by Cathy Cole
She needed some air. Slipping out of the living room, she went into the kitchen and pushed open the doors to the garden. The breeze was cool on her face.
Is this what my life will be like in twenty-five years’ time? she wondered, gnawing at her lip. A little house, a handful of friends? A book of postcards to remember the past?
Her parents were happy, but a life like theirs wasn’t enough for her. She didn’t want to turn out the same way. She didn’t want life to be nice. She wanted a life that was full of excitement.
Josh’s smiling face floated into her head. His bright green eyes, his gentle kisses.
You’re lucky to have a boyfriend like Josh, she reminded herself. He’s reliable, honest, trustworthy … but was that enough?
SEVEN
Lila stirred restlessly. The sand was sticking to her legs today, and blowing into her eyes.
“Stay still, can’t you?” Josh’s pencil was a blur against his sketchpad. “Screwed up eyes is not a look you want immortalized – trust me.”
Lila wondered a little irritably how many drawings Josh had of her. Hundreds, probably. More than enough. She stood up, shaking the sand out of her hair. “I’m not in the mood for this today,” she said abruptly.
Josh folded up his sketchbook and studied her. “What’s going on? You’ve been like a cat with tar on its paws all day.”
Wasn’t it obvious? They were on the beach on a Saturday afternoon, again. Josh was drawing her, again. Lila was so bored and restless, she felt like screaming.
“I’m going for a walk,” she said.
“Want some company?”
Josh’s company was the last thing she wanted right now. She shook her head. “Find a seagull to draw.” She spread her arms. “There are plenty to choose from.”
She could hear how peevish she sounded, but she didn’t care. Pulling her cardigan on, she stomped off down the beach towards the edge of the water. The endless crashing of the surf didn’t help her mood. Was everything around here on repeat?
Maybe if I wish it hard enough, she thought as she stared out at the glittering sea, a boat might appear and whisk me away.
She could picture it clearly. It would be a sleek red boat with a bright rainbow sail and a handsome stranger with a devilish smile at the tiller. He would look a bit like Santiago.
“Let’s go,” he would say.
“Where to?” she would reply, taking his hand as he helped her into the boat.
His smile would grow wider. “Who knows? Somewhere else.”
Like that’s ever going to happen, Lila thought sourly. Josh was never happier than when he was sitting on the beach with her and his sketchpad. He would do it every day if he could. He’d never turn up in a boat. He’d never surprise her.
She paced along the beach, her eyes flitting restlessly over all the families huddled around their picnic blankets, their sandcastles, their deckchairs. None of them looked like they were having the time of their lives. Half of the kids had snot dripping from their noses. Most of the mothers looked as fed up as she felt. They would all have been as young as her once. She wondered if they had ever stood at the edge of the water and dreamed of mysterious strangers whisking them away to more interesting lives.
I don’t want to dream about life, she thought in desperation. I want to make life happen.
She walked silently back to Josh. He smiled at her, holding out his latest sketch.
“What do you think?”
Another seagull. Lila wanted to cry with frustration. “What do you want me to say, Josh?” she said sarcastically. “Nice feathers?”
He slid the sketchpad into his bag and stood up. “What’s the matter with you today?”
“Nothing,” Lila muttered. “I want to go home. I’m waitressing at a wedding with Polly tonight at Heartwell Manor. I need a shower. Can we go?”
Josh took her hand, but she pulled away. Looking hurt, he put his hands in his pockets instead. They walked home in silence.
Concentrating hard, Lila stacked the little white meringues into pyramids on the silver trays. They looked very pretty, like miniature snowy mountains. Lila could almost picture tiny skiers hurtling down their shiny white sides, yelling at each other in high-pitched voices as they sped towards the silver trays.
Not silver trays, frozen lakes, covered in fresh snow, Lila thought, caught up in the image in her mind. She imagined the spray of snow the skiers would make when they reached the bottom and turned quickly to stop. It was almost a shock to feel the hard silver surface of the tray with her fingers.
The marquee was the most beautiful Lila had ever seen. She had waitressed at several weddings in Heartside Bay’s most exclusive venue, but this one topped all the others. Everything was white: the flowers, the tablecloths, the candles, the napkins. The meringues. The only flash of colour was the deep green leaves of the white peonies on the tables. Outside in the Heartwell Manor gardens, rows of white chairs had been set up beside a white pergola covered in a climbing white rose, ready for the ceremony. Standing to one side of the pergola was a large cage full of white doves, ready to be released as the couple exchanged their vows.
“No prizes for guessing what colour the bride and groom will be wearing,” Polly joked. Her own white dress suited her, nipped in at the waist in the vintage style she loved, with a white rose tucked behind one ear.
“As long as the groom doesn’t confuse us with his bride!” Lila said. She was dressed the same as Polly, but she had pinned her white rose to her bodice.
“Edward only has eyes for Stephanie,” said Polly dreamily. “I know them,” she explained at Lila’s startled expression. “Well, I know Edward anyway. He works with Mum at the estate agency.”
The first guests started arriving, settling themselves down in the chairs and chattering among themselves. To Lila’s astonishment, they were all wearing white as well. The effect was like something out of Alice in Wonderland. She watched them as the seats filled up, a sea of white in the green garden.
Thoughts of Josh had been plaguing her all afternoon. She needed Polly’s advice.
“I need to talk to you Polly,” she whispered as more and more white-clad guests settled down in the garden chairs, studying the white orders of service with their white ribbons.
“I need to talk to you too,” Polly said. “We have to plan some amazing double dates for when Ollie and I get back from America.”
“It’s about me and Josh,” Lila blurted.
“What about you and Josh?”
Lila had no idea where to start. “You know my tattoo?” she said at last.
Polly frowned. “What?”
Maybe the tattoo wasn’t the best way to explain the jumbled way she was feeling. But she had to start somewhere. Lila opened her mouth to try again.
“Listen,” said Polly, “do you and Josh want to join me and Ollie in London when we get back? I thought we could have a picnic in one of the parks, maybe check out a market or two. What do you think?”
“That sounds lovely,” said Lila helplessly. “But—”
There was a sudden commotion up at the manor behind the marquee. Turning round, Lila couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.
The bride was running at full tilt through the gardens, her veil flowing behind her like white smoke. Holding up her vast meringue-like skirts in both hands, she hurdled a low box hedge, ducked underneath some trailing vines and skidded into the white rose pergola. Her face, now Lila could see it more clearly, was as white as her dress.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped at the shocked guests, half of whom had jumped out of their seats for a better view of the action. “So sorry…”
She swerved away from the pergola and raced onwards. As she passed the white doves, her stiff petticoats caught the cage and sent it toppling to the ground with a crash. The wired door flew open on impact. In a perf
ect moment of pure drama, doves exploded into the blue sky in a snowstorm of feathers.
This couldn’t be happening.
Lila clutched Polly’s arm in shock as half the wedding guests gave chase, led by the bridegroom, ploughing through the flowerbeds after the disappearing bride. “Stephanie!” she could hear someone calling in despairing tones. The groom, she guessed. Polly had said his name was Edward. “Steph, it’s going to be OK … Steph, come back, talk to me…”
In a matter of moments, the perfect wedding scene had been smashed to pieces. Chairs were on their sides, wedding service sheets lay crumpled underfoot. Roses had been knocked from the pergola in the rush, scattering petals over the smooth green grass. Half the doves were still flapping overhead, the rest having come to roost on the pergola and in the hedges. The few guests who remained looked at each other with dazed expressions, holding on to their white fascinators and still clutching their orders of service.
Mr Gupta strode into the marquee.
“Time to clear up,” he said grimly, clapping his hands. “Quickly now. I will of course pay for your time.”
“But they might come back,” said Polly weakly.
Taking a large white handkerchief from the top pocket of his white dinner jacket, Mr Gupta mopped his forehead. “They aren’t coming back. The wedding is cancelled.”
Lila stared at the trays of meringues that she’d so painstakingly arranged only moments ago. “What about the food?” she said.
“Get rid of everything,” said Mr Gupta with a helpless shrug. “These things happen, girls…”
Tears flooded down Polly’s cheeks as she looked around at the beautiful empty marquee and the ruined garden. “This is horrible,” she sobbed. “Poor Edward. He’s such a nice guy, Mum says. How could Stephanie run out on him on their wedding day? It must be the most humiliating thing in the world. Not only are you being dumped, you’re being dumped in front of everyone you know and care about. It’s awful.”
Lila could still see the bride’s white, stricken face in her mind. She had looked terrified. Something major must have propelled her down the garden like that. The realization that this was the rest of her life.
“If the bride realized he wasn’t right for her, then it was better for everyone that she stopped the wedding,” she said out loud. “Don’t you think?”
Polly wiped her eyes with a napkin from the nearest table. “Some people don’t know what they have until it’s gone,” she said.
Lila put away the clean plates and glasses. She swept the floor, helped box up the unburnt candles, folded the tablecloths, stacked the chairs. And as she worked, the same uncomfortable question spun through her head.
Am I one of those people?
EIGHT
“See you later, sis,” Tim said, hugging Lila tightly.
“Be good,” added Alex.
“This is Lil we’re talking about,” Tim reminded his older brother.
“Fine,” said Alex without missing a beat. “Be bad but don’t get caught.” His hug lifted Lila off the station platform so that her feet dangled in the air. “You did well organizing that party,” he said as he set her down again, “but don’t make a habit of it. Mum and Dad will start expecting great things from the black sheep of the family.”
“Keep their expectations low,” said Tim cheerfully. “That way, no one gets disappointed. Works for me.”
The joke was a little too close to the bone for Lila’s liking. “I’ll do my best,” she said, and tried to smile.
Alex clapped his hands to his head. “Not your best, you fool. Didn’t you hear a word I said?” He extended a hand in Josh’s direction. “Take care, man. I like you, sad to say.”
As Josh joked with her brothers, Lila glanced wistfully around the platform, envying all the other travellers. Their lives were bound to be more interesting than her own.
The young couple by the departures board were leaving for the South of France, she decided. Their matching suitcases were a wedding present from an eccentric uncle who had left them an apartment in Monte Carlo after he died of a rare tropical disease. The two ladies were explorers, off to research a lost tribe in the Amazon. The old guy reading the paper on the bench didn’t even seem interested in boarding the train. Perhaps he was a spy, Lila thought idly, waiting for a master criminal to reveal himself with a limp, or a spotted umbrella.
Josh put his arm around Lila as Tim and Alex boarded the train, and waved as they pulled away. As her brothers vanished around a curve in the track, Lila felt flatter than ever.
“So,” said Josh, looking down at her. “What do you want to do?”
Lila laced her fingers through his. “Something different,” she said fiercely. “I want to see different people, have conversations I’ve never had before…” An idea struck her. “How about spending the rest of the day at your house? You’ve met my entire family now, and I haven’t met any of yours.”
Josh looked worried. “Wouldn’t you prefer to go to a café or something?”
“No,” said Lila firmly. The more she thought about her suggestion, the more she liked it. “Let’s go and hang out with your grandfather.”
“He’s busy,” said Josh.
Lila frowned. “What’s he doing?”
“He’s always out on Sundays.”
Lila looked disbelievingly at him. “He must be there sometimes.”
Josh fiddled with his ear, a nervous habit Lila had noticed recently. “He goes fishing on Sundays with his buddies.”
“Shall we go and say hi at the beach?” asked Lila. She hadn’t even cared about hanging out with his grandfather until Josh had seemed so reluctant to let her meet him. Was he embarrassed by her?
She took Josh’s hand and tried to lead him out of the station. Josh wouldn’t budge.
This was getting weird now. Lila let go, put her hands on her hips and stared at him.
“What’s going on, Josh?” she demanded. “Why don’t you want me to meet your grandfather?” A horrible thought struck her. “Are you ashamed of me or something?”
Josh looked horrified. “No! Not at all! It’s just … my home life is complicated at the moment, I can’t explain…” He stopped and stared distractedly at the railway tracks. “I’ll take you to meet my grandfather this week, I promise,” he said, still staring at the curving steel rails. “Just … don’t ask me today.”
Lila’s imagination had gone into overdrive. “Is everything all right at home?” She was almost afraid of what he might tell her.
Josh rubbed his eyes. “Everything’s fine. Shall we go to the beach?”
Lila brushed his suggestion away. “I don’t want to go to the beach. I want to know what’s bugging you.”
Josh’s mouth had a stubborn set to it. “I told you, everything’s fine. You’ll meet Grandpa next week, I’ll fix it up tonight. Let’s make a decision about today before the weather changes. Those clouds look ominous.”
He was trying to change the subject. Lila’s curiosity deepened. What was he hiding? Why didn’t he ever talk about his family? “Josh—” she started.
“Not today,” he repeated. He leaned down and kissed her, and Lila almost forgot what they’d been talking about.
“How about we hang out here?” he suggested after a few minutes, squinting around at the station. “I could use a change of scenery for my sketches.”
Lila knew when she was beaten. We’ll talk about this again, she vowed to herself. And soon. She looked around at the coming and going of the passengers, their luggage and their pets and their strangely shaped packages. It could be fun, she supposed. It was somewhere different, anyway. And it looked like the best she was going to get today.
Josh settled himself down at an empty bench and took out his sketchpad. “Maybe you could help me,” he said.
Lila pulled herself out of her brooding thoughts.
“How?”
“Pick someone for me to draw.”
More people were already starting to gather, people who had arrived early for the next train or late for the last one. It was easy to tell the difference. The late ones muttered and pulled out their phones and the early ones ambled off towards the coffee kiosk at the far end of the platform like they had all the time in the world.
“Her,” Lila suggested, pointing at a middle-aged woman with a suitcase. She had a distracted air about her, and was wearing a large red hat.
“Perfect. Now tell me her story.”
“I don’t know her,” Lila pointed out, feeling a little startled as she sat beside Josh on the bench.
Josh laughed. “Make something up! You’re good at that. Help me pin a character down as well as a face.”
Lila studied the woman more closely. The suitcase was battered, but the hat was new. What did that tell her?
“Dorothy Watkins is a lonely spinster leaving Heartside Bay in search of adventure,” she said, visualizing the lady’s imaginary life. “She’s been living alone with her mother and a three-legged cat called Andrew and now her mother has died and Andrew has run away—”
Josh quirked his eyebrows. “I’ve never met a cat called Andrew. Never met a cat with three legs either.”
“Do you want to hear how this story ends?” Lila demanded. “Dorothy has an old atlas in that suitcase. It’s her prize possession, and it’s full of Post-it Notes detailing all the places she wants to see around the world. It’s a bit cat-eared—”
“Cat-eared?”
“Andrew chewed it,” Lila explained. “He lost his leg when Dorothy slammed the atlas on him by mistake one day. He’s hated the atlas ever since, obviously.”
Josh’s shoulders were shaking with laughter as he drew Dorothy Watkins and Andrew the three-legged cat and the world atlas. “What happens next?”
Lila could feel the end of the story rushing towards her like a light at the end of a dark tunnel. “Dorothy is so excited by her plans that she goes out and buys a wonderful red hat to celebrate her new adventurous self. But … I’m sorry to tell you that when the time comes to leave, she picks up the wrong suitcase.”
