Juliet looked at Leo, who stared back in shock.
‘OK,’ Juliet said. ‘I’m going to put the kettle on. Because between the three of us, it looks like we’ve got a lot more talking to do, and I need a peppermint tea.’
But as she headed towards the kitchen, she realised she felt better, lighter, than she had in weeks. Because finally she had two things she’d been missing.
Hope and faith.
Faith that between the three of them, the Waters siblings could figure this all out, and get the futures they all wanted. For themselves, for each other, for the Lighthouse – and for Seashell Island.
MIRANDA
One week later, on the last day of August, in the early hours of Friday morning, Miranda woke to the sound of her bedroom door opening.
She peered through bleary eyes in the darkness, and made out just enough details of the person entering to smile.
‘You’re late,’ she murmured, as Owain climbed into bed beside her. ‘We were expecting you back last night.’
‘Sorry.’ He kissed her shoulder, her neck, up towards her ear, and Miranda squirmed with pleasure. ‘There were some meetings that ran long yesterday. The rest of the band will be here later today, but I couldn’t wait to get back to you.’
That made her smile. And made her want to kiss him. So she did. Then his words caught up with her. ‘Meetings?’
‘I’ll tell you later,’ he mumbled, between more kisses, and Miranda decided she could wait for that information.
But not for everything. ‘Mmm.’ She pulled away. ‘Wait. Tell me how it went with the other bands. Did you persuade anyone else to come over and play for the festival?’ They’d been in contact all week, with Owain twisting arms and calling in favours from everyone he’d ever worked with, it seemed – all to make her festival happen. Their line-up wasn’t bad, but they could do with a few more acts to fill out the programme.
Owain groaned, but obviously realised his kisses weren’t going any further until she had some answers. ‘Yes. Three more definites, and one more who is trying to move some things around to make it.’
‘That’s fantastic! We’ve got a few local amateur bands – from the island and just over on the mainland – for the second stage too. What about the sound engineers?’
‘Ryan and Robyn can do a lot of it like we planned, and they’re bringing the last of the equipment we’ve hired with them when they come later – better have Rory’s van on standby for that, actually. But I got another couple of mates to agree to come too. Did the speakers and boards arrive?’
‘Yesterday,’ Miranda confirmed. ‘And all the staging. Plus a lot of people.’
‘Then everything’s ready?’
‘As ready as it can be right now.’ Which didn’t stop the nervous excitement racing through her. She’d never get back to sleep now, there was too much to do, too much to think about – too much that could still go wrong . . .
‘Good.’ Owain kissed her again, deep and long. ‘Because I have really, really missed you.’
And suddenly, miraculously, all of Miranda’s worries melted away for a while.
But not for too long. With just twenty-four hours left before the festival, there was far too much to do to linger in bed all day.
Miranda led Owain down the stairs, amused to see the astonishment on his face as he took in their little hive of activity.
The dining table had been taken over by Leo and his assistant Tom – who’d arrived on the ferry the day after their family meeting, after a very apologetic call from Leo – as Festival HQ. Josie’s best tablecloth had been cleared away and replaced by laptops, flyers, print-outs and empty coffee mugs. Juliet bustled through with a plate of bacon butties for all, handing one to Owain with a ‘welcome home’, and a kiss on the cheek.
‘Home?’ Owain mouthed at Miranda. She just shrugged. Filling him in on everything that had occurred around here in the last week had seemed less important in the early hours than welcoming him back properly, and now there was too much to do before the festival. She smiled a secret smile to herself. She hoped Owain would be pleased with all the changes and decisions she and her siblings had made. But she also wanted to find exactly the right moment to tell him about the biggest one of all . . .
‘Where’s Leo?’ she asked Tom, just as he took a huge bite of his bacon butty.
‘He and Christabel took the girls out for one last leafleting effort in town,’ Tom replied, spraying crumbs. ‘Those two munchkins are better than any advert I can buy on Facebook.’
‘They’re cuter, for a start,’ Miranda agreed.
But Tom shook his head. ‘Mia is a marketing mastermind. And even Abby has got the selling down pat. I heard Mia telling her sister not to make the poster she was drawing too perfect, because it would be more endearing if it looked more childish.’
Miranda grinned, even as Owain looked slightly shocked. ‘They’re Leo’s daughters, all right. I had a call from my ex-boss yesterday complaining about them.’
Tom raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought everyone on Seashell Island was behind this whole festival idea.’
‘Oh, they are,’ Miranda said. ‘But the girls had been out putting up flyers and talking to all the tourists who stopped to ask them about the festival, and suddenly Seashell Holiday Cottages was inundated by visitors asking if they could extend their stays just two more days so they could be here for the festival!’
‘That explains the sudden surge in ticket sales from our stock at the Crab Leg Cafe then,’ Tom said, sounding satisfied. ‘Maybe we should send them over to the mainland to leaflet there . . . I’m going to suggest it to Leo.’ He picked up the phone to call his boss, and Miranda turned away, leading Owain towards the kitchen, where Juliet was updating her ever-present list.
‘How’s it looking?’ Miranda asked.
Juliet, pencil stuck in her hair holding up her blonde curls, frowned at her notebook. ‘I think we’re almost there. But then I keep thinking that must mean we’re missing something.’
‘Want to talk through it with me?’ Miranda asked. ‘I mean, I’m sure you have everything in hand, but sometimes it helps to have a fresh eye?’ She turned to Owain. ‘Juliet has been a marvel organising the festival,’ she explained. ‘Without her connections for the food stalls, local and from the mainland, I don’t know what we’d have done. And her experience of organising street-food fairs and stuff was invaluable.’
Juliet was almost glowing at the praise – or maybe that was the pregnancy. Either way, Miranda was glad. She’d spent too many years not appreciating the talents her sister had, and now she was done focusing on her faults she found they were getting on much better.
‘I think I’ve got it, thanks,’ Juliet said. ‘But I’ll come find you if I think of anything we’re missing. Why don’t you go show Owain the festival site?’
‘Good idea.’ Looping a hand through Owain’s arm, she dragged him through the back door and out towards the fields they’d spent so many mornings tramping through together with a recalcitrant llama.
‘I’m guessing I missed some stuff this week?’ he said, as they approached the fields.
‘Just a bit,’ Miranda admitted. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll catch up.’
And then the festival site came into view, and he was too distracted to ask any more questions.
‘Wow.’ Owain looked around the field, taking everything in. ‘I knew you’d been working hard while I was away, but still. When did you find time to do all this?’
Miranda grinned. ‘It wasn’t just me – I had a lot of help. And we were lucky with the weather – clear skies all week, so we could set stuff up early.’ Most of the vendors from the mainland were arriving today to set up, and already the fields were buzzing with activity.
‘It looks incredible.’ He squeezed her waist, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. ‘I knew you c
ould do it.’
It did look pretty good, Miranda had to admit. Bunting hung from the trees, with Leo’s lights still in place for later. The vintage fairground Christabel had sourced was setting up on one side of the field, ready for the kids, and the food stalls had taken over the other side, nearest Lucy’s stall. The llama was looking very intrigued by candyfloss, Miranda noticed.
‘There’ll be craft stalls from the local clubs over there,’ she said, motioning to an empty area. ‘There’s going to be workshops and tutorials as well as selling things. And Christabel’s organising the kids’ entertainment area. Apparently, she’s offering circus skills lessons, as well as some giant garden games and, a little worryingly, archery.’
‘Sounds like fun. Dangerous fun, but still fun.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
The biggest change from previous years, though, was the large stage at the far end of the field, ready to be set up with speakers and microphones and screens. Owain’s friends had come through in large enough numbers that bands had been arriving all week, ready to play the festival – and there’d be more today, she knew.
Miranda had assumed that, being so last minute, they’d struggle to get people there, so she’d focused on any holiday-goers on the island who might be tempted to extend their trip by a day or two. Leo, it turned out, had bigger ideas. After a quick discussion with Tom, they’d had a website set up, with band bios and entertainment pages, ticket sales and a booking page for the glamping site Max and Dafydd had agreed could be set up in their field next door.
And it had worked.
Every band on the bill had put out notices on their social media, email lists, and websites – plus the strategic advertising Tom had managed on their very limited budget – and within hours of the site going up the bookings started coming in. And that was on top of Abby and Mia winning over every tourist already on Seashell Island.
Celebrate the end of summer at the Lighthouse Festival.
They’d had to put extra ferries on to deal with the sudden influx of people. The campsite was already full, and Nigel and Gwen had rented every cottage on the Seashell Holiday Cottages books. She couldn’t believe it.
Now, all they had to do was pull the whole thing off.
‘Come on,’ Owain said. ‘Let’s see what we can do to help.’
By the time they all fell into bed that night – exhausted, happy, and full – Miranda thought they might almost be ready for when the gates opened at midday the following day.
Juliet had cooked up a vat of chilli and freshly baked jacket potatoes and served it to anyone who was hungry. Miranda had never seen the Lighthouse so busy as musicians, food sellers, technicians and islanders traipsed through the kitchen to grab a bite to eat and a bottle of beer to go with it, in most cases. And then, of course, because they had a field full of camping musicians – or glamping, actually, as most of them were staying over on Max and Dafydd’s farm – there was music late into the night, played by firelight and starlight as everyone laughed and joked and enjoyed being together.
Miranda had watched Owain play and sing, watched Leo dancing with his girls in the firelight, watched Juliet swirling around chatting to everyone about the plans for tomorrow, confident and vibrant and happier than she’d seen her in years. She’d seen locals chatting with visitors, sharing jokes and drinks and song, and she’d known. They were all OK.
She could go, and they’d all be OK.
Whatever happened tomorrow, tonight, the festival already seemed like a success.
‘Are you nervous about tomorrow?’ Owain asked, as they snuggled under the duvet together, and she found herself automatically gravitating into his arms.
‘A little,’ she admitted. But it wasn’t about the festival, not really. She trusted her siblings and the work the three of them had done together – everything was going to be fine.
It was that everything was going to change after it.
She should talk to Owain about her decision, she knew. Now was the perfect time.
Except then Owain’s mouth met hers and he murmured, ‘Maybe I can take your mind off that,’ against her lips, and suddenly she had far more important things to focus on . . .
Miranda woke the next morning with a start, sun streaming through her window and Juliet banging on her door.
‘Are you getting up? Only there’s something I’m sure we’re supposed to be doing today . . .’
‘The festival!’ Miranda elbowed Owain, who blinked up at her.
‘That’s today?’ he joked, blearily.
‘That’s today,’ Juliet confirmed from outside the door. ‘The vendors are already arriving. I’m going to go take them all a cup of tea.’
There was no time for conversation, or anything beyond a quick good morning kiss and a rapid shower. In record time, Owain and Miranda were downstairs, dressed and ready to work.
There were plenty of last-minute tasks to be done, and they both threw themselves into them with everything they had – although Miranda’s attempts were somewhat hampered by the number of people wanting to talk to her. Many had questions about festival logistics, or expected numbers. But most of them wanted to say some variation on the same thing.
‘You’ve done a good thing here, Miranda,’ Albert Tuna said, as he passed by with Abby and Mia. In his arms were two piglets for the petting zoo. Miranda didn’t like to ask where the fisherman had found them. ‘You’re doing a great thing for our island. Thank you.’
Miranda swallowed around a lump in her throat, and just nodded to show she’d heard him. She’d heard it so many times today she didn’t know what else to say.
She loved this island, and it loved her. But somehow, she was going to have to tell them all she was leaving.
‘OK?’ Owain asked, stopping by and pressing a kiss to her temple.
‘Fine,’ she replied, thinking once more that she was going to have to tell him too. When things were a little quieter. ‘What’s next?
The festival was due to kick off at midday, and by eleven thirty they were almost ready.
‘Are you going to say something to all the volunteers?’ Leo asked, as he and the girls joined them after helping set up the petting zoo and Christabel’s family area.
‘Like what?’ Miranda asked.
‘Thanking them for their help, that sort of thing.’
Miranda looked around. That did sound like the sort of thing she should do, even if she hadn’t planned it. ‘Right. OK.’
Dafydd, who had agreed to compère the music section of the festival, was already up on the stage testing mics for the last time. He handed one over happily when she explained what she wanted.
And then it was just her, standing in the middle of a huge stage. Across the way she could see the queues of people already waiting at the gates, eager to get in. Suddenly, she realised how much bigger this was than she’d ever intended or imagined it could be.
And she smiled.
This, everything she’d done, would help Seashell Island. It would benefit from more tourists, more possibilities.
It wouldn’t need her any more. And maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t need it either. Not every day. Not as the limits of her existence, of her own potential and possibility.
Just as somewhere to come home to, whenever she wanted.
‘Everybody?’ she said into the mic, pulling it back a little as it squealed. ‘If I could have your attention?’
Not everyone turned to listen, but enough people did that Miranda figured she should just say what she wanted to say and get off the stage.
‘Before we get started and let the crowds through the gates, I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who has come together to make today possible. As many of you know, my parents, Josie and Iestyn Waters, have held a small party here for islanders and the few remaining visitors at the end of every summer,
ever since we arrived at the Lighthouse over twenty years ago now. It’s always been a way to bring the island together, to celebrate the turning of the seasons, and prepare ourselves for the longer nights ahead.
‘This year, my siblings and I decided to do something a little bit different. We decided to open up the Lighthouse Festival so the rest of the world can see how fantastic our island is, too. We want everybody to celebrate with us – and come back and visit us again and again in the future.’
A cheer went up at that, and Miranda smiled.
‘So, thank you to everyone who has helped pull this festival together, in such record time. And . . .’ She caught Juliet’s eye in the audience, and her sister nodded. Now was the time. To make the decision, so publicly that she’d never be able to go back on it and still show her face in town again.
To take that terrifying step into strange waters.
So much for finding a quiet moment to tell Owain privately. She just hoped he’d be happy with her decision.
‘On a personal level, this festival has been the cornerstone of my year. This island has been my home, after years of not having one. Seashell Island is where I feel safe and content and secure. But I’ve realised this summer that secure sometimes means stuck. That staying with something or someone who feels safe sometimes means not going after your heart’s desire. And it’s time for me to find out what my heart’s desire is. So, once the summer is over, I’ll be leaving the island. Seashell Island will always be my home, but as a very wise man told me recently, that only means it’ll be here waiting for me when I return.’
Before she handed the microphone back to Dafydd, she took a moment to look out at her community – all cheering for her. And then she found the one face she really needed to see.
She met Owain’s gaze and watched as a warm, true smile spread across his face, his eyes lighting up, and she knew, soul deep, that she’d made exactly the right decision.
LEO
With the festival ready to start, Leo listened to his sister’s speech with pride. She’d really done it – no going back now. Which meant it was his turn to be brave.
Summer on Seashell Island: Escape to an island this summer for the perfect heartwarming romance in 2020 (Riley Wolfe 1) Page 28
