The Beekeeper's Daughter (39 page)

‘Where shall we go?’

‘I want to be alone with you. I can’t bear to be this close and not able to touch you.’

She noticed a couple on the street below, casting a glance in their direction. ‘All right. Let’s go somewhere. Anywhere but here.’

They drove down the winding lanes to the coast. But this time he parked the car at sea level and led her along a grassy path to an old boathouse, snuggled like a nesting partridge among overgrown shrubbery and sheltered by trees. A pier jutted out over the water and a fishing boat was tethered to a bollard, looking forlorn in its desolation. ‘This was my grandfather’s. He was obsessed with boats. I used to take it out with the children, but in the last few years I’ve neglected it.’

‘The first time we made love was in Joe Hornby’s boathouse,’ she said.

He pulled her into his arms and smiled wistfully. ‘How appropriate, then, that we find ourselves here. Alone at last.’ He kissed her urgently, and although she knew this was wrong her conscience was clear because it
felt
so right. There was nothing new about their intimacy. They had made love many times before. They were simply continuing from where they had left off, seventeen years before, on the quay in Tekanasset. They were just older, he a little greyer, she a little plumper, and their battered hearts hungrier for the years they had spent hankering after the lost half of themselves.

They made love in the belly of the boat, beneath picnic rugs for warmth. In their fevered actions they relived the past, rediscovering each other, delighting in the familiar taste and feel of their bodies, each determined to find the people they had once been in the eyes of the other.

Trixie lay back against the blankets smoking, as Jasper played his guitar and sang the song he had written for her on the beach in Tekanasset. She watched him through the smoke, her eyes lazy and full of affection, her head dizzy, drunk on love. She smiled, a small, satisfied smile, as he sang. His voice was grittier now that he was older. It possessed a raw quality owing to not having practised. She was moved by his lack of polish. As a young man he had been glossy, insouciant, golden; now his face was lined, the crow’s feet deep and wide, the grey in his stubble and hair betraying his age as well as his unhappiness. Her heart buckled and she wanted time to stand still so that she didn’t ever have to leave. She felt needed and his need pulled at her, somewhere deep in the pit of her pain.

‘I feel myself when I’m with you,’ he said, strumming softly. ‘I know you see me as I was. In your eyes I’m talented. I’m a free spirit. I’m unconventional . . .’ He grinned bashfully. ‘I’m a little wild.’ He laughed at himself.

‘You still are all those things, Jasper. We don’t really change, not deep down. I suppose layers have built up around you, but underneath you’re no different.’

‘Then with you I can peel back the layers. It feels so good. I feel alive again.’ He raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed heavily. ‘I’ve felt trapped, Trixie. It’s been suffocating. I know now how my father felt.’ He turned his gaze to her and his eyes darkened. ‘I don’t want to die young like he did.’

‘Do you think he died of a broken heart?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s a romantic thought, isn’t it? Is it possible to die of such a thing?’

‘Is Mom’s cancer a physical manifestation of her emotional pain? I think it’s perfectly possible.’

‘I need you, Trixie.’

‘I need you, too.’

They lay entwined as the sun began to sink in the sky, signalling the end of the day. ‘The sand is running out of the hourglass,’ he said at length, holding her tightly. Outside the clouds were thickening and turning a deep purple. The wind began to whistle about the side of the boat, causing it to rock gently on the water.

‘I feel like we’re in Tekanasset.’

‘I wish we were.’

‘Those days were fun, weren’t they? Kind of ideal.’

‘I knew I had it good but I never realized
how
good. That summer has grown out of all proportion in my mind. It stands alone and dazzling. The beaches, the music, the sunshine, the girl.’ He squeezed her. ‘Especially the girl. I never expected to live the life I’m living. I thought I’d be singing to stadiums full of people.’ He chuckled bitterly. ‘You’ve reminded me of what it felt like to be Jasper Duncliffe.’

‘You might not be Jasper Duncliffe any more, but you must play your guitar and compose music, if only to keep in touch with him. Music is part of who you are. You stop playing and you cut yourself off from your core.’

‘It feels good to play again,’ he agreed. ‘And what of you, darling Trixie? Are you yourself?’

‘I’m doing what I’ve always wanted to do. I’m happy at the magazine. I love fashion. I’m good at writing about it. I’ve made a name for myself in the industry. I earn well. I have lots of friends. I feel I’m myself.’

He kissed her temple. ‘I want you to say you’re incomplete without me.’

She laughed again at his self-indulgence. ‘You
know
I’m incomplete without you.’

‘Then stay.’

They remained in the boat until late. Their stomachs began to growl with hunger. Reluctantly, they made their way back down the path to the car. There was a tear in the cloud where the stars twinkled through and the light of the moon shone down to illuminate their way. All was silent except for the water lapping against the rocks. Jasper took her hand and they stopped to gaze out over the ebony sea. With the cold wind blowing against their faces and raking icy fingers through their hair, they searched for their future in the black, empty horizon and found nothing.

‘What time do you leave tomorrow?’ he asked.

‘Early. Please don’t come to say goodbye. I’ve said goodbye to you once before and I’ve never gotten over it,’ she said.

‘I have to see you again.’

She turned to him sadly. ‘You’re married, Jasper. You have a family. We cannot build our happiness on the unhappiness of those around you. I’m not going to allow it. I’d rather spend the rest of my life pining for you than regretting the devastation our relationship would cause.’

‘You’re much too wise, Trixie. I wish you were as selfish as me.’

She laughed and let go of his hand. ‘You’re not as selfish as you think. You’ve asked me to stay. You haven’t asked me to marry you and you haven’t suggested you’ll leave your family. You know as well as I do that you’re too honourable to do that. So, take me back to the hotel and leave me to treasure today as it is – beautiful, sad and perfect.’

He drove her back to the inn and kissed her one final time. ‘If I want to write to you, where shall I send my letters?’

‘Jasper . . .’

‘Letters, that’s all. Please, let me keep in touch. I can’t shut you out of my life. If you never open them, I’ll never know. You don’t have to write back.’

She swallowed but the tears broke through her resistance and spilled down her cheeks. ‘Tekanasset.’

‘Sunset Slip.’

‘You know it.’

‘Trixie . . .’

‘Don’t . . . please.’

‘I love you.’

She gripped him hard and pressed her lips to his, leaving salt and sorrow there. ‘And I love you. I always will.’

She didn’t watch him drive away, but slipped into the inn, head down, afraid of bumping into Maeve or Robert. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t eaten since Lady Penselwood’s biscuits. She didn’t think she could get any food past her throat anyway. She ran a hot bath and submerged herself beneath the water, wishing the world would be a different place when she came up to breathe.

The following morning the taxi arrived to take her to the station. It was early. The dawn light shone weakly through the dark, streaking the eastern sky with pale yellow, like broken egg yolk. Rain fell softly onto the pavement as she jumped a puddle to the waiting car. Maeve had made her a cup of coffee and toast, but it was too early for Robert, so Trixie left a message, knowing that he might perhaps have been disappointed that she hadn’t taken up his offer of a tour the previous afternoon. ‘You have a safe flight back to New York,’ said Maeve. ‘If you ever want to come back, you know where you’ll receive the warmest welcome.’ But she didn’t think she ever would come back. As it did for her mother, Walbridge now held painful memories.

When she arrived at Heathrow, she found herself searching the faces for Jasper. She was sure he’d followed her. She hoped he had. But the faces were those of strangers and it wasn’t until she was on the plane that she realized her life was not like a movie; he wasn’t coming with her.

She sat sobbing in her seat, gazing forlornly out of the window at the glistening tarmac and grey skies. An air stewardess with a kind face and red lipstick took pity on her and upgraded her to Business Class, but the bigger seat and superior menu did little to lift her spirits. She thought of Jasper, reliving the afternoon in the boat as if it were a tape she could rewind and replay at will. She doubted she had done the right thing. She began to wish she had agreed to stay. Right now, as the plane soared over the Atlantic, she ceased to care about her life in New York and would happily have given up everything just to spend another day with Jasper.

At last she slept a little, aided by the wine and a sleeping pill. She felt dizzy and disconnected. Thoughts swam about in her head like a chaotic shoal of fish with nowhere to go. What did her future hold? If she couldn’t have Jasper, would anybody else do? Was she destined always to be alone? She knew she should let him go. But she also knew she couldn’t.

The morning after touching down in New York, Trixie was on a plane bound for Boston. She would request leave on compassionate grounds and spend some time with her mother. Nothing else was as important as that. Right now, she needed her – and she sensed her mother needed her, too. She could do most of her work from home, anyhow. Her assistant would sail the ship while she was away. She was more than capable. The editor would understand. Her own mother had died of breast cancer and Trixie had helped raise money for research by running in the New York Marathon.

Trixie flew into Tekanasset airport on a small aircraft that bounced about, buffeted by the slightest gust of wind. The landing made her feel nauseous, but she was crying again when the plane touched down, not because she felt sick, but because she was so relieved to be home. She inhaled the familiar sea air, infused with the sweet, damp scent of fall, and wondered why she had ever left.

In the cab on her way to her parents’ house, she gazed out of the window with new eyes. The island gleamed in the early afternoon sunshine. The pinky-red leaves of the maple trees seemed to catch fire in the golden light as the sun began to descend in the west, dragging the day with it. Trixie’s heart ached for the familiar. She longed to be in her mother’s arms. She wanted to curl up in the security of the past and lose the agony of knowing she could never have the man she loved.

The taxi dropped her off on Sunset Slip. She contemplated her home with a new understanding. This was the house her parents had fled to when their world back in England had fallen apart. Her mother had lost her lover, her father his eye, and this was compensation for their loss. She ran down the path, pulling her suitcase behind her. She pushed open the screen door, then the heavier door behind it. A gust of wind caught it and slammed it shut with a bang. Her mother’s dog began to bark. ‘Mom!’ she shouted. Her throat constricted. The thought that her mother might have died sprang into her head like an unwanted demon. ‘Mom!’ she shouted again. ‘I’m home!’ She left her bag in the hall and hurried into her mother’s sitting room. The fire was lit. Papers were strewn about the surfaces as usual. The cushions on the sofa were reassuringly dented. She went into the kitchen. A draught swept through the room. She shivered. Then she noticed the door was open. She looked outside. She noticed the door to the shed was open, too.

She stepped onto the veranda. ‘Mom!’

Grace appeared, looking smaller, Trixie thought, than when she had last seen her. ‘Darling, how lovely, you’re here.’

‘Oh, Mom!’ Trixie wailed, striding down the garden to meet her. She threw her arms around her mother, who patted her back in bewilderment.

‘Are you all right, darling? What’s the matter? Why are you upset?’

Trixie pulled away and gazed at her, knowing that she would now have to be honest about everything. ‘I couldn’t find you.’

Grace nodded in understanding. ‘You thought I had popped off.’

‘Well . . .’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said briskly. ‘Come on, let’s go inside. Do you want a drink? I can make a pot of tea.’

Trixie looked over her mother’s shoulder. ‘What were you doing in there?’ she asked. But she knew now. Her mother’s hands were clean. She hadn’t been gardening. There was only one reason why she was in the garden shed.

They went into the kitchen. Grace began to make the tea. ‘So, how’s New York?’ she asked.

Trixie took a deep breath. ‘I haven’t been in New York.’

‘Oh?’

‘I’ve been in England.’

Her mother looked surprised. ‘England? What were you doing there?’

‘I went to Walbridge.’

Grace blanched. ‘Walbridge?’ Then she collected herself. ‘You went to find Jasper?’

Trixie shook her head slowly. ‘Not exactly. I went to find
you.
’

‘Me?’

‘Yes . . . I . . .’ She paused, not knowing where to start. She didn’t want to admit she’d found the letters. She wasn’t sure how her mother would feel if she knew her daughter had snooped. ‘I have something for you,’ she said. She hurried into the hall and withdrew the velvet bag from her suitcase.

She gave it to her mother, who looked at it in confusion. ‘What is it?’

‘Lady Penselwood gave it to me to give to you. She said you’d know what it means.’

Grace’s face had now turned as white as clay. ‘You met Lady Penselwood?’

‘Yes, and Lady Georgina.’

Grace’s eyes began to glisten. ‘Why?’ When Trixie didn’t answer, Grace pulled open the drawstring bag and put her hand inside. She felt the squidgy texture of the lavender bag and knew instantly what it was.

When she saw the silk bag, embroidered with the bee, she didn’t know where to look or what to say. Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears. She swallowed with effort. Then she pressed the bag to her nose and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘I think we need a glass of wine,’ she said at last.