The next Monday I text the crew on our WhatsApp group that I’m on my way to work. Wallowing Week is over. Thea is the first to text back:
Yayyy! What happened?
To which I reply:
House needs to be baby-proofed.
She sends me a pair of rolling eyes, while the men text back thumbs up without a comment. I’ll be getting those in person, I suspect.
I smile to myself. It’ll be good to see everyone again. Get moving again. Hopefully, I’ll be able to stay out of trouble where Henry is concerned. Because, despite my sadness for what’s happened to Gabe and I, I still can’t get Henry’s smile out of my mind.
‘Morning, Faith,’ Henry says casually as he comes in with a huge box of scones, a pot of cream and one of jam, and it’s like I never left. But I can see the pride on his face at seeing me there at the helm of my ship once again. He’s a good man, Henry.
‘Mmh,’ says Paul, wiping his hands clean. ‘Just about time, I feel a tea break a-comin’!’
No one makes any awkward comments or asks me how I’m doing, because they know I need to not make a fuss about coming back. It’s just business from now on.
Ten minutes later, Henry and I are poring over his designs and, although I’d made myself the promise to move on, my heart just isn’t in it. Until only a few weeks ago, this was about my life, my man and my home. And now there is another – completely innocent human being in the picture. A baby. Vanessa and Gabe’s baby.
The thought that it will be someone else humming and cooking in this very space is enough to make me want to scream until my throat is raw. But I keep quiet as a maelstrom of a migraine begins to build behind my eyeballs.
‘Faith…?’ comes Henry’s voice through the thick fog that is my misery. ‘Are you okay? You look pale. Did you not sleep well?’
Sleep? As if. The night and I have become one, lately. All of my mistakes, in love and in business, keep flashing through my mind, sometimes even stopping me from believing in myself. But that has to end now. And anyway, it’s my problem and no one else’s.
‘Yes, I’m fine, thank you,’ I say with a huge effort, sitting up even straighter than usual.
There is a break in the conversation as he studies me, and I know what he’s thinking – the unbreakable, unfathomable Faith has a chink in her armour, and it’s finally about to show in public.
Not on your life, mister. I push back at a stray tendril and force a smile I’m far from feeling. ‘What about that composite granite for the work surfaces?’ I suggest, changing the subject. ‘It’s unbeatable as it doesn’t stain and can take the heat,’ I suggest.
He purses his lips in thought. ‘It’s not as strong as it looks,’ he says, boring his eyes into mine meaningfully. Is he serious, comparing me to a countertop? I don’t want to talk about me. We have been doing so well lately, not talking about me.
‘I can assure you it can take not only the heat, but also anything you can throw at it.’ There. Just to be clear.
He leans back and studies me. ‘Yes, it might, but how long do you think it will last like that? Granite is what you want. Black. And it reveals nothing. No stains, no scratches.’
Unlike me. Good point, of course. I huff.
‘Listen, Faith – I know how you feel.’
‘Do you?’
‘Of course. But you are acting like a real pro, not letting your feelings get mixed up in all this. Only remember that you are surrounded by people here to pick you up when need be. Me included.’
The simple and hopefully sincere comment defrosts me somewhat. Oh, to hell with it. Who do I think I’m fooling anyway?
‘Thank you, Henry. It is strange, being back here again,’ I finally admit. ‘You go back to a place you love and yet, when circumstances change, although it’s still the same house, it’s no longer the same… home. None of it can ever be the same again.’
Henry studies me in silence, then dips his head. ‘It’s people that make homes, Faith. Or rather, our perception of them.’
‘That’s so true. When we were introduced to a new foster home, they were mostly beautiful homes. But there was no warmth, no love.’
‘Thus your Home Hugs,’ he says gently.
I nod. ‘Yes. It felt good to embrace something, rather than having empty arms. I hate having empty arms. I don’t know what to do with them.’
‘Arms are meant to hold. To protect, love and nurture.’
Henry would know. I have seen the way he holds Orson. And I remember how he held me that time I fell apart.
‘Come on, there’s cake, I’ll make us some coffee,’ he says softly.
‘Have we got any more scones?’ I ask, straightening my shoulders.
He stops, spreads his arms in a gesture that says: Please, you think I’d run out? He seems to know the way to my heart, i.e. through my stomach.
And it’s like I’d never left. The team fills me in on what’s what, and I’m instantly back in the groove.
*
After a long day’s work Henry comes to stand opposite me, watching me smugly from under his dark lashes.
‘What? What’s up?’ I say.
‘Guess what? We’re in.’
I sit up. ‘In where?’
‘Time & Tide.’
I gasp. ‘How did you manage?’
‘I told you, I’m a regular there. Are you ready?’
‘Now? We can go now?’
He chuckles. ‘Ye-es.’
I drop my pen. ‘Oh my God! Oh, you don’t know how long I’ve been dying to get in there. Thank you, thank you!’
And in five minutes we’re in Henry’s 4x4 again, and I’m fidgeting like a schoolgirl.
‘I’ve wanted to see this place since forever!’ I tell him again as we drive down the A394.
‘Yes, you’ve mentioned that before,’ he says with a chuckle, stealing me an amused glance.
‘Did you know that the Wickfords often go there and can be seen rifling through piles of stuff for a bargain, just like any common mortal?’ I ask.
He laughs. ‘Really? Wow.’
‘Maybe I’ll get lucky and bump into them today! And oh – they have this huge home in the Cotswolds and one they’ll be renovating in Cornwall!’
‘Strong choice.’
‘I wonder who’s designing it for them…’ I ask myself out loud.
Henry slides me a glance as we come up to an intersection. ‘That would be a great opportunity for you, wouldn’t it?’
I snort. ‘As if.’
‘Can Gabe… not help you? Surely he knows someone who knows them, being famous and all?’
‘Not on your life. I’m not asking him for anything. I’ll just have to keep badgering them with emails and phone calls that are never returned. Or, I could just find out where they live and break into their home one night, hold them hostage long enough to show them my portfolio.’
Henry laughs. ‘That might do it, yes.’
As Henry veers left, St Michael’s Mount comes into view. Its majesty never ceases to amaze me, and today it looks so close I can almost touch it – the castle and the sea, with all its secrets and mysteries I have yet to uncover.
‘Ohhh,’ I gasp despite myself.
Henry turns to look at me. ‘You have never been on St Michael’s Mount?’
I shake my head. ‘I know, I’m shameful, aren’t I? It just never happened.’
‘Then we’ll just have to make it happen,’ he says, and I let it pass. Gabe was not a fan of the cultural. Imagine his face if I had said, Hey, let’s go for a walk around an ancient castle and go back in time! He’d have had a bloody conniption.
‘But one thing at a time,’ Henry says. ‘First the shop, then lunch and then we’ll go to the island. Can you spare the time?’
Meaning, can I tear myself away from Jawsy just a little bit longer? Or, can I do without an entire evening spent wandering alone around my flat?
‘Oh, yes, please,’ I answer, and a warm smile lights up his face as he turns into the parking lot opposite the shop.
‘You’ll love it,’ he promises as he gets out.
‘How is it possible that you have access to this place?’ I say as we step through the main entrance.
He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he leads the way through the door and into my idea of paradise. ‘I’m a Cornishman,’ he says simply. ‘I know my turf. Plus, the owner’s an old friend.’
‘You also know your stuff – this place is beautiful,’ I observe as we step through the door, and I immediately spot a beauty off to the right of the entrance. ‘Oh my God, just look at this armchair! It’s so primitive, and honest, and yet so skilfully designed.’
His hand runs over the smooth wooden armrests of a deep tan leather chair.
‘Yes, it’s made with recycled leather.’
‘You really do know your stuff. How can you tell it’s recycled and simply not distressed?’
‘Because I stripped it off my gran’s old sofa.’
I stare at him. ‘You…? You made this armchair?’
He shrugs. ‘With her blessing, mind you.’
I cannot believe my ears. Or my eyes. ‘It’s one of the most beautiful pieces I’ve ever seen in my life.’
He nods graciously. ‘Thank you. That’s very kind of you.’
And I need to say this again. ‘Henry – I need to thank you for being so kind to me, and for not giving up on me since day one.’
He smiles, and I see that one of his front teeth is slightly crooked, giving him a more approachable and friendly air. How have I not noticed that before?
‘No worries. You were stressed.’
I roll my eyes. ‘I’m always stressed.’
‘Besides, I wouldn’t say we didn’t click. It’s the quickest a girl has ever been naked before me.’
‘Silly,’ I say, gently slapping his arm, and suddenly blush at the memory of myself floating completely starkers in the pool. How much had he seen, I wonder?
He chuckles. ‘You’ve gone all red. I didn’t see anything.’
I look up into his eyes. ‘Promise?’
He flinches slightly. ‘Well, maybe just an outline.’
I gasp and cover my face.
‘I wasn’t really looking,’ he hastily adds. ‘I was more worried about Trixie losing her rag. Bopper has a very keen eye for the pretty ladies.’
‘Are you calling me pretty?’ I breathe, wishing I could shut up for just one millisecond.
He looks down at me, pursing his lips in thought. ‘Let’s say you’re just barely passable.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Some nerve.
‘I’m kidding!’ he says with a laugh.
‘You are?’
I’ve stopped and we’re looking into each other’s eyes as I wait for his answer. He takes my hand. ‘Come and look at these and tell me if they’re not the most exquisite Murano glasses you’ve ever seen.’
I follow him and look into a hutch. Inside there are blue chalices made of very thin glass. ‘Beautiful,’ I whisper. ‘Absolutely exquisite. This entire place is amazing. Thank you for bringing me here, Henry. What a way to spend an afternoon.’
He shrugs. ‘Surely you’ve had better afternoons in Gabe’s company.’
I laugh. ‘Not in a place like this, I haven’t. Gabe isn’t – uhm, wasn’t – into this kind of thing.’
‘No? I thought you and Gabe did everything together.’
‘Is that the impression you were under?’
‘Sort of.’
I would like to ask him more about his relationship with Gabe, but there will be time for that. Right now I’m in interior designer’s paradise and we haven’t got much longer before the premises close.
On the far end is a bureau that attracts our attention. Henry runs a reverent hand over it, as I begin to realise that, under that quiet easiness to him, there is a man of quality and value.
‘Ready for lunch yet?’ he asks, interrupting my thoughts.
‘Only if it’s on me,’ I argue.
He looks at me in pure horror. ‘Absolutely not.’
After a quick but delicious lunch at The Day’s Catch just opposite St Michael’s Mount, we set out to walk across the causeway as it’s still low tide.
‘Imagine getting trapped at high tide,’ I say with a shiver.
He takes my elbow. ‘I’d carry you back on my shoulders.’
I laugh, knowing that he very probably would.