A PROPOSAL

‘Could you fix the tieback tassels a little higher?’ Margaret instructs the delivery man. ‘Perfect!’ She is supervising the hanging of new curtains for the drawing room and turns to see Edward striding into the room. ‘What do you think, arenʼt they lovely?’

He bends down to kiss her on the cheek. ‘My darling wife, always wanting change!’ He jokes with the delivery man. ‘Of course theyʼre lovely. Old Davenport has said I can use Kittiwake this weekend, thought I could take her up the coast for a couple of nights. Do you fancy a trip?’ Edward raises his eyebrows quizzically, knowing sheʼll say no.

‘Oh, Teddy darling, on Friday Iʼm going to see that lovely young man whoʼs making the new dining table. Heʼs using wonderful elm with amazing grain, you wonʼt be able to get it in the future, you know.’ Margaret is relieved to have a valid excuse. What could be worse than a weekend on a cramped boat in the Cornish rain, calling at tiny harbours with dark pubs full of drunken fishermen and sailing clubs full of loud, competitive yachtsmen, with holidaymakers wandering along crowded streets eating ice creams.

‘I had wondered if we could have a weekend at that spa Clarissa recommended. She loved it and there is a golf course. We could meet them there.’

‘You know I donʼt play golf. Besides, Davenport wants me to check a few things on the boat. Heʼs so rarely down here, he likes it to be used to keep it in good nick. Iʼll go down to Portglas Friday morning and will be back Sunday evening – I can check everything for him.’

As Margaret turns to rearrange the folds on the heavy curtains, Edward draws himself up and adjusts his jacket. ‘Iʼll just take the dogs out through the woods – I need to check where Greatwood was clearing the stream.’

Sophie regularly strolls through the woods surrounding Emilyʼs cottage at this time of day but now her delight in the bosky Cornish countryside and delicate wildflowers is beginning to wane and is being increasingly replaced with a desire to get back to the stimulating colours, baked landscape and exciting people of the Mediterranean resorts. The atmosphere at Tregethlan is stifling – she hates the formality, the pretence and the realization that Edward is tied to this place.

Two days later it is a relief for both of them to leave the jetty in Portglas. “Kittiwake” is far smaller than Iolanthe and without her elegance but she lifts happily to embrace the waves. The next two days are spent anchoring off deserted beaches for invigorating icy swims, drinking wine on pebbly beaches watching the sunsets, eating pasties and treacle tarts in dark, cosy pubs, listening to the squally rain beating down outside, then clattering along pontoons to hang their drenched jackets in the cockpit before stumbling into the tiny cabin and collapsing together in the cramped forepeak.

Following a rollicking sail down from the Devon coast, where they had spent their last day, Kittiwake is anchored quietly off Portglas harbour. The wind is dropping and the sea is calm now. It has been blissful for Edward, being with generous, free-spirited Sophie, who loves sailing as much as he does. He can be himself, away from responsibilities and worries about Margaret and the estate – only concerned with tides and wind direction and indulging in Sophieʼs glorious, welcoming body. He lies contentedly in Kittiwakeʼs narrow cockpit, replete with seafood, bread and wine. The evening sun glitters on the ultramarine sea and the seagulls have finally gone to roost.

After weeks of swimming in chilly Cornish coves and striding barefoot across sunbaked cliffs, Sophieʼs blonde hair is tousled and bleached and her long, strong limbs golden and warm against Edward’s. But Sophie is missing the burning Mediterranean sun, the long sultry siestas, fresh ripe fruit, peaches, pomegranates and oranges picked straight from the trees and spicy Moroccan food. This winter, she intends to explore more of Africa and the Middle East, maybe work on a kibbutz for a while or volunteer with Medicine sans Frontieres.

It has started to mizzle and she huddles under the sprayhood. She feels bloated with bland English food, pies, pasties and puddings. Edward reaches into his pocket.

‘Thereʼs something I want to give you.’ Enclosed in his outstretched palm is a tiny jewel set into a golden Celtic cross. ‘Sophie, I want us to spend our lives together. Will you?’

Sophie is shocked. This isnʼt what she wants. Edward is a perfect lover when heʼs on Iolanthe, fun loving, happy and free. Every day there was romantic and thrilling but here he is a different man, dominated by responsibilities and business meetings, discussions about the numbers of pheasants to rear, or the price of wheat, all of which are of no interest to Sophie.

She turns her lovely grey eyes to him. ‘Ed, itʼs beautiful. But we do have a life together, whenever youʼre in Menorca.’ Edward reaches under the dripping sprayhood to fasten the gift around her neck. ‘I want it to be always – here at Tregethlan.’ He encloses her in his arms as Sophie stares out, away from him, at the headland disappearing in the mist.

‘Youʼre such a darling, Eddie – but letʼs think about this. We must be getting back, Emilyʼs expecting me for supper and you must get back to Margaret.’

He frowns and clambers along the deck to haul the anchor. They motor back in silence.

Sophie bursts into Emily’s cottage from the increasing rain, soaked in spite of her waterproofs. She throws off her jacket and steps out of her deck shoes. As she removes her wet jeans and damp sweater, Emily notices the new necklace.

‘Ed gave it to me today, heʼs so sentimental.’ Sophie holds the pretty pendant up to the light, then turns away. ‘Look, Emily, I need to leave. I’m meeting some people in London and we’re heading back to the continent. I’ll set off tomorrow.’

Emily is taken aback, but this is Sophie through and through, never staying still for long. ‘Does Edward know?’ she says.

Sophie does not turn round but Emily hears her reply, ‘Don’t worry, it’s all fine. I’ll explain it to him.’

Chapter 36