Page 113 of Second Chance Summer
This was a huge risk. Leaving the business – again – and telling Richie she was off sick with a bug. She’d never done such a thing before and wouldn’t have been impressed if an employee had. Yet these were extraordinary times, so she forgave herself this once.
The rucksack on her back felt comfortingly normal and she set off down the hill on the path that led to the rear of the house. Even with her eyes closed, the scent of honeysuckle drifting on the breeze would have told her she was in the garden. The flowers seemed brighter than ever: crimson geraniums, mauve agapanthus, yellow daisies nodding their heads in the breeze.
Familiar memories and anticipation made her heart beat faster.
She half-expected to see Sam or Morven in the kitchen window as she went straight up to the back door. It was open slightly, which reinforced her idea that someone was in. She might be seconds away from Sam: moments from explaining why she’d left work and travelled here on a mad impulse …
‘Hello!’ she called. ‘Sam?’
There was no answer but the kitchen door was open a sliver, so she pushed it and stepped inside.
‘Sam? It’s Lily,’ she said, walking into the kitchen. Yet while there were coffee mugs on the table by an open cookbook and some mail, there was no answer. She listened hard but heard only the wind rustling the shrubs outside.
Onwards through the kitchen she went, calling: ‘Anyone home? Sam? Morven?’
Still, thick silence, not even the tell-tale creak of a floorboard upstairs.
She poked her head around the sitting-room door but by this point had surmised there was no one in. Someone must have left the kitchen door open so they couldn’t have gone far, but then again, this was Scilly – a place where people did leave doors unlocked.
She shrugged off her backpack and sat on the sofa, calming herself.
What to do now?
She could hardly hunt all over Bryher for Sam. Suddenly she felt incredibly foolish and her bravado dropped off a cliff. Why had she thought it was a good idea simply to head down here unannounced? The sensible thing would be to call him and find out where he was, so she took her phone from her pocket and dialled his number.
It went straight to voicemail. Lily left a message: ‘Hi, Sam. Lily here. Can you call me as soon as you get this, please?’
If he was on Stark he might not answer at all and, whatever else occurred, she wasn’t going to be able to get back to the mainland today. She’d need a place to stay.
How had she not given that a thought until now? If it wasn’t to be Stark or Hell Bay, she’d have to find accommodation – or stay with Elspeth, which would be excruciating if her gamble had failed and it turned out Sam didn’t want her there.
She’d been so bound up in her determination to surprise him that she hadn’t thought through the practicalities.
Thinking on the hoof, she decided the only thing to dowould be to head to the Quayside Café and find Elspeth to see if she knew where Sam was.
‘Oh!’
Lily almost jumped off the sofa. A loud bang had come from the kitchen, the sound of a door slamming.
‘Sam?’
She hurried through the hall to find the heavy oak door between it and the kitchen had slammed shut in the wind.
‘Hello?’
The kitchen was empty, the back door wide open and the curtains fluttering. Papers and leaflets were scattered over the tiles so she went to pick them up. There were a couple of utility bills, a leaflet about mini-diggers and a card that had fallen open.
She put the junk mail on the table but kept the card in her fingers. It was too late to unsee it, with its painting of a beautiful bay, the message in neat handwriting and the signature at the bottom.
Dear Sam,
I bet you’re surprised to hear from me after so long and by snail mail too, but I saw this card in a gallery and it reminded me of happier times. Do you remember when we took the Hydra over to Tresco and had a picnic in Apple Tree Bay? How could either of us forget …
Anyway, I’ve taken a month’s leave from work and I’m staying with my parents in Penzance for a few days.
I know it’s been a while, and that we haven’t kept in touch, but I keep thinking of that 28 miles of sea between us – such a tiny distance after the 10,000 that have separated us for the past couple of years.
There was so much left unsaid when we parted. I think it would be good for both of us to set things straight, don’t you?
