‘Would you mind signing this? I said to Yvonne—she’s the lady in the brown coat—over there.’ She pointed. ‘With the glasses. I said to Yvonne when we were on the ferry deck that I recognised you. I always watch your bit. We both do. She said she didn’t think it was you. But I’m very good with faces.’
Kate suppressed the bubble of laughter building inside her as she flicked over the shopping list on the top page. ‘Of course I’ll sign it.’ Out of the corner of her eye she could see Gideon watching in apparent disbelief. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Cynthia.’ Her chest puffed out in gratification as she saw Kate begin to write her name. ‘Cynthia Puttock. Mrs Cynthia Puttock.’
Kate handed the notebook back with a wide smile. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Cynthia.’
Cynthia looked at the autograph with immense satisfaction. ‘Would you mind…’ she began as a new thought occurred to her. ‘Would you mind if I had my picture taken with you? My husband isn’t going to believe I met you.’
She didn’t wait for Kate to reply before she was waving over her shoulder at her friend, ignoring the tannoy which was asking for all drivers to return to their cars.
‘It won’t take a moment. Yvonne, would you—?’ She broke off and turned impulsively towards Gideon. ‘Would you take the picture? Yvonne, you stand there.’
Kate decided to give in with good grace. She flicked her hair back off her face and stood up, placing herself between the two women. It was as close to being a celebrity as she was going to get. As close as she wanted to get. It made her feel uncomfortable.
She watched as Gideon was given a rudimentary introduction to the stranger’s camera.
‘There,’ he said, moments later. ‘I hope I’ve got you a photo.’
‘Thank you very much. I—’
The tannoy cut off their gratitude. ‘We’d better go down to the cars,’ Kate said apologetically. ‘It’s very nice to have met you both.’
Gideon’s hand moved to fit into the small of her back and he guided her towards the yellow exit. ‘Does that happen often?’ he asked quietly.
‘Only since I’ve been back in the UK.’ Her face broke into a genuine smile as real laughter bubbled up. ‘But don’t worry, I’m not letting it go to my head. How can I? I’m on the page after carrots and potatoes and she thought I was the weather girl! Nice to know I’m memorable.’
He laughed and Kate turned to look at him. He looked much younger when he laughed. Handsome. She hadn’t thought about him for years and yet, seeing him again, it was as though she were seventeen again. She was completely aware of his hand resting in the small of her back. He was hardly touching her and yet…
She moved away, her smile dying on her face. ‘We’d better get back to the cars. It was nice to see you again.’
‘And you.’
‘After such a long time.’ Kate reached into her bag for her car keys. ‘Oh, and thank you for the coffee.’
‘It was a pleasure,’ he said, pulling open the door down to the car deck.
Kate held her long coat off the steps as she walked down in front of him. At the bottom she turned back to him. ‘Well, goodbye. I’m glad we bumped into each other.’
‘I wouldn’t worry too much about goodbye,’ he said, holding the door open for the couple behind. ‘We’re bound to meet again.’
‘A-are we?’ Kate asked, suddenly feeling foolish.
‘Inevitably. Debbie’s looking after my girls today.’ He broke off as someone loudly tooted their car horn. ‘We’d better hurry and get to our cars. People are getting irritated.’
Kate turned obediently and cut through towards her little green MG.
‘Nice car,’ she heard Gideon say, and felt vaguely pleased. Though why it should matter that he liked her car she didn’t know. She forced herself not to look back at him but climbed elegantly into her low-slung car.
Meeting Gideon again had been a bizarre experience. Unexpected. Though there was no reason why he shouldn’t be on the car ferry. Lots of locals popped back and forth to the mainland. It was just she’d been stealing herself for the funeral. She hadn’t expected to meet anyone yet.
She waited while the heavy doors of the ferry opened, watching as the line next to her was sent out first. How could she have been so stupid not to remember about Laura the minute she’d recognised him?
She leant forward and rested her head on the steering wheel, closing her eyes in mortification. It seemed it was her destiny to act like an idiot when she was around him. Maybe some things never changed, however many years passed.
She started the engine and put it in gear. His face had looked so bleak. But then what did she expect? His wife had died. It didn’t get much worse than that.
Certainly she’d nothing to complain about in comparison. Not even Richard’s leaving could really compare to Gideon’s loss. Kate’s hands gripped on the steering wheel as a wave of sadness washed over her. It was never far away. Always lapping at the edge of her consciousness. Making her feel dissatisfied—and angry.
At least Gideon had his children. She would never have that. Never have a family of her own. Never have anyone really love her…
Kate let her car roll forward as the van in front started to move off. And now she had to face Debbie.
There was the bump where the ramp joined land—and she was back on the island. Back where people would look at her and remember she’d been a foster girl. Unwanted. An object of pity. The one with head lice.
Or she had been until Aunt Babs had declared war on them. A bitter battle which had involved her spending hours with her head over the bath, a fine tooth comb scraping over her scalp. Kate smiled grimly and took the road that led towards Newport, scarcely aware of the rain falling heavily on her wind-screen.
If it were Debbie in London, staying in her flat for the weekend, it would have been completely different. It would have been fun. Then they’d have been squabbling over whether to have Indian or Chinese and whether the best shops were in Covent Garden or Oxford Street. Sisters. Almost.
But Debbie on the Isle of Wight was another thing altogether. Here she lived the life Kate wanted and could never have. Here it was like looking into a mirror and seeing an alternative universe, one she wasn’t eligible to enter. The poor child, standing barefoot in the snow, looking through a frosted window at a family opening presents in front of the fire. Still the outsider looking in.
And it hurt. Still hurt.
Debbie had a husband who loved her. Two children. Both boys. Callum and Daniel.
Kate’s heart twisted inside her—as it always did when she thought of how cruel fate had been to her. All she wanted was the simple things in life and yet they’d always eluded her.
She lowered the gear to negotiate a tight bend. She was being selfish. Debbie had lost her mother and was hurting. This wasn’t the time to feel envy.
Because it was envy. Kate recognised it but felt powerless to do anything about it, even though she knew it twisted and distorted her life.
Six years since she’d done this journey and yet she remembered it perfectly. She knew the ancient oak tree that stood proudly on the corner just before she had to turn left and the old pub on the corner. It was all achingly familiar. Round the next bend was the hotel where they played croquet on a summer afternoon.
And if she could have turned away and run she would have. It hurt. Just being here hurt. Knowing that in a few short minutes she’d be sitting in Debbie’s house drinking tea and hearing her children playing somewhere in the house would hurt. Desperately.
She