Where The Gulls Cry (A Contemporary Love Story) Read online

  "Can't move for cars, tourists, and ice cream vans in the summer," she said.

  "Tell me about the people," Geoff asked.

  "Oh we're mainstream here. We've got every shape and size including Mr Defries who likes to wear his wife's clothes, Albert Grimshaw who's a hermit, and Annie Bull who insists on driving her five sheep down the high street in the busy season just to annoy the holiday makers. We've got our own celebrity recluse, a haunted house and three elderly gents who take it in turns to act like the town drunk. We're just your average seaside town," she finished with a flourish. "But you probably want to see some of the big houses."

  So they walked across the fields to the back of the village where the old Victorian mansions were and, sure enough, Geoff started to take some photographs before scribbling notes in a dog-eared notebook.

  He put the book away and consulted his watch and the weather.

  "Coffee time," he announced.

  Without a word they both turned and made their way back to the quayside café. With the sun disappearing they opted to stay inside and wrap hands round steaming mugs.

  Geoff was watching Emma through the steam. "Somehow it's not the same without ice cream being liberally spread over little faces," he grinned.

  "Don't," she grimaced. "This is heaven."

  There was an awkward silence. Coffee was drunk, small talk was made and finally Emma admitted she had to go and visit her Mother-in-law. She handed him a spare front door key with a little more ceremony than was strictly necessary but Geoff was determined not to read anything into it.

  They parted company outside and went their different ways.

  And so the remainder of the week played out. Geoff spent more time in his room trying to write but thinking distracted thoughts. Emma stuck to her routine but kept up a plentiful supply of coffee. An outsider would have wondered what was going on behind it all and come away totally perplexed.

  Friday, the day before Geoff was planning to leave, Emma kept her weekly coffee appointment with her best friend and neighbour Joanna. She wasn't sure if she was looking forward to this one or not.

  Joanna hustled her into the lounge and sat her down with unbecoming haste.

  "So. Tell me. Who is that man I've seen coming and going all week?" she demanded.

  Emma sighed, "that's Geoff Gordon, he's been lodging with us this week."

  Joanna was so distracted she put two extra sugars in her coffee and didn't even notice.

  "How ever did that come about?"

  So reluctantly Emma told her.

  "Emma you're a complete basket case. You've invited a total stranger into your house?" cried Joanna.

  Emma put her head in her hands. "I know. I know. I've told myself exactly the same thing. It just seemed so natural at the time."

  "But he could be an axe-murderer, a child molester or even a tax inspector."

  "I know, but he hasn't gone near the axe, has shown no interest in my finances, and he hasn't molested anyone."

  Something in her tone of voice made Joanna scrutinise her closely through piercing eyes.

  "Emma!" she exclaimed. "You like him, don't you. Yes you do."

  "Whether I do or don't is entirely irrelevant," retorted Emma. "He's leaving us tomorrow."

  "But you have to tell him how you feel before he goes."

  "What, and let him feel pity for an old decrepit widow woman? No, I won't do it."

  "But how do you know he doesn't feel the same about you?"

  "He hasn't touched me all week."

  "But Emma.."

  Emma put her coffee mug down with a thud on the table. "Can I have a refill, and can we change the subject please."

  Geoff stared at his laptop screen without focus, the blinking cursor pulsing at him accusingly, reminding him once a second that he should be writing. He couldn't concentrate. The events of the week had left him unsettled. He was so used to being on his own that having a family around him was a major culture shock. But it left him with an unrecognisably warm feeling that he couldn't pin down. He didn't want to leave but he knew he had to. As if on cue his mobile rang.

  "Geoff, when are you coming home?" demanded a female voice.

  He hesitated before replying as if to stave off the words as long as possible.

  "I'm coming back tomorrow."

  "Good, I thought you were only going for two days."

  "That was the plan but I had to stay on."

  "Oh. Are you going to have to go back?"

  He looked at the ceiling for inspiration but found none.

  "I don't know."

  "Okay. Well you know that there are things we need to do."

  "Yes, yes I know. Look I'll talk to you tomorrow when I get back."

  "What time?"

  "Don't know. I'll text you," He replied.

  "Okay. Bye."

  He drummed his fingers on the desk. Why was nothing ever straightforward?

  The next morning they sat around the kitchen table in what had become their ritual, a cup of tea after the school run. His bags were ready in the hallway. He took the front door key out of his pocket and put it on the table. The both looked at it silently, each running different thoughts through their heads.

  Geoff broke the silence.

  "I wanted to let you know that I've really appreciated you taking me in this week." He paused not sure about what to say next, trying to make a decision in his own mind. "I know it's a cheek but I wondered if I could come back in three days time for another week."

  He was interrupted by an enormous hiccup from Emma. It covered up the sharp intake of breath that threatened to sound like a sob.

  "Of course if it's not convenient.." he continued.

  "No," interrupted Emma. "It's fine, no problem." She tried desperately to sound nonchalant but wasn't sure she carried it off that well. She pushed the key back at Geoff, got up and turned to the sink just in case she gave away the turmoil going through her mind. "Keep the key in that case and you can just let yourself in when you get back."

  That evening, in the lounge, on the sofa, Emma put down her wine glass.

  It was no good, the book on her lap was not distracting her enough. The children were all in bed and she realised now how much she was missing his company, and he had only been gone twelve hours for goodness sake. Her thoughts rambled on. Was it just company that she was missing, another presence in the room, someone to talk to? Or was it the company of another man? Or was it actually Geoff. She put the bookmark back in the book, ran her hands through her hair and rubbed her tired eyes. She took a mouthful of red wine but it only conjured up a memory of that first night. Goodness, she was acting just like a schoolgirl. She picked up her mobile off the table. Should she ring him? Don't be stupid woman, he'll think you're a complete nut-case, his landlady ringing him without any reason. She put the phone down again. Joanna was right, she was a complete basket case.

  Geoff stood at the window of his flat looking out over the London rooftops and wished he wasn't there. Where he wanted to be was in Chetsea, sharing a glass of wine with his friend. Friend? He conjured up her face in his mind, her smile, and the smell of her perfume.He pictured her in that silk blouse and tight jeans. The mind can play terrible tricks. Self-doubt played on his. He had never managed to hold down a relationship + so why would this be any different? Why would she want to be anything other than a landlady? The thought plagued him. Geoff, you have to put her out of your mind or you will go crazy. A voice from the room next door called to say food was ready and he turned away, grateful of the distraction.

  Chapter 4

  After delivering the children to school Emma walked up the path to her front door with a lightness in her step. She couldn't help it. She was looking forward to Geoff's return later in the day and she would be lying if she said otherwise. It wasn't a sin so she shouldn't be ashamed; but was it wise? She dropped her keys on the hall table and headed for the kitchen, wondering how to pass t
he time until later. She stopped at the kitchen door, clearly remembering that she had left it closed, but now it was ajar, a gap of more than a foot. She gingerly pushed it open the rest of the way.

  "There's another cup in the pot, but you might have to nuke it first," said Geoff from his seat at the table.

  She stopped and leant against the doorjamb, folding her arms. "Welcome back. I assumed that you wouldn't arrive until later."

  "I decided to beat the traffic and left early. That isn't a problem is it?"

  "Definitely not," declared Emma sitting down and ignoring the tea. She noticed the bottle of red wine on the table and it prompted a smile. "It has been very quiet the last few days."

  Geoff hesitated for a second. "I missed all of you too."

  Emma got up and nuked her tea while she considered his words. Her heart seemed to beat faster of its own accord whilst her mind was telling her not to be so silly.

  "So what do you need to do this week," she asked by way of changing the subject, or at least her train of thought.

  "I need to write."

  "I won't get in your way then." She wasn't sure what response she wanted. Was it a deliberately leading question or not?

  Geoff didn't respond.

  "I've got a lot to do anyway," she continued.

  "Right," he said. "I'll get my bag unpacked and then I need to go out and take some more photos of surrounding villages. By the way how, can I get over to the Ness?"

  "Tomorrow there will be a regular boat going over from the quay. You can't miss it."

  "Excellent." And with that he disappeared up the stairs leaving Emma trying to decide which way was up.

  Geoff didn't see her again during the day. Were they deliberately avoiding each other or what? He worked in his room until the children were in the bath before coming down to the lounge and picking up a recent local newspaper. Local colour was always good input. He was interrupted by Emma yelling at the children to be quiet and go to sleep or else. He had never heard her raise her voice before and it came as a bit of a shock. She came in, sat down opposite him and the happy face fell significantly. She bore all the marks of children wrestling, tomato ketchup stains on her jumper and dried yoghurt on her trousers.

  "I'm sorry about that, it's just been hard recently. It'll be three years next weekend since he died."

  "Harry?"

  She nodded. "It's just so isolating."

  "I can't believe you haven't got friends." Statement of fact.

  "Friends, yes, lots of friends. The trouble is that it's so difficult to talk to friends who have been through it with you. It's actually easier to talk to strangers."

  "Like counselling," he suggested.

  "Yes. No. I don't need answers. There are no answers. I just need to talk about it, so strangers who won't be around in seven days time are perfect." She realised what she'd said. "Sorry I didn't mean to infer..."

  "That's okay, no problem. It's what I do. Walk in and out of people's lives. My life story."

  He paused and then continued.

  "How long were you married?"

  "Ten years, lived together for two years before that. Harry was in banking. Had a brain for it. Did well in the City. We were what people referred to as affluent." She raised her glass in mock salute.

  "Good years?"

  "Bloody good years. Shit we were happy. Everything seemed to go our way, fell on our feet ..." She looked past Geoff and seemed to focus on the wall, or maybe it was the wine. "...until the cancer came."

  "How long?"

  She focussed on him again, frowned and wagged her finger at him, touching his sleeve lightly. "Wrong question. The next approved question is what cancer was it?"

  He put his hand on hers. "What the cancer was, is largely irrelevant."

  She nodded. "You're right. Three months we had. They originally thought a year, but very quickly it came down the closer they looked. Three months. Three days after Maxine's first birthday." She wasn't crying in the conventional sense but tears were rolling down her cheeks.

  He didn't quite know how to respond so he stayed as he was and kept quiet.

  "Silly bloody woman, it's in the past now you fool," she chastised herself.

  She went out of the room and from the sounds, Geoff reckoned she was washing her face. She returned looking distinctly refreshed and more positive. Despite that, the conversation was steered onto safer ground for the rest of the evening.

  The next morning the boat out to the Ness duly dropped them off by the main slipway before reversing out to re-cross the 120-yard channel back to Chetsea. Emma had appointed herself guide at breakfast that morning. They started walking away from the shore in no particular direction that Geoff could determine, although Emma seemed to know where she was going.

  He was growing fond of this woman at a speed he didn't realise he was capable of. For her part she seemed to have lightened since the previous day. Half way across the spit of land she stopped for no appreciable reason, almost knocking him off the path, and then turned to him.

  "Thank you for last night."

  He expressed surprise with the raising of eyebrows. "Last night? I didn't do anything. I just listened and let the wine do the rest."

  She punched him. It was playful but definitely a punch. "You know what I mean. It helps, distraction therapy, whatever they call it. I appreciate it."

  He let go the fist which he had instinctively caught, looked into her eyes, liked what he saw, and looked away before he fooled himself too much.

  They walked most of the morning, they talked of everything and anything. And after that, sorted out the world.

  In between, Geoff managed to find the odd moment to take a photo or make a few notes, but it was rapidly becoming less of a focus than he had originally intended.

  They ate a brief packed lunch. Brief because the sun had disappeared and the wind had a bite to it in the exposed landscape of the shingle banks. They started back to pick up the ferry as spots of rain started to fall.

  It was Geoff who raised the subject but without intending the course it eventually took.

  "Do you have family close by?" He asked.

  "Family? No. My parents live in Devon. My sister's in Scarborough and I've got an older brother who lives in Ireland," she replied. "But I have Irene. That's Harry's mum. She's terrific. Whenever I have a crisis she's always there for me. She's gold through and through. Perhaps that's why she's always going on at me to build new relationships."

  "And are you?"

  "Am I what?"

  "Building new relationships."

  "We had something very special, Harry and I. I'm never sure whether another relationship would compare too odiously to work. Makes investing a risk."

  Geoff didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, and if he was dismayed he didn't show it. If Emma was looking to provoke a response it didn't work. The only sound to be heard were the gulls. They walked on in silence and observers might have judged it companionable, albeit with undertones.

  The journey back was completed without incident and the rain didn't come to much but the first thing they did on arriving home was to light a fire. The leaping flames seemed to lighten things until the children needed picking up from school.

  Geoff helped the scrum that was the children's teatime and contributed to homework before Emma packed them off to bed. He brought in some more logs to dry by the fireside at which point Emma came in with two plates of meatballs and chips, and Geoff's bottle of red wine. They ate and drank in silence before sinking into one of the sofas near the fire.

  "One of Harry's favourite meals," said Emma. "That and all day breakfasts."

  "He wasn't a health fanatic then," replied Geoff.

  "No."

  There was silence for a moment before Emma spoke.

  "You get over the missing, you know. Eventually you don't miss the person themselves but just the presence they were."

  She took h
er hand and absent-mindedly stroked Geoff's cheek but it was obvious it wasn't Geoff she was thinking of.

  "Meaning...?" asked Geoff.

  "The chance to discuss, debate, make decisions. Decide which size wellingtons to buy for number two child. All that. That's what makes you on your own. That's what makes you lonely."

  She realised she was still stroking his cheek and withdrew her hand, not embarrassed but aware of being misconstrued.

  "You're a good listener, Geoff Gordon." He bowed, she laughed. "Have you ever thought of changing your first name to Flash?" she giggled.

  "It's the first thing that came into people's heads at school," he acknowledged with a rueful smile.

  Shortly the bottle of wine came to an end and the conversation ceased with it, at least in any semblance of sense that is, but laughter and silliness took over until Geoff declared he needed sleep.

  The rest of the week flew by. Geoff insisted that he needed to do some serious writing otherwise deadlines would overtake him. Emma decided that she had neglected the garden long enough and went to tackle some of the wilderness that was threatening to take over. And so they spent an amicable few days, Geoff pitching in when Emma needed a second pair of hands. The children helped when they came home from school and everyone got very dirty.

  Before they knew it Geoff was due to go back to London the following day and an air of unofficial gloom descended.

  They celebrated with pizza and red wine. Emma put the skirt and blouse on but still it seemed like a wake.He noticed that she'd put on some make up.

  She was gorgeous, no doubt about that. Was she serious? Was it just adult conversation she was after? Goodness know he hadn't been looking for a relationship, and especially now when he was trying to focus on his work.