A Light Between Oceans Episode 41
Lucas gazed out of the window of his hotel room, wishing it weren’t such a beautiful morning.
He had opened his eyes well before the alarm had gone off, and at once he’d felt as if a grey cloud had swept through his soul.
He wondered if he had fallen in love with Sandy the first day they’d met, when he startled her in the lobby of the hotel and she’d whirled round, her hair all in a tangle from the windy walk along the promenade.
He closed his eyes, trying to shut away the memory.
How could life play such a cruel trick?
Hattie had told him not to let pride overtake him and to listen to his heart. She didn’t understand.
It had been so humiliating, and he felt sick with the memory of learning that he was the son of a liar, a thief, and quite possibly a traitor.
How could he ever have a relationship with Sandy now?
He remembered the hurt in her beautiful eyes when they’d said goodbye yesterday evening at Hattie’s.
Perhaps she pitied him, but she couldn’t love him.
It was over.
He glanced at the clock – it was five-thirty a.m.
There was so much to organise: packing, arranging the air ticket, returning the hire car and planning out the work that was ahead of him once he was back in the office.
He supposed he’d better pay a call at the estate agency, too, so that nothing would be left up in the air.
The phone rang from reception.
“Yes?”
“There is a call for you from New York, sir.”
He groaned inside.
Mr Haverstock again.
He’d call him back when he’d gathered his wits and explain that he was planning to get an early flight tomorrow.
“Shall I put the gentleman through?”
Lucas hesitated for a moment, then realised that it was half past midnight in New York. How strange.
“Yes, thanks. Put him through.”
“Hello. Am I speaking to Mr Lucas Brook?”
Lucas felt his mouth go dry and his legs weak.
He sat down on the bed, the phone to his ear as he heard the gentle voice, so like his father’s.
“Finn, is that you? It’s Pieter Hoff.”
“Goodness. Mr Hoff, how did you . . .” Lucas trailed off, incredulous, as a childhood image flooded his mind, of his parents and Mr and Mrs Hoff crowded around the kitchen table in the cramped apartment in New York, playing Klaverjas.
“I contacted your employer, Finn,” Mr Hoff replied. “You have done well, my boy.
“When I explained why I needed to speak to you,
Mr Haverstock was only too pleased to tell me.
“And I did remember to call you Lucas.”
He chuckled softly and it had the same musical lilt that Lucas remembered.
“But Finn is a good Dutch name. And so is Van Bakkar.”
“But Mr Hoff, why have you phoned?”
“I gather you have found one of the paintings,” he declared, all humour gone.
For a moment Lucas simply sat, speechless.
“Yes, I have,” he replied at last. “How did you . . .?”
“I go into that gallery from time to time, and a few days ago I noticed it was gone,” Mr Hoff explained.
“When I enquired and found out that you had bought it, you can imagine my surprise,” he went on.
“Mr Hoff, I’m afraid I must tell you something very upsetting. I –”
“Ah, yes. So you know of the deception. How did you find out?”
“That the painting isn’t my father’s?” Lucas couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Yes, my boy. I was worried, you see, and though it pained me to break the promise I made to your father, I thought it best to warn you, but I see I am too late.”
“Mr Hoff, I don’t know where to begin . . .”
“This is how I feel, Finn. I have much to tell you . . .”
“Morning, darling. The kettle’s on.” Hattie smiled gently as Sandy walked into the kitchen.
There were dark circles under her eyes, and Hattie hoped she could somehow get some rest before she finally went back to London.
Hattie knew it would be her last visit for a long time.
In fact, would Sandy ever want to come back to Belmouth at all?
“Oh, Hattie, how did I ever feel so enthusiastic about the shop? All that fun I used to have just seems meaningless now.”
Hattie nodded.
“You’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster,” she reminded Sandy. “As time goes by, things will feel better.”
She put her arms around Sandy and was glad that her face was hidden, because Hattie wasn’t at all sure that what she was saying was true.
Sandy had been in love, and she still was.
“I wish I could just hand it over to my assistant and be done with it all,” Sandy said as Hattie stood back.
“It’s lucky that Libby knows the ropes,” Hattie pointed out. “You have so much experience and creativity – maybe it’s time to think about a career change.”
“But what could I do? Nothing appeals to me at all.”
“You need time to heal.”
Hattie surveyed Sandy, then made a decision. It was as good a time as any.
“I have something to show you. Something I want you to have.”
Sandy looked up and Hattie smiled softly.
“It’s a beautiful morning. Why don’t you put some toast and coffee on a tray, and I’ll join you outside in a moment.”