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All of these years, I’ve been driven to put Tregethworth behind me, and everything I’ve done is a direct result of that sentiment. Every success I’ve accomplished in my life is measured against a set of criteria stemming from my history here.
Life, dreams, and love.
I didn’t need anyone else. The only one I could rely on was me.
Love was a sign of weakness, and success was what you built yourself.
Romance, dreams, and true love were a young girl’s notions, destroyed by a boy who crushed her heart and filled it with pain.
My phone vibrates on the side, breaking me from my sour thoughts.
How come Mum is the one that has to tell me you’re back home?
Sorry, T.
Are you going to come and see me? Or do I have to pop down?
It’s been a while since I visited.
Tegan lives on a farm less than twenty miles from Tregethworth, which I only visited once, many, many years ago. It was her dream, apparently. Or rather, her husband and their life is the dream, and she’s the picture of happiness. Even when she visited me in London with Mum over Christmas, you could see she was happy, and that only grew when she had Natalie.
Is that code for you want me to come to you?
Please. I’ll shout dinner at The Waterside as a thank you.
Deal. Tomorrow for lunch. 1 p.m.
I hide out at home, locked in my old bedroom with nothing but the battle of old and new warring in my mind for company. Mum keeps a wide berth as if she knows what she said this morning hit home and will need some consideration.
It would be easy to promise her I’d stay—that I was here for the long haul, but I’d never be that dishonest to her. And I doubt she’d believe me. We’ve not been the closest since I forced the distance between myself and the memories of Tregethworth, causing the detachment to grow between our small family. I had goals and ambitions to prove that I’d learnt from my past. A drive to ensure I’d never be in a position of weakness again. Each accomplishment led to another rung on the progression ladder until I was happy running the business I’d created. Far away from Cornwall and home.
Looking at it objectively, it was just another illusion.
A fairy tale not of a child but of a grown woman, who was so focused on not making the same mistakes of her past, she didn’t see the ones coming right for her.
“Hi, I’m here!” Tegan waltzes through the door like she used to in my bedroom when we were kids, and with a single smile, she manages to lift and cheer the mood I’ve been stuck in since the conversation with Mum yesterday.
“Come on. I’m starving.” I start marching us straight towards our destination, enjoying the sun as it peeks out from the milky clouds.
“Why are we walking the long way to The Waterside?”
“Because—” I don’t elaborate and thread my arm through hers, marching her along.
“What is going on with you, Zennor? Seriously. I get being independent and driven, but sometimes it can be hard on people around you. We all feel shut out. You’re back here, and I didn’t even know.”
“Fine. I’m sorry.” I consider opening up a little. “And I’m avoiding the surf shop.”
“Why?” Tegan questions.
“Because it has a new owner who I don’t get along with.”
“Ohhh, I smell a story. Dish. Come on. You’ve only been back a few days, and there’s never any gossip on the farm.”
“Let’s wait until we get a drink first.” I need alcohol if I’m going to spill. Tegan will remember exactly who Jayce is, despite the fact we’ve never spoken about him since.
The vision of her tossing the postcards into my room surfaces, floating to mind as if it’s just escaped from the safe it’s been locked in at the bottom of the ocean for all these years.
We round the corner to the bistro, and as if just thinking about him can summon him to appear, Jayce Roberts stands on the pavement before us.
