‘Not just me.’ He drew away, his dark eyes searching mine. ‘To all of us. Living in Leeds is going to be a whole fresh start. You can branch out with your business, and we can enrol Jamie in a private school.’
‘Push, Daddy, puuuuussh,’ Jamie squealed, kicking out with his feet to gain momentum.
I fixed the smile that had slid from my face. My reluctance to move had been a bone of contention between us for what felt like a lifetime; all because I was not strong enough to face up to my past. ‘Our house could take for ever to sell,’ I said, clinging on to the hope that our departure would be delayed.
‘That’s my second bit of good news,’ Alex said. ‘I’ve got someone interested in the property.’
I should have known. My husband managed the Colchester branch of the estate agency that he worked for. Although he sold mainly up-market properties, they sometimes had enquiries from buyers with less cash to spare.
He hoisted Jamie up from the swing and spoke over his shoulder as he gave him a squeeze. ‘They say it comes in threes; we should buy a lottery ticket on the way home.’
With Jamie in his left arm, he threw his right one over my shoulder and the two of us walked to the car. I should have felt safe, protected by his strength, but my mind was racing as news of the move sank in. I strapped Jamie into his car seat, my stomach clenching from the sudden sense of dread. I could not hide from the past any longer. It was time to go back there. To face what I had done.
CHAPTER TWO
ALEX
2017
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Sweeping a hand across the brooding landscape, I stood at the open back door. My words belied my thoughts. I could not wait to get out of this godforsaken place. I smiled sweetly at Mark and Kirsty, the young couple viewing our home. Not that it had felt like home to me. Despite Emma placing my name on the deeds, I had felt like an intruder from the day I moved in. It was quaint enough, with its weatherboard exterior and red roof tiles, but the interior needed a serious cash injection, and was a poor comparison to the show homes in which I spent my working day. It was hardly any wonder I was too embarrassed to invite my colleagues round.
Giving our viewers the full treatment, I glossed over the house’s flaws using the words ‘rustic’, ‘quaint’ and ‘charming’. ‘You can put your stamp on it,’ I said. ‘Plenty of room for your personalities to shine through.’ Their nodding heads told me that the tour of our three-bedroom cottage had gone down well. I glanced at my watch, a pang of guilt making itself known. It was the first time I had gone behind my wife’s back. I wanted to tell her about the viewing, but she had sabotaged my efforts to move too many times before. Not that she’d ever admit that. I loved Emma with all my heart: clever, talented and perpetually enigmatic Emma. Life had never been dull in her company. The puzzling thing was that, deep down, I knew she wanted to move. Perhaps it was the guilt of leaving her family home that was holding her back. Then again, her father had died years ago. Whatever the excuse, this place had dug its claws firmly into her and refused to release her. But this time I was ready, and had an answer for every excuse. The viewing couple would not be the first artists drawn to Mersea Island. Mark raved about the network of creeks and boardwalks that crisscrossed the marshes, while his wife delighted in the shapes, textures and colours of the nearby beach. I nodded in all the right places, attempting to share their enthusiasm. It was all a lie. Where they saw striking abandoned boats on the foreshore, I saw rotting wooden skeletons jutting out of the slime. As they spoke of the Strood, they came up with romantic notions of the island’s history. It was something I was all too happy to capitalise on.
‘You can still see evidence of the Roman occupation dotted all over Mersea,’ I said, having brushed up on the island’s history the night before. ‘The ancient causeway connecting the island is the only way on and off.’ The Strood was something of which I was all too aware. I hated the sense of being trapped as the tide cut us off from the outside world. ‘My father-in-law used to be an archaeologist. He had some fascinating stories. If you’re interested, the Mersea Museum is on the west side of the island.’
‘You don’t find it a nuisance, being cut off by the tide?’ Mark said.
I shook my head. ‘The locals call it the “causy”. It’s what makes the island unique. As long as you’re up to speed on the tide times then you should be OK.’ Perhaps it was because I was a city boy, but settling in Mersea Island was never an option for me. God knows I had tried. It was Emma’s idea that we move in to look after Bob, her father, before emphysema claimed his life. I could not stand by and watch him be placed in a nursing home, so I agreed. However, there was nothing to keep us here any more.
I led them round to the kitchen and opened the back door. ‘The gravel drive is wide enough to accommodate several cars if you’re holding an event.’ I pointed beyond the log store and the numerous fruit trees dotted around our half-acre plot. ‘See that gate behind those trees? There’s a further four-acre paddock that comes with the house. You can’t see it from here, but there’s a wooden bench built into the big oak tree down the end. It would really extend your garden if you took down the back gate and opened the whole lot up.’
‘Now that would be a big back garden,’ Mark said, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled a deep breath. ‘I love the seclusion. You could run around naked and there’d be nobody here to see it.’
‘Not that we would,’ Kirsty laughed. ‘We may act like hippies but I draw the line at baring all.’
I flashed a smile, rubbing my hands together as they spoke. I had a good feeling about this, and knew an offer was on the cards. Impressed by my patter, Mark and Kirsty seemed happy enough to overlook the damp climbing the walls and the crumbling brickwork that needed attention. Their faces gleamed with excitement as I quoted a fair price. My colleagues would have asked for more, but my conscience would not allow it. I reasoned that my lack of ruthlessness afforded me a better reputation than some of the sharks conducting business in my office.
‘My wife was going to turn the land into a giant vegetable patch, but she never got round to it.’ I looked down at Kirsty’s embroidered flat shoes. ‘Do you have any wellington boots? It’s quite foggy, mind; you might be better off coming back when the weather’s cleared a bit.’
‘There’s no need. I’ve seen everything on the plans. It’s just what we want,’ Kirsty said, grinning.
‘We can drive down there if you prefer?’ I suggested for good measure. ‘There’s a laneway leading to the back of the land that’s accessible by road. It’s a bit bumpy, but we can take my car if you like.’
‘No need, honestly,’ Kirsty repeated, turning her gaze to her husband, pleading with her eyes.
‘We’ve literally just put it on the market, so I’d advise you not to delay.’ I had barely uttered the words before Mark spoke.
‘Any movement on price?’
I shook my head. ‘Sorry, we’ve priced it competitively for a quick sale. I’ve been offered a job you see, in Leeds. I can’t afford to hang around. I have other people on my books, and it’s bound to be snapped up. It’s not every day that a property such as this—’
‘We’ll take it,’ Kirsty breathed, clasping her husband’s arm.
He rolled his eyes. ‘So much for playing it cool. Yes, we’d like to offer the full asking price.’
I shook their hands in a firm grip. ‘You’ve done the right thing. There’s so much potential with this property, and it’s easily worth the asking price and more. You’re getting a bargain.’