Message In A Bottle

A sweet romance

Beth closed the front door of the little cottage, set down her suitcase and looked around her. The sitting room walls were creamcoloured, the wide floorboards painted a soft dove grey. A comfortable-looking sofa with blue loose covers faced the log burner in the fireplace, a wicker basket piled with logs beside it.

Happily Beth kicked off her sandals and moved to the window. She gave a sigh of pleasure; the view from Fisherman’s Cottage was just as delightful as the holiday rental website had promised. There was the harbour in the distance, the cobbled jetty, the cluster of colourful shops and cafés.

On the beach below, the tide was out; parents sat in the spring sun, children paddled and built lopsided sand castles. Elderly couples strolled and a goldenhaired dog frolicked, chasing a ball.

Above the sand was a stretch of shingle, strewn with boulders draped with flags of dark green seaweed and a clutter of flotsam and jetsam, sunlight glittering off the little rock pools.

She couldn’t wait to get down there. Hiking her suitcase up the steep wooden staircase, she found the bedroom, as pretty as the sitting room with its pale blue walls and white cotton counterpane.

Quickly unpacking, she went down to the kitchen. She made a cup of tea and drank it standing at the window, watching seagulls wheeling in the rinsed blue sky. She was envying their freedom, their lack of care, when her mobile rang from the depths of her bag.

She jumped, spilling tea on the rush matting. It couldn’t be Aidan so soon – he’d promised to give her space!

Could be work, though – she’d left a new set of miniature flower paintings with Liberty’s recently, and they’d shown interest when she said she was planning to do a series of marine life studies this week. Better answer it. “Beth? Hey, missing you already.” “Aidan, hi.” She glanced out of the window. The little dog was jumping up at a tall man, who was laughing and ruffling its ears affectionately. “I’ve only just arrived –”

“Saw the forecast – look like rain’s on its way. Shame. Look Beth, how long’s it going to take? I’m not going to wait forever for an answer, you know.”

“I’m sorry, Aidan, it’s such a big decision…” Her chest tightened at the mere thought. Marrying Aidan would mean moving to New York, leaving family and friends, trying to find new outlets for her work… She’d come to Cornwall for a week to make up her mind.

“C’mon, hon, I gotta conference call in five. I love you, you love me, so what’s the problem?”

She pictured him sitting in his enormous office in Docklands, feet in their Ted Baker loafers propped elegantly on his enormous desk with its bank of computer screens.

A brilliant IT consultant – he’d been headhunted by CPS New York – he was handsome, rich and smart. Though if she was honest Beth had never really understood what he did; something to do with Cloud Solutions, apparently.

He’d laughed when Beth said she thought it sounded romantic, told her not to bother her pretty little head and leave the software development to him.

Suddenly “call waiting” was announced at Aidan’s end. He sighed. “Gotta go, hon. And make that call soon, right?” He sounded irritable.

With a sigh Beth switched off her phone and gazed out. A seagull was swooping across the beach, most of an ice cream cone clasped in its beak, the dog racing after it, barking ecstatically. Smiling, she threw on a sweater, hurried downstairs and headed out of the door.

She pottered about the beach until lunchtime, enjoying the sunshine – no sign of Aidan’s rain – collecting pebbles, paddling in the feathery surf.

She’d noticed a Cost-Cutter store next to the fishing tackle shop; might as well stock up on provisions before she got down to work. The golden puppy she’d seen on the beach was tied to a railing outside. He wriggled joyfully as she bent to pet him.

It was only as she left the store carrying a couple of carrier bags full of essentials – plus two bottles of Chardonnay she was pretty sure she was going to need if Aidan kept calling her – that she realised how hungry she was.

Beachcombers Café looked inviting. She was sitting at a table outside enjoying a crab salad when a couple strolled past arm in arm, the girl’s head resting on her companion’s shoulder. He had gleaming black hair, immaculate cream linen jacket, expensive loafers – practically Aidan’s double.

he bought some HARDONNAY – she NEED IT i Ai an kept calling

Beth laid down her knife and fork and stared after them. Her eyes filled with tears and she sank her head in her hands. Oh,Aidan… Maybeitcouldwork? Something was sniffing excitedly at her ankles, jumping up at her skirt. Smiling, she opened her eyes and bent down, fondling the downy little head.

Focussing on a pair of well-worn navy espadrilles, tanned calves and rolled-up jeans, she sat up. A man was standing beside the table. Thick reddish brown hair in need of a cut curled over his faded denim collar, and dark blue eyes were framed by long lashes in a deeply tanned face.

“I’m afraid Jasper seems to have taken a liking to you –”

Beth scrubbed at her cheeks, embarrassed, and sniffed. “He’s adorable.” “Bit of a handful, I’m afraid.” Aaagh – her nose was running. It always did when she cried. He looked more closely at her. “Are you OK?” She fished a tattered tissue from a pocket and blew her nose. Great. Honking like a sea lion, plus her nose would be bright pink.

“Oh, fine thanks, just a… er… you know, touch of early hayfever.”

“Right. Well, nice to meet you.” He began to move away. “Bye, then. Come on, Jasper.”

He pulled gently on the lead; the little dog padded after him reluctantly.

Suddenly the man turned back and held out his hand.

“Chris.” His hand was dry and warm. Beth shook it, feeling, for some reason, suddenly much better. “Beth Conway.” He gave a little salute and strode away, Jasper gambolling beside him.

As soon as she’d finished her lunch she returned to the cottage, unpacked her shopping, grabbed her folding stool and satchel of art materials and headed for the beach again. Her objective this time was the rock pools; hopefully there’d be enough marine life in them to keep her busy for the week.

She wasn’t disappointed. Even the smallest pools were positive treasure troves of lacy fronds of seaweed in variegated greens and yellows, tiny scuttling crabs and slate-blue molluscs, and a host of delicately whorled, iridescent shells; stripy periwinkles, brightly patterned scallops and tiny peach-tinted cowries.

Settling herself in an ideal vantage point she laid out her paints and brushes on a handy rock, selected her first subject, a beautiful silvery pink starfish, and set to work.

The sun was setting as she packed away her things and returned to the cottage, back and shoulders painfully stiff, but very happy. Tomorrow she’d begin with a study of a stunning shell she’d discovered, gleaming like motherof-pearl beside a group of cockles.

She was in bed, almost asleep, when her mobile rang. Aidan. She sighed. She wanted to think about things – not keep talking, arguing, explaining – so she let it go to message.

She’d speak to him tomorrow. Right now she needed to think about colours. Pale peaches and silvery whites and… and… reddish brown. Beth turned over restlessly. No, that wasn’t right. She punched her pillows. Marmalade? No. Auburn? No. Tawny?

She gave a sigh of pleasure. Ah yes, that was it…

The next few days passed quickly. Beth arrived at the rock pools early and got straight down to work, stopping at lunchtime for a quick sandwich and a paddle in the surf.

Aidan called frequently. Didn’t she realise this was the chance of a lifetime? Hell, she’d love New York. The stores’d be falling over themselves to buy her stuff, they’d go a bundle on those quaint little pics of hers – and he knew they’d be great together. Hey, he’d seen a really cool apartment –

Beth closed her eyes. Aidan was a seriously high flyer; it had been breakfast meetings for months now and he never left the office before ten pm. What would it be like over there?

Whenever she tried to explain they were interrupted by yet another conference call.

That was the problem. Aidan never listened to her. Sometimes she felt she was an inconvenience, an aside to his career, that any woman on his arm would do…

With a sigh she’d get back to work, absorbed, not noticing Chris strolling along the jetty, Jasper playing around his feet. Unaware of him leaning on the railing, watching her.

On Thursday morning she needed to buy bread and milk, and salad supplies were running low. She was gazing in the baker’s window at the delicious-looking doughnuts – Aidan kept a critical eye on her figure and she never dared order dessert when they ate out. Oh, what the heck… She was about to enter the shop when she became aware of a couple approaching, a golden-haired dog straining at his lead beside them. The man raised his hand in greeting. Chris.

The woman beside him looked at her curiously. Fair-haired and very pretty,

en the SMALLEST pools were positi e TREASURE TROVES o li e

she was also heavily pregnant.

“Hi there! How’s the painting going? I’ve seen you working down by the rock pools. Fascinating, aren’t they?”

Jasper was jumping up, pawing at her jeans. Bending down, Beth stroked his head, trying to hide her totally irrational disappointment. So he was married. She hardly knew the man, and anyway she and Aidan were – were – The woman laughed. “Wish I could get down there!” She made a face and patted her enormous stomach. “Still, not long to go now.”

Beth managed a smile. It was bound to be a beautiful baby – with dark blue eyes and tawny hair, just like its dad.

“Come on, Chris, let’s head back – my back’s killing me, I need to sit down.”

“Sure.” He offered her a supportive arm. “See you, Beth –” He nodded towards the baker’s window and winked. “I recommend the doughnuts, especially the custard ones.” He gave her a wave and they moved away.

Beth looked after them for a second, then gave herself a little shake and entered the bakery.

As she paid for her wholemeal loaf and doughnuts, the old lady serving her shook her head.

“Saw you chatting to Morwenna. Poor thing – if you ask me it’ll be a good thing when her hubby gets back from his posting. Navy, you know.” She lowered her voice. “Not allowed to say where, course, very hush-hush.”

Beth stared at her. “That wasn’t her husband she was with?”

“Lor’ bless you no, Christopher’s just a friend! Works at his pottery for him, don’t she, works the telephone, parcels up the orders and that.”

Beth restrained herself from throwing her arms round the old lady.

“Lovely mugs he makes – dinner plates and all sorts – does ’em all the different of colours of the sea, if you know what I mean.”

“Thank you!” Beth gathered up her purchases, beaming. “Have a good day!” “You too, my lover.” “Oh, I will…”

Next morning, Beth settled down to work happier than she’d been all week. Nothing to do with Aidan, she thought as she mixed a deep ultramarine to match a moody-looking mollusc.

He’d called while she was in the shower and she’d stood shivering, wrapped in a damp towel, while he read aloud the details of the realtor’s info on the just amazing apartment he’d told her about – there was even a doorman, how about that? And hey – “Aidan, let’s talk later, I’ve got to –” A buzzing announced call waiting. “Laters, hon –” The line went dead. She worked hard all morning, following the molluscs with a study of a yellow dog whelk gleaming in the sunlight. She was putting in the highlights when the dog ran up, barking excitedly.

“Hey, Jasper –” Beth scratched his floppy ears, delighted to see him.

“Hi there. How’s it going?” Chris was strolling leisurely towards her, smiling.

“Hi!” Beth concentrated on rinsing her brush in her water jar. “Fine, thanks. Can’t believe how many creatures live in these rock pools – a week’s not long enough to do them justice.” His smile faded. “A week? Is that all you’re here for?” “Well, yes –” Somehow she wasn’t smiling now, either. “I just came to think a few things through.”

“May I?” He hunkered down beside her, examining her paintings with an expert eye. “Wow. Love those colours – and the detail’s brilliant. In a similar line myself, though nothing quite as exotic. Ceramics mostly –”

I know, all the different colour soft he sea, thought Beth, gazing at his dark blue eyes, russet hair burnished by the sun. “Maybe you’d like to –” Suddenly there was a sound. Mechanical, repetitive – irritating. It was her mobile, lurking in the bottom of her basket. She scrambled to her feet.

“Excuse me for just a minute? It’s probably work.” He grinned. “Sure.” “Hey. So, how’s it going, hon?” No pause for a reply. “Agent says we’re timed out, so I’m having one last try.” “I’m sorry, Aidan – I just can’t.” “You’re kidding me! I mean, what’s your problem? Imagine it, the two of us together in New York –”

Oh, she could, only too well. She tried to explain, but it was useless.

“Better believe it, Beth – you won’t get an offer like this again!” With a click, he was gone. He hadn’t sounded broken-hearted at all. Work would always be Aidan’s be-all and end-all. She’d always come second.

She knelt for a moment on the sand, sad yet relieved. She looked up, but Chris and Jasper had gone.

She didn’t sleep that night. After she’d tidied the cottage she dawdled to the beach – her enthusiasm evaporated – and to the rock pool. She stopped dead.

Something green and translucent was floating on the sparkling water; an old ginger beer bottle with a cracked glass stopper, a scrap of paper tucked inside. Kneeling down, Beth fished it out. Beth–didn’ t want to intrude on your call. Meet meat The Ship around six for a beer, if you’ re free? Chris

Free? Beth smiled. She was already counting the hours.

I lo e THOSE COLOURS an the DETAIL is brilliant. I o CERAMICS mostly