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‘I said—’ she began, desperate to bridge the silence. But he interrupted her.
‘I know what you said.’ He frowned. ‘Is this a joke?’
‘Of course it’s not a joke.’ Magda was finding it hard to breathe. ‘Why would I joke about something like that? It’s the truth.’
‘How can it be the truth? You were Penny’s best friend.’
Magda clasped her hands together to stop them trembling – although there was nothing she could do to stop the tremble in her voice. ‘I loved Penny. I still love Penny and I never said anything while she was here. I could never have done that. But I am in love with you, Stan, and I have been for years. I had to tell you.’
Did she have to tell him? Magda felt the fear that she’d suppressed, so that she could speak the truth, slide slowly up her spine. But it was too late now.
Stan opened and closed his mouth. He was still staring at her.
‘I had to tell you because I didn’t want to let my fear win,’ said Magda. Which was ironic because her fear was winning right now. It was doing a victory lap around her head.
Stan shook his head, confusion etched across his face, but still he said nothing. Magda had laid her heart on the line, and he had nothing to say in return. A hot wave of humiliation shot through her, making her feel as if she were on fire. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she blurted out, turning so he wouldn’t see the tears blurring her vision.
‘I don’t know what you want me to say,’ spluttered Stan, and Magda’s humiliation was complete. What did he think she wanted him to say?
‘I mean, what would Penny think about all of this?’ Stan asked.
What would Penny think indeed? Her best friend declaring undying love to her husband, when she was hardly cold in her grave. What kind of ‘friend’ had Magda become?
‘Magda, look at me,’ said Stan.
When she turned round, she saw confusion still on his face. And then she spotted it in his eyes: pity.
And that was when she knew for sure. She knew the truth.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Magda managed, her throat so tight she could hardly get the words out. ‘Please forget I said anything. It’s all ridiculous. I never could hold my drink and I’ve had far too much this afternoon. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful to Penny’s memory.’
Then she turned and started walking. She walked past the marquee and kept on going down the cliff path, towards home.
The sun was sinking lower, turning the sky from blue to gold, but Magda didn’t stop. She kept on walking until she reached her cottage and let herself in. Then, she marched up the stairs, crawled into bed, still fully clothed, and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she murmured to herself. ‘At least I told him, and I knew what he would say. Inside, I knew. It’s done and I’m fine. I’m always fine.’
But today, right now, she wasn’t fine at all. Magda buried her head in the pillow and sobbed – for her aching heart and the best friend she missed so much, and the man she loved who didn’t love her.
TWENTY-SIX
ALYSSA
It had been a wonderful community wedding and it was fast turning into a fabulous community clear-up.
‘Thanks, Fred,’ said Alyssa as the Smugglers Haunt landlord dropped a pile of paper plates into a black bin bag.
The marquee’s tables were almost cleared, and left-over wedding cake was all boxed up. Alyssa had feared a late night after Magda’s text had pinged onto her phone two hours earlier: Sorry, gone home with sudden migraine. Leave clearing up for later.
But she hadn’t reckoned on guests at the wedding pitching in to help.
There was no way Alyssa was going to leave the clearing up overnight, especially as Magda might not be better come morning.
‘We can give you a hand,’ Claude had told her, before spreading the word that she needed help. And everyone had done their bit – even Liam and Rosie, who were about to drive off on honeymoon.
Heaven’s Cove was a special place, thought Alyssa as she swept up crumbs from the dance floor. A place with history and heart, and she was grateful she’d chosen it as her refuge.
‘I’ve found this,’ said Belinda, bustling over. She was brandishing a walking stick. ‘I believe it belongs to Stan. I can drop it in on my way home.’
