By the time Alistair has dropped Cosmo off at the station in Totnes, driven back to Salcombe and given Reggie a walk, it’s nearly lunchtime. Cosmo has stocked up with a few necessities such as milk and bread, and there are some frozen meals in the freezer, but Al isn’t particularly impressed with the selection. He remembers his parents taking him to a pub in the town on one of his weekend visits so he settles Reggie, checks his water dish, and then walks off round the creek towards the town.
It’s been a damp grey morning and the wide bowl of the estuary reflects the clouds, brimming over with silver light. The boatyard is busy – people are putting their boats to bed for the winter – and it feels strange to Al to see the car park full of boats instead of cars. The town is quiet, no tourists, just a few locals shopping in Cranch’s and The Bake House, and he walks on past Whitestrand, looking for the flight of steps that leads down to the pub. And here they are. He hurries down, goes into the bar, and looks around: low beams, a fire alight in the wood-burning stove. It’s not very busy yet so he buys a pint, takes a menu and goes to sit by one of the big windows.
Al stares out, distracted by the view even on such a gloomy day: golden beaches, rocky inlets, a few boats still on their moorings, sails furled loosely on their yards. He takes a pull at his pint and studies the menu. A group of people comes in, talking, laughing, greeting the bar staff; clearly locals. Briefly, Al envies them. It must be good, he thinks, to belong to a small town like this, where you are part of its life, involved with its survival, but on reflection he wonders if perhaps the anonymity of a big city is preferable to the suffocation of a small community. He wonders how his parents will enjoy it here, how long it will take for them to be accepted, although they have already joined the Sailing Club. Certainly Cosmo seems to be falling in love with it all, and not just with Salcombe and its magical surroundings. He was in a very odd mood – jokey, brittle – turning the subject away from Becks or this girl Amy. Instead he talked about his photography, asked Al how things were back in town, at the bank. Oddly, this was more disturbing than if Cosmo had been prepared to discuss how he was feeling and the real reason for preventing Becks from coming here to visit him. After all, it’s no secret that he’s still not absolutely committed to Becks; that he has reservations about taking that last step and giving up his small flat finally to move in with her. Even so, Al feels uncomfortable with this new situation. He doesn’t much like Becks but he admires her intelligence and commitment to her work, and he’s hoping that when Cosmo sees her again this romantic dream will fade in the face of reality.
Al glances again at the group at the bar. He tries to categorize them all but can’t quite make them fit. Their ages range from young to old but none of them quite belongs together. There is no possessive or familiar behaviour that suggests that any of the three men or the three women are an item, nor do any of them look alike. He wonders what the relationship between them is – perhaps they all belong to a club – and then his thoughts drift on to the girl Amy, and whether she has fallen in love with Cosmo. Clearly she knows nothing about Becks and, just for a moment, Al feels angry with Cosmo. He wonders if Amy is like Becks: late twenties, sophisticated, smart, cool, focused. Perhaps she is younger, pretty, casual, rather like the girl in the group at the bar, with long curly brown hair and an animated face, who is talking to the young dark-haired fellow.
The group is moving away, sitting down at a table, and Al gets up and goes to the bar to order his lunch.
Across the bar, Amy has been watching the man sitting alone at the window table and wondering if it could be Cosmo’s friend. She’s never seen him before around the town and it’s unusual to see a young man sitting alone in the bar, especially out of season. As they all talk, order drinks, choose their lunches, she wishes she had the courage to stroll over and ask him if he’s Al.
She turns back to talk to Sam, to ask him about the navy, but he deflects the conversation, describing a flat Cara has seen in Dartmouth.
‘It’s tough,’ he says, ‘trying to choose where to live when you don’t really know the area and you’re all on your own.’
Amy smiles at him, liking his concern. In different circumstances she could have rather gone for Sam.
‘I’ve just got a job decorating a flat that will be coming up for rent soon,’ she says. ‘Come and have a look and see what you think. Seems silly for Cara to be in Dartmouth when her family is here.’
Charley joins in, asking Sam how long he’s staying with Max, and the conversation turns to her part-time job in a primary school, and then he’s telling them about his year at university in Shanghai and those weeks he spent teaching English to Chinese children. Charley is really impressed, asks lots of questions, and Amy can see that Sam loved the experience.
‘Sounds to me as if you’ve got a vocation,’ Charley says. ‘Have you thought of teaching?’
Sam looks embarrassed and Amy says: ‘He told you just now. He’s going into the navy.’
Charley simply raises her eyebrows, as though the question still stands, and Sam shrugs.
‘No,’ he answers, but slowly, as if it’s not totally true, and Amy, knowing Charley’s persistence and how she loves her own teaching job, suggests that they should order their food. Sam glances at her gratefully, gives her a little smile as if to thank her.
‘Come and see the flat,’ she says to him impulsively. ‘Bring Cara with you. I’m starting work there on Monday. It might be just the thing for her.’
‘Thanks,’ he says.
He looks surprised, slightly shy, and she thinks how nice he is. Max is asking her what she wants to eat and then they’re all moving to a table by one of the big windows. She glances across at the man sitting alone, studying the menu, and thinks how surprised he would be if she approached him and asked him if he knew Cosmo. He’d probably think she was crazy. Tomorrow, maybe, she’ll stroll out to Batson Creek, up to Snapes Point, and see if she can see Reggie having a walk. The idea amuses her and she sits down and begins to talk to Cara.
Sam is relieved to be sitting next to Jack. He’s slightly surprised himself by suddenly opening up to Charley about his time in China but, after all, it’s not a secret, though it’s getting harder to dissemble about passing the AIB, to admit that the prospect of teaching foreign children to speak English is beginning to feel like a vocation. He knows it’s foolish to be so secretive about this – after all, no one is forcing him to go into the navy – yet it’s been accepted for such a long time that he feels unable to make a change; to follow this newer dream. But suppose he should be mistaken about it and miss the tremendous opportunity of a career in the navy? It’s strange how Charley got under his defences so easily when he’s managed to keep this idea so closely concealed. He hardly knows why he’s unwilling to discuss it. Does he fear being talked out of it? Or is he actually afraid of being taken seriously; encouraged into it when he’s still so uncertain about his true feelings?
Sam moves back a little as the lunch arrives and plates are passed around the table. He realizes that the decision to follow in Mole’s footsteps is a way of connecting with this father he never knew, making the relationship more of a reality. Way back, when he first arrived at The Keep, he was given Mole’s bedroom, which still held the reminders of his father’s childhood – including a whole shelf of Tintin books – and showed his father’s passion for the navy and especially for submarines. As a small boy, Sam was fascinated by the books and the photographs, and especially by the iconic, big, black-and-white photograph of his father on the bridge of a nuclear submarine as it sailed into Faslane, which was framed and mounted and hung in the hall. Neither Fliss nor Hal has particularly encouraged Sam to join the service – none of their own children has – yet it slowly morphed into an accepted way of thinking and, after all, nothing else particularly fired Sam up whilst he was at school. He was good at languages, good at sport and sufficiently adequate academically to get into Durham University to read languages …
He is aware that Jack is watching him.
‘I know you’re only a half-wit,’ he says pleasantly, ‘but which part of “Pass the salt” don’t you understand?’
Sam laughs, apologizes, picks up his knife and fork and concentrates on the people around him.
Jack thinks about Sam as he eats his pie of the day – steak and ale – and he wonders what the boy has on his mind. He can see that there’s something that’s preoccupying him. Of course, it might be a girl, but some instinct tells him that it isn’t that. Sam’s too detached, too contained; too ready to come to stay with Max and offer his services indefinitely as chauffeur to Cara. Jack notices that Sam doesn’t consult his phone, checking for messages or sending texts, nor does he talk about his friends. This preoccupation of his is at a different level and it’s clear that Sam intends to keep it to himself. The only clue is how he deftly bats away any conversation about the navy except at the most superficial level. He clearly doesn’t want to engage in a discussion about his future.
Jack sits back and sips his pint. It’s odd that a young man about to embark on a new and exciting career shouldn’t want to talk about it.
Jack glances around the bar. To begin with, when he first saw the man sitting at the table by the window, he’d wondered if it might be Cosmo. He’s a stranger but he doesn’t look like a holiday-maker and no one has joined him. It was clear, however, that Amy doesn’t know him and he doesn’t know her; there wasn’t even a flicker of recognition. Jack is disappointed: he really wants to meet Cosmo, to size him up, but Amy remains vague about bringing him home or their having a drink all together at the pub. He catches Charley’s eye and smiles at her. Perhaps Amy has told her about Cosmo. Jack wonders how he might lead the conversation round to it if he can get Charley alone, though he wouldn’t expect her to tell tales out of school, of course. It’s just that he feels uneasy about Cosmo, just as he feels slightly anxious about Sam.
Old fool, he tells himself, and raises his glass to Charley across the table.
Charley lifts her glass in response.
‘For God’s sake,’ Amy said last night, when they’d had supper and were finishing the wine, ‘don’t mention any of this to Dad. He knows I see Cosmo around but he doesn’t know how I really feel. I mean, it’s crazy, isn’t it? I hardly know him.’
Charley didn’t say much. She listened, nodded, made the occasional response when it was required but she just let Amy talk. She was at that stage when she simply needed to talk about the beloved; to mention his name, things he said, the silly jokes. Charley had never seen her like this before and she was touched and amused.
‘He sounds great,’ she said, when Amy paused for breath. ‘So what’s the problem? He’s not married, is he?’
‘No, of course not,’ Amy answered quickly. ‘It’s just that he works in London and he’ll be going back any time soon.’
‘So?’ asked Charley. ‘It has been known that two people can have a relationship whilst living apart. Or you could move to London. Or maybe he could relocate?’
‘He’s mentioned that,’ Amy said. ‘He’s really keen on photography and he’d love to make a career out of it, but it’s a huge step.’
‘So what’s the big deal?’ asked Charley. ‘Why all the secrecy and silence? Why don’t you want Jack to meet him?’
Amy shrugged, made a face. ‘You know Dad. He’s being silly and saying Cosmo is a posh name. I’m afraid he’ll do that yokel thing and embarrass me.’
Charley laughed. ‘Of course he won’t. And even if he does it shouldn’t bother Cosmo. He’s big enough and old enough to take care of himself, isn’t he? Do you want me to meet him first? Would that help?’
Amy considered, biting her lips, and Charley wondered what was at the back of all this reticence. Perhaps Cosmo wasn’t ready to be quite so involved; perhaps he wasn’t prepared yet to meet Amy’s father or her friends.
‘Well, see how it goes,’ Charley said easily. ‘I’m here if you need me. But I have to say, whatever this is you’re looking great on it.’
This made Amy smile and relax and they finished the bottle, said goodnight and went to bed.
Now, as Charley finishes her goat’s cheese tart and puts down her fork, Max turns to her and she smiles at him.
‘Amy tells me that you’re about to have another grandchild,’ she says. ‘I think she said your family live in Oxford. I was at St Catz …’
Max listens whilst Charley tells him about her student life in Oxford, and afterwards going from one course to another, the perpetual student. Max is fascinated by her casual approach to life, though he knows Judith wouldn’t approve. The thought irritates him. He wonders if other couples are like this: judging new acquaintances through the eyes of their spouses and being influenced by that judgement. Judith always makes her feelings very clear, though she adds the rider that he must make up his own mind. This is not as easy as it sounds. If she does dislike or disapprove of anybody it is almost impossible not to be aware of it, and by some subtle method she indicates that by having a different opinion he is being disloyal. He’s finding Charley amusing and intelligent, he’s enjoying their conversation, but he knows it wouldn’t be a good idea to invite her for coffee when Judith gets back. He’s seen that Cara has been getting on well with her, however, and when Charley mentions Cara’s quest for a place to live an idea suggests itself.
‘Amy says you live in Totnes,’ he says casually. ‘You must let us know if you see anything that looks good coming on the market.’
‘I’ll do that thing,’ she answers, smiling at Cara, who is now enjoined in the conversation. ‘You do know, don’t you, that Totnes is twinned with Narnia? It’s true! Just saying!’
They laugh, and Max sighs with pleasure, trying not to feel so happy at this sense of freedom, knowing that guilt will follow.
Cara watches him with sympathy and affection. She likes to see Max having fun and she’s suffered too much at Judith’s hands to feel particularly loyal to her.
‘She’s a passive-aggressive,’ Philip used to say. ‘She never comes right out with anything so that you can challenge her. It’s just hints and observations with an accompanying look of contempt if you should feel differently. That drawn-in chin and tight-lipped mouth signifying disapproval. She needs to be in control and she’s perfected a way of doing it. But she’s been a good wife to Max, she’s supported him, and coped with naval life, so who are we to criticize?’
Who indeed? thinks Cara, but she’s anxious about how it will all play out when Judith comes home.
Cara wonders in which, out of all the places she’s seen so far, she could imagine settling down. She knows that it’s sensible to rent to begin with but even that seems a huge step to take at the moment. She wonders what Philip might have advised, knowing that he would have stayed in London. Here, she loves the friendliness of the shopkeepers and hospitality staff; the way a few locals are beginning to recognize her, especially if they see her with Oscar.
‘Just don’t agree to join anything or run anything,’ Max advised her jokily, ‘and you’ll be fine.’
‘No fear of that,’ she said, laughing. ‘I can’t even decide where to live so I wouldn’t be much use to anyone at the moment. Even poor Sam is beginning to despair of me.’
She looks across the table where he and Jack are in deep conversation and feels an odd and surprisingly strong affection for both of them. They share a strong sense of self-containment, of inner strength, yet they can both be very amusing. She feels lucky to have found a momentary berth here in this magical place where she can try to adjust to her grief and fear. The panic attacks have receded just a little but that is due in part to the fact that, because of all these people around this table, she is rarely on her own. She glances across the bar and notices that the man at the window table is still alone. To begin with, seeing him sitting by himself, she was reminded of Cosmo sitting in the Coffee Shop; of how he’d made her think of Joe and the secret she’s kept for so long. Even as she watches him, the man prepares to leave. She wonders if he, too, is on his own in the world, and what he is doing here today. Then Amy claims her attention and she forgets him.
Al stands up, walks out of the bar into the gentle mizzling rain, and heads back to the creek. It’s odd that he felt more alone in that friendly bar, with its log fire and amazing views, than he’s ever felt amongst strangers on the Tube or in the streets or in the cafés of the capital. Is it because he isn’t a local, that the bar staff didn’t have a friendly quip for him or know which ale he prefers? Was it because all the other people in the bar seemed to be having such fun? Al feels out of place and he wonders what it is that Cosmo has seen here, what he’s experienced in these last few weeks that has given him such a passion for the place. Al liked Salcombe better when it was teeming with summer visitors, the estuary crammed with water traffic, the shops busy to bursting point, yet he was still able to maintain his anonymity as he walked amongst it all. Of it but not in it.
He wonders how Cosmo is getting on and, on an impulse, steps to one side to send a text. He knows he must keep it simple in case Becks is there. Just at this moment, Al feels an affinity with Becks, with her straightforwardness, eye always on the goal, her refusal to be deflected. He wonders if she’s believed Cosmo’s story about wanting his camera equipment and his need for a fix of the bright lights. After all, she’s a lawyer: she must be able to tell when someone is lying. He texts:
Reggie is missing you. Love to Becks.
As Al presses Send he’s surprised that he added those last three words. He’s always been careful to play it cool with Becks. But now there’s been a change, as if they’re all playing by a new set of rules, and he’s slightly irritated at being called in to be the stooge for this weekend. He puts his phone in his pocket and strides on, shrugging his collar up to keep out the more persistent rain. He feels depressed. The rest of the weekend stretches emptily ahead and once again he wonders what on earth Cosmo finds to do all day. Al begins to feel slightly guilty that he persuaded Cosmo to come down here to dog-and-house-sit, even though he’d already decided he wouldn’t stay in London for his sabbatical but might go travelling. Al wonders what kind of girl could present a challenge to Becks. Perhaps this evening he should check out the pubs to see if he can spot Amy. But how would he recognize her?
The rain is blowing soft curtains of mist across the estuary, obscuring the far shore, settling in cushions of fog on the hills. Al climbs the steps up to the garden, lets himself into the house. He drags off his jacket, kicks off his shoes and calls to Reggie, who comes to greet him, happy to have him home again.
The rest of the weekend passes slowly, and there is no answering text from Cosmo except the one on Sunday afternoon, which confirms that he is on the train, travelling west and he’ll see Al at Totnes Station. Al sighs with relief and begins to get his belongings together. He tidies up, checks around and then puts his bag and Reggie into the car. Rather than take the lanes he drives up to the main road, and heads towards Kingsbridge. He is surprised at the lightness of spirit he is experiencing, as if he has been appointed an unpleasant task of which he is now being relieved. It is only as he approaches Totnes that he realizes he is actually feeling very angry at having been made complicit in this deceiving of Becks – and of Amy. He resents it. Cosmo might be one of his oldest friends but Al feels he has been used and he wishes he’d never agreed to it.
He finds it even more irritating when Cosmo comes swinging off the train looking so pleased with himself. He gives Al a hearty one-arm hug and lets out a great gasp of pleasure.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘It’s great to be back. Thanks, mate. I’ll do the same for you one day.’
‘I hope you’ll never have to,’ Al retorts. ‘Did you get my text?’
Cosmo opens the car door, calls a greeting to Reggie and hefts his camera case and bag inside. He begins to laugh.
‘I did,’ he says. ‘And I conveyed your message to Becks. She was touched and surprised. But not as much as I was. What was all that about?’
‘Perhaps I was just trying to make it up to her for all the shit you’re giving her,’ Al answers sharply.
Cosmo raises his eyebrows. ‘Ooh,’ he says, grinning. ‘Get you.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ says Al. He takes a deep breath. He knows he’s wasting his time. ‘Look, I’ll go back over the footbridge and wait for my train. It’s not that long to go. You can give Reggie a walk before it gets dark if you hurry.’
Cosmo hesitates and then nods. ‘OK. If you’re sure. Thanks, mate. Really. Thanks. Are you sure you’re OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ answers Al. ‘But what will you do next time she wants to come down?’
He watches while Cosmo makes a face, mimes despair, horror, then he shakes his head, turns and walks away. As he crosses the footbridge he glances back to the car, which is pulling out into the road, sees Cosmo’s hand waving from the window as he drives over the bridge. Al lifts his own hand in response and descends the steps to the platform to wait for the up-train to London.