Page 69 of The Summer That Changed Us

‘It’s not that.’ Grace stopped for a moment, pulled up her hood and turned away from the wind so Zoe would hear her clearly. ‘It’s Myles.’

‘Myles?’ Zoe exclaimed. ‘What about him?’

OK, this was it; Grace blew out a breath. ‘I found out from Julia that Myles had an affair.’

There was silence for such a long time that Grace wondered if the line had gone dead.

‘Zoe, are you still there?’

‘Yes, I just … ’ Zoe’s voice cracked. ‘It’s such a shock, that’s all. But Julia might be trying to cause trouble – how do you know she isn’t lying?’

Grace’s heart went out to her sister; maybe she shouldn’t have delivered the news over the phone after all. ‘I didn’t believe it at first, but Ned then confirmed it, although he suggested it was a one-off rather than an affair. So, it looks like it’s true, Zoe – Myles was unfaithful to me.’

‘Oh God,’ Zoe said hoarsely. ‘You don’t deserve this. I’m so, so sorry, Grace.’

‘So am I.’ Grace wiped away her tears with the back of her free hand. ‘And I’m sorry to have told you over the phone but I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.’

‘Of course not,’ Zoe said kindly. ‘You poor thing. Do you know … I mean, did Ned say who she was, or when this was supposed to have happened?’

‘No, he doesn’t know. But Julia says if we go to court over Myles’s will, she’ll make sure it all comes out then.’

Zoe gasped. ‘That’s dreadful. You’d hate that all being dragged up publicly.’

‘True, but I’m not letting her blackmail me either,’ she said, anger swirling inside her.

‘Don’t do anything rash, please,’ Zoe begged.

‘I won’t.’ Grace sighed. She stared out to sea, vaguely aware that the crash and tumble of the waves mirrored her emotions right now. ‘I feel like an idiot. I never suspected a thing. Never. I wish you were here to give me a hug.’

‘Well … ’ Zoe hesitated. ‘I could come up to see you, if you like? And we can talk this through together.’

‘Really?’ A sob formed in Grace’s throat. ‘I’d love that.’

‘Me too.’

Zoe sifted through her diary and they settled on the weekend after next. Daniel was camping with the Scouts so it would just be Zoe and Ruby. After they’d said their goodbyes, Grace felt her spirits lift a fraction; she had something to look forward to in a week that had otherwise been bleak.

Within ten minutes, the clouds had thickened to a solid grey blanket and the air was heavy with damp. Grace contemplated turning back, but she remembered her dad once saying that there was no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing, and as she was in boots, a rainproof coat and had her umbrella tucked in her pocket, she decided to soldier on.

Walking had always been her thing. Getting outdoors had been a way to untangle knots in her brain, inhaling fresh oxygen-rich air and exhaling all the adrenaline and cortisol which built up in her bloodstream during the week. She’d had some of her best ideas for work while tramping across the Lickey Hills near her Birmingham home with only disinterested sheep for company. Nature, she’d discovered, when she looked hard enough, had the most ingenious ways of doing things and it had regularly inspired her own designs.

She stopped to pick up a chipped clam shell at the side of the road and turned it over in her hand, her thumb rubbing first across the rough ribbed outer and then the smooth, iridescent inside. There was a building in Abu Dhabi modelled on a clam shell. She remembered reading about it and telling Myles she’d like to go one day. They never made it, but he did take her to the Gherkin in London for dinner instead. That iconic building had been modelled on a sea anemone, he’d told her, and there were clams on the menu. He’d kissed her hand and said it was the best he could do for now.

She smiled at the memory. That was one of the things she’d loved about him the most: she never had to drop hints at Christmas or her birthday. If she as much as mentioned that she liked something, he’d always remember. Her gifts from him were always exactly what she’d wanted, always perfect. Her smile faded as quickly as it had begun; well, maybe not always. It seemed that his final gift from beyond the grave was the knowledge that he hadn’t been perfect at all.

She put the shell in her pocket and trudged onwards towards the harbour, letting the breeze blow the cobwebs away and with it her gloomy thoughts. It was time to start looking forwards rather than dwelling on the past. One of her reasons for coming to stay in Merle Bay had been about planning for her future as a single woman and that hadn’t changed. She needed to think what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. She had money in the bank, she had family, people who loved her and she had friends. What she didn’t have much of at the moment, was purpose.

Grace had always been busy, always had a schedule packed full of meetings, appointments and presentations. She’d been a member of organisations too; everything from architecture, businesswomen, the Women’s Institute, right down to the residents’ committee which planned street parties and family fundays in their little cul-de-sac at home.

What she needed, she thought, was a project, a distraction. A property perhaps, or a worthwhile cause?

She felt rain droplets first on her eyelashes and then on her face. Water splashed onto her jacket and a drip found the gap between her collar and her cleavage and made her flinch. She put up her umbrella and picked up her pace. Before long, the curve of the harbour came into view up ahead on her left, and to her right, a row of sturdy cottages built from chunky stone with small windows, designed to withstand anything that the North Sea could throw their way. Despite the God-awful weather, Merle Bay was exceptionally pretty. She could see why Ned had been attracted to it. The place was just on the right side of quaint. The only thing that Merle Bay lacked as far as she was concerned was her nearest and dearest and, she thought with a rush of warmth, Robyn and Katie were already beginning to feel as if they could fill that gap.

As she got closer, her professional eye roamed the architecture of the cottages: the squat chimney pots, capped to ward off seagulls, an array of colourful paintwork, pots stuffed with grasses on doorsteps. The effect was practical and pretty. If Ned was here, she thought, he’d probably reimagine the entire row into one large luxury guest house; he loved nothing better than gentrifying coastal properties. But not Grace; she got a kick out of seeing families turn the houses she’d designed into homes. Properties which blended in with their environment, or even enhanced it: that was what made her heart glow. No, she thought, turning her gaze from the cottages to the harbour, those homes were perfect just as they were.

The harbour wall was built in a long, smooth curve. The ends formed the mouth of the harbour within, close together, to shield the boats from the worst of the waves.

A wooden boardwalk jutted out into the water at the centre of the curve. Small boats, their masts tinkling in the breeze, clustered around it, with names painted jauntily on their hulls like Misty and Sea Shanty. At the furthest point, two men, head to toe in yellow waterproofs, were unloading an orange and white fishing boat. Plastic crates dripping with water and packed with crushed ice were being lifted ashore and loaded onto pallets. Above them, seagulls wheeled and circled excitedly, swooping down occasionally for treasure and hopping onto the end of the pier, their beady eyes fixed on the prize. She was sure Robyn had said that Finn’s family had the last remaining fishing boat in Merle Bay. In which case, one of those two men might be Finn himself.