waited while the heavy doors of the ferry opened, watching as the line next to her was sent out first. How could she have been so stupid not to remember about Laura the minute she’d recognised him?
She leant forward and rested her head on the steering wheel, closing her eyes in mortification. It seemed it was her destiny to act like an idiot when she was around him. Maybe some things never changed, however many years passed.
She started the engine and put it in gear. His face had looked so bleak. But then what did she expect? His wife had died. It didn’t get much worse than that.
Certainly she’d nothing to complain about in comparison. Not even Richard’s leaving could really compare to Gideon’s loss. Kate’s hands gripped on the steering wheel as a wave of sadness washed over her. It was never far away. Always lapping at the edge of her consciousness. Making her feel dissatisfied—and angry.
At least Gideon had his children. She would never have that. Never have a family of her own. Never have anyone really love her…
Kate let her car roll forward as the van in front started to move off. And now she had to face Debbie.
There was the bump where the ramp joined land—and she was back on the island. Back where people would look at her and remember she’d been a foster girl. Unwanted. An object of pity. The one with head lice.
Or she had been until Aunt Babs had declared war on them. A bitter battle which had involved her spending hours with her head over the bath, a fine tooth comb scraping over her scalp. Kate smiled grimly and took the road that led towards Newport, scarcely aware of the rain falling heavily on her wind-screen.
If it were Debbie in London, staying in her flat for the weekend, it would have been completely different. It would have been fun. Then they’d have been squabbling over whether to have Indian or Chinese and whether the best shops were in Covent Garden or Oxford Street. Sisters. Almost.
But Debbie on the Isle of Wight was another thing altogether. Here she lived the life Kate wanted and could never have. Here it was like looking into a mirror and seeing an alternative universe, one she wasn’t eligible to enter. The poor child, standing barefoot in the snow, looking through a frosted window at a family opening presents in front of the fire. Still the outsider looking in.
And it hurt. Still hurt.
Debbie had a husband who loved her. Two children. Both boys. Callum and Daniel.
Kate’s heart twisted inside her—as it always did when she thought of how cruel fate had been to her. All she wanted was the simple things in life and yet they’d always eluded her.
She lowered the gear to negotiate a tight bend. She was being selfish. Debbie had lost her mother and was hurting. This wasn’t the time to feel envy.
Because it was envy. Kate recognised it but felt powerless to do anything about it, even though she knew it twisted and distorted her life.
Six years since she’d done this journey and yet she remembered it perfectly. She knew the ancient oak tree that stood proudly on the corner just before she had to turn left and the old pub on the corner. It was all achingly familiar. Round the next bend was the hotel where they played croquet on a summer afternoon.
And if she could have turned away and run she would have. It hurt. Just being here hurt. Knowing that in a few short minutes she’d be sitting in Debbie’s house drinking tea and hearing her children playing somewhere in the house would hurt. Desperately.
She wouldn’t take anything away from Debbie. She loved her. It was just she wanted a little of her happiness. She wanted to know what it was like to hold a newborn baby, to feel its soft little body curved into hers and know she was a mother.
Kate took the car past the hotel and on towards Debbie’s house. Every day there was this intense pain, a huge sense of loss. A column of ice running the length of her body. It didn’t matter that she’d managed to break into a career other people envied, or that she’d bought herself a great flat in Highgate, drove a trendy car. She knew she was a failure. Deep down.
She’d known it when Richard had walked out the door and closed it firmly behind him. He wanted children. Non-negotiable. And if he couldn’t have them with her he was going to have them with someone else.
He’d loved her. Of course he’d loved her. He’d told her. Just not enough.
Not enough. His words echoed in her head.
Over two years ago. The fifteenth of January. On a Sunday. From that day on she’d known it wasn’t just children she’d never be able to have. It was a normal life. The one thing she’d craved since her step-dad had put her in care.
She hadn’t been enough for Richard. She wasn’t enough on her own—and he’d left. Left her incomplete and hurting.
Two months before she had left for Los Angeles. The opportunity of a lifetime—and one she’d needed to survive. And she had survived.
As had Gideon.
Kate slipped into second gear and rounded the final bend. There was no turning back now. She was here to say goodbye to Aunt Babs. Goodbye and thank you.
CHAPTER TWO
GIDEON decided to wait before collecting his children. Give Debbie time to see Kate before he arrived.
He drove straight past her neat nineteen-fifties semi and down towards the coast. Debbie had been so anxious about whether Kate would be able to make it. He didn’t want to intrude. It was bad enough he hadn’t got any choice but to accept her help with Tilly and Jemima. It was too much for her.
The seafront car park was completely deserted, which was hardly surprising this early in the year. The rain had started to fall in fat, heavy drops, which meant the walk along the pebble beach he’d have liked to clear his head wasn’t really possible.
Instead he switched on the radio and watched the wind catch at the waves. The sea was a fair way out now, but at high tide it would be quite spectacular. Primal. This was just the best place on earth. He couldn’t imagine living away from here. All those years he’d spent in cities. People crammed together, rushing around with no time for each other. Look at Kate Simmonds. Somewhere along the line she’d forgotten what was important.
His mind dwelt for a moment on the woman he’d met on the ferry. Possibly she was what he’d expected. She was as carefully turned out as she was on the television, except perhaps her hair was less well groomed. He smiled. On television it fell in a smooth, swinging bob. On balance he preferred it windswept and blown around her face. Made her seem more approachable. More real.
His fingers reached out to re-tune the radio away from the high-pitched woman who was screeching about needing nothing but love. Not much chance of that if she yelled all the time. He flicked through the pre-set channels before settling on the classical one and then laid his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes.
On television Kate seemed commanding and playful. The personification of glossy, successful living. The flesh and blood woman was more confused. Vulnerable. That was the word. Katie Simmonds had always been vulnerable.
And beautiful.
He didn’t quite know where that
