Winter Wishes (9 page)

Danny patted his pocket. “There’s a couch in the marina office and I have a key. I’m not going to make a scene at home but I meant what I said. I’m not sleeping under the same roof as Tara. God, I’m sorry, Jules. What a horrific night. First Poison Ivy and now this. Who needs a Halloween party?”

Jules tried to laugh but it was an odd, strangled sound. “Maybe I should have just stayed up the ladder?”

“I bet you wish you had,” Danny sighed. “My bad temper makes Poison Ivy look like Mary Poppins.”

Footsteps and muffled voices behind them signalled that Jake and Nick weren’t far away. Further back, that red glow in the dark and the scent of skunk must be Jimmy. She caught Danny’s eye and knew the last thing he needed was a family interrogation.

“Go and have a few drinks with them; it’s the least you deserve,” he suggested before leaning forward and brushing her cheek with his cold lips. “Happy Halloween, Jules. I guess it was the perfect night for the past to come back and haunt me.”

Jules stared after him as he headed down the cliff path and into the village. She was confused and concerned in equal measure. Once the darkness had swallowed him whole, she rubbed her shoulder again and drew a shaky breath. Whatever secrets Danny Tremaine was keeping, it was abundantly clear that he wasn’t prepared to share them with her. They were between him and his wife.

The message couldn’t have been clearer: she had to step away.

Chapter 6

In the light that streamed through the big bay window, Tara gazed into the dressing-table mirror, checking her reflection. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and narrowed her hazel eyes thoughtfully. All things considered, she didn’t think she looked too bad for someone who was nearly thirty. Her recent weight loss had sharpened her cheekbones, drawing attention to her heart-shaped face – and a good night’s sleep had gone a long way towards erasing the smudges under her eyes. Still, she was not as confident as she’d once been.

Tara didn’t usually do nerves, but as she left the spare bedroom and made her way downstairs she felt a prickle of anxiety. Seaspray might not have changed – the clanking water cistern and the creaking timbers that had soothed her into sleep were as familiar as her own heartbeat – but everything else in her world was utterly different now.
I’m different
, she reminded herself sharply. She’d learned some tough lessons over the past two years and paid an extremely high price for a mistake. She was no longer the thoughtless, selfish girl that she’d been before.

This was her new start, Tara thought as she paused on the half-landing and looked out at the view from the window. November the first had dawned bright and sunny, with that crisp cold that made the sea sparkle and the sky a deceptive summery blue. She couldn’t help taking this as a good omen. Tara had lived in Cornwall for long enough to know that the weather was as fickle as a teenaged girl’s love for the latest boy band: one moment sunshine was the flavour of the month, the next louring leaden skies and driving rain held sway. Nevertheless, she felt her spirits rise. It was a glorious day and she was home at last.

There was everything to play for. Thank goodness she’d ignored the doubts that had gripped her when she’d fallen into bed. As the waves had crashed onto the rocks below her bedroom and the moon had poked a cold white finger of light through the crack in the curtains, Tara had been tempted to snatch Morgan from his bed and steal away, never to come back. What was the point of staying? Danny would never forgive her, the family hated her and nobody in the village really cared whether she was there or not. Why put herself through it?

What a difference a good night’s sleep could make. Now, as the sun poured through the windows and the gulls called merrily as they performed their aerobatics, Tara was glad she’d held her nerve. She could hear Morgan chatting away in the kitchen with an ease he’d never had while they’d been staying in Plymouth. Even if Danny hated her until the day she died, and even if every time she saw Mo she was bombarded with scornful looks and comments, Tara knew that it would be worth it all to see her son this happy all the time.

She took a deep breath. Everything was going to be just fine. She’d done the hardest bit by coming back and breaking the ice. She’d known it would be difficult. Of course Danny was angry with her; Tara understood that completely. She’d known, too, that his family would close ranks and protect him. She wouldn’t have expected anything else from a tight-knit clan like the Tremaines. Having Jules and Ashley present had certainly smoothed the way, though – and Jimmy had clearly just pulled another stunt, which had helped to lessen the impact of her arrival.
Yes
, Tara decided as she descended the final flight of stairs,
it could have been a lot, lot worse
.

Since her unexpected return last night Tara had been doing a lot of hard thinking. The row with Anthony had just been the latest in an escalating succession of disagreements and, if she was honest, Tara hadn’t been sorry to leave him behind. What had seemed like a lot of fun on a Saturday night in a Plymouth club had looked very different in the cold light of the working week. Once the initial rush of excitement had worn off, Tara had been drumming her fingers in boredom on his black marble worktops while Anthony had been driven to distraction by Morgan’s need for order and his distress when a routine was broken. Right now he was probably driving to work in his Ford Focus and heaving a sigh of relief that she was gone. Tara was interested to find that this idea didn’t hurt in the slightest.

Was she really a hard and unfeeling bitch, as Danny had once accused her of being? Tara explored this idea gingerly. It was the emotional equivalent of probing the gap where a tooth has been extracted: she wasn’t quite sure what she’d find and whether it would be painful. She’d moved in with Anthony very quickly, uprooting Morgan from Polwenna Bay in the process. Tara had been prepared to make a whole new life with this man but now, and with the twenty-twenty vision that always came with hindsight, she could see that she’d simply been running away. Anthony, with his shiny car, shiny shaved head and shiny house on a shiny new estate in the city, had been a distraction from the car crash of her marriage. She’d been looking for an escape and he’d seemed to offer it.

No, Tara decided, Anthony hadn’t been her Mr Right; he’d only been
Mr Right for Now
. Her rebound from Danny. Her stupid mistake. She’d only been thinking about her own anguish and the driving need to put as much distance between herself and her failed marriage as possible. Maybe a foolish part of her had even hoped that Danny would be eaten up with jealousy and come tearing after her. Even when Anthony had driven her away to Plymouth she’d pulled down the passenger sun visor and kept a lookout in the vanity mirror, just in case the Tremaine Marine truck should come racing after her. The disappointment when it hadn’t had been like a physical blow.

So making Danny jealous didn’t work. Neither did pretending she didn’t care. The same went for yelling back at him. Tara had slowly and painfully come to the conclusion that nothing she ever said or did would change matters. All she could do now was be here in Polwenna Bay, and hopefully with time Danny would remember the way he used to feel about her.

Provided nobody else came along, that was.

Tara pushed this thought firmly aside.
She
was still Danny’s wife, on paper anyway, and the mother of his son. For the moment that would have to be enough as she worked out how to build a life here again for her and Morgan. Maybe that life would eventually involve Danny – she certainly hoped so – but right now Morgan had to be her priority. She couldn’t put him through more changes. Change wasn’t good for a child with his specific needs. The educational psychologists were already concerned about Morgan, and Tara was well aware that what he needed most was stability. Having his family around him and the security of a small school again were further reasons for coming back to Polwenna Bay. She had to make this work, for Morgan’s sake.

Squaring her shoulders, Tara walked into the kitchen. Apart from Summer, who was stacking the dishwasher, the room was unexpectedly empty.

“You’ve just missed Alice and Morgan,” Summer explained when Tara expressed her surprise. “Alice has taken Morgan to the church to help her with the flower arrangements – although to be honest he was more interested in taking photographs of the stained-glass windows. I’ve no idea where Nick and Issie are, but I think Danny’s down at the marina with Jake.”

“Oh.” Tara was deflated. Her spray-on skinny jeans, tight sweater and carefully applied make-up were going to be totally wasted on Summer and the family cat. She wished now that she hadn’t bothered at all; compared to Summer, who was currently make-up free and clad in simple yoga pants and a vest top, she surely looked as though she was trying far too hard. Which of course she was.

Tara had known Summer long ago, when they’d been teenagers dating the two eldest Tremaine brothers, so she was used to the other girl’s beauty. All the same, she remembered now that it had been hard to contend with sometimes. What had taken Tara hours to achieve by sitting at the mirror with her make-up brushes in one hand and straighteners in the other had always looked harsh and contrived in comparison to Summer’s soft ringlets and dark-lashed green eyes.

“I’ve just made some coffee. Do you want one?” Summer asked her.

Fighting the urge to dash back upstairs and scrub her face, Tara nodded and sat at the table. Then she laughed out loud.

“I’ve ended up in the same seat where I always used to sit,” she explained, seeing Summer’s puzzled face. “Some habits die hard, don’t they?”

Summer smiled as she poured hot coffee into a mug. “They certainly do. I did exactly the same thing when I first came back. Isn’t it weird?” She pushed the mug across the table to Tara. “We’re both a dozen years older, but we can’t help reverting to the same patterns we had as teenagers.”

“You’ve had a more successful decade or so than me,” Tara said sadly. “You’re a successful model with a glittering career and an adoring partner, whereas I’m just a dumped wife nobody wants to have around.”

Summer’s dark brows drew together thoughtfully. “Don’t believe everything you read in the papers, Tara. I wouldn’t say all of it was successful. In fact, I made some pretty big mistakes along the way – and now I’ve got my ex trying to sue me. As for Jake? I guess I’m very lucky that he was prepared to give me another chance.”

Tara took the mug that had been passed to her and stared absently at its contents. “I wish Danny thought like that. I don’t think the words
second chance
are in his vocabulary.”

There was a brief silence, broken only by the call of the gulls outside. Summer cradled her coffee in her hands. Her forehead was crinkled with thought. Oh dear. If even Summer couldn’t tell her that Danny would find it in his heart to try again, then she really was in trouble.

“It’s OK, you don’t have to try and find something to say that will make me feel better. I know I messed up,” Tara said.

“We all mess up.” Summer’s emerald eyes were full of compassion. It was just as well that she didn’t know the real reason why Danny was so angry, Tara thought. Summer might be the closest thing Polwenna Bay had to a saint, but even she would struggle to get past
that
particular gem. “Whether Danny and you can make it work is something only you two can decide.” She paused, her white teeth worrying her full bottom lip for a moment, then asked, “Is that why you’ve come back, Tara? To try and sort things out with Danny?”

Tara shrugged one shoulder. She found it hard to discuss her feelings and had never been the kind of woman with close girlfriends that she confided in. If she had to describe herself, Tara supposed she would say that she was a man’s woman rather than a girly girl. She was only just beginning to realise that this was a lonely way to be.

“Do you still love him?” Summer asked gently.

Tara shrugged again. “I know that we were happy once, and I don’t see why we couldn’t be happy again one day. And I know he adores Morgan. It would mean the world to him if we could all be together again.”

“We all adore Morgan,” said Summer warmly. “He’s brilliant. If he hadn’t had his camera with him when my ex turned up to launch another one of his attacks, my lawyer would be having a much harder job building a case.”

Tara felt the same thrill of pride that always came when she thought of her son. Morgan was on the autism spectrum and sometimes struggled to make friends and negotiate school life with the ease that came naturally to most children – but he was kind, funny and original. He’d been so unhappy in Plymouth and it broke her heart to know that she’d unwittingly caused this.

“I know that he’s happier here with his friends and family around him,” she said slowly. “I’ve come back for his sake as much as my own. When things didn’t work out with Anthony, coming back to Polwenna Bay felt like the right thing to do.”

Summer nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. He seemed full of beans this morning. He ate a bowl of Rice Krispies and two rounds of bacon sandwiches as well. With no butter and the ketchup underneath the rashers, of course.”

Tara smiled. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. You
get
him here, whereas that kind of thing drove Ant wild. He thought it was weird and he was always trying to make Morgan do things
normally.
I couldn’t even start to describe the meltdown we had when Anthony insisted that the sauce went on top. Morgan was beside himself.”

“Anthony sounds like an idiot, if you don’t mind me saying so,” said Summer bluntly. “What’s normal, anyway?”

Tara had no idea. What she did have, however, was a huge collection of paperwork, including numerous educational psychologists’ reports and statements attempting to put Morgan into a box in which he was never going to fit. In the past few years since his diagnosis, Tara had become something of an expert on autism – or at least, on Morgan’s particular challenges. It had been a learning curve as steep as Everest. In spite of Tara trying her best to explain her son’s needs to the teachers at his new school, the experience had become more and more stressful for Morgan. He happened to be exceptionally bright too, and the work had been far too easy for him, which had frustrated him beyond belief. At the end of her tether with it all, Tara had even started to consider home schooling, an idea which had sent Anthony off on yet another rant about Morgan needing to toe the line and fit in.