Название: In a Kingdom by the Sea
Автор: Sara MacDonald
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9780008245214
isbn:
Papa laughed at Maman’s face. She was staring out visualizing the café up and running.
‘I reckon this little village is going to change dramatically in the next few years. More and more tourists are coming further west. St Ives is getting crowded and too expensive, but up-country people still want to buy second homes, which means plenty of work for a builder like me …’
My father was waving his hands about and striding up and down as if we already lived here.
‘The village would be ruined,’ Maman said, ‘if it was built up and overpriced like St Ives. I love all the fields covered in gorse. Who wants to live near empty houses all winter?’
‘No one can sell agricultural land. No one can change the coastline or coastal footpaths. People will always come to walk and how many walkers pass a café if it’s there? I’m not talking about building new houses but renovating old cottages when they are sold off. I’ve heard that the council plan to open craft shops in the old cowsheds in the square as a showcase for local artists, potters and silversmiths and the like. This is the right time for us to buy, my bird. If we don’t take this chance, we’ll regret it for the rest of our lives …’
My parents went inside arm in arm to make lunch. I stayed outside on the balcony staring out at the sea. The mist was blowing away and little fishing boats were heading out of the harbour, the thud of their engines echoing over the still air.
A tractor was ploughing up on the hill with a great carpet of seagulls circling behind it. The church bell chimed. I heard Maman laugh inside the house and the deep boom of Papa’s voice. I caught the flash of Dominique’s dress in the orchard. She had climbed into one of the old apple trees and her singing floated out over the garden. I waved and she waved back. I could see she was smiling. I could see she was changing her mind and tasting freedom.
This was my first memory of the village. A sensation we all had of coming home; an instant connectedness to Loveday’s house that was powerful. The old lady’s life here was ending, but ours was about to begin.
London, 2009
A few days after our party, Mike flew off to Karachi for his interview with Pakistani Atlantic Airlines. When the phone rang I already knew what he would say. He had been offered the job and accepted on the spot.
Aware of my silence he said, ‘Gabby, I’m going to have to wait for my visa application to be processed. Even fast-tracked, it will take at least ten days, so we will have time together before I go …’
I take time off work and Will and Matteo head down from Edinburgh and Glasgow to spend a long weekend with Mike before he leaves.
‘FFS, Dad, we’re fighting the Taliban, it’s not exactly the perfect time to head for Pakistan, is it?’
‘You’ll get kidnapped … like that journalist, what’s his name … Pearl Someone …’
‘Daniel. Daniel Pearl, he got …’
‘Shut up, both of you, you’ll worry your mother. Of course I won’t get kidnapped. I’m not a journalist after a story. There are other Europeans working in Pakistan, you know. Oil companies, commercial firms, NGOs. Everyone working out there is given security.’
The parks are stunning, full of trees with translucent green leaves and picnickers enjoying a hot June. Mike loves to roam London when he is home, so we criss-cross the city like tourists, drink coffee by the Serpentine, dip in and out of galleries, go to the theatre. In the evenings we take turns choosing where to eat and sip cold white wine and beer on shady terraces.
I cannot remember the last time we all spent time together in London. I let my happiness settle inside me like a precious thing, hardly daring to own it, in case some mean god snatches it away.
One afternoon Will and Matteo persuade us to take a riverboat down to Greenwich like we used to when they were small. As we chug downriver Mike cross-questions his sons on their career plans.
Both boys somehow ended up studying in Scotland. I’ve never been sure whether this was chance or design. There are only twelve months between them and they are close, often mistaken for twins. Will, who is studying medicine at Edinburgh, says warily, ‘I don’t have any plans, Dad. I’m just concentrating on exams at the moment.’
‘But you must have an idea about how you want to specialize,’ Mike says.
‘I have to get a medical degree first. Anyway, I might want to be a GP and not specialize in anything. Have you thought of that?’
‘Dreary job, totally thankless!’
Oh, Mike, I think. Why can’t you tell your sons you are proud of them, rather than question their choices?
Will looks at him. ‘I disagree. There is a national shortage of GPs.’
Mike shrugs. ‘Well, it’s your life, but I think you’re too bright just to be a GP … You’ve always needed challenges.’
I watch them both. Will is winding Mike up. He does not want to be a GP. He wants to be an orthopaedic surgeon. How can Mike forget that as a little boy Will was fascinated by the names of bones and how they knitted together?
Before he is asked, Matteo, who is at the Glasgow School of Art, says, ‘I’m planning on being the next Banksy, Dad.’
Both boys are laughing at him and Mike makes a face. ‘Okay, I’ll shut up. I was just doing catch up …’
‘If you were around longer you wouldn’t need to,’ Will retorts. He yawns and stretches. ‘Matt and I will bore you with our ambitions later, Dad, this boat is too noisy to talk …’
I watch the water slide past, aware of the fast current and how quickly a day can turn. Perhaps, Mike is conscious of it too, for he says, ‘Okay, let’s make serious plans while we are all together. It’s going to take me all summer to get to grips with this job … but how about we plan for Christmas together? Do you want me to come back home or shall we try for Oman? Revisiting the Barr Al Jissah Resort might be fun. If you aren’t caught up with wild parties and Scottish women, of course …’
Will and Matteo goggle at him. ‘Are you serious?’ Will asks. ‘Do you really think either of us are going to miss a chance of Christmas in Muscat?’
‘Oman! That would be so cool!’ Matteo says, grinning. ‘Any chance of slipping in a girlfriend?’
Mike laughs. ‘No chance.’
‘Only joking. I know that hotel is serious money. Are you sure you don’t want to just take Mum? Will and I are always broke and …’
Mike throws an arm around me. ‘Well, you can buy your mother and me a drink, can’t you?’
I watch my sons do a little jig of excitement. I feel like doing one СКАЧАТЬ