by Jenny Colgan
It was very hard to say the words.
‘I’ve been lonely,’ she said simply, staring out of the window.
Kerensa looked at her, and filled two mismatched glasses.
‘Me too,’ she said. ‘And before you say it, yes, I have a fabulous job, blah blah blah, and loads of friends… but I miss my bestie. And I really want someone to come home to, but they’re all superdicks. And not in a good way.’
The sun was going down over the bay. It was exquisite; great tendrils of bright pink stretching out and lighting up the clouds. Kerensa strode over to look at it.
‘This is quite cool, you know.’
‘I do know,’ said Polly.
‘And you’re working?’
‘Yes. That sucks. But…’
‘I thought it sounded perfect for you.’
‘You haven’t met my boss.’
‘Ooh,’ said Kerensa. ‘Boss from hell?’
‘No,’ said Polly. ‘Boss from wherever it is hell sends people who are too annoying to work for.’
They chinked glasses.
‘To not being lonely,’ said Kerensa quietly. ‘Oh CRAP, that is the most depressing toast we’ve ever made. How about, to constantly being fabulous?’
‘Much better,’ said Polly, incredibly cheered to see her best friend.
They went to the pub in the end, Kerensa forcing Polly into a brightly coloured top – ‘Otherwise I’ll look like the town good-time girl.’
‘Well, one, you are that, and two, what did you think this place would be like?’
‘St Ives,’ said Kerensa gloomily. ‘I thought I was going to pick up Prince Harry.’
Polly laughed. ‘Oh Kerensa, it is so very good to see you. Come on.’
The evening was mild, and the old courtyard of the pub was cheerfully lit up with lanterns on the tables and little candles in glass jars everywhere. A waitress went round taking orders, and before long Kerensa and Polly were stuck back into dissecting their lives, gossiping and sharing their news as if they’d never been apart.
‘Have you heard from Chris?’ Polly asked on her third glass, when she’d finally plucked up the courage.
Kerensa shrugged. ‘Now and then. He’s over the worst.’
‘Is he still living at his mum’s?’ asked Polly.
‘Yup.’
‘You know, he hasn’t contacted me. Not even once, to say how are you doing or something.’
‘I know,’ said Kerensa. ‘I called him on it.’
‘You did? When did you see him?’
‘At Shanoosha and Michael’s fortieth – which you didn’t come to, by the way.’
Polly shrugged. She didn’t like to admit that the presents would have been expensive; that it would have been horrible to stand there amongst all their successful professional middle-class friends with their mortgages and Volkswagens and pregnancy bumps and talk about being a minimum-wage assistant in a bakery. She couldn’t have borne their sympathy and pity.
‘No,’ she said. ‘But Chris was there?’
Kerensa winced. ‘I think he got a bit overexcited at the free cocktail bar.’
‘They had a cocktail bar?’
‘Pure swank,’ said Kerensa. ‘Anyway. He was a little…’
‘How’s he looking?’
‘Tired,’ said Kerensa.
‘Oh God,’ said Polly. ‘What did he say?’
‘He asked how you were doing. And when I told him you’d moved and had a new flat and a job and everything, he was…’
Polly’s heart sank. She knew the answer.
‘Was he jealous?’
Kerensa nodded. ‘He thinks it’s all right for you, apparently. Thinks it’s easy for you to get on with your life because you didn’t really care about the business in the end, he was the creative talent, blah blah.’
Polly’s eyes stung with tears at the unfairness of it all.
‘He ruined my life, Kerensa. It’s WRECKED. Look at it! Just because I’m not sulking at my mum’s house…’
‘I know that,’ said Kerensa. ‘I told him. I told him he was wallowing.’
‘What did he do?’
‘Got pissed and tried to pull the cocktail waitress.’
Polly grimaced in sympathy. ‘Oh God, poor Chris.’
‘Poor Chris nothing,’ said Kerensa fiercely. ‘He has to man up and get through this. He’s treated you appallingly.’
‘He did his best,’ said Polly.
‘He did nothing of the sort. He got all huffy every time there was a tiny little setback. You can’t run a business like that.’
‘No,’ said Polly, thoughtfully. ‘But really, how dare he? Assuming I’m having a fantastic time and doing brilliantly. For crying out loud. It’s awful. My life is dreadful. It’s a total failure and a disaster and I hate it here and basically ALL OF IT.’
There was a sudden unexpected hush in the crowd. Polly realised that someone was standing behind her. She turned round. It was Tarnie. He looked very embarrassed.
‘Er, sorry,’ he said. ‘I was coming over to say hi, but you sound busy…’
‘Oh God,’ said Polly, crestfallen. ‘Oh GOD, I didn’t mean you. You’re the only good thing to happen to me here. Hey, Kerensa, this is Tarnie.’
‘Hell-oo,’ said Kerensa, drawing out the last syllable. Polly gave her a look. Then she glanced back at Tarnie. She supposed he did look quite smart in his civvies: he had on a plain shirt, very soft worn jeans and Converses.
‘Hey, what’s up?’ came a soft American voice, and Huckle and Reuben hove into view from the other side of the bar, both of them holding pint glasses.
‘I hate this bar. Why are we in this bar? This is a terrible bar. This is bad beer. They should serve good beer. I’m going to buy this bar,’ Reuben was saying. He didn’t say hello.
‘Polly was just talking about how much she hates her life,’ said Tarnie gravely.
‘I didn’t… Shut up,’ said Polly, flushing bright red.
Kerensa turned round. She looked like a child in a sweetshop.
‘Hello to you too,’ she said.
‘Do you hate your life?’ asked Tarnie.
‘Not any more,’ said Kerensa.
In the end, they all sat down together: six or seven fishermen, the American boys, plus a few of the surfers who’d joined them. Jaz was not amongst them today, but there was Felicia, a ludicrously beautiful Eurasian girl with black hair that stretched all the way down her back. She was trying to get Reuben’s attention and failing, and ended up having to squeeze on to the bench next to Jayden. Jayden’s facial expression was comical. He was frozen to the spot as if he didn’t dare move, gazing at the goddess next to him.
‘Can you stop staring at me?’ she said softly.
‘Um, are you going to have me arrested?’ asked Jayden, his mouth completely dry.
‘No,’ said Felicia, tossing her hair.
‘In that case, maybe not. I’ll try. But probably not. Oh God,’ said Jayden.
Felicia turned away from him. Polly wondered if this happened to her all the time. It probably did.
‘Tell her your funny joke you told me,’ she whispered to Jayden.
‘I can’t,’ he said, eyes wide. ‘I can’t see straight.’
‘Women like men who make them laugh.’
Jayden coughed. ‘Um, Felicia?’
Felicia graced him with a flicker of her feline eyes. ‘Yuh?’
‘What do you call a crocodile wearing a vest?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘An investigator.’
‘A what?’
The colour drained from Jayden’s face.
‘Oh SHIT, I got that wrong. I mean, what do you call an ALLIGATOR… Oh, never mind.’
Felicia turned her back again and Jayden sat on his hands and stared fiercely at the table, his ears pink. Polly smiled and turned back to Kerensa. She preferred Jaz so far, but they were all pretty impressive.
‘This place is more glamorous than I thought,’ said
Kerensa. ‘Who’s the annoying one?’
‘Do you mean me?’ said Reuben, who clearly had bionic hearing. ‘Are you talking about me? I’m not annoying. Huckle, tell them I’m not annoying, I’m cool.’
‘Of course you’re not annoying,’ said Felicia languorously. ‘Darling, that’s just rubbish.’
Kerensa rolled her eyes. ‘Oh God, is he really, really rich?’ she said loudly.
‘Yes,’ said Reuben.
‘Thought so,’ said Kerensa, shooting Felicia a triumphant look. Felicia turned away, which landed her back facing Jayden, who went bright red again and started scratching his neck. Polly got up to go over to Reuben.
‘Thank you for my beautiful oven,’ she said. ‘Did you like the breadsticks?’
‘If I had made them they would have been better,’ he said. ‘But they weren’t bad. They needed more pepper.’
‘I’ll try and remember that,’ said Polly, smiling at him. ‘It was a really kind thing to do.’
‘It was nothing,’ said Reuben. ‘I’ve forgotten all about it. It was like two cents to me.’
‘Well, thank you for the two cents,’ she said.
‘Who’s your friend?’ Reuben asked casually. ‘She’s very rude. I like that in a woman.’
‘That’s Kerensa. Do you want to meet her properly?’
‘No.’
‘Kerensa!’ said Polly, beckoning her over. ‘This is Reuben, who gave me the lovely oven.’
‘I’ve got a helicopter,’ said Reuben.
‘I hate helicopters,’ said Kerensa. ‘They’re rubbish.’
Tarnie brought over another bottle of wine for the table, and cider for Jayden and a couple of the other fishermen. He pulled up a chair next to Polly.
‘So how are things?’ he said awkwardly. He normally found Polly easy to talk to, but this was a big group of people; it was a bit tricky.
‘Honestly,’ said Polly, ‘I am so grateful to you for finding me a job.’
‘But…’
‘But,’ nodded Polly. ‘Oh man, Tarnie, she’s killing me. She won’t let me bake any proper bread, only cream horns and stupid doughnuts and pasties and pale white stuff. Which she’s now talking about ordering in anyway because I’m too slow, apparently. She doesn’t want to change or get better or anything.’
Tarnie nodded.
‘Doughnuts were Jim’s favourites,’ he said finally.
‘Oh Lord,’ said Polly. ‘I do know; I know that she’s grieving and everything. I am doing my best to be helpful and useful and all of that, but it… it feels like I’m being continually punished for something.’
She took another sip of her drink and smiled ruefully. ‘This will sound nuts, but I kind of had this fantasy of myself… making things better. Like, she would have someone to share the workload and could unburden herself, and maybe I could find the inner kind person inside sort of thing. Stupid.’
‘I think that’s a nice fantasy to have,’ said Tarnie kindly. ‘But I’m not sure… I’m not sure she hasn’t been so bitter for so long that everything’s kind of… just sealed over.’
‘I do feel sorry for her,’ said Polly stubbornly. ‘But she is really, really mean to me, every single day.’
Huckle came over and pulled up a chair. He didn’t see the look Tarnie gave him, but Polly noticed it.
‘Hey,’ he said, in his expansive laid-back drawl. ‘How you all doing?’
‘I’m just having a moan about my job,’ said Polly. ‘The job I’ve only had for two weeks. I’m not a very impressive specimen.’
Huckle frowned. ‘Did you put Reuben’s oven in?’
‘It wouldn’t fit in that bakery,’ said Polly, ‘so I had to put it in the other one, the one under my flat. But Mrs Manse won’t have a thing to do with it, thinks it’s foreign. She just wants pasties and big white buns.’
Huckle frowned again. ‘The summer season is coming, right?’
‘Er huh.’
‘And she owns the property you’re in, right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, I don’t see how it would be much more expensive if you divided up the labour. You work on the harbour and make bread with Reuben’s oven, and she stays in the shop on her own and just does cakes and pasties. You don’t need to fall out about what she wants to do, and she doesn’t have to try and sell bread that she doesn’t want to, so she saves all that time and effort, and you’re not in competition with each other because you’re basically the same company.’
All three were silent for a moment.
‘You know, that could almost work,’ said Polly. ‘The only problem is, if I mention it to her she’ll just say no immediately. She always says no then thinks up reasons later.’
She tried so hard not to look at Tarnie it made the corner of his mouth twitch.
‘You want me to propose changing everything AGAIN?’ he said, taking a slurp of his pint.
‘Don’t you see?’ said Polly. ‘I know she doesn’t want me in the shop.’
‘Mmm,’ said Tarnie.
‘But she knows the workload is too much for her.’
‘Mmmm.’
‘And she’s got the space to do it.’
‘What about all the people who go into the wrong bakery for what they want?’
‘We’re two streets away,’ said Polly. ‘I think they’ll manage. But she wouldn’t have to handle as much stock if I did the bread.’
Tarnie hated to admit it, but it wasn’t a bad idea.
‘And,’ said Huckle, ‘if you’re as good as we think you are, people will come to you just for your bread anyway. And also my honey.’
‘You want me to sell your honey?’
‘In return for the brilliant idea I just gave you?’ said Huckle. ‘No, you’re right, it would be completely unreasonable of me to ask you to sell my honey.’
‘No, of COURSE we’d sell your honey,’ said Polly, excited. ‘That’s a great idea.’
Tarnie looked at his hands. He was, he realised, jealous of them planning something without him.
‘OOH,’ said Polly. ‘I am quite excited about this. Except of course she’ll say no and then I’ll have to go back to working for her and it will be even worse because I’ll have dreamed of the taste of freedom.’
The drinks kept going down, and there didn’t seem to be any closing time. By midnight, Polly was a little tipsy, her head full of plans and schemes for the downstairs space. Kerensa had ended up arguing with Reuben all night, about politics, feminism, gun control, freedom of the internet and literally anything else two people could possibly have a difference of opinion about. Eventually Jayden stood up. He was quite stewed.
‘And now!’ he shouted at Andy, who ran the bar and the chippy single-handed and in tandem, which made it a lucrative spot. There was a chorus of ‘Oh no!’ from the other fishermen.
Andy bowed, and went over to the CD player.
‘If this doesn’t impress the ladies, nothing will,’ said Jayden.
‘Er oh,’ said Polly, but Kerensa was already sitting up eagerly. Felicia was rolling her eyes.
‘Nothing you do will impress the ladies!’ shouted Kendall, and Jayden flicked him the Vs.
‘Archie! Tarnie! Kendall!’
The men grumbled and shuffled, but to Polly’s astonishment they got up nonetheless. The other punters in the pub had gathered round, obviously well aware of what was about to happen.
Andy pressed a button on the CD player and a long, lamenting horn sound started up. Then it launched into a minor-key jig, which sounded exciting and melancholy all at the same time. It was wild music, and Polly felt her heart lurch with it, its strangeness and beauty. Then, to her utter astonishment, the men began to dance; with some embarrassment at first, then less and less as they got into it, bending and tilting, their heels banging hard on the rough wooden planks of the pub floor. It was a proper sailor’s hornpipe; Polly had never seen one before, and as the music got faster and faster, the men twirled in time, looking ancient and young all a
t once, and she clapped her hands in delight as Tarnie flashed her a huge smile of white teeth, and they dipped in and out of each other, all twirling, until the music came to a hectically fast climax and the entire room erupted in whoops and cheers of applause.
Polly rushed up to Tarnie, closely watched by Huckle. Tarnie was pink in the face but couldn’t stop smiling.
‘That was amazing,’ she said.
‘Ach,’ he said, shyly. ‘My grandad taught me. It’s just… it’s just a local thing.’
‘It’s VERY SEXY,’ said Kerensa loudly behind Polly. ‘It’s a shame you can’t be sexy like that, Reuben.’
‘I am totally sexy,’ Polly heard Reuben say, but Andy was calling last orders now, and it was time for closing up.
‘What a terrible little shit,’ said Kerensa as a chauffeur-driven Bentley arrived at the bottom of the cobbled street. Felicia piled in after Reuben, who had barely spoken a word to her all evening.
‘Oh, I’m sorry you didn’t have a nice evening,’ said Polly, still on a massive high after the boys’ dancing. She linked arms with her friend as they went to get some chips for the way home. Polly had never seen Kerensa eat chips. She wasn’t even sure she’d know how.
‘Oh GOD, these smell like heaven,’ said Kerensa, breathing in deeply.
‘You can eat them too,’ said Polly. ‘You know, if you like.’
Doused in salt and vinegar, in the still warm night air, washed down with a couple of cans of Fanta, they were absolutely delicious. The two girls ate sitting on the harbour wall, kicking their legs. The boys had gone their separate ways, waving and hollering. Jayden was taking a boat back to the mainland; Polly wondered briefly about whether he should be drinking and sailing, but he pointed out with a straight face that men had been doing that on Mount Polbearne for eight hundred years and they probably weren’t going to stop tonight, then he gave another little deft click of his heels, and all she could do was giggle and wave good night.
‘I had a great time,’ said Kerensa.
Polly looked at her carefully. Could it be? Was Kerensa actually… eating a chip?
‘What?’
‘I thought you said you hated that guy. I heard you both shouting about George W. Bush.’
‘Yes, I did hate that guy. But I quite enjoyed arguing with him, do you know what I mean?’
