As he drives, Cosmo can hardly contain his delight; his happiness to be back here driving in these narrow lanes; catching glimpses of the estuary, of two small dinghies crammed together under a low stone bridge as the tide rises. He’s finding it difficult to understand these emotions that have him in their grip. After all, he’s had a good weekend in London. Becks was pleased to see him. In fact, he was flattered by her response and joked that perhaps he should go away more often. Despite that, despite the fun of going to a film and having supper at the new Italian restaurant, despite a slow, sexy start to Sunday morning, he could hardly wait to be back on the train and travelling west. He could tell that Al was baffled by his behaviour, and unusually judgemental, but Cosmo simply can’t contain his high spirits.
The clouds are packing away to the east. The sun shines on fields and hedgerows, painting them gold and scarlet, and on an impulse Cosmo turns the car down the steep lane that leads past Lincombe Boatyard towards the coastal path around Snapes Point. He parks in the little car park and gets out to release Reggie. The air is warm, soft, and he laughs quietly with sheer pleasure. He decides to walk down the path at the edge of the field, just a short walk so he can reconnect and so that Reggie can stretch his legs. As they come out from the shelter of the hedge he gazes around him, away to Kingsbridge at the head of the estuary, across to the entrance to Frogmore Creek opposite and then around to Salcombe in the west. He can’t wait to see Amy again. She is a part of all this, rather like a princess in a fairy tale, belonging to this landscape, which seems set apart from the real world. He is obsessed, possessed, by her and all of this and he can’t give any of it up; not yet.
Even as he thinks of her a figure appears, walking round from the coastal path, a black Lab running ahead. It’s not Amy, it’s the woman he met in the Coffee Shop: Cara. The dogs meet, tails wagging as if they are old friends, and Cosmo raises his hand to her, calling a greeting. She waves as she climbs the field towards him and he smiles at her and gesticulates around him with an expansive gesture.
‘Isn’t it amazing?’ he asks. ‘Do you ever get used to it?’
She shakes her head. ‘I wouldn’t know,’ she answers. ‘I’ve only been here a few weeks. But I should think it’s very unlikely. It’s never quite the same.’
He remembers that she’s staying with her brother, looking for somewhere to live, and he envies her that freedom: to be able to choose without any restriction of work or relationship.
‘Is this your brother’s dog?’ he asks.
‘This is Oscar,’ she answers. ‘They seem to know each other, he and Reggie. I think you said that’s his name, didn’t you, when I met him in the Coffee Shop? Or perhaps they’re just naturally gregarious.’
‘Like me,’ he says, laughing down at her.
As she looks at him he is aware that this is more than just a friendly encounter. She seems to be studying him, observing him closely, as if she is trying to remember something, looking through the surface niceties to a deeper knowledge of him. He feels slightly discomfited, guilty. It’s almost as if she might have guessed that he has just returned from a weekend with his girlfriend and is already planning a meeting with another girl, with Amy.
‘I’m just having a quick leg stretch,’ he says randomly, looking away from her. ‘I’ve been on the train for a couple of hours and I wanted to breathe this wonderful air again.’
‘The train?’ she asks. ‘You’ve been away?’
He stares across the estuary, cursing himself for his stupidity. Nobody, except Amy, would know he’s been away and he doesn’t want to explain himself, his life, to this unusual woman who acts as if she might already have guessed his secrets.
‘A quick dash back to London,’ he says lightly, ‘to pick up some of my camera equipment. I had no idea it was going to be so photogenic here.’
He’s turning, as he speaks, heading back towards the car, and she walks with him, the dogs following behind.
‘Did you take Reggie with you?’ she asks.
‘No,’ he answers. He feels cross with himself and with her. Now he is going to have to explain about Al. ‘The owners’ son came for the night,’ he says.
After all, this is quite true. No need to tell her that Al is an old friend, that they work together. It’s none of her business and he wants to keep the distance between Salcombe and London: between romance and reality.
In the car park they encourage the dogs into their cars, then they smile at each other and Cosmo climbs into the driver’s seat and switches on the engine. He checks to see if Cara is ready to leave but she’s still standing with the door open so he reverses and drives away. He waves as he goes, heaving a sigh of relief, and wondering why he feels unnerved. His earlier sense of exultation has been quenched and he is determined to regain it. As soon as he gets home he’ll text Amy: make a plan.
After he’s gone, Cara sits for a moment, gazing over the steering wheel, wondering about Cosmo. It’s clear that he’s in the grip of some great emotion. The landscape might be spectacular, his enthusiasm for photography might be exciting, but that doesn’t quite explain the sheer joy that sparkles in his eyes and lights up his face.
So what does it matter if he’s in lust with Amy – why should she feel anxious? And why does she feel the stirrings of her own past, the remembrance of that same look on Joe’s face when he drove her from Fiumicino Airport to his flat in the city? Her hands tighten a little on the steering wheel. She recognizes the expression now. It’s the expression of a man in the grip of a strong visceral emotion who believes that he is getting away with it; that he can have it both ways. Cosmo was uncomfortable when she mentioned London. He didn’t want to talk about his quick dash away. She could tell by his body language that he was concealing something. But why? It’s no business of hers so why should he be wary?
Cara sits back, putting on her seat belt, starting the engine. She’s seen Cosmo with Amy and she can tell by the way that Amy looks at him that she’s falling in love, but Cara knows it’s crazy to make this connection with her and Joe.
That was then and this is now, she tells herself. But the memories begin to crowd in and with them comes the old familiar panic churning her gut.
Quickly she starts the engine, drives out into the lane. She won’t think about it – she must keep it sealed away – but she longs for Philip: for his presence standing between her and the darkness. From nowhere comes the memory of him holding her calmly as she sobbed, her head buried in his chest. He wasn’t surprised to see her: Max had phoned him to say she would be in Rome. She clung to this man she’d known all her life, Max’s closest friend, knowing he would help her.
‘For God’s sake,’ Max said, when she told him of her plan to visit Joe in Rome, ‘it sounds a bit crazy. How well do you know this man? Are you staying with his people? What does Father say? Does Hermione know you’re just blinding off into the blue?’
‘She thinks it’s a great adventure,’ Cara replied, laughing. ‘She’s all for it. Don’t be so stuffy, Max.’
‘She would be,’ he answered grimly. ‘Look, be sure to take Philip’s address. You know he’s at the Embassy in Rome? He’s First Secretary now. Promise to take his address, Cara. I’ll phone him and tell him you’re going out. I’ll be at sea by then. Look, I wish you’d reconsider this …’
How excited she was to have Joe’s call inviting her to visit him in Rome; how relieved. She’d begun to think that she’d imagined his love for her but the minute she heard his voice, laughing, expostulating, insisting that she should come, all her doubts vanished like smoke. He loved her. He would propose to her and they would be together for ever. She can’t recall the flight, but she can remember how he bundled her into the little Fiat, how they’d driven through the city in the early summer evening. She was expecting to go to his parents’ town house – or even to their villa – but instead he took her to a flat on the top floor of an old house. It was clearly his own pad. They couldn’t wait to make love – she wanted it as much as he did – and only when it was over and she began to talk about the future did she realize that Joe had no thoughts of marriage. In fact he admitted – expecting her to understand – he was already engaged to an Italian girl whose family were wine exporters like his own. Cara was to be his mistress.
Her mind blanks out the scene that followed. She fled to Philip. He listened calmly, asked several questions, and then he went away to telephone the airport and make some other calls. All the while she simply remained in shock, trembling, bursting into tears, until he came back into the room, gave her some brandy and explained he’d arranged a few days’ leave and that they would both be on the next flight home …
A Land Rover pulls out of a gateway ahead of her and Cara stamps on the brakes, realizing that she’s driving too fast. She lets it go ahead of her and follows more slowly. The sudden shock has broken the train of thought and with a huge effort she thrusts the memories away, wondering instead if Max and Sam will be back. They’ve been sailing Max’s boat up from the Bag to bring it ashore for the winter and she hopes they’ll be finished and back at the house. She needs company, distraction.
The minute that she and Oscar come through the front door she sees that she’s going to get it. There is an air of bustle, of emergency. Max’s bag stands ready packed and she can hear him talking on the telephone. As she climbs the stairs to the kitchen Sam turns to look at her. He makes a face, a kind of amused grimace and she raises her eyebrows questioningly.
‘There’s a bit of a panic,’ he says. ‘Freya’s gone into labour and her mum has arrived from Denmark. It seems that there might not be room for everyone so Max is going up to bring Judith back as soon as the baby’s born. They’ll stay in a hotel or something. It all seems a bit of a pig’s breakfast. Judith’s in a state.’
‘She and Freya’s mum don’t get on awfully well,’ Cara tells him. ‘But I expect Freya will be glad to have her mum with her.’
‘I think,’ he says rather awkwardly, ‘that I might make myself scarce if Judith’s coming home again. It’ll be a bit of a squash.’
She smiles at him, glad of his presence. ‘You mean you’re ratting on me?’
He laughs. ‘No, I’m not. But you see what I mean? It won’t be quite the same, will it?’
She laughs too. ‘It certainly won’t. You and Max sitting up late, getting rat-arsed while he yarns about his navy days … suppers down at the pub.’
‘I had a thought,’ he says, rather shyly. ‘I was wondering if you might like to come and stay at The Keep for a few days? I know Fliss and Hal would love it. Did I tell you that they’ve decided to rehome a Labrador? You must meet her.’
‘That’s very sweet of you,’ she says, touched. ‘But I’ll need to stay here and look after Oscar if Max is going to Oxford.’
‘No, I get that. I meant once they’re back again. We could do some more exploring.’
It’s odd how his thoughtfulness touches her. These days, since Philip died, small acts of unconsidered kindness almost move her to tears.
‘I’d really like that,’ she says. ‘Thanks, Sam.’
Max appears, looking irritated, anxious. ‘Freya’s gone into labour,’ he says to Cara. ‘Judith wants me to go straight away, if you don’t mind staying with Oscar. Freya’s mum has arrived and it’s easier if Judith and I check into a hotel. We’ll be home as soon as the baby is born. I’m really sorry about this, Cara.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she says quickly. She pats Oscar, who is sitting watching anxiously, sensing trouble. ‘It’s nobody’s fault. I’m quite happy here with Oscar. Are you going now?’
‘I told Judith I would. Everyone’s in a bit of a panic, apparently.’ He looks at Sam. ‘Your visit hasn’t quite worked out the way we planned, has it?’
‘Honestly. It’s not a problem. Babies come first. I’ll stay with Cara and we’ll carry on house-hunting until you come home again. We’ve got lunch at The Keep to look forward to as well.’
Max looks relieved. ‘That’s great. Take care of each other. I’ll let you know how things go on.’
‘Text when you’re safely there,’ says Cara, kissing him. ‘Give my love to everyone.’
In the silence that follows Max’s departure Sam and Cara look at each other.
‘Have we got any plans for supper?’ she asks him.
He grins at her. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Let’s go to the pub.’
Jack’s in the bar, having a pint with his mates. He looks pleased to see them and gestures for them to join him.
‘Amy’s abandoned me again,’ he says. ‘She’s got a last-minute date. Where’s Max?’
Cara explains. ‘We can’t be bothered to cook so we’re going to have supper here,’ she adds. ‘Want to join us, since you’ve been stood up as well?’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ he says. ‘What are you drinking?’
Later, when they come out into the quiet town, a huge moon is rising beyond the headland.
‘It’s so bright,’ says Cara, awed by the sight of it.
‘It’s the hunter’s moon,’ Jack tells her.
‘What does that mean?’ she asks.
‘It happens every autumn, usually in October. It’s called the hunter’s moon because its light is so brilliant that even the smallest animal can’t hide from its predator.’
Cara shivers. ‘That’s rather scary.’
Jack looks at her. ‘Only if you’re an animal,’ he says. ‘Come back for a nightcap. Neither of you has seen our little house yet. Amy might be back by now,’ and they all head off to Courtenay Street.
Cosmo is unable to sleep. Cold, bright moonlight pours into his bedroom and he gets up and goes to the window as if he is being drawn by invisible tides. He stares out at the monochrome landscape and suddenly, on some impulse, he begins to drag on his clothes. He needs to be out in this strange night-time world, in this uncanny light.
Reggie raises his head as Cosmo comes into the kitchen but he makes no attempt to rise. Cosmo pulls on his jacket and lets himself out into the night, walking up towards the coastal path, gazing around him in awe. There’s a chill little breeze that riffles the waters of the estuary so that the moon’s reflection is shivered into a thousand jagged silver pieces that resemble a shattered glass bauble. He walks with his hands driven deep into his pockets, noting the definition of each twig and stone, listening to the high-pitched scream of a small stricken animal and the eerie screech of an owl. There is something exhilarating about this light, which ruthlessly searches out each hiding place and exposes every secret. It seems to probe deep into his own heart, showing him his weaknesses; his faithlessness.
Cosmo pauses, clenching his hands into fists, examining his conscience.
After all, he excuses himself, nobody is being hurt.
He can’t understand this passion that makes it absolutely necessary to surrender himself to this moment in time, which is offering him an extraordinary alternative universe, including this magical place – and Amy. He needs to take it, to explore it, to experience it, whilst, at the same time, keeping London and his work and Becks in a separate time capsule. This evening with Amy has been so good. How warm she was, how pleased to see him, and he remembers how she’d breathed the words ‘I think I love you’ when he’d held her tightly in his arms.
Cosmo stands drenched in the moon’s brilliance, seeing himself clearly in its merciless light yet unable to accept its truth. He knows that he is cheating, lying, yet he cannot give up this excitement; this sensation of feeling so vitally alive. There is a noise in the hedge behind him, a scuffling of dried grass, the snapping of a twig. He turns quickly in time to see a shadow racing along the ditch, disappearing into a burrow. Cosmo glances around him, hearing again the owl’s cry near at hand. One creature at least is safe from those talons and the cruel curved beak, and Cosmo smiles to himself. He sees it as a sign, a portent. Success is to the swift: to those who see their opportunities and seize them. Somehow things will work out, he knows they will. He turns up his collar and heads for home.
Back in Buckley Street, Sam says goodnight and disappears away to bed but Cara is not sleepy. The moon’s light shining into the house is like an ineluctable tide, towing her towards it, dragging her up the stairs into the kitchen. She stands still for a moment, gazing out, and then very reluctantly she opens the doors that lead on to the balcony. Gripping the door jamb, she watches the reflections that gleam on the rooftops and on the water. She doesn’t dare to look down, yet she feels compelled to take a step, to leave the safety of the kitchen and walk out on to the slatted floor of the balcony. Beneath her all is blackness, and she experiences that all-too-familiar longing to cast herself into it. Letting go of the door jamb, she steps forward. All is darkness and light; brilliance and shadow.
Cara gives a tiny sob, and stretches out a hand, as if someone might be there to take hold of her. She feels dizzy, losing all sense of where she is, and suddenly she almost falls. Her legs have encountered something unyielding and warm. She slides down, knees giving way, and encounters the solid body of Oscar, who stands across her, blocking her way. Cara crouches, putting her arms around his neck, seeing the glint of moonlight reflected in his kind, anxious eyes. Gently he edges her back towards the kitchen, and she goes gratefully, clutching his collar, closing the doors behind them. She collapses into an old wicker chair whilst Oscar stands beside her, watching her reproachfully. Cara strokes his ears, lays her cheek briefly against his warm, hard head, then she gets up and they go downstairs together.
Amy lies, wakeful and alert, watching the moonlight wheeling slowly across her bedroom ceiling. Its light reveals each well-known object, dazzles on the small mirror, picks out the books in the tall, narrow bookcase her dad made for her when she was little. Even from this distance she knows each book from its spine: The Wind in the Willows, Winnie-the-Pooh, The Hobbit. She remembers how Mum would read to her and, idly, Amy wonders what her mum would think of Cosmo.
Nobody could help liking Cosmo, she tells herself almost defensively, as if there’s some question about it. He’s such fun, so full of life and energy.
She feels slightly embarrassed as she remembers how pleased she was to see him earlier, after she’d got his text inviting her round for a drink and supper. It was the first time she’d spent any time there. Usually they went off walking, or to Dartmouth or Kingsbridge, but she decided to accept the invitation. It was as if this moved the relationship on a little bit. She’s invited him back to hers but somehow he always slithers away from accepting. Never with a definite refusal but simply by turning the conversation a little so that she feels awkward repeating the invitation.
Amy rolls on to her side, gazing out of her window into the blaze of white light. Earlier, walking out to the creek, she wondered if she’d feel a bit shy, but somehow just the sight of him, flinging open the door, beaming at her, Reggie at his heels, dissolved her anxiety. She beamed back at him and then she was in his arms and kissing him, and it just felt like heaven. He’d poured her a glass of wine, taken something from the freezer to put in the oven, and they’d just fallen back into the pattern of all their previous encounters. When he kissed her she knew he wanted more than that – and so did she – but something held her back. He was so sweet, not pressing or trying to force the pace, that she’d held him tightly and muttered that she loved him, and then her shyness and uncertainty returned and she said that she must get back or Dad would start worrying. It was a bit feeble but he let her go, walking her back into the town but leaving her at the bottom of Buckley Street. He hadn’t said he loved her in return and now she feels even more anxious.
Restlessly, Amy turns back on to her other side and pulls the duvet over her head. She longs to feel more secure with him but he never talks about the future and she doesn’t know how to frame the question: how does he see their future together?
The moon sinks away into the west and between one thought and another she falls asleep.