So she was going to have to learn.
With a deep breath, Juliet prepared to answer their objections – which would have been a lot easier if they weren’t all reasonably based on her past behaviour.
‘Firstly, I said I’m staying a couple of weeks and I mean it. I won’t just up and leave without warning.’ Partly because returning to London would mean running the risk of bumping into Callum and his wife, living happily ever after. ‘Secondly, I’m used to early mornings. I mean, I have to get up at six in London to make my train in to the office. Here, my commute is just down a flight of stairs.’
Miranda and Leo might not look completely convinced, but they were listening. Encouraged, Juliet pressed on. She couldn’t tell them exactly why she wouldn’t be going to parties or staying up drinking for the next however many months, but she could remind them of one vital fact they seemed to perpetually overlook.
‘Most importantly, I’m not a teenager any more. I’m a fully functioning adult who understands the concept of responsibility. I know it’s hard for you to stop seeing me as the baby of the family, but I can do this. And until Mum and Dad come back, I’m your best option, OK? Especially since this is my home too.’ Even if she hadn’t always appreciated that until now.
Miranda and Leo exchanged another look, and Juliet sighed. It still wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough. Like always.
She gave it one last shot. ‘I know running a place like this is a lot of work. And I know I won’t be able to do it entirely by myself – we’re all going to have to pitch in, like we always did. But if we work together . . . I can coordinate it all. I can take charge this time, I promise. Just let me try, OK?’
She needed this. She needed to prove to them – and to herself – that she could do it. She could be responsible and patient and competent and reliable, and everything else she’d need to be every day once this baby was born.
If she could mother the Lighthouse and all its hypothetical guests for the summer, she could manage a child, right?
If they’d just let her try.
‘OK,’ Miranda said, after a long pause, and Leo nodded his agreement. ‘If you’re sure you want to do it.’
‘I really do,’ Juliet said, fervently.
Even if it meant staying on Seashell Island all summer and facing up to all those old ghosts she’d left behind. It could be good for her.
Maybe this time, when she left, she’d be moving on for real. Ready to start her proper new life – as a mother.
MESSAGES
Miranda (to Mum & Dad group): Hope you’re having lots of fun on your adventures. I wouldn’t cuddle too many koalas though, they tend to be a little bit . . . diseased, according to my research. Also, if you want to get a parrot I’d wait until you get home to avoid issues with quarantine and pet passports etc. Speaking of which . . . do you know when you are coming home yet? Only there’s quite a lot going on here. Would be good to talk to you about it all if you could call, next time you’re in port?
Dad (to Mum & Dad group): Your mother thinks all parrots have to be called Polly. I’m thinking Persephone. What do you think?
Mum (to Mum & Dad group): Glad you’ve got everything in hand! Off to sea for a week or so now, but will call when we’re on land again. And OBVIOUSLY a parrot has to be called Polly.
MIRANDA
By first thing on Monday morning, three things had happened – two unexpected, one sadly not.
Firstly, Juliet had fully taken on the role of Lighthouse B&B manager, with a clipboard and pen, and fresh sheets for all the guests they didn’t have yet. That was the most unexpected thing, because Miranda had fully anticipated Juliet coming down to breakfast on Sunday morning and telling them both she’d changed her mind, she didn’t want to do it, and actually this fun opportunity had just come up in London or Edinburgh, or Australia, for that matter, and she was off to take advantage of it.
At least she came by her flakiness honestly. Just look at their parents.
Secondly, Leo had taken the girls out for a bike ride. That was unexpected because Miranda couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her brother on a bike, and given the way Abby and Mia had stared wide-eyed as he’d wobbled up and down the drive, neither could they. She’d half expected him to beg her or Juliet to look after the girls while he worked, but instead he’d packed water bottles and snacks, loaded the girls up onto the ancient bikes from the shed round the back, found helmets that just about fitted them all, and headed off to explore the island.
Miranda did wonder, though, if they might be back sooner than expected when Leo realised how little of Seashell Island had 4G reception.
The one, totally expected – and dreaded – thing, came about as Miranda walked to work that morning. In fact, she’d barely made it to the high street before she was enveloped in the strongly perfumed embrace of her ex-mother-in-law-to-be.
‘Miranda, cariad!’ Gwendolyn Stone was a cuddly and loving, if slightly overbearing woman, who had welcomed Miranda into their family life – mostly, Miranda suspected, because she gave Paul a reason to come home to Seashell Island after university and stay there. ‘What’s all this nonsense Paul has been spouting about moving to the mainland?’
Miranda forced her mouth into a smile, although she was sure it looked more like a grimace. ‘I really don’t know, Gwen. You’d have to ask him. I was as astonished as anyone when he told me.’
Gwen’s self-satisfied expression made her look like a small child tattling to the teacher. ‘I told Nigel this wouldn’t be your doing. You’re a sensible girl. What would you want to go leaving Seashell Island for?’
‘I don’t,’ Miranda confirmed. ‘But apparently Paul does, so . . .’
Gwen gasped. ‘Oh, but cariad, you have to talk him out of it! He’ll listen to you. He always has! When he wanted to go work for that company in the city after graduation it was you who persuaded him to move back here and go to work for Barry’s firm instead. I’m sure you can persuade him again, can’t you?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t think Paul wants to listen to me any more, Gwen,’ Miranda said, gently. ‘That’s why he broke up with me.’
Gwen’s eyes widened to take over half her rounded face. ‘Oh, but he didn’t! He told me that you didn’t want to move to the mainland so you ended it!’
Of course he did. ‘I think Paul had already made the decision that we were over before he told me about the new job. He didn’t even ask me to go with him.’
Because he knew I wouldn’t go. And because he wanted to.
That was a thought that had been bothering her all weekend. How long had Paul been wanting to leave Seashell Island, and her? Had this been festering ever since she convinced him they should stay on the island? Was he already thinking about leaving when he proposed? Or the day after his university graduation when he came home at last? Did he always hope she’d change her mind about staying here?
Or had the reality of the future ahead of them – one looking very like his own parents, she supposed – eventually got too much for him?
Either way, she understood now why they’d never managed to agree and set a wedding date. There had always been something else going on: Not next summer, there’s a big work trip I’ll need to take. Not the spring, that’s my busiest time. Not autumn, it’ll rain. Christmas weddings are so tacky, don’t you think?
All those excuses had meant the same thing: Paul didn’t want to commit to this life, in this place, with this woman. Her.
‘I can’t believe he’d do this.’ There were fat tears running over Gwen’s cheeks now, firing off like a sprinkler system as she shook her head with violent disbelief. ‘You two have been together forever! It was meant to be!’
Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.
But had she? Miranda stopped, her thoughts suddenly swirling, coalescing around a strange new idea. Had she really believed t
hat they were meant to be? Or had she made them inevitable, because their relationship gave her what she really wanted: a reason to stay on Seashell Island?
Had she ever really given Paul a say in it at all?
No, that wasn’t it. Maybe he’d gone along with her plans because that was easiest, because it involved the least conflict. But if he wasn’t happy with them then it was on him for not speaking up.
Until now. When he was apparently shouting his unhappiness to the world.
‘Miranda! Is it true?’ Becca, wearing her work apron, rushed across the road from the Crab Leg Cafe. ‘I thought there was something wrong when I saw you two at the cafe on Friday, but then I spoke to Paul in the Anchor last night and he said you’d split up and I just couldn’t believe it!’
‘Believe it,’ Miranda said, sending Gwen into a fresh fit of sobs. ‘He dumped me.’
Becca raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? The way he told it, it was more of a mutual decision.’
Because he doesn’t want to look like the bad guy. Island politics were complicated, but if it came down to picking sides, Paul must know that a man who dumped his fiancée and left the island to run off to the mainland was never going to get as much sympathy as the heartbroken guy who just couldn’t bear to stay on Seashell Island after the demise of a long-term relationship.
She didn’t want to cause trouble for Paul, not really. Not when she was finally seeing clearly that he was right – that she had only stayed with him because it was easy. But the truth was he had dumped her, whatever he was saying now.
She was just trying to come up with a version of events that suited everybody, and might make Gwen stop crying, when Christabel appeared behind her and blew that plan out of the water.
‘Nope. He blindsided her in the Crab Leg Cafe with the news that he was moving to the mainland for a new job, and he didn’t even ask her to go with him.’ Christabel put an arm around Miranda’s shoulder. ‘Can you believe it?’
‘Wow.’ Becca looked gratifyingly astonished. ‘And you’re just going to—’
‘Go to work, yes,’ Miranda interrupted. She could see another small group of people across the road talking and glancing over in her direction. She wasn’t sure she could face any more questions this morning. At least at the office, she was more likely to be bothered by people complaining that the Wi-Fi in their cottage wasn’t working than locals wanting to know the ins and outs of her love life.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to take some time off?’ Gwen sniffled. ‘I’m sure Nigel would understand. And maybe you and Paul could talk some more—’
‘I think Paul and I have been talking in circles for long enough,’ Miranda said, decisively. Five years of being engaged without ever setting a date. Not to mention the years of dating before that.
She was done. She didn’t know what happened next – and that kind of terrified her – but with so much else on her plate right now, rehashing things with Paul wasn’t on the agenda.
‘Now, if you’ll both excuse me . . .’ With a last smile for Gwen and Becca, Miranda let Christabel lead her past them towards the office, ready to get on with her day. Starting with hopefully finding some guests for the Lighthouse.
See? She had more important things to focus on than the wedding dress mouldering in the Lighthouse attic bedroom anyway.
‘You OK to make it all the way to the office?’ Christabel asked, once they were out of earshot.
‘I think I can make the length of the high street alone,’ Miranda assured her.
‘Good. And remember: if anyone asks, you’re excited about the new opportunities ahead of you!’ Christabel backed her way across the road, ignoring the oncoming traffic. ‘Oh, and you might have a visitor later this morning!’
‘What? Who?’ But Christabel was gone, in a chorus of car horns and seagulls, heading towards the Long Beach. ‘Great,’ Miranda muttered. ‘More surprises.’
She had to fend off two other concerned island citizens before she reached the Seashell Holiday Cottages’ office. Apparently, Paul’s campaign not to be the bad guy was in full force, as both of them asked if she might not reconsider in order to keep Seashell Island’s favourite son at home.
‘A wife is supposed to support her husband’s career, you know,’ Mrs Kendle said, sagely, and Miranda only just about managed not to point out that Mrs Kendle’s own husband had worked overseas for their entire marriage before coming home to retire and spend all his days on the golf course. ‘I’m sure he could commute from wherever his new office is back to Seashell Island if you gave him a good enough reason to.’
And that was what it would all come down to in the end, Miranda knew; no matter how hard she fought the accepted narrative: she hadn’t worked hard enough to make him want to stay.
Never mind that he’d decided to go, that he wanted to live somewhere other than Seashell Island, that he was the one who’d postponed a wedding for five bloody years. Somehow, this would all be her fault.
She loved Seashell Island, really she did. But in the same way that everyone there would be thrilled to see Leo and Juliet home for the summer, Paul would become the prodigal son who everyone would miss the most.
And she’d be the one who stayed. Again.
Wrenching open the office door after finally getting rid of Mrs Kendle, Miranda flipped the kettle on angrily before taking a breath and deciding that maybe a green tea might be best this morning.
‘Ah. Miranda . . .’ She jumped, and spun round to find her boss, Paul’s father, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. Of course. Who else would be here so early? And who else would have opened up the office? She’d been in such a rush to get away from Mrs Kendle she hadn’t even registered that it was unlocked.
‘Nigel! You surprised me.’ Hand on her chest, she felt her heart rate start to slow again. ‘Do you want a coffee?’
‘Ah, actually . . . I was wondering if I could have a word.’
Miranda tried not to groan out loud. ‘You and half the town. I assume this is about your son deciding to leave Seashell Island?’
‘Um. Not exactly.’ Nigel shuffled from one foot to the other, and Miranda realised for the first time that he was sweating. What was going on here?
She put down the mug she was holding. ‘OK. What is it?’
‘I’m sure you’ve noticed that we, ah, haven’t been as busy this season as in previous years.’
‘The same goes for the whole island,’ Miranda pointed out. ‘Everyone is struggling.’ That made her think of the Lighthouse again, but she forced the thought away. One problem at a time. And right now, she needed to focus on the fact that her boss looked as if he might have a heart attack any minute.
‘I’m . . . I’m so sorry to do this, Miranda, especially after what’s happened with Paul, but I should have spoken to you about it weeks ago. You see, the thing is, once this summer is over . . . I think I’m going to have to close the office for the winter season. Maybe even give it up altogether. Gwen thinks we can run it from the house, you see, and, well, she might be right. Even if she isn’t, I can’t afford to keep renting this prime real estate without the numbers to back it up. And I can’t afford, well, you.’
Miranda blinked. ‘You’re firing me.’
‘No! Well. Sort of. But you’re welcome to work out your notice over the summer, if you’d like.’
‘You’re firing me.’ It hadn’t sunk in yet. She wasn’t sure it ever would; she’d worked for Nigel since she was sixteen. ‘But I’m the only person who does any work around here!’
‘Yes. Well. I suppose that Gwen and I will have to learn to take care of things ourselves.’
Good luck with that. ‘Right.’ She picked up her mug again. Then her handbag. ‘Well, I guess you’d better start now, then, hadn’t you?’
‘You . . . you don’t want to stay to work this summer?’ Nigel asked, a little desperately.
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Miranda considered. In the past few days, this family had taken away everything she took for granted: her relationship, her career, her future.
If ever she’d needed a sign that it was time to find a new path, this was it.
‘No,’ she said, and walked out of the kitchen – only to find a tall, well-built man with his back to her leafing through the tourist information leaflets, his reflection in the shop window showing her the most incredibly good-looking man she’d ever seen in real life.
‘Hi,’ Miranda said, struggling to remember how the English language worked. ‘Um, welcome to Seashell Holiday Cottages. The boss will be out in a moment.’ She picked up the photo frame on her desk – then put it back again, as she realised it held a photo of her and Paul.
The man turned, even better-looking from the front than he’d looked in the reflection, with his hazel eyes and his dirty blond hair pulled back from his handsome face.
‘Are you Miranda? I’m Owain. Christabel sent me.’ He smiled, and said the magic words. ‘She said you’d be able to help my friends and me find somewhere to stay this summer. Preferably somewhere a little bit out of the way?’
Miranda thought of the fifteen-minute walk up the hill to the Lighthouse, glanced back at the kitchen, where Nigel appeared to be having a nervous breakdown on the phone to Gwen, and beamed.
‘I have just the place,’ she promised. ‘Follow me.’
LEO
There really was nothing to this multi-tasking lark, Leo decided. Yes, the 5 a.m. start had been a bit of a killer, but at least the coffee machine he’d insisted Mum and Dad buy for the Lighthouse was working and fully stocked with those pods Juliet said were killing the planet, so that helped. Well, three of those, plus the pre-made pain au chocolat Juliet dug out of the freezer as an attempt at the breakfast part in B&B. Caffeine, sugar and carbs: that was what was going to get him through this summer.
Summer on Seashell Island: Escape to an island this summer for the perfect heartwarming romance in 2020 (Riley Wolfe 1) Page 9
