Coming Home
to
Merriment Bay
Part One
A Reunion
Emily Harvale
Copyright
Copyright © Emily Harvale 2019
All rights reserved
Emily Harvale has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, businesses, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by Crescent Gate Publishing
E-edition published worldwide 2019
ISBN 978-1-909917-48-4
Cover design © JR and Emily Harvale
Edited by Christina Harkness
Other Titles by Emily Harvale
Highland Fling
Lizzie Marshall's Wedding
The Golf Widows' Club
Sailing Solo
Carole Singer's Christmas
Christmas Wishes
A Slippery Slope
The Perfect Christmas Plan
Be Mine
It Takes Two
Bells and Bows on Mistletoe Row
The Goldebury Bay series:
Ninety Days of Summer – book 1
Ninety Steps to Summerhill – book 2
Ninety Days to Christmas – book 3
The Hideaway Down series:
A Christmas Hideaway – book 1
Catch A Falling Star – book 2
Walking on Sunshine – book 3
Dancing in the Rain – book 4
Hall's Cross series
Deck the Halls – book 1
The Starlight Ball – book 2
Michaelmas Bay series
Christmas Secrets in Snowflake Cove – book 1
Blame it on the Moonlight – book 2
Lily Pond Lane series
The Cottage on Lily Pond Lane – four-part serial
Part One – New beginnings
Part Two – Summer secrets
Part Three – Autumn leaves
Part Four – Trick or treat
Christmas on Lily Pond Lane
Return to Lily Pond Lane
A Wedding on Lily Pond Lane
Secret Wishes and Summer Kisses on Lily Pond Lane
Wyntersleap series
Christmas at Wynter House
In loving memory of my grandmother, May, who encouraged me to tell stories.
Table of contents
Title
Dedication
Copyright
Other titles
Series info
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Coming Soon
Also by
Acknowledgements
A note from Emily
Contact
This is a novel told in four parts and will form the first book in my Merriment Bay series.
This is Coming Home to Merriment Bay-Part One: A Reunion
The other three parts are:
Coming Home to Merriment Bay-
Part Two: Sparks Fly
Coming Home to Merriment Bay-
Part Three: Christmas
Coming Home to Merriment Bay-
Part Four: Starry Skies.
My Merriment Bay series is interconnected with my Wyntersleap series. Each series can be read alone, but several characters appear in both series.
Chapter One
'There's a letter for you, Mum. And it's postmarked Merriment Bay.'
Cat Devon recognised the writing on the stark white envelope the moment her daughter, Kyra placed it in front of her on the kitchen table. Even after eighteen years, the sight of those sharp angular capitals, three times the size of the rest of the spidery scrawl, brought back that last day in Merriment Bay, so long ago now that Cat rarely thought of it, or what she'd left behind.
Until now.
At least that's what she told herself.
She met Kyra's concerned stare and forced a smile.
'Perhaps it's a birthday card. It is your eighteenth, after all.'
Kyra snorted derisively, tossing a lock of long, unruly ginger curls over her shoulder. She dropped her colourful canvas bag – bearing an image of one of Cat's paintings – on the floor, pulled out a wooden chair, twisted it around and swung her long legs over the cushioned seat, resting her arms on the top of the back rail.
'Yeah right. And what would it say? “Happy eighteenth from your gran and great-gran in Merriment Bay. Sorry we haven't been in touch for eighteen years but there was a bit of a falling out and all the Devon women are far too stubborn to make the first move and apologise.” If it was a birthday card, it would be addressed to me, not you. Are you going to open it?' Despite the acerbic tone, Kyra grinned.
Cat shrugged and nonchalantly pushed it away, but her heart pounded and a lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. She forced down several swigs of coffee and gave another laboured smile.
'Maybe later.' She stood up, the feet of her chair scraping against the tiled floor as she did so, and on jelly-like legs, walked to the fridge. 'Is it too early to open the champagne?' She grabbed the bottle and wiggled it in her hand.
Kyra laughed. 'It's never too early for champagne. It may be 8.00 a.m. in Bonniemount, but somewhere in the world, it's cocktail hour. And it is my eighteenth. One glass won't hurt.'
'I can add some orange juice.'
'God, no. That's murdering two perfectly good drinks, in my opinion.'
Cat closed the fridge door and Kyra got up and grabbed two glasses.
'Get a couple of plates, too, please.' Cat opened the cupboard next to the fridge and, putting the bottle on the worktop she quickly did the necessary before turning around; a birthday cake set on a glittery cake stand in her hand, with lit candles and a sparkler sticking out of the top of the purple and white iced numbers, one and eight. 'Ta dah. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dearest, darling, wonderful daughter. Happy birthday to you!'
'Aww, Mum. That's gorgeous. Thank you.'
Kyra beamed at her, put the glasses and plates on the table and dashed towards Cat. She took the cake from her and placed that on the table too, before giving her mum a massive hug, towering over Cat's five-feet-five frame by at least four inches.
A few seconds later, Cat took her daughter by the arm and swivelled her around, grabbing the champagne again. 'Don't forget to make a wish.' She stepped away, popped the cork and filled the glasses.
Kyra closed her eyes, blew out the candles and the sparkler, bit her lower lip, as she often did whilst thinking, and after a little while, reopened her eyes and smiled.
'All done. And if that comes true, I'll believe in miracles.'
'I truly hope this year brings you nothing but miracles and magic, happiness and good health, warmth and wealth, love and laughter, shelter and safety. May all your dreams come true and your wishes be granted.' Cat handed Kyra a glass and raised hers in the air. 'To you, Kyra. The best daughter any mum cou
ld ever hope for. Happy birthday, sweetheart.'
'Aww, thanks. And to the best mum in the world. Are we really having cake and champagne for breakfast?'
'Absolutely. We can have a fry-up for lunch. You'll need something substantial inside you if you're going out with your friends tonight.'
Cat cut the number one of the cake and they sat down again, munching on the layers of melt-in-the-mouth sponge, homemade raspberry jam, together with the cream filling and soft, thick icing, sipping champagne between mouthfuls.
'This cake's delicious, as always. I wish I could bake even half as good as you.' Kyra licked off a dollop of jam that had oozed out on to her finger. 'So are you going to open it?'
Cat shot a look at the envelope but quickly looked away, taking a gulp of champagne.
'Not yet. It's been eighteen years. They can wait a little longer. You've got presents to open before you dash off to get your results. And you should check your emails. The university may have emailed you.'
Kyra raised her expressive green eyes heavenwards. 'Thanks for reminding me. They'll only email if my results are good and I get in. At least if they're bad, I can postpone my plans and retake the exams.'
Cat tutted. 'They'll be brilliant. Because you're brilliant. You may not have inherited my baking skills, but luckily for you, you didn't inherit my abysmal intelligence either. You take after your dad in the brains department.'
A momentary wave of sadness swept over Kyra's freckled face. 'I wish I'd met him.' She let out a small sigh. 'But don't keep avoiding the subject, Mum. Why won't you open the letter?'
Cat flinched. 'I wish you'd met him too. And that's another reason why I don't want to open it yet. Besides, this is a special day. I've got a feeling that letter may ruin it and I don't want that. They ruined quite enough. They're not going to spoil this day. We'll open it together tomorrow. Deal?'
Kyra tilted her head to one side and bit her lower lip again but after a second or two, she nodded. 'Deal. But let me just say this and then I'll shut up about it. Eighteen years is a long time, Mum. That letter could be telling you that something has happened to Granny Viola. Or to your mum.'
Cat sucked in a long breath and nodded. 'I know. And that's also why I don't want to open it today. That's Mum's writing on the envelope, so the only thing she'd be telling me is that Granny Viola has passed away. If that's the case, another day's not going to change that.'
'Or one of them could've had an accident. A day could change that. A day could make all the difference in the world. All I'm saying is, no matter what that letter says, it won't ruin today. We won't let it. And there's not much point in delaying it. You know as well as me that you're going to be worrying about it all day. It's going to be like a thorn in a dog's paw, festering away and you'll keep chewing at it until it comes out.' Kyra tapped Cat's fingers with her own. 'And we've got champagne today. At least we can drown any sorrows it might bring. Or celebrate if it's good news.'
A slow smile spread across Cat's face, pushing the scar running the length of her left cheek into tiny ridges of pale skin. For years she wore her long, dark chocolate-coloured hair down, to hide the scar on her face as much as possible, and high-necked blouses or dresses to hide the scars on her neck and shoulder, but now, here in Bonniemount at least, and especially at home with Kyra, her scars didn't bother her. Although they did seem to bother some people.
'It can't be good news, sweetheart. Unless they've both decided they were wrong and they're finally asking to see us again. And I'm pretty sure it won't be that. But OK. You're right. We'll open it after you've opened your presents. And once you've checked your emails.'
'Open it before. Then if it is bad news, we'll still both have something good to look forward to. Possibly two good things if I get into uni.'
Cat gave a little laugh. 'You're so stubborn and bossy. But as it's your birthday, we'll do as you say.'
Kyra laughed too. 'I'm a Devon and Devon women are all bossy. And stubborn to the core. That's one of the first things you told me when you explained about Merriment Bay.'
Cat's insides were like a washing machine but outside she smiled as Kyra slid the envelope back to her across the table.
The one thing Kyra hadn't asked – and what was puzzling Cat the most – was how Mary Devon had found them.
Chapter Two
Amias Wells inhaled a deep breath, narrowed his dark eyes beneath his Raybans, and prayed. Not to God. He lost any faith he may have had in such an entity long ago. Now he prayed to the Universe, or anything out there that might be inclined to listen. Not that he really believed there was anyone or anything out there, listening. But he did believe in will power and inner strength. And this kid had both of those, in spades.
'Come on, Marcus,' he whispered between clenched teeth and a tight jaw. 'You can do it.'
And for a couple of seconds, Marcus did.
So the splash when the kid fell in didn't bother Amias as much as it clearly did, Marcus' grandparents.
'I don't know what's the matter with the boy.' George Lester tutted and looked away.
Sybil Lester snorted in derision. 'I told you it was a complete and utter waste of money. But would you listen? Oh no. George Lester always knows best. Well, clearly he doesn't, does he?'
'You were the one who said you were glad he was spending the summer here and perhaps he could try again at sailing, windsurfing, and the like.'
'But did you have to buy the bloody windsurf board thing and all the kit and caboodle? Just because Lucas is good at sports, it doesn't mean Marcus ever will be. They're cousins, not brothers. You could've just rented it. Amias suggested that was the best thing to do. He even said not all kids take to water sports. And let's face it, when has Marcus ever shown any interest in anything other than that bloody computer of his and those stupid model aeroplanes he and Lucas build?'
That was it. Amias had had enough.
'Sybil. George. Will you please take your bickering elsewhere. What Marcus needs is confidence. Self-belief. And frankly, you two don't inspire either.
Sybil's mouth dropped open and George's face resembled a pot about to boil over – a big, red, cast iron pot.
'You may want to take that back, Amias Wells,' George said, his eyes forming tiny slits. 'Are you forgetting who my son is, and that I was also on the Merriment Bay Council? I could have your licence revoked just like that.' He clicked his fat fingers together and sneered.
'As you remind me and everyone else at every opportunity, George, I could hardly forget the heady heights you reached. But I think you'll find you overestimate your power. It's Will who's the elected Mayor of Merriment Bay. And I know I don't have to remind you, he's a very good friend of mine.'
'You think my own son will side with you, rather than me?'
A slow grin spread across Amias' face. 'You're welcome to ask him and see. But for now, please leave Marcus here with me and go and enjoy an afternoon at The Hope and Anchor. I know that's where you'd both much rather be. I'll drop him home later.'
George briefly met Amias' gaze before lowering his eyes. 'I'm not paying for the whole afternoon.'
Amias turned away with barely veiled disdain. 'That's fine. Marcus can help me pack things away later in return for an extended lesson.'
Without waiting for their reply, he walked towards the edge of Wyntersleap Reservoir where the water gently lapped at the sand-coloured concrete and towards which, Marcus was paddling his windsurfer and sunken sail with a huge smile on his face. Amias smiled back and gave Marcus a thumbs up.
He shouldn't have taken his bad mood out on Sybil and George, even if they were a pair of jerks, but when he glanced over his shoulder, they were marching towards their car. They weren't even going to wait to tell Marcus what was happening. Or to give him the slightest iota of encouragement. They really were complete gits.
But they were also customers and he was running a business. Alienating the Lesters wasn't one of his better moves, even if his business was highly successful a
nd extremely profitable. George was all bluster and his son, Will shared Amias' opinion of his parents, but George had friends. Well, one or two cronies really, at the Merriment Bay Golf Club. But word got around, especially once Sybil's mouth started flapping at the Women's Institute meetings, the hairdresser's or the pub. He probably should apologise.
But he wouldn't.
These two weeks in August were always bad for him, even after all these years, and this year it was worse. He was furious with Lorna for telling Mary Devon where her daughter was, but he was angrier with himself for being stupid enough to tell Lorna in the first place. If he hadn't had so many beers followed by at least half a bottle of whisky, he wouldn't have been drunk and loose-tongued enough to do so. But then if he hadn't been foolish enough to agree to see Lorna on the eighteenth anniversary of Kyle's death two weeks ago, he wouldn't have been telling anyone other than his drunken self that he was still so angry about it. That time hadn't lessened the guilt, or diminished the pain. And it definitely hadn't healed the hole in his heart that seemed to get bigger with every passing year; not mend so that he could move on with his life and put the past behind him.
Eighteen years. Where had they all gone?
If he let himself, he could see his best friend as if the eighteen-year-old Kyle stood before him. The wild, ginger curls, those huge hazel eyes so full of life and laughter and plans for the future. So full of love for Cat sodding Devon.
But he wouldn't do that. He couldn't. Especially not this week.
And yet, only this morning he'd woken up wondering what she'd look like. Kyra. The daughter of his best friend. And Cat. Bloody Cat. If only she had never come into their lives. If only she'd stayed on her side of River Wynter. The posh side of Merriment Bay. If only she hadn't wandered down to the bay every day that summer, looking far too sexy for a sixteen-year-old without even trying. And being far too friendly for someone like Kyle to resist. And exactly one year later, Kyle was dead. All because of Cat bloody Devon and her bitchy, snooty, hypocritical mum and gran.
A Reunion Page 1
