Page 10 of Welcome to the Cornish Country Hospital

‘That’s on my bucket list for when I retire too.’ Maybe Gwen had a point about making the most of the time while she was stuck in hospital, and losing herself in a book might even take her mind off the missing letter for a little while. Although she very much doubted she’d be able to concentrate on anything until that piece of paper was safely back in her hands. ‘What would you recommend?’

‘I’ve just finishedLady Chatterley’s Loverand last night I startedEmmanuelle, but then I like my books like I like my life. A little bit racy.’ Gwen grinned, but it was clear she wasn’t joking, and for the first time Connie smiled too. She still wasn’t sure whether she really did know Gwen from somewhere, but she knew already liked her. It was hard to place her age, but the other woman was still attractive, with shoulder-length blonde hair and a twinkle in the blue eyes that were trained on Connie. She clearly wasn’t conforming to the stereotype of a woman over sixty and Connie felt certain Gwen would know exactly who Led Zeppelin were too.

‘I’ve readLady Chatterley’s Loverbefore.’ There was a phase – after Richard – when Connie had read every book she could find about star-crossed lovers, searching for a happy ending, to give her some hope that things could work out.Lady Chatterley’s Loverhad held a particular appeal, given that the heroine was also called Connie. But that was the problem with forbidden love – it never ended happily, and real life had certainly mirrored fiction in that respect.

‘I reckon Mellors is worth a revisit; your namesake certainly thought so.’ Gwen smiled again. ‘But I’m happy to pick up any kind of book you’d like. Or I’ve got magazines here, everything from theAngling TimestoMy Weekly. Just take your pick.’

‘What I really need is some writing paper and a pen.’

‘That doesn’t sound like relaxing to me.’ Gwen raised her eyebrows. ‘But if that’s what you want, I’ve got some notelets on the trolley, but we’ve got some proper writing paper down in the shop. I can nip back down there and get you some?’

‘Thank you. I don’t think notelets are suitable for the sort of letter I want to send.’ Connie wasn’t even sure what she was going to say in the new letter to Richard, but she’d always found writing cathartic and it certainly felt more productive than sitting around and waiting.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Gwen looked at her and to Connie’s surprise she realised she did. When the nurses had questioned her about the letter, the last thing she’d wanted to do was share any information, but there was something different about Gwen, and it was driving her mad wondering whether Richard already had the letter. She needed someone to talk to and for some reason Gwen seemed like the right person. She was around the same age as Connie and wouldn’t fall over in surprise at the idea of someone her age having had a past. Sometimes young people seemed to think they’d invented love. And sex.

‘I need to write to an old friend. I’ve already written him one letter, but I don’t think I put what needed to be said in the right way. When I had the accident, I gave the letter to one of the doctors to give to Richard, and now I don’t even know where it is. I need to write another one, explaining things more clearly. But I don’t know where to start.’ If Gwen was still following all of this, she was doing well, because it felt really mixed up, even in Connie’s own head.

‘What do you want to tell him? I always think being honest and upfront is the best policy, although sometimes I do get told off for it.’ Gwen pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. ‘Maybe talking it through will help you work out the best way to explain things to Richard. I’m happy to be a sounding board if you think that might be useful?’

‘I can’t hold you up.’ A frisson of nerves was already gripping Connie’s insides, but Gwen was right. She needed to say it out loud to make sense of it herself, before she had a hope of explaining it all to Richard.

‘That’s the great thing about being a volunteer; I don’t have to answer to anyone. Just tell me as much or as little as you want, and I promise I won’t judge you for any of it. After over forty-five years as a midwife, I think I’ve heard everything.’

Connie sighed and closed her eyes as she began to speak. ‘Richard was thirty-one and I’d just turned thirty. We weren’t stupid kids and we should have known better.’ Logic had gone out of the window the first time Richard had looked at her, and when he’d touched her, she’d been lost to any reason. Otherwise she’d never have let herself fall as hard as she had, knowing all the time that it couldn’t lead anywhere. ‘I was down in Port Kara for the summer. Working at the university meant summers could seem endless, and back then I had ambitions of writing a classic novel of my own. I’d always loved history, because it felt more like listening to stories than having to work, like I did for all the other subjects. I had an idea for a story about evacuees sent to Cornwall in World War Two. So I rented a house three roads from the beach and I could almost feel it pulsing in the air, this urge to get words on the page. It was like the town itself was telling me a story. I couldn’t type fast enough and that first week alone I’d written more than fifty pages. When I wasn’t writing, I was walking. Hours spent on the beach, listening to the breeze as it whispered the next part of the story. You probably think I sound crazy.’

‘No, I don’t!’ Gwen’s response was emphatic. ‘It sounds like the ability to harness magic, and not the sort me and my Barry do.’

Connie furrowed her brow, wondering what she might be about to hear, but then Gwen shrugged. ‘Barry the Magic Man and the Great Gwendini have got nothing on you!’

As Connie laughed, some of the tension immediately lifted. If Gwen’s intention was to put her at her ease, it was working. She’d been accused more than once of taking herself too seriously, so Gwen was probably the perfect person to share her story with. ‘Oh, I don’t know, I think the Great Gwendini might have more magical powers than you think, because the only other person I’ve told everything to before is my sister.’

‘In that case I’m honoured, but you don’t have to tell me anything else if you don’t want to.’

‘No, I do.’ Connie breathed out. ‘It was on one of those walks when I met Richard. I didn’t think those bolt-of-lightning feelings that only exist in romance novels were real. But then I saw him, and it just hit me. I could tell straight away he felt it too. For a few minutes I actually lost the ability to speak.’

Gwen was leaning forward now, her attention focused, but she wasn’t saying anything and Connie was grateful. Now that she’d started, she just wanted to get it out. ‘I dropped my sunglasses on the sand and we both bent down to pick them up. His hand touched mine and it was like every cliché in every love story I read as a teenager. It was pure electric. I wasn’t some innocent kid, there’d been others before Richard, but within twenty minutes we were back at the house I was renting. I didn’t ask then if he was free to be with me, because I knew it wouldn’t matter what his answer was. Maybe everything that happened after the summer was over was my punishment for rushing in the way only fools ever do.’

‘He had someone else?’ Gwen was looking at her, but she’d kept her promise. There wasn’t a hint of judgement in either her face or her voice.

‘He was engaged, but he didn’t love her.’ Connie shook her head. ‘Oh, I know you’re probably thinking that’s the oldest line in the book, but she didn’t love him either. They both came from farming families and their farms were having trouble staying afloat. It was more of a business merger than a relationship, but Richard and Fiona felt a huge sense of responsibility. I knew he’d never choose me over his duty. Instead, I told myself the summer would be enough. I wanted to be with Richard every second he had spare and, as I got to know him, I realised our connection was a million miles away from being just physical. That’s when things got tough. If it had been just that, walking away at the end of the summer would have been so much easier. But as it was it broke my heart.’

Gwen put a hand on her chest, almost as if she could feel the heartbreak Connie had experienced back then. ‘I can’t believe he didn’t ask you to stay.’

‘He did.’ The memory of it could still take Connie’s breath away. ‘But I knew he’d regret it if he lost the farm and everything his family had worked generations for. So I said it was over and that it was only ever a summer fling for me, but it was a lie. I loved him, I never stopped and no one else has even come close.’

‘And that’s what you want to tell him?’

‘I need to. I don’t know if he and Fiona are gloriously happy with six kids and twenty-eight grandchildren, but it’s like it’s burning inside me. I’ve kept it hidden for all these years, but I need him to know.’

‘Just tell him that and, if you haven’t already done so, for God’s sake finish that book you were writing! It would be straight on my list of must-read novels.’ Gwen smiled again; she made it all sound so easy.

‘But what if he and Fiona are still together?’

‘Then tell him you need him to know you always loved him, and that the summer meant a lot you. After that you wish him and Fiona well and walk away again. You’ve done it once and you can do it again.’ Gwen almost had her believing she could. ‘At least that way the burning urge to tell him the truth might finally ease off, and you can get on with the rest of your life. And if he’s not with Fiona any more, well, who knows where it could lead? If you tell me his second name, I can probably find out in five minutes whether he’s still married.’

‘I’ve sat at my computer a thousand times wanting to do that. To type his name into the search engine and find out if Fiona is still a part of his life, but it’s not as simple as that and telling him I love him is only part of what he needs to know. If he discovers what else I haven’t told him, there’s a very good chance that any happy memories he has of that summer will be gone forever, and he’ll hate me as much as I still love him.’

‘What secret could possibly be that bad?’ Gwen leant forward again, and the silence seemed to go on for an eternity before Connie finally took a deep breath.

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