by Zoe Cook
‘Yeah, thanks Luce, but I’m not having that,’ Nina said. ‘You SHALL go the Old Quay House for champagne!’ she announced in the style of Cinderella’s fairy godmother.
‘Right, well, that’s decided, then,’ Tom said. Lucy was sure he was still looking at her but pretended not to notice.
‘I’m going to go and change my shirt, it’s boiling’ Tom said, walking back to the house.
He was right – it was sweltering already. So hot there was a haze hanging over the bay, like the sun’s heat was fizzing out into the sky. Lucy felt a bead of sweat trickle down her back and thought she ought to change her dress – black was a ridiculous choice.
‘I’m changing too,’ she called as she ran off up the steps to the kitchen.
‘Oh fine, I see, I’ll drive AND clear all this up,’ she heard Nina shout to her as she stepped in to the cool white hallway, heading for the stairs.
‘Lucy,’ it was Tom, halfway up the stairs, holding on the banister.
‘Are you okay?’ Lucy asked. He looked breathless.
‘Yeah, I’m fine, he replied, ‘I just tripped. I didn’t think anyone else was in here – embarrassing!’ he laughed.
Lucy felt hugely awkward after the pained exchange at the table.
‘Okay, well I’m just changing too. I’m too hot in this dress.’
‘Very hot,’ Tom smiled at her. He reached out and touched her arm, which she pulled away from him, the intimacy of the simple act taking her by surprise.
‘Um, okay,’ Tom looked confused and leant down to stroke his ankle instead. ‘Hurts a bit,’ he said, inanely, before looking back at the floor.
‘I’ll see you at the car,’ Lucy said, hurrying up the stairs to her room and closing her door. She stood on the wooden floorboards, clenching and releasing her fists, so frustrated at herself and at Tom. What was he playing at? Did he think he could bring her here, ask her to leave London, to stay at his house, so he could introduce him to his girlfriend and then flirt with her on the stairs? What the hell?
Freetown was a twenty-minute drive, and a fifteen-minute foot ferry, away. Lucy smiled as the old man walked around the flat deck, four cars deep by five cars wide, collecting the same little colourful card tickets that they’d always used on the crossing. Freetown was an arty little town, full of winding streets packed with antique shops and art galleries. It had been ahead of its time with its food scene and was home to Lucy’s favourite dining spot in Cornwall, The Old Quay House.
As the group approached the large stone building, Lucy remembered walking hand in hand through the wooden doors with Tom so many times. Kristian had booked a table out on the veranda, overlooking the quayside. Lucy walked through the cool corridors, past the well-dressed waiting staff with their polite smiles and ironed napkins, and stepped out onto the terrace, shielding the sun from her eyes with her hand. Their table, blissfully, had a huge parasol and was tucked in a corner, where a slight breeze from the water drifted over them from time to time. The terrace was busy with glamorous ladies drinking tea and one family with slightly fraught-looking parents possibly regretting bringing children somewhere so smart.
Tom ordered for the group – four cream teas, one with champagne, two with Doombar, the local beer, and one with peppermint tea. Nina and Kristian sat on one side of the table, their chairs pressed together so that Kristian could reach his arm around Nina’s shoulders. He pulled her in to kiss her head at random moments throughout the conversation without even thinking about it, Lucy noticed. Nina’s hand was on his thigh and she traced patterns with her fingers on his khaki shorts as she spoke.
The champagne was ice-cold and felt like a tonic in the day’s heat as Lucy sipped it from a frosted glass. Nina was telling the group about her first scan, pulling a black- and-white picture from her bag. Tom did a good job of looking interested, Lucy thought. Kristian glowed with pride as he pointed out hands and feet, ‘definitely a sportsman’s physique’, he said.
‘We don’t even know if it’s a boy!’ Nina protested.
‘I do,’ Kristian insisted. ‘ I can tell. It looks like a boy.’
Lucy examined the photo in detail with Nina, while the boys moved on to a deep discussion about surf conditions for the next few days. Lucy still couldn’t quite believe that Nina had a new life growing inside her and that she seemed so relaxed about the whole thing. It helped that Kristian’s job was so flexible and well paid, of course, but still, their life was about to change forever. Even in the few weeks that they’d been together in Cornwall Lucy thought she had watched Nina’s belly begin to grow, though she may have been imagining things.
‘I think I can feel some little movements now,’ Nina told her one morning, a smile Lucy had never seen before creeping across her face – a completely new kind of love growing.
Kristian had taken his hand off Nina’s shoulders and placed it on her belly now, his fingers stroking her gently as she reclined slightly in her chair, fanning herself with the scan picture. It wasn’t a great summer to be pregnant, Lucy could see.
‘Always thought it would be you two, I suppose,’ Kristian said, addressing the whole group now.
‘What’s that?’ Lucy asked.
‘You two.’ Kristian gestured with his free hand at Tom and Lucy. ‘It always looked like it would be you two that did the whole baby, marriage, forever thing. Funny how it’s worked out.’
Lucy thought she could see Kristian regretting taking this path, as Nina turned to him with a possibly angry, definitely warning, look on her face.
‘Yep, funny how things work out,’ Lucy replied, trying to think of a way to change the subject.
‘Well, who knows what would’ve happened if you’d stayed,’ Tom took Lucy by surprise with his words. They hung, starkly, in the silence of the group.
Lucy picked up her glass and took slightly too large a mouthful of champagne, struggling to swallow the bubbles.
‘Or if you’d come with me,’ she answered back, without looking at Tom, wishing immediately she hadn’t said it. That she had some sodding self-control.
Nina sighed at Kristian in a ‘look what you’ve done’ manner and picked up a menu, reading the sandwich selection aloud and adding her own commentary on the relative pros and cons of each option, while everyone else sat in silence, drinking their drinks and spreading jam and cream onto warm scones.
Tom picked up the bill when it arrived and Lucy decided to go for a walk around some of the antique shops she’d always loved. Nina and Kristian were off to a surf shop to look at boards for Kristian, ‘which he doesn’t need’, Nina had pointed out as they practically skipped off. Glad to be getting away from the tension, Lucy supposed. She didn’t know what Tom was going to do. He’d probably sit and watch the boats, she thought. He’d always done this when they’d come to Freetown. He loved reading their names and wondering who owned them, where they’d been, where they’d go. He was a dreamer, Lucy thought to herself. He used to be, anyway.
The cobbled streets were even smaller than Lucy remembered, and there were fewer shops than in her memories. Quite a few premises were boarded up, empty and the town didn’t look quite as high-end as it used to. The financial climate had hit Cornwall hard, she’d known that, but seeing Hideaway, an exception to the rule, had shielded her from the reality. Freetown looked tired and bleak. The pastel-coloured fishing cottages looked like they needed a fresh coat of paint and the gift shops had been invaded by the tat that spelled trouble for most towns.
Lucy walked into an antiques shop that had been there for as long as she could remember, a bell ringing as she opened the door, but there was no sign of any staff. She walked through the tiny shop, piled high with trinkets made of metal, glass and wood, and stood at one of the large glass display cabinets full of jewellery and knick-knacks. She was angry with herself all over again for how she’d reacted back at the table. She just felt so stupid and her face reddened now at the memory. The bell on the door rang behind her as she examined a pretty silver box
engraved with a hunting scene.
‘You should never have left me without saying goodbye,’ Tom was standing behind her. She didn’t turn around.
‘I know,’ she replied, quietly. ‘I just didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what was fair.’
She turned around to face him. He looked tired, hurt maybe. ‘It wasn’t fair to just go, to never look back,’ he trailed off without finishing the sentence. Lucy’s heart hurt. ‘But anyway, that’s the past and I don’t want to argue with you.’ He stepped next to her and looked into the glass cabinet.
‘Remember that necklace I bought you here?’ he said. ‘An amethyst heart, wasn’t it? Classy!’ he said lightly, smiling at Lucy.
She met his eye and smiled back.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to snap at you back there. There’s just a lot going on with me at the moment and it’s weird being back here. So much is exactly the same and some things have changed too much.’ She could hear herself talking in clichés and it made her cringe inwardly.
‘I know,’ Tom said. ‘It must be really weird, especially staying at mine and seeing how the café’s changed, and…’ he stopped again. Seeing you with your hot blonde girlfriend, Lucy thought. Yep, pretty damn weird.
Lucy’s phone buzzed in her pocket – she pulled it out to see a message from Scott. She instinctively turned her phone away from Tom slightly as she scanned the screen:
Hi Lucy, hope you’re good. Bit awkward, but I need my key back please. Can we meet up? Or you could just post it through the door. I’m seeing someone, and she doesn’t like you still having a key, so I’d appreciate it if you could return it. Cheers, Scott x
Lucy had totally forgotten the key. She’d only used it once or twice; it had never had any significance for her. She was pleased for Scott that he’d met someone else, but felt a bit sorry for the girl who cared that his ex had a key. Why had he even mentioned it to her? How odd. It was probably someone from work, she thought, maybe Cindy – the girl who used to text him when she was drunk. She realised she really didn’t care. She’d text him back later and tell him she’d send it to him. She hoped it was somewhere sensible amongst her things.
‘Anything important?’ Tom asked, still looking at the display cabinet.
‘Not at all,’ she replied. ‘We need to go back to the ferry soon.’
‘Fancy ten minutes looking at the boats first?’ Tom asked, looking out of the shop towards the harbour.
‘Sure,’ Lucy replied, making her way towards the door, the weight of her amethyst heart necklace, which she’d worn every day for seven years, weighing slightly heavier than usual around her neck.
25
Sitting in the hairdresser’s chair, Lucy explained to a very excited Olivia that she just needed a few inches off her hair and a few highlights through it.
‘Going to look ab-so-lute-ly awesome,’ Olivia assured her. Lucy was confused by just how excited Olivia seemed to be about the whole thing.
‘So we’ll just get that washed and then we can have a good old natter,’ Olivia said, patting Lucy’s shoulder as if reassuring her that she wouldn’t have to wait too long for this much-anticipated treat. Lucy shut her eyes as a junior girl washed her hair and massaged her scalp. She thought about the last time she’d had her hair done, in a salon by the studios, after a boozy lunch with the entertainment team. She’d taken cans of gin and tonic with her to share with the hairdresser, so unable was she to stop drinking after a few glasses of prosecco. She shuddered slightly thinking about it, remembering how she’d eventually met up with Warren to carry on ‘partying’, picking up an obscene amount of cocaine they’d planned to keep for the next few weeks. They’d finished it that same night.
Back at the mirror, Olivia began sectioning her hair and weaving the pointed silver prong through it before applying dye to the selected strands, packaging them up in foil. Lucy made polite conversation with her about the town, about school and the teachers. Olivia was very sweet, but there didn’t seem to be a lot going on upstairs, Lucy thought. She told Lucy at length about her boyfriend, Ben, who worked as a lifeguard on the beach and animatedly explained how jealous she got of all the girls in bikinis who spent their days ‘trying to get his attention by struggling in the water’.
‘You know you’re desperate if you’re drowning yourself to try and pull,’ Lucy offered, but Olivia had moved on to the next topic: how difficult it was packing for a holiday when you didn’t know what the weather was going to do. It was going to be a long couple of hours in the chair.
‘Oh my God,’ Olivia whispered, glancing towards the reception desk. Lucy looked up from her magazine to see a tall, blonde surfy-looking guy standing at the desk chatting to Sarah. ‘That’s Olly,’ Olivia said in the loudest, least-subtle whisper Lucy had ever heard. ‘What I’d give for a lesson from him.’ Lucy puzzled at Olivia’s sudden forgetting of her boyfriend. ‘He’s a surf instructor,’ Olivia continued, almost salivating, her eyes fixed on what Lucy had to concede was a fine example of a man. ‘He’s teaching Emily’s son,’ Olivia explained. ‘He comes in here every week so she can pay him. Highlight of my week.’
She sighed, looking back at Lucy’s hair and folding a little silver-foil packet up to her scalp slightly too tightly.
Lucy continued to look at Olly, his blonde hair still wet from the water. He looked about her age. She definitely hadn’t seen him before. He probably knew Tom if he was on the beach every day. He had a truly beautiful face, too beautiful really – he almost didn’t look real. His smile revealed perfect teeth and Lucy realised with a shock that he was smiling at her. She smiled back and looked away, embarrassed. She’d been staring and he’d seen her – how mortifying. When she dared to look back at the desk he’d gone.
Olivia was drying Lucy’s hair, freshly trimmed and newly dyed, before she plucked up the courage to say what she’d clearly been desperate to say from the moment Lucy had sat down.
‘I was in Richie’s class,’ she offered, hesitantly. ‘That’s how I know you. We used to come in to the café after your – ‘ she stopped herself ‘ – when you lived on your own. My parents used to talk to you about your parents, about Richie.’ Lucy could see how hard it had been for Olivia to tell her, and she smiled at her to let her know she was okay.
‘Oh right,’ she said. ‘Who are your parents?’
‘Mel and Steve’, Olivia replied. ‘My mum’s the florist.’
Lucy thought she could vaguely remember them. ‘Oh yes, of course,’ she said.
‘I just wanted to say, I hope you don’t mind – that Richie, he, he idolised you. He loved you so much. I just don’t know whether he ever would have told you that, being so young, but I remember how much he loved you. I’ve never forgotten – ever since it happened. I’ve thought about it a lot. I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I just thought that I’d want to be told that, if it was me. But I don’t know what it’s like, I suppose, so I’m sorry,’ Olivia didn’t look at Lucy as she trailed off, her grin a distant memory now.
‘That’s lovely,’ Lucy said gently. ‘That means a lot, thank you. I thought the world of him too. I’m glad you said that, thank you, Olivia.’
The whirr of the hairdryer drowned out any awkward silence. Lucy sat and allowed herself to remember her brother, vividly, for the first time in years. That mop of brown curls, his cheeky grin, the annoying way he’d hide her things ‘as a game’, for her. She realised she was smiling at the memories. He should be Olivia’s age. What would he have been, she wondered? He was kind, she thought, he’d have done something good.
Olivia had done a great job of Lucy’s hair. It was still long, down to her chest, but had sun-kissed highlights running throughout it now. It looked good, Lucy knew as she inspected it in the mirror. She paid at the reception desk and gave Olivia a hug as she left, thanking her as she said goodbye.
‘Hang on a sec, shall I book you in for six weeks’ time?’ Olivia asked, stopping Lucy at the door.
‘Um,
no thanks. I won’t be here then,’ Lucy replied, ‘I’ll be back in London.’
Lucy called Claire as she walked along the beach back towards the house, carrying her flip-flops in one hand, the sand almost too hot for her feet. The midday sun was scorching and she felt as though she could see her tanned limbs darkening before her eyes. Claire answered after two rings, happy to hear from her sister.
‘I wanted to speak to you about your flat,’ Claire said.
‘Oh yeah, is it all okay?’ Lucy asked, realising she’d hardly thought about it since she’d left London.
‘It’s all fine,’ Claire replied. ‘It’s just that you’ve been gone for almost two weeks now. Anna’s only meant to be there for another fortnight. Are you coming back?’
‘I am coming back,’ Lucy said, slightly cross at Claire’s tone. As if she would be thinking about staying down here.
‘I might be a bit longer than a couple of weeks, I suppose, if Anna wants an extra few weeks there?’
‘Okay, that would be really helpful, I think, thanks,’ Claire said, sounding like her patience was being tested. The call was irritating Lucy too; she wanted to get off the phone before they fell out.
‘Okay, well let’s say another month for Anna and then she’ll need to leave so I can come back.’
‘Have you got a job to come back to?’ Claire asked
‘I’m working on it,’ Lucy lied. She hadn’t even started to contact anyone yet about possible TV roles, the thought of it filled her with an unspecified but definite dread.
‘Great, that’s great news,’ Claire said, slightly patronisingly, Lucy thought.
‘I’m not a total fuck-up, Claire. I’ll sort it out,’ she said, before she could stop herself.
‘I didn’t say you were. God, Lucy, stop being so fucking precious all the time. I’m on constant fucking eggshells around you and I’m sick of it. All I ever try and do is look out for you. You could be more grateful sometimes, you know. I’m running around sorting out your fucking flat.’
