And I see your true colours
Shining through
I see your true colours
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colours
True colours are beautiful,
Like a rainbow...

Billy Steinberg and Tom Kelly

Previously…

‘I—I’ve changed my mind, I want to fight for what’s mine. Could we get an investigator to find out what has been going on behind my back? If she wants a fight then she will get one. I want to start my life afresh, but until this is out of the way, I can’t live in peace. Anyway if I win, it might help pay for my cottage. ’

Whoever said I can’t be assertive and make decisions?

And now the story continues…

Sitting outside the Copper Kettle on the quayside, drinking coffee, I reflected on my meeting with Katie.

She seemed somewhat surprised at my about-face regarding the divorce. She wanted to establish that I was making the right decision and went over the consequences several times.

The quay was jam-packed with holidaymakers and I wondered if any of them had problems like I did. Then I smiled at my self-centredness. Everybody had problems–even down to that little kid who had dropped his ice cream and started screaming for another one.

Katie had tried to dissuade me from going down the messy route, divorce-wise but when she saw that this girl was not for turning, she leaned back in her chair and smiled.

‘Well, I’ve done my job explaining the pitfalls and wanted to test your resolve. That’s why I was a bit heavy with you; I’m delighted to say you passed with flying colours. For the record, I’m absolutely sure you made the right decision. You have a right to a share in the matrimonial home and any other property that was received, given or bought during your marriage. I will make a few enquiries and we’ll go from there. Does your wife have a solicitor?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I’ll write to her asking for the details and informing her of your intention to divorce her. Also, I have a private investigator friend who lives in London: she has done some discreet work for me in the past and this sort of thing is right up her street. Leave things with me and I’ll set the ball rolling. Also, I’ll prepare the paperwork regarding your name change, so it’s Samantha Smart; any middle name?’

I thought for a moment and then remembered what my mother said to me once regarding what I would be called, had I been born a girl.

‘Katharine, with a K and A R in the middle.’

‘That’s a lovely name; so it’s Samantha Katharine Smart–it has a pleasant ring to it.’

I thought so too.

Sipping my drink, I smiled. Katie was a nice woman and very friendly. None of your cold, formal handshakes after the interview; a kiss on the cheek and a hug followed by a promise to meet up some time for a girlie chat–now that’s a solicitor that I could be friends with.

‘May I sit here?’

I looked up and saw that it was a man, youngish about twenty-five or so. There weren’t many free seats so I just smiled and nodded.

I continued my people watching as he ordered a cold drink from the waiter.

‘Hot, isn’t it?’

I looked at him, and smiled.

‘Yes, very.’

‘Here on holiday?’

‘No, I live here.’

I had a warm squishy feeling in my tummy when I said that. I did live here and I loved it.

‘I’m here on holiday. It’s a lovely place isn’t it?’

‘Wonderful.’

‘I’m Stuart.’

‘Hello, Stuart.’

‘Yes, I rented a cottage around the other side of the bay; it’s a lovely view from there.’

‘Yes, there are beautiful views all around the bay, you should walk along the coastal path, there are some gorgeous spots up there.’

I looked at him. He was quite good looking with dark hair hazel eyes, smallish nose and a rakish smile. He was quite thin but looked like he was fit and worked out a lot. What did jar my senses was that he was wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt flying open to show a hairy chest (yeuch) and tight six-pack with tight shorts presumably to show how well endowed he is down below.

I quickly put on my sunglasses as the glare from his shirt threatened to eclipse the sun.

His drink arrived and he took a sip. ‘So, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a lovely place like this?’

I looked at him incredulously.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Mmm, that reaches the spot,’ he sighed after taking another sip of his drink. ‘I'm sorry, I didn’t catch your name?’

‘That was because I didn’t tell you.’

‘Maybe, you’d like to have dinner with me tonight. I know I’m being terribly forward; sorry about that, but I’m a bit impulsive, and I know we would get on like a house on fire.’

‘Well that would be a big problem here because the fire brigade is based about ten miles away; so thanks, but no thanks. I’m afraid I have to go now; nice to meet you.’

‘But–’

I stood up and, with a wave, strode off down the quayside.

I was soon hidden by the throng so I slowed down and just strolled along, smiling to myself. I reckoned I must be reasonably passable as I had just foiled an attempt at being picked up by a guy. I was aware of the signs: he wasn’t just chatting me up, he wanted something more–much more than I was willing to give.

I went down the steps quaintly called Granny’s Teeth* and found a quiet spot on the beach by some rocks. The sand around my toes felt gorgeous and as I looked out to sea, I wished I could go sailing like that couple in the boat about a hundred yards out in the cove. It must be really exhilarating.

I wondered if Stuart had picked up anyone else yet? He seemed nice but more than a bit over the top. He certainly needed to brush up on his chat up lines–corny or what? I wasn’t into men and anyway even if I was, I was going through what is clearly going to be a messy divorce and the last thing I wanted was man complications.

Thinking of sex, reminded me of good times in and out of bed with Olivia. I wondered if she enjoyed things as much as I did or was that all a sham too?

My ’phone chirped; it was Millie, the estate agent.

‘Hi, Millie.’

‘Hello, Sam, look, all the paperwork’s sorted out. I pulled a few strings and then let Mr Mogg stare down my cleavage until he signed the docs and agreed that you can move in when you’re ready. In theory, the money won’t be in his account until early next week, but I don’t think that he’s bothered about that, he was more interested in something else–dirty old man and him 85 and all.’

‘I call that dedication beyond the bounds of duty,’ I replied and we both laughed; I wondered if there was something in the water here. It certainly wasn’t bromide.

‘Look I have to shoot off–I’ve got to go and see man about a potting shed. ’Bye.’

Potting shed? I wondered if that was another way of saying “see a man about a dog”?

I replaced my phone in my bag and leant back against the warm rocks, closing my eyes and letting the heat seep into me. So much had happened in the last few days that I hadn’t had time to think.

I had discovered my wife in bed with someone else and ran off down to the wilds of Devon. Then I had been taken in by a lovely family in a location that was idyllic. I had managed to find a cottage which was gorgeous and just ideal for me to be able to use as a studio. Yes, I had begun a new life, was divorcing my wife, acquired some real friends and had just avoided being picked up by a man. Not bad for a few days. I kind of wished that I could have breather so I could recharge my batteries.

I must have fallen asleep, because I was suddenly jolted awake by someone licking my foot. My eyes snapped open and there was Sandy, looking at me with expectant eyes. At her feet was a well used frisbee and I knew what that was for. Glancing around, I noticed Jen and Phillipa running towards me, wearing swimming cozzies that were wet.

‘Hi, Samantha, fancy a swim?’ Jen asked chirpily.

‘Don’t be silly, Jen, she can’t swim in a dress.’ Phillipa retorted.

‘Well she might be wearing a cozzy under it. I don’t–’

‘–Girls, girls, don’t argue over me. Are you having a nice time?’

‘Yes,’ replied Phil, ‘it’s like great on the beach.’

‘Why aren’t you at school?’

‘Half day, teachers meeting or something. Sandy, don’t do that–it’s not nice! Look, see you later. Jen you get the frisbee and I’ll throw it…’

They dashed off down the beach squealing and shouting, leaving me smiling and maybe a bit shell-shocked. I wondered where the other dogs were, probably too lazy in this heat to do anything remotely like exercise: I knew how they felt.

Yawning, I looked at my watch; it was nearly two o’clock, where had the time gone?

I got up, brushed the sand off my dress, picked up my bag and sandals and ambled to the steps leading to the quay. I sat on the bottom “tooth”, removed the sand from between my toes and, after putting on my sandals, I climbed the steps to the quay. On an impulse I decided that instead of going to the vicarage, I would go to the cottage so, as I was feeling a bit peckish, I bought a sandwich and a bottle of orange juice to have when I got home. Home, a splendid word that. I had only just rented the place and I was already calling it home.

A few minutes later, I let myself into the cottage and went upstairs to the studio. Pulling open the doors, I put a rather rickety wooden chair on the small balcony and carefully sat on it.

As I munched my sandwich, I surveyed the scene before me. The first thing that I would paint would be the view from here, I thought as I gazed down at the village and everything below.

There was a gentle breeze that felt cool and refreshing against my lightly clothed body. Looking down at the dress, it reminded me that I needed to go shopping in town and I wondered if Jocasta fancied going, perhaps tomorrow. Then a puff of wind blew a few stray hairs across my eyes, reminding me that I had agreed to go to the salon with her. It seemed that things were going to be busy for me over the next few days.

My ’phone chirped. I always jumped when that happened as I never knew if it might be Olivia or her frightful father. But it was Dawn–my sister.

‘Hello?’

‘Tom?’

‘Dawn, is that really you?’

‘Yes, it’s me,’ she laughed, ‘how are you?’

‘I—I’m okay.’

‘Your voice sounds different–higher.’

‘Yes.’

‘Look, we haven’t spoken for a while, have we?’

‘No, I’m sorry about that, it’s my fault.’

‘Not really–I just couldn’t abide Olivia and I’m afraid I took it out on you. I’ve just had a very strange phone call from her. She wanted to know where you were, so I said I hadn’t a clue. She told me that you had some problems but wouldn’t go into it. What’s wrong, Tom?

I thought for a moment but didn’t want to talk about it on the ’phone, preferring to tell her face to face.

‘I can’t really speak about it much just now, but can we meet up?’

‘Where are you?’

‘Penmarris.’

‘Gorgeous place: I took the kids there last year. D’you want to meet there?’

‘What about the kids? What I have to say…well, it could be awkward.’

‘No prob. They’re with Nanny and Granddad for a couple of days and hubby’s away on boring business so I’m free as a bird for the next few days.’

‘When can you come then?’

‘Well, you’re only an hour’s drive away, so shall I throw a few things in a case and come? I’m sure I can put up somewhere.’

‘That would be wonderful; do you know the Toad and Tart?’

She laughed. ‘Yes; great pub with a great name. Shall we meet at say, sixish?’

‘Fantastic. See you then.’

Dawn seemed to hesitate.

‘You’re dressed as a girl aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thought so; I could always tell; your voice is different when you dress. This is all a bit heavy isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’ I sniffed.

‘Okay, hon, I’ll see you soon, ’Byeee.’

‘Mmm. ’Bye.’

I switched off my ’phone. Here was I, all happy at finding a new life and everything and yet I was still hurting so badly from my marriage break up. I wondered how long it would take for the ache in my heart to go away.

---

To Be Continued...

The Cove By Liz Wright

Please leave comments...thanks! ~Sue

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing and pulling the story into shape.

_________________________
* Granny’s Teeth actually exist on the Cobb at Lyme Regis in Dorset.
See: http://onedog.co.uk/dorsetdays/lyme_regis_dorset_the_cobb.htm