out myself in this weather. Thank God April's round the corner. Cup of tea? Kettle's just boiled. No? Later then – lunch too, perhaps.’
Chapter Ten
‘My father was a doctor,’ Joe told her, ‘and his father before him. And so on. Right from the beginning. When Victorian Saltburn was thriving, they required the finest doctor around – so they perused the revered physicians from York to Durham and offered the position to my great-great-grandfather.’
They were standing at the foot of the valley, near the Cat Nab car park where the clear water of Skelton Beck is joined by the rust-coloured water of Saltburn Beck and they tumble out to sea. Tess and Joe were looking back up inland, both telling themselves that it was perfectly normal for the house-sitter to be out and about with the employer.
‘My dad lives in Spain,’ she said. ‘With his second wife. He's dodgy.’
‘Pardon?’
‘My dad. I don't really know what he does – career-wise. My grandmother used to tell me he “flew by the seat of his pants”. When I was little, I took this to mean that he had magical powers and the months he was AWOL I comforted myself imagining him flying to exotic lands – really flying, with no need for a magic carpet, his trousers sufficing.’
Joe smiled but curbed a chuckle – it was amusing but rather sad. He had to curb a stronger urge to tuck away the strand of hair caught across Tess's cheek. ‘Your mum?’
‘She remarried too. She lives in Florida. In a condo with a man called Merl.’
‘Do you visit?’
‘No. She comes back, once a year, to see my sister.’
‘And you,’ said Joe because he didn't like the way Tess had cut herself out of the equation.
‘Well, she stays with my sister who has a nice place in Edinburgh. And two children. I can't offer my mother anything close.’
‘But what about your Emmeline!’
Tess shrugged and looked downcast before visibly pulling herself together.
‘And your sister? Are you close?’
‘Claire's fifteen years older than me so no, we're not that close. Our lifestyles are very different. We don't really know each other.’
Joe was about to comment.
‘For example,’ Tess continued, ‘Christmas just gone, they went skiing. I mean, I don't ski, I couldn't have afforded the trip and I couldn't have gone with Em being so little. But I wasn't invited anyway. So it did mean I didn't have plans for Christmas.’
Joe thought about this. ‘Well, if it's any consolation, I was on my own too.’
‘Are your parents not around?’
‘Not around,’ he confirmed without further detail but also without the burning reticence he'd experienced when Tess had enquired about his family soon after she'd arrived.
Despite revealing the shortcomings of her family set-up, Joe thought she seemed particularly bright today. Or maybe it was because she was facing inland, with her back to the beach. Certainly there was no trace of her desolation last night.
‘See up there,’ Joe said, gesturing towards the valley, ‘that's the reason I'm not a doctor.’
The view was certainly picturesque, the perpetual sea breeze had caused the trees to point their branches inland. Tess looked, not quite sure on what she was meant to be focusing, so she nodded.
Her confused politeness touched Joe. ‘There used to be a bridge here – spanning the valley,’ he said. ‘The Halfpenny Bridge – or the Ha'penny Bridge. It was built in 1869 to link the other towns of Skelton and Loftus with Saltburn, to enable travellers to avoid the steep drop down to the sea and the arduous trek up the other side of the valley. The bridge rose 120 feet above the Valley Gardens and it was a fantastic piece of Victoriana. Seven cast-iron supports, ostentatious in height and length. Spectacular views of coast and country.’
‘Why Halfpenny?’ Tess asked. She might be looking at nothing but she could clearly envisage Joe's bridge now.
‘Pedestrians paid half a penny. Carriages sixpence.’
‘But where's it gone? Why isn't it
Chapter Ten
‘My father was a doctor,’ Joe told her, ‘and his father before him. And so on. Right from the beginning. When Victorian Saltburn was thriving, they required the finest doctor around – so they perused the revered physicians from York to Durham and offered the position to my great-great-grandfather.’
They were standing at the foot of the valley, near the Cat Nab car park where the clear water of Skelton Beck is joined by the rust-coloured water of Saltburn Beck and they tumble out to sea. Tess and Joe were looking back up inland, both telling themselves that it was perfectly normal for the house-sitter to be out and about with the employer.
‘My dad lives in Spain,’ she said. ‘With his second wife. He's dodgy.’
‘Pardon?’
‘My dad. I don't really know what he does – career-wise. My grandmother used to tell me he “flew by the seat of his pants”. When I was little, I took this to mean that he had magical powers and the months he was AWOL I comforted myself imagining him flying to exotic lands – really flying, with no need for a magic carpet, his trousers sufficing.’
Joe smiled but curbed a chuckle – it was amusing but rather sad. He had to curb a stronger urge to tuck away the strand of hair caught across Tess's cheek. ‘Your mum?’
‘She remarried too. She lives in Florida. In a condo with a man called Merl.’
‘Do you visit?’
‘No. She comes back, once a year, to see my sister.’
‘And you,’ said Joe because he didn't like the way Tess had cut herself out of the equation.
‘Well, she stays with my sister who has a nice place in Edinburgh. And two children. I can't offer my mother anything close.’
‘But what about your Emmeline!’
Tess shrugged and looked downcast before visibly pulling herself together.
‘And your sister? Are you close?’
‘Claire's fifteen years older than me so no, we're not that close. Our lifestyles are very different. We don't really know each other.’
Joe was about to comment.
‘For example,’ Tess continued, ‘Christmas just gone, they went skiing. I mean, I don't ski, I couldn't have afforded the trip and I couldn't have gone with Em being so little. But I wasn't invited anyway. So it did mean I didn't have plans for Christmas.’
Joe thought about this. ‘Well, if it's any consolation, I was on my own too.’
‘Are your parents not around?’
‘Not around,’ he confirmed without further detail but also without the burning reticence he'd experienced when Tess had enquired about his family soon after she'd arrived.
Despite revealing the shortcomings of her family set-up, Joe thought she seemed particularly bright today. Or maybe it was because she was facing inland, with her back to the beach. Certainly there was no trace of her desolation last night.
‘See up there,’ Joe said, gesturing towards the valley, ‘that's the reason I'm not a doctor.’
The view was certainly picturesque, the perpetual sea breeze had caused the trees to point their branches inland. Tess looked, not quite sure on what she was meant to be focusing, so she nodded.
Her confused politeness touched Joe. ‘There used to be a bridge here – spanning the valley,’ he said. ‘The Halfpenny Bridge – or the Ha'penny Bridge. It was built in 1869 to link the other towns of Skelton and Loftus with Saltburn, to enable travellers to avoid the steep drop down to the sea and the arduous trek up the other side of the valley. The bridge rose 120 feet above the Valley Gardens and it was a fantastic piece of Victoriana. Seven cast-iron supports, ostentatious in height and length. Spectacular views of coast and country.’
‘Why Halfpenny?’ Tess asked. She might be looking at nothing but she could clearly envisage Joe's bridge now.
‘Pedestrians paid half a penny. Carriages sixpence.’
‘But where's it gone? Why isn't it
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