Catherine had always loved the start of September school term. Usually, after a restful summer holiday, she felt ready to greet the pupils, from the youngest as they started in reception to the children in year 6, about to begin their final year at primary school. September was a fresh and exciting time, and the academic year ahead seemed filled with potential.
However, even walking through freshly painted hallways, peering into classrooms with new wall displays and hearing the happy murmur of conversation from her colleagues in the staffroom failed to raise her spirits this year.
She went into her office and closed the door then sat at her desk. The morning sun was already warming the small room and her desk was bathed in stripes of sunlight that made their way in through the vertical blinds. The shadows between the stripes of light made her think of how her life had been since she’d met Mark. She’d had moments of warmth and clarity but they had been separated by times of insecurity and doubt, times of worry and darkness. Everything good came with something bad, but then didn’t that mean that it worked the other way too? For every dark moment, a lighter one would come along too? Ups and downs, highs and lows. It was all about finding balance.
The last week of the summer holidays had been one of deep reflection and although she had come into school before the weekend to attend to emails and paperwork ready for today’s INSET, she still felt as if the summer shouldn’t be over yet. And she was pretty certain she knew why. She had ended things with Mark via text. It was cowardly and she was ashamed, but she knew that she couldn’t have done it face to face or in a phone call. She just couldn’t seem to find the strength to speak to him, and it was as if, by keeping her distance, she could almost pretend that nothing had happened. Apart from her mother and Jamal (and, because of Jamal, Bradley) no one else seemed to know that she’d spent the night with Mark and therefore, it was as if she’d got away with it. As if it hadn’t happened. As if she could continue as before. Life could continue as before. The problem was, that she wasn’t sure that she wanted it to.
Catherine had tasted happiness, had savoured time with a man she liked and respected, a man she was incredibly attracted to, and she had enjoyed it, in spite of all her fears and worries. Before this summer, she had been content with her life and with how it had turned out. She hadn’t really imagined that life held anything else in store for her, but then Mark had come along and turned it all on its head and now, she was at odds with herself and her safe, if somewhat mundane, existence. She wanted more time in the sun, more moments in the light and less time in the shadows.
What was she to do?
For now, nothing. She would head to the staffroom, make a coffee, speak to her colleagues about their holidays and deflect questions about her own. Most of them didn’t live in Penhallow Sands anyway, so unless they’d come to the village or the beach during August, they wouldn’t be any the wiser about what Catherine did with her time.
Her time.
Her life.
Her future.
What on earth was she doing with her life?
She needed to speak to her mother when she got home. Diana had chosen to spend her life single, hidden away avoiding men and relationships, but Catherine didn’t want to. She wanted to seize the day, to have more than an existence, but before she could do that, she had to have this out with her mother. She should have done it years ago, but there had never been enough of a motive to risk rocking the boat, to risk upsetting her mother and their settled life. But now… things had changed and Catherine wanted more. She doubted very much that Mark would want to know her now, that he would even want to speak to her after how coldly she’d turned her back on him, but she knew she owed him a lot. He had opened her eyes to how she’d been hiding away and how much life could offer if you just took a chance.
He was a good man and she would need to find a way to apologise to him. She owed him that at least. And she owed it to herself to seize the day and finally start to live the life she wanted.
It had taken a week of early starts and late nights, but Mark now had a big chunk of his novel written. He’d forgotten over the past year how enjoyable writing was, how much he loved seeing the words flow onto the page and how exciting it was when the characters filled out and became like real people who talked to him day and night, telling him what they were going to do and why.
Yesterday afternoon, he’d sent the first half of the manuscript to his agent, asking her to let him know what she thought. With it being a Sunday, he hadn’t expected to hear from her but she’d replied just after lunchtime today, telling him she’d opened the document, intending on taking a brief look, and she’d been hooked. She’d read the entire partial he had sent and wanted to read the rest.
Mark had sat in front of his laptop, reading her email over and over. This was a good sign. A few weeks ago, he’d been worried that his lack of work combined with his despondency about it was starting to affect his relationship with his agent, but now he had something to show her at last. And she loved it. This was a very good sign. He’d replied to her email to say that he hoped to finish the story within the month, if not before, and that he’d send it as soon as it was done. She could let his editor know and that would take the pressure off regarding his contract and his deadline.
He felt enormously relieved. After Ellie had broken off their relationship, he’d thought that his life would never be the same again, but now, for the first time in a long while, it looked as though it could well improve.
And it was because he’d come here to Penhallow Sands and spent the summer relaxing, exercising and replenishing his creative stores. Ultimately, he was very aware that it was being with Catherine that had lifted him from his writer’s block, that had rescued him from the quagmire of self-doubt and apathy. He would always be grateful to her for that.
Even though he wished she had wanted to see him again.
Even though he had been hurt by her rejection.
Because being with her had sparked hope inside him again, a hope he’d thought Ellie had extinguished forever.
But now he needed to complete the story and he’d hit a snag, because he wasn’t sure how it ended. It could go in two or more possible directions. He knew which way he’d like it to go, but the section between that ending and the point he had reached was still hazy. It was something he’d encountered before and often a run or a good night’s sleep would help and he’d find that the characters had worked out exactly what should happen next and he’d get the next few scenes written. So it would be a good idea to take a short break and let his subconscious work its way through everything.
He’d print out what he’d written so far then head down to the village for a walk to clear his head. After days at the computer, his face was pasty, his hair was greasy and he had bags under his eyes that he could have packed for a holiday. So first he’d shower, dress in fresh clothes, eat, then walk.
The prospect of fresh air and stretching his stiff legs was very appealing indeed.
Catherine had gone home after work, but found the cottage empty. It was unlike Diana to go out for long, so Catherine had made two mugs of tea, expecting her mother back at any time. When she hadn’t returned and the tea had gone cold, Catherine had rung her mother’s mobile but it had gone through to voicemail. She’d texted Jamal to see if he knew where her mother might be and he’d replied saying that Diana was at the salon. Catherine had decided to have a long soak in the bath, followed by a nap if she still felt so tired. The first day back at work was always exhausting and it usually took her a good fortnight to get back into the swing of her work routine.
While lying in the bath, she heard the door closing downstairs, so she knew that her mother was home, then the landline started ringing almost immediately. Diana’s enthusiastic greeting made Catherine think that it must be her aunty again.
Catherine was glad that her mother seemed to be getting on so well with her sister. She was surprised, certainly, but also happy that the two women had overcome whatever had led to their estrangement. She hoped it would continue and that Diana would, at last, start to rebuild her life. It would make it easier for Catherine to say what she needed to say.
After another ten minutes, Catherine dried and dressed in her pyjamas then lay down on her bed. She’d take a nap before dinner, then snuggle on the sofa and watch some mindless TV. She had wanted to speak to her mother about everything this evening, but she needed to pick the right time, and seeing as how Diana was still on the phone, it would have to wait.
She closed her eyes and stretched out, and as she drifted, she heard a gentle purring at her side and reached out to stroke Bob’s soft fur. He rubbed his small head against her hand and another small head nudged her feet.
Bob and Ginger. Together like a sweet feline team. Letting her know they were there.
It was dusk by the time Mark reached the village, so he stood in front of the railing and gazed out at the beach. A few people were still walking on the sand and on the horizon he could see the silhouette of a small boat that was probably on the way to the harbour of the neighbouring village. He zipped up his hoodie against the cool evening breeze. It was only September but the air had already changed from the heady warmth of summer to the cool of approaching autumn. Mark had always liked autumn with its cooler temperatures, changing colours and the darker evenings. It was the perfect time to snuggle in front of an open fire and to read and enjoy hot chocolates or fine wines. Of course, those things weren’t quite so enjoyable alone, and he wondered how Catherine would feel about spending such evenings with him. He’d really like to find out.
The air was laced with the scents of fish and chips, frying onions and ocean brine. A quiet sadness settled over him as he thought about the scene on the beach just over a week ago, when summer had felt like it would last forever and he’d been inside the large white marquee with Catherine at his side. Did such exquisite moments always pass so quickly? He wished he could snatch that time back and treasure it, hold it with him and take it out to look at it whenever he wanted to see Catherine’s smile and hear her laugh. He wondered what she was doing right now, if she was working or watching TV or even thinking about him. Did she think about their afternoon at Plum Tree Bay when they had taken the steps that turned friendship into something more? Did she long to see him as he did her?
He turned from the beach and crossed the road then began to walk up the road that led to Catherine’s cottage. The street was quiet and as he passed other cottages. TV screens flickered in lounges and the savoury aromas of people’s evening meals drifted out into the air. These people all had someone in their lives, people to share dinner with and to watch TV with, to snuggle with as the evening wore on. There were couples, families and pets, settling down for the evening in their cosy homes, oblivious to the outside world.
When he reached Catherine’s cottage, he paused and peered up at the bedroom windows. The curtains were closed both upstairs and downstairs, but the glow of a light could be seen coming from inside and he could hear the murmur of a television.
Should he really do this? Was it the right decision to make?
At this point, he didn’t have much to lose, and it was something he needed to do.
He opened his rucksack and pulled out the envelope containing what he’d written of his novel so far. He’d paper clipped a note to the first page that read:
Please read this then let me know… How does the story end? Mark X
His stomach churned as he placed the envelope on the doorstep. He’d never done anything like this before, but then the whole situation was unfamiliar territory to him. It was, he knew, quite possible that Catherine would never read the story, that she’d see it was from him and throw it into the bin. It would be devastating if that happened, but it was a risk he had to take.
He was about to walk away, but he realised that if he left the envelope there it could get picked up by someone walking past or rained on, or worse if a passing dog decided to water it, so he took a deep breath then knocked on the door.
He waited. Heard a noise as someone inside approached the door. Then ran for it.
At the end of the street, he ducked down behind a parked car and peered back the way he’d come. Catherine’s front door was open and light flooded out. A figure stood glancing back and forth along the street but he couldn’t make out if it was Catherine or Diana. At least the envelope had been found. Now he had to hope that the woman he loved would read the contents.
Once the door had closed again, he got up and hurried down to the seafront then padded down the steps to the sand and towards the water. He needed to feel the sand between his toes, the cool water lapping over his feet, to reconnect with nature. It usually had the ability to soothe and calm him, as it always did. But he didn’t know if it could do that tonight as he waited to hear from Catherine. All he could do was hold on to hope.