The Sea Garden: A Novel

by Marcia Willett

Overview

Marcia Willett delivers another powerful and touching tale of the importance of friendship and family in The Sea Garden.

Jess Penhaligon is on her way to Devon to receive an award for her botanical painting. Hosting her will be Kate, who gladly welcomes her into her home. Jess's own family fell apart several years ago, so she is grateful for Kate's friendliness —and her close unit of extended family and friends, who embrace Jess just as warmly.
As this group begins reminiscing on their pasts and sharing their stories with Jess, it becomes apparent that her family history may be linked with theirs. Long-buried secrets from past generations begin to be uncovered —but at what cost have they been kept hidden?

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781466846524
Publisher:	St. Martin's Publishing Group
Publication date:	08/12/2014
Sold by:	Macmillan
Format:	eBook
Pages:	304
File size:	862 KB

About the Author

The Sea Garden is MARCIA WILLETT's fourteenth novel to be published in the U.S. Her novels are available in seventeen countries around the world. She lives in Devon, England.
Born in Somerset, in the west country of England, on the day the atom bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, Marcia Willett was the youngest of five girls. Her family was unconventional and musical, but Marcia chose to train as a ballet dancer. Unfortunately her body did not develop with the classical proportions demanded by the Royal Ballet, so she studied to be a ballet teacher. Her first husband was a naval officer in the submarine service, with whom she had a son, Charles, now married and training to be a clergyman. Her second husband, Rodney, himself a writer and broadcaster, encouraged Marcia to write novels. She has published several novels in England; A Week in Winter is the first to be published in the United States.

Read an Excerpt

The Sea Garden

A Novel

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By Marcia Willett

St. Martin's Press

Copyright © 2012 Marcia Willett
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4668-4652-4

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CHAPTER 1

TAVISTOCK

Autumn

'I've been seeing ghosts,' Kate says, twirling the claret in her glass and setting it down on the table. 'Up on the moor. Down in the town. D'you know what I mean?' She glances at him. 'No, of course you don't. You're too young.'

Oliver sits with his long legs stretched out beneath the kitchen table, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other cradling his own glass. 'The ghosts of Christmases past?' he suggests. 'Or perhaps the ghosts of Christmases yet to come?'

She shakes her head quickly, makes a face. 'Definitely not this Christmas yet to come. You know Cass has invited me?'

'You'll accept, won't you? You mustn't let this talk about divorce get you down. You're acting as if you're responsible. Guy and Gemma are grown-up people.'

'Oh, come on, Oliver,' she says impatiently. 'You know it isn't that simple. Cass and I have been very close friends for most of our lives, since we were children. Guy is my son and Gemma's her daughter. How can either of us pretend to be unaffected if they divorce? In her heart Cass blames Guy ...'

The retriever, lying beside the Aga, raises her head, watching them, then comes to settle at their feet beneath the table. Warm early autumn sunshine floods in suddenly through the tall windows and washes across the table: it glints on Kate's mobile, two empty coffee mugs and the bottle of Château Brisson.

'And in your heart,' Oliver says into the silence, 'you blame Gemma.'

'No,' Kate says quickly. 'Well, yes. Sort of. Oh hell.'

'I know my little sister very well,' he reminds her. 'I know why Guy insisted that they should move to Canada, leaving Gemma's tiresome ex-lover behind her.'

She looks at him affectionately; Oliver has always been her favourite of Cass's children. Behind him she sees a succession of Olivers: the engaging, manipulative toddler with his mop of blond hair; the mischievous, quick-witted schoolboy home for the holidays, teasing his younger brother and sister; the tall, elegant Cambridge graduate, an expert at winding up his father.

'And there are upsides so far as Ma is concerned,' he adds softly, unaware of these ghosts at his elbow. 'She misses Gemma and the twins. She hasn't much liked them being so far away. Now Gemma is coming home and bringing the twins with her.'

'But ... divorce. And what about Guy?'

'Ah, well.' Oliver shrugs. 'Just between you and me, Kate, I'm not sure Ma is too bothered about Guy.'

'Well, I am,' she says indignantly. 'He's my son. I want him to be happy.'

He looks at her shrewdly. 'And is he happy? I've known Guy all my life and he doesn't strike me as someone who "does" happy. Brief spells of jollity here and there; the odd moment of exaltation, most probably when he's had a drink or two, but do you truly believe Guy is someone who can be ordinarily bog- standard, day-to-day happy?'

She stares at him; his observation echoes a private fear hidden deep in her heart. 'How d'you mean?'

'You know what I mean.'

She nods reluctantly, sadly. 'But that doesn't stop me wanting it for him.'

His look is compassionate, but before he can speak the kitchen door opens and Cass and Tom surge in, laden with bags and parcels, speaking in unison, startling the sleeping dog at Kate's feet.

Kate leaps up to hug Cass and receive Tom's kiss. And even here the ghosts are present. A youthful tough submarine captain lurks at Tom's shoulder, brown eyes twinkling, one closing in an appreciative wink behind Cass's back. Cass's ghost is slender and sexy, tying up her long blond hair as she leans to whisper a naughty remark in Kate's ear. Oliver doesn't see the ghosts. He is moving his glass out of the reach of the toppling shopping bags, reassuring the dog, smiling lazily at his parents.

'What kept you?' he asks brightly, beaming at his father. 'Have you been enjoying a morning of retail therapy, Pa? Did you remember to buy a newspaper?'

'Just don't get him started,' warns Cass. 'Pour us a drink. Sorry to be so late, lovey.' She gives Kate another quick hug. 'You know what Fridays are like. Tavistock was heaving. Lunch won't take a minute.'

'Shopping,' says Tom, dragging out a chair and sitting down. 'I hate shopping.' He eyes the nearly half-empty bottle of wine. 'I was keeping that for supper.'

'Kate's been enjoying it.' Oliver's voice is gently reproachful, chiding his father for being un-hostly. He leans forward, takes the bottle and tops up Kate's glass. 'Haven't you, Kate?'

As usual, when Oliver baits Tom, Kate wants to burst out laughing. Tom's expression is a mixture of frustration, fury and apology as he protests that he's very glad that she's enjoying it; of course he is.

'And anyway,' says Oliver, 'I bet you've got plenty more of it. What's for lunch, Ma?'

Kate gets to her feet. 'D'you want some help, Cass? Or would you rather Oliver and I take Flossie for a walk while you get organized?'

'Well, I would,' says Cass gratefully, 'if that's OK. It's been a bit hectic and I want to put this lot away. I'm running rather late ...'

'And I was early,' says Kate. 'Come on, Ollie.'

He rises gracefully; reaches for a glass from the dresser and puts the glass with the bottle in front of his father.

'Help yourself,' he says kindly. 'You look like you could do with a drink.'

* * *

'Why do you do it?' asks Kate, as they pass through the hall and pause on the Rectory steps to pull on jackets. 'Why do you like to wind Tom up?'

Oliver shrugs. 'Because I can. He responds so beautifully. Always has.'

This is true. From childhood Oliver has had the knack of outwitting his father and – to Tom's immense irritation – Oliver has never yet suffered a comeuppance. The First from Cambridge, the success of the business he and old Uncle Eustace ran together making media products and, when old Unk died leaving Oliver the bulk of his shares, the clever way Oliver sold the business just at the right moment and made a very great deal more money: all these have contributed to Tom's jealousy of his elder son.

Kate chuckles. 'Poor Tom. It must be very difficult for him to watch you going from strength to strength with apparently very little effort on your part. Come on, let's walk up to the moor.'

The Old Rectory, across the lane from the small granite church, stands at the edge of the village only a short distance from the high moorland road, but the climb is a steep one. A few sheep scatter before them into tall thickets of gorse, but Flossie ignores them: she's been trained well.

'I wish Ma still had a dog,' says Oliver. 'Did she tell you that they're planning to sell the Rectory and move into Tavistock?'

'What?' Kate stands still, staring at him. 'Are you serious? Cass loves the Rectory. And if Gemma and the twins are coming home ...'

She turns away and stares out across towards Burrator. Sheepstor is a distant scribble of grey lines above the reservoir and dying bracken is rusting on the hills.

'Gemma will need somewhere to go if she comes back from Canada,' Oliver agrees. 'But Pa says that if she is going to leave Guy then she must learn to manage on her own. He says that the Rectory is costing a fortune to run and he can't afford it any more. He wants to buy a small house in Tavistock where they can walk to the shops. And to the pub.'

'And what does Cass say?'

'Ah. Well, Ma prevaricates and says, "Oh, but how will the children fit into a small house in Tavistock when they come for the holidays?" and then Pa says that he isn't running a hotel and they can stay near by in a B & B or a self-catering cottage, and Ma says that that wouldn't be the same at all.'

Kate smiles reluctantly: she can imagine those conversations. Tom will grow more irritable, he will shout, and Cass will continue calmly to state her case – and they will remain at the Rectory.

'The trouble is,' she says, almost talking to herself, 'I haven't a leg to stand on, really. I left Mark for probably much the same reasons that Gemma now wants to leave Guy. That is what Cass says to me. She remembers how it was for me and she says, probably quite rightly, that if I couldn't hack it with Mark why should Gemma be expected to with Guy. And I don't have an answer.'

Oliver slips his arm in hers again and it is a comforting, companionable gesture.

'Except,' he says, 'that Guy isn't Mark.'

She is almost overwhelmed with gratitude. This is why she loves Oliver: he is quick to see and understand and go straight to the heart of things.

'No,' she agrees quickly. 'No, he isn't, is he? Guy adores his children and he's tried hard to understand Gemma's need to flirt with every available male, and even when she had that affair he accepted that it was because he'd been away so much delivering and collecting boats, and she got so lonely.'

'It was a pity that Guy insisted on them going out to Canada. I know it sounded good, to make a new start and all that, but I think it was too optimistic to hope that Gemma would settle in contentedly with two rather strong but silent men so far from her friends and family.'

'Mark would have found Gemma difficult,' agrees Kate. 'She's so like Cass, and he could never get on with your mother. He was frightened of her sexuality and he thought she was far too affected and silly. He simply couldn't cope with her exuberance.'

'But Guy can,' he reminds her. 'Guy rather likes Gemma's exuberance, except when it involves other men.'

She clutches his arm tightly. 'Whatever shall I do? How can I help but be on Guy's side? He's my son. I love him. And his children love him. I hate to think of all the disruption and sadness. How will they ever see him if he is in Canada and they are here with Gemma?'

They've crossed the narrow road that winds across the open moorland and pause to look down on the reservoir: a slice of gleaming water edged about with trees, deep in the valley.

'I think,' he says quietly, 'that Gemma's right to come back.' Kate looks up at him quickly, anxiously, but he nods, still staring down into the valley. 'Yes. Let her come home and then we'll wait.'

'You think she'll miss Guy?'

'I think that Guy will miss Gemma and the twins much more than he realizes he will, and I don't think his relationship with Mark, or the job, will be enough compensation for his wife and children. If I know anything about Guy, he's a one-woman man and he loves his boys. I think he'll come after them.'

Kate is seized with a longing to believe him. 'But what about Gemma? Suppose she doesn't love him any more?'

'We'll have to chance that one. It doesn't sound like that to me but we'll have to wait and see. But if she stays out there it will go beyond the point of no return.'

They stand for a moment longer, then Kate glances at her watch and whistles to Flossie.

'We should be getting back. So can I expect arguments about downsizing during lunch?'

'Oh, yes,' says Oliver confidently. 'I've decided to side with Pa. The shock of it will throw him completely off his stride and make him question his judgement.'

Kate laughs. 'In that case I'll need another drink,' she says.

* * *

'I simply cannot understand,' Tom is saying, 'why Kate doesn't move back to Tavistock. She's got a lovely cottage in Chapel Street but she goes on renting that little place miles from nowhere down in Cornwall. It's crazy.'

'St Meriadoc might be a bit remote,' answers Cass, assembling the ingredients for lunch: ciabatta bread, couscous salad with apricots, ham, and a goat's cheese flan, 'but it's got one important asset as far as Kate's concerned. It's got Bruno.'

'Oh, I know that's your theory.' Tom is dismissive. 'She doesn't move in with him, though, does she? He stays in that weird house of his stuck out on the cliff and she stays in the little row of cottages down by the boatyard.'

'Bruno's a writer.' Cass says impatiently. She is weary of these conversations which Tom returns to like a dog digging up an unsavoury old bone. 'He spends hours closeted on his own but they also spend a great deal of time together. I think it's a very good plan for them each to have their own space. And Kate's used to that with her men. First Mark, always away at sea, and then David spending half his time painting in his studio in London while she stayed down here. She's used to semi-detached relationships. They suit her.'

Tom shrugs. 'I'm damned if I'd want to live stuck out there if I had a smashing little house in Tavistock. The agents did a damned good deal for her with that cottage. I popped in to see them this morning while you were in Crebers and told them that we're considering selling this place.'

Briefly, Cass's hands are stilled. She experiences several emotions: fear, anger, and a desire not to start a row just before Oliver and Kate return.

'What did they say?'

There is a little silence; Tom dribbles more wine into his glass.

'Said it couldn't be a worse time,' he answers reluctantly.

Cass heaves a silent breath of relief. 'Hardly a surprise, is it? It would be crazy to try to sell this type of property at the moment.'

'The point is, though,' protests Tom, 'whatever we bought would also be a lot cheaper. If it's a buyers' market we can cash in on it. Surely it works both ways?'

This too is becoming a familiar argument and Cass is relieved to hear Oliver and Kate in the hall.

'Please don't go on at Kate about moving back,' she says quickly. 'She's so pleased at the thought of Jess coming to stay and I want her to enjoy it. She doesn't need our input at the moment.'

* * *

Determined to steer the conversation away from divorce or downsizing, Kate talks about Jess at lunch.

'It was such a shock,' she says, 'to see how like Juliet she is. Of course, Jess is about the same age as Juliet was when I first met her. It took me way back. I lost touch after Mike and Juliet went out to Australia but Jess was so thrilled to think that I'd known them. What an amazing coincidence.'

'I can't wait to meet her,' says Tom. 'Especially now you've told us she's just like her grandmother. Juliet was a real looker. We all lusted after her. Sad about poor old Mike, though. I wonder if Juliet will come back home now he's dead.'

'Hardly likely,' says Cass. 'They must've been out there for forty years. Why should she come back? Especially if Jess's father is dead, too. What a tragedy. Poor Jess.'

'She told me that her father and Mike didn't get on,' says Kate. 'That's why her father came back to England as soon as he left school to join the army. I have to say she's a quite brilliant artist and a really sweet girl.'

'I'm looking forward to meeting her,' says Oliver.

'We'll have a thrash,' says Tom. 'Introduce her to old Johnnie and show her where it all happened back in the day. She can meet Lady T and Sophie.'

'She used to terrify me,' says Kate. 'Lady T, I mean. After Mark and I divorced she'd cut me if she saw me in the town, but Johnnie was always the same.'

'Johnnie's an absolute darling,' says Cass quickly, trying to pretend that Kate hasn't used the 'd' word. Now Tom will get moody and distracted, thinking about Gemma and Guy, and Oliver will probably wind him up just for the fun of it.

'Anyway,' Kate is hurrying on, aware of the same danger, 'I can't wait to introduce you to Jess. It'll be fun for her to meet some of her grandparents' friends.'

'So when is she arriving?' asks Oliver. He is intrigued by Kate's description of Jess and her rather bleak little history. 'I think I'll hang around so that she has some younger company. Oh, I know you were a bunch of swingers "back in the day" –' he beams at his father – 'but even so ...'

'Next week, I hope. She really likes the idea of spending some time down here so I'm getting Chapel Street ready for her. I'm hoping to be staying there myself from Tuesday, once the furniture turns up. Then I can leave you in peace.'

'You can stay here for as long as you like,' says Cass. 'You know that.'

Kate smiles at her, and between them is a lifetime of friendship and love, shared terrors and silly jokes, and an underlying continuum of mutual support.

Surely, Cass thinks, even Guy and Gemma's divorce couldn't alter this relationship – could it? And why, she asks herself crossly, did it have to be Mark? All those years ago Kate could have had her pick. She could have chosen Johnnie or Freddy; at the Trehearnes' party, where everything started, Kate, Johnnie and Fred had been inseparable. Why had she chosen Mark?

Cass gets up to make coffee. She fills the kettle, pushes it onto the hotplate and, as she waits for the kettle to boil, she can see in her mind's eye the groups of people having tea in the sea garden, Kate arriving flanked by Johnnie and Fred, and she can feel Tom's hand gripping her elbow as he leans close to whisper: 'Kate's scored.'

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from The Sea Garden by Marcia Willett. Copyright © 2012 Marcia Willett. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Title Page,
Copyright Notice,
Dedication,
Prologue,
Tavistock,
Tamar,
Tavistock,
Tamar,
Tavistock,
Tamar,
Tavistock,
Tamar,
Tavistock,
Tamar,
Tavistock,
Tamar,
Also by Marcia Willett,
Copyright,

Editorial Reviews

With agile inventiveness and cunning insight, Willett (Christmas in Cornwall, 2012) delicately explores the ephemeral nature of time and its effect on love and friendship.” —Booklist

“A satisfying multigenerational novel...Willett constructs a tangled web of past loves, lies and infidelities and then slowly straightens the threads, revealing how past events impact family members three generations later.” —Kirkus Reviews

From the Publisher