On Friday morning, the day before Gabe’s arrival, I decide to go for a quick stroll around the village to get my blueberry scones from my old haunt, Cornish Born and Bread.
The owner, Karen, smiles as I come in. After serving the other customers and practically shooing them out, she waves me over.
‘Hi, Faith! How are you?’
‘Great thanks, and you?’
‘I never got a chance to tell you I’m so glad you’re back. We’ve missed you around here!’
‘Awh, Karen, thank you. It’s good to be back.’
‘So where is Gabe? On tour?’
‘Yes, he’s in Thailand at the moment.’
‘When will he be back?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Must be gruelling.’
‘Yes, it is, but he loves it.’
‘I meant for you. To not be able to spend more time together.’
I shrug. ‘Sacrifices must be made for relationships.’
‘Yes, of course. But they shouldn’t be only one-sided, Faith.’
‘What do you mean?’
She shrugs. ‘I mean, with all the difficulties that I see people overcoming in their relationships, you’re the one who’s had to work the hardest.’
‘Do you think?’ I ask, feeling my face heat up.
‘Faith – I know Gabe inside and out – he was my husband’s student for years. People may just see the façade of a relationship – the beautiful house, the great jobs and all. But I know exactly how hard you work to keep Gabe happy. And I’m surprised he’s actually found someone to achieve this monumental feat. Because Gabe York is never happy. So I take my hat off to you, Faith. You have won him over with your kindness and solid values.’
‘Thank you, Karen; that’s very kind of you.’
‘Just make sure he doesn’t run roughshod over you again. Because he’ll certainly try, sooner or later, once he knows he’s got you in the palm of his hand for good this time.’
I close my mouth. Has she been speaking to Mrs Trengrouse? Is that the way the whole of the village sees us, as a relationship with an expiration date? Nobody knows what goes on behind closed doors. I barely know myself.
‘Thanks, Karen. For looking out for me,’ I say. ‘But I’m okay.’
‘The usual blueberry scones?’ she says as she reaches into the glass casing between us and pulls out exactly four.
‘You remember my appetite, I see,’ I say with a grin as I am already salivating.
She grins back. ‘I did, but if need be, Henry’s reminded me how much you love them. He comes by here every morning and reserves them just for you. Of course, he thinks of the entire crew, but he always buys extra for you. I’m telling you – that one is a horse of a completely different colour. You might want to not lose sight of him.’
I laugh as I put my money on the counter. ‘Seriously, Karen, you get the weirdest ideas. I’ll see you next weekend.’
‘I’ll put some aside for Henry on Monday morning!’ she calls after me.
I leave, shaking my head. Hm. He’s been buying extra for me.
*
And finally, here we are – the day Gabe is coming back.
Which reminds me. I need to shop for tonight’s dinner.
I’ll plan it to death and… there I go again. Okay, no planning to death – just a few things he likes – his favourite food, his favourite wine and some San Pellegrino water for me. And then we’ll finally have that chat that could either make or break us.
I’ve got all the ingredients for the ham roast, his favourite meal since he was a tiny boy – the pineapple, the peas and sweet potatoes. I’m going to criss-cross the ham with rashers and rashers of bacon and stud it with cloves like Hope said to do. I’m going to make his favourite dessert– apple pie – and drown it in vanilla ice cream, just the way he likes it. And I’m going to set the table with a new tablecloth that will be ours and ours only.
I’ve even planned breakfast for the next day – pancakes with an avalanche of whipped cream and fresh raspberries. Everything needs to be perfect. And by that evening, it is. Unable to sit still, I start pacing back and forth, talking to Jawsy.
‘He’s coming back, pretty girl,’ I coo, wondering if she isn’t lonely in that bowl all day long. I should get her a companion. It’s cruel of me to expect her to live on her own, day in, day out. I’d never thought about that.
Gabe should be here in the next half hour, minute more, minute less.
An hour later, with dinner slowly sagging in the warming drawer, I pour myself a glass of sparkling water. He’s late. I try his mobile, which is still switched off. He should have landed hours ago. I should’ve met him at Heathrow. Who cares if it’s hours away. At least right now we’d be in the car together and I’d know what is to become of us and our future.
As I’m checking my lip gloss and hair in the mirror for the umpteenth time, my mobile rings.
Oh God, I hope it’s not a business call – I haven’t the head for it right now. All I can think of is Gabe walking through that door and I don’t want it to be while I’m talking throw cushions and Berber rugs.
I know I should draw a line between business and pleasure, but how can I, when one phone call, one text might save me an hour prepping the next day? He’ll never understand that. He’s an artist, a free spirit, while I do the calculations and make sure that everything is exactly how it’s supposed to be.
‘Hello?’ I answer.
‘Hi, Faith.’
‘Gabe? Where are you? You’re late. Is everything okay?’
‘I’m, uhm, delayed.’
‘Oh, gosh, traffic on the motorway?’ I should have booked him a room in London for the night. ‘How far did you manage to get?’
He lets out a long, tired sigh. ‘Faith – I’m still in Thailand.’
My stomach drops to my feet as my legs begin to feel hollow. ‘What…? W-why? Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been waiting for—’
‘I got a call from the hospital. Vanessa’s there.’
A deep-freeze grips my lungs. ‘Is… is she okay?’
‘I’m not sure yet, but I’m going to have to postpone my trip. I’m so sorry, Faith.’
‘But wait – I thought she’d already left to come back to the UK?’
‘So did I. But she was staying here with a friend, and now… I’ll call you back when I know more, okay? I’ve got to go now.’
‘I’m so sorry, Gabe. Will you keep me posted? Gabe…?’ I say, but the phone line is dead.
I truly hope she’s okay. I never wanted anything to happen to her. But this sounds serious. Serious enough to hold Gabe back.
Maybe I should go onto the Internet and see if there’s any news? I pull out my laptop and type in Vanessa Chatsbury, designer. Apart from the usual spiel about her business and her silver-spooned clients and her wild partying, there is nothing new there. Whatever it is, I’m going to have to wait to know more.
I consider calling Gabe back, but it seemed he couldn’t get off the phone fast enough and I don’t want to stress him out any more than he already must be. I’m sure Vanessa’s parents must have flown out if it’s serious.
I can only continue to pace around the house, hoping and praying that she’s okay. When I get back to the kitchen, the food I’d so lovingly prepared stares back at me, almost as if to ask what I’m going to do about it? For a moment I consider calling my team over for dinner, but it’s the weekend and they have families and lives. I consider Hope but then remember she has taken the kids away for the weekend. I’d call my coastal girls but they are without a doubt snuggled up with their loved ones and I don’t want to bother or upset them with my miserable mug.
The meal is all going to go to waste, because I can’t even think of eating right now. I wonder how Gabe is coping. He’s not good in any type of crisis whatsoever.