Page 47 of And Then There Was You

Forty-One Merryn

We have a writers’ group in the courtyard today. They’ve been writing there all morning, while Ruthie and I keep them supplied with tea, coffee and cakes.

We’ve shut the door between them and the rest of the café, creating a cool little sanctuary for them to write in. It’s surprisingly calming to watch them at work.

‘Any chance there’s more of your empire oceans?’ asks Polly Kim, a local author and one of our regulars. ‘The last lot disappeared in seconds.’

‘Good job I made a second batch this morning.’ I smile. ‘I’ll bring them to you.’

‘Lifesaver! I think they may become the secret weapon for every retreat party I bring here.’

The group today are guests on Polly’s latest venture: four- and five-day writing retreats in the B&B she runs up in Towednack, a village in the beautiful hills above St Ives.

One of the activities is a morning of writing in St Ives, followed by an afternoon exploring the town.

I was only too happy to welcome her guests here.

It’s a positive after so much drama, reminding me again of how special Sweet Reverie is.

I wonder what stories will be dreamed up in our lovely courtyard, and whether Merlin might feature in some of them. He’s more than worthy of starring in his own story, even in his current sorry state.

As I start to load a plate with empire ocean biscuits, a sudden memory returns of Zach’s wave tattoo, with its two tiny stars.

Annoyed, I push it aside. I don’t need to think of him today, or why he hasn’t made any attempt to apologise or return.

Three days have passed since I threw him and Seth out. It’s too long to mean nothing.

‘They’re like gannets!’ Ruthie puffs, handing me an empty platter that, until thirty seconds ago, was stacked with slices of cake. ‘Is Penny starvin’ them up at her place?’

‘Food helps concentration, apparently.’

‘It helps our profits.’ Ruthie chuckles. ‘So who are we to judge?’

‘I’ll get these to the poor hungry loves,’ I say, enjoying the joke, as the bell above the café door heralds the arrival of more customers.

But my assistant’s smile has vanished. ‘You have got to be kiddin’.’

I follow the frown her direction is aimed in, over to the front door. Seth is standing there, half over the threshold, as if he might vaporise to dust should he fully enter. I’m not altogether sure that would be a bad thing.

‘Can we talk?’ he asks, glancing nervously into the café.

‘We’re busy.’

‘Merryn, please.’

‘Go if you need to,’ Ruthie offers, through gritted teeth, taking the plate of empire oceans from me. ‘But don’t you give that bastard an inch.’

The customers nearest the door are watching now. I won’t have Seth disrupting the relaxed café atmosphere I’ve worked so hard to establish.

‘I won’t be long,’ I say, resting my hand on Ruthie’s shoulder as I pass.

‘Take all the time you need, Mer. Give him hell.’

I walk outside, Seth following a few steps behind.

Star Court is busy as it has been all week, a crush of bodies, boards and dogs as people try their best to navigate a path around each other.

I walk away from the café and the surf shop, not wishing to have a scene in front of either business.

Whatever else may have happened, we don’t need disruptions that could deter trade.

I walk through the narrow passageway that connects Star Court with the streets beyond, turning down a side road to a small patch of brambles and grass beside a run of garages. If we’re going to have a shouting match, there’ll be no audience for it here.

He’s pale when I face him, dark smudges of shadow below his eyes. I’ve seen that look before, the little-boy-lost expression he thinks wins arguments.

Not this one.

‘Well?’ I ask, my arms crossing as a shield.

‘Can we stop fightin’? I’ve been doing my nut over what happened. I haven’t slept. I can’t have you thinkin’ bad of me, Mer. I just couldn’t let that man take advantage of you anymore.’

Of course this was never going to be a straightforward apology. Seth rarely admits he’s wrong, even when the evidence to the contrary is overwhelming.

‘Really? You’re starting with that?’

‘I was tryin’ to protect you.’

‘By beating him up?’

A direct hit. I stand my ground. There is no way I am backing down just to protect his precious ego.

‘He pushed my buttons. You saw it!’

‘What I saw was you accusing him of all kinds of rubbish and then throwing punches when he didn’t like it.’

‘He threw them too,’ he whines. The worst possible reply, because it puts flame to a touchpaper, reigniting the anger I’ve tried so hard to push away.

‘If you just want to repeat this rubbish, I’m going.’

‘No, Mer – wait .’ He drops his head. ‘I shouldn’t have punched the bloke. And it shouldn’t have happened at your place.’

‘It shouldn’t have happened at all. Zach was helping me, Seth, not leading me on. And yes, the search has become more public than I expected, but if it means we find Grant, what the hell does it matter?’

‘I just don’t think you should get your hopes up. This guy was in your life for two years. I know you had it tough with your mum, but pinnin’ all your hopes on some random dude she dated is only ever going to lead to disappointment.’

I’ve heard enough. ‘I didn’t expect you to understand.’

I start to leave, but Seth steps into my path. ‘You’re right: I don’t. I didn’t have a childhood like yours, so I don’t know what you went through. But if everyone is out there lookin’ for this guy and he still hasn’t come forward, doesn’t that tell you somethin’?’

‘There have been sightings.’

‘Or cranks contacting the newspaper, looking for their thirty seconds of fame.’

‘His piano is here. He was here.’

‘And he left it behind. Maybe he doesn’t want to be found, like he didn’t want that piano. Someone has to say this, Mer. Zach has you chasin’ a dream. That journalist, too. But both of them have a vested interest in draggin’ you along for the ride.’

‘They want to help me. Which is more than you do.’

‘They don’t care about you.’

‘And neither do you.’

‘You know that’s not true.’

‘You attacked someone I care about. And between you, you broke the piano that means the world to me.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘ His piano. The one that connects me to the single happy season of my childhood. This is what you don’t understand, Seth: Grant may have only been in my life for a short time, but he brought hope back, where there was none.

He made me believe in better things. And that was what got me away from Mum in the end.

It made it possible for me to leave. And the piano was a symbol of that.

It was proof that I was loved. That I would be thought about, long after Mum dispensed with Grant. ’

‘I – I had no idea.’

‘And you destroyed the only tangible link I have to the first person who believed in me. It came back into my life like a gift, and you smashed it to pieces.’

‘I want to repair the piano.’

‘You’ve done enough.’

‘No, please, Mer. Let me put this right.’

‘And Zach?’

He raises his eyes to the blue sky above. ‘I can’t do anythin’ about him. But if he comes back – if he apologises to you, too – I won’t stand in your way.’

If he comes back . I bite back my tears. Because he hasn’t come back, has he? It’s been three days and he hasn’t even tried to contact me. And I won’t beg.

Seth sees my struggle, hurrying back to me. ‘Let me make this right? You’re my best mate, Mer. I can’t stand not havin’ you in my life. I’m sorry.’

It doesn’t undo the damage. But I’ve missed Seth, despite what he did. So I nod and let him hug me, tired now of the drama I never invited into my life.

‘Thank you,’ he breathes into my hair. ‘You won’t regret this.’

I hope I don’t.