible for some of it – but not everything. Can we just forget it? Please?’

‘I would like nothing more than to forget it!’ cried Stef, right in the middle of the street. He flung his arms wide again, in a typically expansive gesture. ‘I would much prefer to move on!’

‘Me too!’ responded Lissy. She moved into his arms and laid her head against his chest. ‘I’m sorry. I’m awful. I love the photograph. I love it so much. Thank you. I promise I’ll try my best not to be Circe, I’ll be Miranda. But I just need to know I can trust you.’

‘You can, I swear on my life I will be the most trustworthy person in history. I knew I’d have to convince you, and I hope that you’ll see it’s my heart speaking to you, and my heart does not lie. You’re not awful. You’ve been hurt; but now I am back and I would like to look after you. I want to be Ferdinand to your beautiful Miranda. Ferdinand passed all of the tests in that play and proved he loved her always. Now—’ He gently moved her away so he could look at her properly. ‘There is a beautiful bookshop just up here. I believe it is called Tempest’s Bookshop, or something similar. Ideal for my Miranda, yes? We can trawl it for books on local artists and some nice histories of Staithes. And then, after we have walked our socks off, and I have taken more pictures, we’ll have a nice dinner and then I shall take you back to the Dower House. And perhaps we can walk along the beach for a little while and I will see the moon rise over the water tonight? How does that sound?’

‘Perfect.’ Lissy looked in his eyes and she knew he was telling the truth. She caught a glimpse of their reflections in the window of the shop they were in front of. A jewellers’ – it reminded her of the one in Cornwall and she felt such a sense of loss for that summer; such a sense of loss over the Lissy she had been. She wanted to be herself again, that Summertime Lissy who knew how to laugh and love freely, who could give herself to the people she trusted fully.

It took her a moment until she realised that the reflections were a little distorted. The couple in the shadows of the old, pitted glass looked slightly different. Stef’s hair wasn’t quite so long in the reflection, and hers looked as it if was caught up under a hat. The couple in the window leaned in towards each other; he bent his head down and she tilted her head up to meet his lips.

Lissy was fascinated. She blinked. She and Stef hadn’t yet moved in towards each other – but as she looked back at him and into his eyes, he bent his head down and she tilted her face up to meet his lips; and she didn’t give those odd shadows another thought.