by Jane Linfoot
Tansy’s behind Tiff like a disapproving echo. ‘Head hunting? That has to be so bad for animal rights.’
Bill’s there again. ‘Well, if you come back when the shop’s open, there are four whole floors of bridal gorgeousness waiting for you to sigh over complete with a wedding styling basement and a florist.’
I have to ask. ‘How come you’re such an authority?’
‘Because I specialise in stags?’ His lips are twisting. ‘Not really, everyone knows, it’s Cornwall’s most famous wedding emporium, they talk about it on Pirate FM all the time.’ In spite of the cold and the rest of us shivering and pulling our scarves over our mouths between fudge chunks, his coat is still unnervingly and invitingly open. ‘If you’re into beautiful design you need to call in at Plum’s Deck Gallery too, further down near the Crusty Cobs cake shop. Come on, it’s bursting with great things, they’ve got local craft stalls out on the deck, and fairy lights too.’
That was a neat move, the way he took control there. I wasn’t even aware he was with us, let alone guiding us around town. But as he pulls open the huge glass door of the gallery a few minutes later and we move into a lofty space with white painted walls washed with soft light, I’m actually pleased he did.
As we wheel in the pushchairs and the warmth hits us Fliss takes down her hood and nudges me. ‘Willow and her kids are here already. By the looks of the pile at the till they’re shopping for England.’
I’m puzzling. ‘How does that fit with them being super-non-materialistic and not buying things?’
My aside was meant for Fliss, but Tiff’s straight in answering it. ‘They do shop, but they’re very picky so they don’t end up with shedloads of crap.’
‘That sounds like the kind of shopping mission statement I could do with myself.’
Tarkie’s appeared from somewhere too. ‘Our family likes buying crap.’
Tansy rubs her nose. ‘So long as it’s crap that’s kind to animals.’
As Willow turns and sees us she leans and says something to the assistant, then hurries across towards us.
‘Ivy, what perfect timing! I’ve got something to give you.’ She’s holding out her fist.
I’m kicking myself even more now for not claiming the sparkly sweatshirts as mine. But at least we’re in the right place for me to buy them all extra gifts. I make my voice bright. ‘Lovely, but aren’t we waiting for Christmas?’
Maybe this is a special non-materialist new-age custom to spread the pressies out and lessen the negative impact on the soul due to over indulgence on Christmas Day. But while I can see where they’re coming from, I won’t ever agree – I’m in retail, overt and spectacular consumption is what keeps me in a job, I rely on people putting worries about principles and credit card bills to one side and going for one glorious gift blitz.
Willow swallows. ‘That’s a nice festive thought, but this can’t wait.’
‘It’s that urgent?’ What can be so important?
She’s smiling at me. ‘The state of your chakras, we need to get to work straight away and this is going to help.’
Oh my. If that’s a rabbit’s foot she’s clutching, when I see it I might just be sick. Although Queen Elizabeth the first used to wear red on her lips to ward off evil spirits. If Willow’s homed in on bright lippy, so long as the tone’s not too purple, I can possibly work with that.
To be on the safe side I shrink back, hoping I’m not putting Harriet in danger by using her pushchair as a shield. ‘So what is it?’
‘No need to look so horrified.’ Willow’s eyes are dancing. ‘There’s some lovely sea glass over there, the moment I saw this necklace I knew, the blues are exactly what you need, they’ll be very healing for you.’ It could have been worse. She didn’t foresee anything. She isn’t claiming it spoke to her.
‘Right.’ It comes out as a whisper, because I can’t remember when a gift was more stressy. Everyone’s looking on, rapt. It isn’t like I got much practice opening George’s, because he bought them so rarely. When he did they were mostly alcohol, and he always forgot I hate whisky then drank it himself.
Willow’s eyes are shining. ‘I had a feeling I was going to find something beautiful in here, as we came through the door it was literally calling out to me across the room.’
‘Oh my.’ My stomach withers as I hear that double whammy. She’s sounding more excited than I am, which just goes to prove, the pleasure is in the giving. But if her muesli is called Morning Zen, I’m bracing myself for something truly awful here.
‘Ivy, just open your eyes and look.’
I didn’t even know they were closed. As I force myself to prise my eyelids up I see a fine silver strand of chain. And cupped in her palm, some bright silver stars and chunks of sea glass in the deepest blue, and soft turquoise green. I let out a gasp. ‘But it’s beautiful.’
Willow’s nodding. ‘I know, that’s why you have to have it. Put it on, the blues will sit on your throat, I promise you’ll feel better when they do.’
I unwind my scarf, let her put it around my neck, and turn so she can do up the clasp for me. ‘Thank you, Willow.’ I drop a kiss on her cheek then hold the stones where they fall just below the hollow of my neck.
Bill’s still there, talking to Willow. ‘Very fitting, Ivy’s second name is Stella, which means star, and her surname is Starforth. She’s a very starry woman, you know.’
I turn to him. ‘It does, but how do you know that?’
He’s looking at me like he doesn’t know why I’m asking. ‘You must have mentioned it in Chamonix.’
‘Of course, I tell people all the time, don’t I?’ I’m staring at Fliss to back me up here and turn this horribly significant claim of his into nothing. And when she doesn’t I have to poke her.
‘Yeah … of course … like every day … at least twice …’ She’s frowning at me. ‘Did you ever tell me that?’ Then she grins. ‘Of course you did, I just lost it when they did the two memory wipes in the labour ward.’
Tiff’s bobbing down next to Harriet. ‘Tiffany means I’m god, but in the form of a girl.’
I grin at her. ‘That’s fitting too then.’
Willow’s nodding. ‘There you go, it’s working already. Wearing those blue stones will make it a lot easier for you to express what you’re truly feeling.’
Tansy joins in. ‘And Tansy means immortal and it’s also a yellow flower.’
Tarkie pulls a face. ‘A yellow flower that stinks, or a vampire, that’s stinky too.’
Tiff rolls her eyes. ‘Don’t listen, he’s always like this when he’s had too many hot dogs.’
I’m staring at Willow as the enormity of what she’s telling me sinks in. ‘And saying what I feel is a good thing?’ Even if it was almost true and said in a jokey way, that was a pretty cutting comment I made to Tiff there. From where I’m standing, right next to Bill this could turn into a nightmare scenario. I take a step away before I blurt. I mean, really, who here will be better off knowing I’m aching to climb inside his coat with him? Some things need to stay private. Stuff expressing myself, some things need not to be thought in the first place.
Willow’s still smiling except now her smile’s turned super-serene. ‘I’m picking up that you’ve been repressing yourself for a long time – once you’re being true to yourself again, you’re going to feel amazing.’
‘No, I need to take this off, like straight away.’ I’m fumbling inside my collar, desperately trying to find the clasp when Willow’s hand lands on my elbow.
‘Ivy, it’s fine, keep it on.’ She’s looking at me sideways. ‘I know you want to …’
‘It’s too scary.’ It’s coming out as squeaky as a mouse, but it’s also the truth. And what I can’t get over is how Willow looks like she’s about to break, and yet she’s so robust. Libby has energy and she’s bursting with success and power, but Willow’s force is so much deeper and quieter and somehow stronger. More like titanium. Solid, but light at the same time. And even through t
he thickness of my coat sleeve I can feel the warmth from her fingers. And it’s as if some of that strength is passing through to me. Because she’s right. ‘Actually I don’t want to take off my lovely sea glass and stars. Why would I?’
She’s nodding. ‘That’s better, Ivy-leaf.’
I’m nodding back at her. ‘And now I need to do some shopping myself.’ Which as a statement is totally innocuous. So maybe I don’t need to worry after all. Obviously it was all bullshit, I was panicking totally unnecessarily. As if a bit of glass round my neck would do anything. I wiggle my eyebrows at her. ‘These people who go buying me gorgeous stuff when I haven’t got them anything …’
Oh fuck.
This can only go one way from here … downhill faster than a bobsleigh run.
24.
Antlers, angel wings, snowberries and pretty things
Plum’s Deck Gallery turns out to have that elusive ‘something’ every retail outlet aspires to. As soon as I head off to look around I’m overtaken by a compulsion to buy every item in the place, and the others are the same. There are some really cute shopping baskets that look like lobster pots to put things in before you pay, and we fill them to overflowing and then some. The gallery owner, Plum, is there at the till, her dark curls caught up into a ponytail, her paint spattered overalls a lot like her pictures of the sea. She must have a really good eye, because I’m picking up everything from lovely little hand painted signs that say quirky things like cactus, to amazing silk scarves that are just so perfect for Miranda I have to get two, and that’s before we get to the jewellery and the sea glass and the cute toys.
Once our shopping frenzy – for once that’s not me exaggerating – is over we all head out for drinks on the deck. Toasting our toes under a pergola covered in pink, blue and orange fairy lights, warmed by the glow of log braziers, sipping from huge mugs of hot chocolate topped with lashings of squirty cream, listening to the distant rush of the waves on the beach far below. Even with the minor hiccup of Tarkie and Tansy almost fighting to the death over the last iced friendship biscuit they were both too full to eat, and Oscar’s meltdown when he dropped his toffee apple off the edge of the deck, as evenings go, they don’t come much better. By the time we’re winding our way back down to the cars again Harriet’s fast asleep, and Oscar’s nodding too.
Fliss unlocks the car, and starts to load Oscar into the back, and I’m at the other door with Bill looking on, happily showing off how my child skills have improved these last few days. I get Harriet all the way into her car seat, still asleep, before I hit a hitch and step back from the car.
‘Okay, you’ll have to take it from here, Fliss.’
Bill leans in front of me, pulls on the straps and fiddles with the clip. ‘Fine, she’s all done and ready to go.’ A second later he’s out of the car again unhooking the bags from the pushchair. One nudge of his knee, that’s folded to nothing, and he sweeps it into the boot.
I’m standing on the car park gravel, blinking at him. ‘How the hell did you do that?’ Quite apart from the car seat, believe me, I know. Unless you’re a fully paid up member of the ‘wrecked and desperate parent’ brigade, or you’ve got your Norland Nannies certificate, these pushchairs are damn near impossible to collapse, because that’s how they’re designed. I’ve been there, done that, got the hopeless auntie badges to prove it. I’ve tried, sometimes for ages, and Fliss has always had to come and take over in the end.
Bill gives a shrug. ‘It’s a man thing, Ivy, anything with moving parts, the instructions are pre-programmed into our DNA.’
‘Really.’ I’m pleased Merwyn is here because it’s great to have someone to exchange WTF? eye rolls with. I’m also quite pleased to say in the battle between me and my sea glass, I managed not to share how much like total Bill bollocks that sounded, although truly, someone needs to tell him when he sounds so up himself.
‘Anyway …’ He swings the second pushchair into the boot and closes the lid in one fluid movement. ‘… who’s for walking back along the beach?’
Seeing as Libby and her kids are already back in their car, and Fliss is dangling her car keys about to drive her children home, this is what Tarkie would call ‘a well stupid’ question. But I keep that to myself too. ‘The water’s splashing onto the promenade, there’s hardly any beach left to walk on – somehow I don’t think so.’
It’s the perfect excuse. There’s no way I want to walk back on my own with Bill. Why? Well, knowing what’s there and that I’ll never have it, for one. It’s a lot like pressing your nose up against the window and drooling over the strawberry tarts when the cake shop’s closed. On balance, you save yourself a lot of pain if you walk by on the other side of the road and don’t look in the first place. And that’s before we get to the whole thing about my out of control self expression. Until I’m sure how that’s going, it’s too dangerous to take the risk. I know my moments of Will-lust were a complete misplaced fantasy from years ago, but blurting anything about it would be catastrophic. If it accidentally came out, that would be Libby’s Insta Christmas up the spout. She’d be on her own, I’d have to leave for London straight away.
The sound that Bill lets out sounds very close to a laugh. ‘That was four hours ago, Ivy, that’s the thing with the tide, it goes in and out. The sea’s miles away now.’
It’s a good job I can think on my feet. ‘In any case, I really need to go in the car with Fliss.’
Fliss is looking at me strangely. ‘We love you very much Aunty Ivy, but we drove all the way from London, I think we can manage half a mile back to the castle.’ Whose side is she on here? ‘How many times in your life have you had the chance of a moonlight walk along a beach?’
She’s got a point. Thinking back to Ibiza with George it was more about crawling back to the hotel at dawn. And then I remember. ‘Merwyn and I have had moonlight walks together most evenings since we arrived. And the moon was bigger then too.’ Merwyn’s sitting up very straight, holding up his paw, and he lets out the tiniest whine when he hears the ‘w’ word.
Bill’s rubbing his hands. ‘In that case, what are we waiting for, if you’re taking him out later, we might as well all walk back now.’ He hesitates for a second. Then he does the unthinkable, and talks to the dog. ‘What do you say, Merwyn?’
Merwyn looks from Bill to me, and back again. Then he does the unthinkable too, and barks in reply.
Fliss laughs, climbs into the driver’s seat. ‘I think you got your answer there, we’ll see you back at the castle in fifteen.’
‘Fuck.’ This time the sea glass came off best.
‘This way to the beach.’ The way Bill’s got his arm out, guiding me down the steps and out onto the sand, I’m half way into his coat already. ‘Is everything okay?’
It’s not, actually, it couldn’t be more crap. I avoid being on my own with Bill in the light for more than a few seconds. Being alone with him in the dark, all the way back to the castle, there’s so much potential for me to mess up it’s about as comfortable as walking into a minefield blindfold. ‘I’ve got a ton of shopping in my backpack. Apart from that, we’re all good, couldn’t be better thanks.’ And ‘yay’ to that lie. I bend down and let Merwyn off the lead, and he dashes off along the sand chasing shadows in the half light.
Considering the length of his legs, Bill’s walking super-slowly. I’m doing bursts of breathless running as my feet sink into the soft sand, then turning to wait for him. Which is fine, apart from having to watch him come towards me. Put it this way. Somehow the moon shadows on his face make him even more edible than usual. Which is a thought that makes me feel a lot more like Miranda than myself.
‘I can carry your bag if you’d like? I saw you loading up with a heap of mini Svens back there.’
‘It was all very moreish, it’s lucky I got out before I bought a ten foot high sea scape.’ My backpack is totally rammed, but I’m puzzled. ‘How do you know about Sven?’
‘Doesn’t everyone know about Sven?’
<
br /> ‘Seeing he’s a cartoon reindeer, probably only if they’ve seen Frozen.’
He gives a shrug and pulls a face. ‘I may have watched it once or twice.’
Okay, I’ll admit. I’m picking my jaw up off the floor here because he just doesn’t seem the type. ‘Somehow that’s so unexpected it makes you seem way more endearing and less bad tempered, after all.’ Sea glass alert!
‘I can work with endearing.’ He gives a sniff. ‘So how come you bought all the Svens, I thought reindeer made you jumpy?’
Shit. The lurch of my stomach is so huge I almost bring my hot chocolate back up. I do a couple of big leaps across the sand to cover my confusion and swallow hard. ‘This is me working through that. I love Christmas, Santa’s sleigh is a huge part, it simply isn’t practical to live my life wanting to chuck up every time I see antlers.’
‘Having that particular aversion must be awful, especially for you.’ His voice goes lower and full of concern. ‘So can I ask what brought this on?’
I let out a long sigh because he’s already touched on this. ‘The crash where I cut up my face happened last December – I was on my way home from a party wearing a reindeer outfit, that’s all.’ I’m shaking my head. ‘Looking on the bright side, when they cut off my clothes in A&E I’d have minded much more if they’d had to cut off my favourite French Connection jeans.’ I have to tell him though. ‘I sound like I’m making light of it, but that’s only because it was all so awful I really can’t talk about it.’
That night was probably the lowest point in my life, for so many reasons. If ever I let myself think about it, first I want to die of shame. Then I desperately want to turn back the clock so I can make better decisions. The only way I’ve found to cope with the guilt and carry on is by never thinking about it deeply at all.
He lets out a low whistle. ‘Well, if you’ve come as far as buying a heap of hand sized furry reindeer, that’s progress. And you’ve taken off your hat inside and everyone’s seen what you’re hiding under your new hairstyle, so you’re moving forward with that too.’
