The Wedding Cake Tree (31 page)

He looked up
.

‘
Have you been watching Bear Grylls by any chance?’

I shrugged.
‘Might have … Jake likes it.’

Alasdair spent
the next fifteen minutes twirling sticks and blowing into a birds nest type creation he had placed on the rock. No spark appeared.

‘
You know what, you were right, this is a daft idea. Let’s get the matches out, I’m bloody freezing.’

‘
Just another few minutes,’ he said, ‘it’ll ignite in a second. I’m working on the “heat” bit, have faith.’

I was beginning to regret teasing
him about primeval instinct. After all, Alasdair was not the sort of man to be defeated.

‘
I’ll tell you what,’ he said, ‘take my head torch and nip into the dunes and see if you can find some grass that’s bone dry. That might help.’

‘
Okay, Boss.’

I had just disappeared out of sight when
I heard him shout, ‘Grace! I’ve got it going.’ I ran back down the dune onto the beach and found him putting little strips of birch bark onto ignited tinder, protecting the embryonic flames from the breeze with his body.

‘
That’s amazing, Alasdair. I’m impressed.’

‘
Well, it’s a gift. Some of us have it, some of us don’t.’

We spent the next ten minutes fuelling the fire before finally sitting back. I watched Mum’s letter shrivel into the flames – I didn’t want to keep it. For the first time since we met, I didn’t sit in front of Alasdair and allow myself to be wrapped into his arms, but sat behind him and wrapped my arms around his.

We sat for a while, lost in our own thoughts
, until I whispered, ‘If you are wondering why I’m unusually quiet, then it’s because I’m trying to think of a super-genius way to kidnap you.’ My chin rested softly on the top of his head as I spoke.

He laughed and I carried on
. ‘I don’t want you to go away. Is there no one else who could go – instead of you I mean?’

Alasdair tilted his head backwards
and sighed. ‘No. Anyway, the lads depend on me, and there’s no way I would ever let them down.’

He seemed to be talkin
g to himself rather than to me.

‘
There must be times, though, when you just don’t
want
to go away – especially if you think it’s all nonsense – or really dangerous or something. Aren’t you ever frightened at the prospect of what you’re asked to do?’

‘
Well, I’m not so much
asked
to do something as
told
to do it. Don’t try to over-imagine what I’m going to do, you’ll just worry needlessly. The general public have an impression of our work that’s not necessarily correct. Try not to think about it. I’ll be back before you know it.’

‘
Okay, I’ll try not to worry, but aren’t you a little bit frightened, putting your life on the line for Queen and country I mean?’

I fe
lt his shoulders sag a little. The cogs of his mind spun around for a few seconds before he answered.

‘
I fight for the man standing to my left and the man standing to my right, not the Queen.’

Alasdair
stood and skimmed a pebble across the ocean with determination. He turned to face me. ‘As soon as I leave here I’ll have to focus on the task and put all other thoughts out of my mind, which has been easy for me until now. But I’m sure this time the thought of you – of our time here – will linger in my mind. And, in answer to your question, there’s apprehension I suppose, but I’m always too busy to be frightened, and the adrenalin keeps you going. It’s an addiction.’ He skimmed another stone. ‘The difference about this job is I’ve got more to look forward to when I come back.’

I sto
od and we kissed; boy, did we kiss.

With any other man
I had ever kissed, kissing had been fun – a sexy preamble to something even more physical – but this time it was different. It was a tender union of two souls, a complete surrender of one person to another.

We returned to the fire. He rested his head on my lap and smiled up at me.

‘What’s your favourite tree by the way?’ he asked. ‘I think I’ve figured out everything else about you, but this one has me foxed. Is it the wedding cake tree, like your mum?’

Oh my goodness
, I thought,
I’m a woman, you will
never
figure me out
.

‘
My favourite tree?’ I asked with semi-serious concentration, leaning back on the dune. ‘Let me see, that would have to be the olive tree. What else could it be?’

He grinned.
‘Would that have anything to do with a certain café, the café where we met perhaps?’

‘
Maybe. What about you? What’s your favourite tree? Don’t tell me,’ I added, ‘I bet I can guess. It’s the oak tree.’

‘
Correct answer. How did you know?’

‘
Cause it’s such a typical bloke-type tree. You’re a stereotype I’m afraid. How very disappointing.’

‘
Actually, Little Miss Know-It-All, the oak tree is my favourite tree because of you.’

‘
Oh?’

‘
I watched you hide in one – well, you thought you were hiding – for several days after your mum died, that’s how I knew you were a fidget.’

I bolted
upright.

‘
What?’

‘
I was staying at the retreat. I carved you a shepherd's crook. It’s waiting for you at St Christopher’s.’

I stared at him, dumfounded.

‘Oh my God!’ I stammered. ‘
You’re
my old man of the woods?’

It was Alasdair
’s turn to be shocked. He sat up.

‘
Old man
? What do you mean,
old
man?’

‘
So
that’s
why I’ve been having the feeling I’ve seen you some place before. What was that great big beard all about Finn?’ I touched his face tenderly. ‘Thank you for coming to the ford every day,’ I added. ‘You took my mind off things. Why did you do it?’

Alasdair sighed.

‘Because you looked lost.’

‘
But why a shepherd's crook, of all things?’

Alasdair smiled. ‘
Because I knew you were going to the Dales, to the farm. It’s a link to your identity.’

I smiled.
‘Oh, nice touch.’

He lay his head on my lap again.
I ran a hand through the sand and looked up towards the stars.

‘
Alasdair, one final thing?’

‘
Hmm?’

‘
Did you really light the fire by rubbing sticks together?’

‘Of course I did
!’

‘
I don’t think so, you bloody fibber.’

‘
Why?’

I held my hand
up in the air.

‘
Because I just found the match.’

Chapter Thirty-
Four

The following morning the emotional torment was similar to waiting for Mum’s funeral. Alasdair explained in the car that he would walk away in the terminal building and not look back. He had to focus. I was to think only of our future life together. I was to walk away confidently, and under no circumstance was I to watch him leave.

But, n
o matter how I tried to be cheery and put a positive light on things, I felt sick to the core. It would have been difficult enough to say goodbye from St Christopher’s – our journey together had proven to be the happiest days of my life – but this was cruel.

As we walked int
o the terminal building my stomach turned and my eyes brimmed with tears.

Alasdair guided m
e over to a corner of the bustling departure hall to say goodbye. He put down his luggage, pulled my trolley out of my hands and turned me towards him. I gazed at the floor. He pulled me into his arms, rested his head on my hair and sighed; when it came to our final moments together, words were unnecessary. He pulled away and I noticed his eyes were glistening too.

‘
Listen, I want you to have something.’ He delved into his rucksack and pulled out his shemagh.

‘
Oh no, Alasdair. I can’t.’

He tried to wrap it around my neck but I stepped back.

‘Why not? It would mean a lot to me for you to take it.’

‘
I know it would, but I can’t. It’s your lucky piece of kit, it would be like giving away a rabbit’s foot or a St Christopher. No, I can’t. Sorry.’

He smiled and stuffed it back in
to his rucksack.

‘
I have to go. Take good care and I’ll see you very soon.’

I nodded,
finally looked up at him and smiled through salty tears. He touched my face.

‘
Bye then, Rainy Face.’

H
is familiar words were all it took to send me over the edge. I struggled to find some final – meaningful – words.

‘
God. I’ve only known you for a couple of weeks, if that. This is ridiculous.’

He laughed
and pulled me into his arms one final time and I knew exactly what I wanted to say.

‘
Just remember that, wherever you go, whatever you do, all you have to do is look up at the moon and you’ll know that I’m looking at it too, thinking of you.’ I laughed through my tears. ‘I’ll try my hardest not to pine though.’

Far from making him
smile, my words disarmed him. He stepped back suddenly and held me by the shoulders.

‘Listen, if it
turns out that I’ve done the wrong thing by you, if you become unhappy …’ His words trailed off and he shook his head. ‘I just want you to be happy, and this is so unfair on you.’ He stepped in again and rested his head on mine. ‘You’re my world now. I’m sorry I can’t give you more.’

M
y tears became uncontrollable sobs. He lowered his head to whisper two final words into my ear.

‘
Love you.’

He swallowed hard, stroked my cheek gently,
turned on his heels and walked away. I willed him with all of my heart to turn and flash me a final smile. But as he passed through security my heart fell even further through my shoes. He wasn’t going to wave after all. It was for the best perhaps; he was right, he did need to focus.

B
ut then, just as he was about to step out of sight, despite saying he wouldn’t turn around, despite having made me promise I wouldn’t watch him leave, he looked back and smiled his cheeky smile for me, one final time.

Part Six

Journey’s
end

Devon and
the Dales

Chapter Thirty-
Five

Nestled between an eleventh century church at the top of the lane and an ancient ford at the bottom there stands a stone cottage; it is, of course, St Christopher’s – my haven, my sanctuary, my home.

Only
it wasn’t my home, not any more.

The taxi dropped me on
the familiar grassy verge just off the A39. Over the years I had found it easier to walk the final half mile to the cottage; St Christopher’s is such a difficult place for a stranger to find. Of course, I understood why. It was the perfect location for a secret retreat. I deposited my heavy cases and suit carrier a hundred yards or so from the house to retrieve later, and continued down a track as familiar to me as my own reflection.

At the point whe
re the ancient cart track narrowed to a lane, I stopped for a moment at a five bar gate and looked across a patchwork of fields. Mum and I had stood at that very spot a thousand times before. It was a view that never failed to warm me to the core on a day like that one, in the May sunshine. I looked up at the sky – Devonshire blue. Mum was right, the sky
was
a different shade of blue in all the places I had been, but then the whole country had taken on a brighter perspective. And then I remembered the date. It was Mum’s fake birthday, her wedding anniversary, and I smiled at the thought of Alasdair and the first time we met at the Olive Tree Café, when he told me he would deliver me back to St Christopher’s on the 31st of May. Although Alasdair and I had met only eleven days previously, I felt I had known him all of my life.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket
. It was a text message, from Paul.

How’s it going? Not heard from you in a few days.

I texted back.

In Devon at Mum’s old house. I don’t inherit after all. Long story, but I’m fine with it in the end. Tons to tell re Mum’s life. Took your advice and went for it with SB. I think he’s the one. I’m so happy. Back in London in a few days. Will call then x

The phone buzzed almost immediately.

Told you the hare would win. You owe me a meal by the way (and I’m pleased for you) x

Good old Paul.

I carried on down the lane. A man I didn’t recognise was working in the flower border. He nodded politely as I walked past, then turned and continued with his work. The front door was freshly painted, but other than that, the house looked exactly as it had a year before.

But i
t seemed to be a different home entirely now; somewhere other people belonged, and I realised Alasdair was right – it was Mum, not St Christopher’s, who was my North Star.

Jake
was pottering in the orchard. My heart warmed at the sight of him. Trusted, reliable Jake; my rock. He noticed me standing at the gate and smiled. A man known for economy with words, he walked over and greeted me with one of his bear hugs; it felt wonderful.

‘
I’m so sorry, Jake,’ I whispered, still in his arms. ‘You mean the world to me and I’ve been so selfish. I shouldn’t have taken everything out on you.’

‘
Now then, none of that. Come on in and you can tell me all about your adventure
.
’

He
led me to the kitchen. We discussed the trip and I confessed Alasdair had become a little more to me than a friend. Jake smiled but asked for no more detail.

A
fter two cups of tea I told him the whole sorry saga surrounding Geoffrey.

‘
Meeting Geoffrey was the part of your mother’s plan I never agreed with,’ he admitted. ‘Although, to be honest, I thought the whole thing was bonkers, and I’m still not sure it was the right thing to do.’

H
e glanced across at a picture of Mum on the windowsill, a picture of the two of them. His eyes misted over. ‘But that was Rosamund for you, completely nuts.’

‘
Speaking of Mum,’ I said, ‘I should read her last letter.’

Alasdair
had given me the letter, and two sets of ashes before we left Arisaig – that included the ash I had refused to scatter on the West Coast.

‘
Ah, now then, before you do, I’ve got something for you.’

Jake
left the room and returned a couple of minutes later carrying an urn.

‘
Your mother wanted you to read her last letter under the wedding cake tree – and then we need to do something with this.’ He wasn’t able to look me in the eye suddenly. I took the urn, it felt full.

‘
What’s this?’ I asked, but the realisation began to dawn.

‘
It’s your mother.’

‘
What
?’

‘
Like I said—’

‘
I know what you said, Jake. Is this
part
of her or
all
of her?’

‘
All of her.’

‘
So what have I been scattering about all over the bloody country?’

‘
Fire ash. Actually it was the remnants of the elder that I … chopped … up …’ He pursed his lips and tried not to laugh. ‘To be fair to your mother, at first she really
did
want you to scatter her ashes all over the place. But then she was worried her soul might end up lost in torment or something, so she changed her mind. But she knew she needed something tangible to blackmail you with.’

‘
Did Alasdair know?’

‘
You’re joking! He would have done his nut. Maybe you can tell him, if he ever even needs to know …’

I put
Mum down on the table. Despite my best attempts to be mad, I couldn’t keep it up and we burst into laughter. I looked at the urn:

‘
Mum, if you’re watching right now, shame on you.’

‘
Actually, I’ve got another surprise for you.’ Jake stepped into the hallway and I heard him open the bureau. Then, he opened the door to the study and returned a few seconds later holding several postcards and a shepherd’s crook.

‘
Alasdair phoned during your trip and asked me to save these for you. He carved the crook last year – when you were hiding in your tree. The postcards are in date order – this wasn’t part of your mum’s plan by the way.’

My heart
leapt. The postcards! I had forgotten all about them.

Yorkshire (a picture of a sheep):
Had to think on my feet a bit just now. You’re right, the solicitor would want proof. Hope you enjoyed our hike up Penhill. We are just setting off to meet your formidable aunt! I’m having a great time – hope you are too. Sorry about all the white lies. Al

Cairngorms 1 (a picture of a Highland Terrier wearing a red wig):
Decided to keep the postcard thing going – you seem to have forgotten. Our hike in the Cairngorms was fantastic, haven’t had fun like that in years. Hope you enjoyed our adventure with the boys. I was worried all night you might be cold. Looking forward to another night in at the hut (maybe we’ll give the clootie dumpling a miss though). Al

Cairngorms 2 (picture of a Highland cow wearing another red wig):
I may be a little tipsy. You’re dancing with ‘Tristan’ right now. I don’t like that kid. You look amazing by the way and I could listen to your voice forever. Al x

Zagreb (picture of St Mark’s Church – with a Scottish postmark):
Not sure what is happening between us, but I know I never want to let you go. Al xx

Arisaig (picture of ‘our beach’):
Thank you for the time of my life. We’ll come back here one day, just jump on the ferry and see where life takes us. Sorry I had to leave you on your own. Al xxx

I wandered out to the garden alone carrying Alasdair’s crook. Before taking a seat on Mum’s bench opposite her tree, I took a stroll around the old place and realised, despite everything I had discovered over the past few days, despite my disappointment in Mum, I wouldn’t have traded one second of my childhood for anything – certainly not for Geoffrey. I also realised that Mum’s garden was a perfectly manicured memory of the life she lived before I was born, it was her way of holding on to the past. Tulips in pots, roses, wild garlic and the apple trees – all serving as a reminder of life in Yorkshire; then there were heathers, brooms and ornamental thistles from Scotland; and finally, of course, her wedding cake tree. I ran my fingers over the smooth curve of the handle of the crook and rested it against the bench. Her last letter was printed.