‘Mate, that’s life. Sometimes you’ve got to make a change.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ He shrugged. ‘But I’d never be able to buy Hawksworthy back. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.’
‘Along with all your money worries.’
‘Fair point.’
‘Look, I made a massive change fifteen years ago. Jacked it all in to move down here. It was the best decision I ever made for me, but there were sacrifices. My marriage, for a start.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe that would have crumbled anyway and moving just made it happen quicker. And I’m not proud of that. It was tough for the kids. But by putting myself first, I changed things. Otherwise we would have just limped on with everything staying the same and drowning in frustration and bitterness and resentment.’ He paused for a moment. ‘My wife would tell you I was a selfish bastard, but I wouldn’t have made her happy by moving back to Essex. And the boys had a much better life down here. I know they did. And it was bloody hard, being a single dad, everyone thinking I’d taken them away from their mum just because I wanted to go surfing every morning …’ He was starting to get a bit choked. ‘Yeah, I wanted to go surfing but not as much as I wanted the best for them and me. And I tried to do my best for Tina, but she didn’t want the same things.’ He shrugged. ‘I guess what I’m saying is sometimes you have to be selfish, because everyone loses if you’re not.’
Mick wasn’t used to conversations where people unpacked their emotional history.
‘Right,’ he nodded, not sure what to say.
‘And,’ Rocky was in full flow now. ‘The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. You have to pull out the Jenga block, bring everything tumbling down, then build it up again.’
‘Well,’ said Mick. ‘That’s given me food for thought. Thank you.’
Rocky came over and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Sorry. I think I’ve confused you even more. But if you want one of these, give me the heads up.’ He pressed a brochure into his hand. ‘All the specs are in here, along with artist’s impressions. I’m putting them on the market in June, when we’ve got guaranteed sunshine. But I can put your name on one. If you tell me early enough you can choose your own kitchen tiles.’ He grinned. ‘Just say the word.’
If it was up to him, thought Mick, he’d sign on the dotted line right now.
27
‘I look awful! Like Worzel Gummidge in a dress. Look at my hair!’
Sheila stood in front of the mirror and plucked at her wayward fringe, desperately trying to smooth it into place.
‘Mum, it’s not the right dress, that’s all.’ Clover tried to soothe her. ‘It’s not doing anything for you. And I don’t think you should wear a dress, anyway. It’s a beach wedding. It’s casual. Let’s go back and look at those kaftans. They’re really cool.’
‘I don’t want to look like Nana Mouskouri.’
Clover and Robyn looked at each other.
‘Who?’ mouthed Clover.
Robyn shrugged. She was trying not to laugh. Not in a mean way, as she didn’t want to upset Sheila – clothes shopping always made her a bit hysterical.
‘Let’s go and have cake,’ she suggested.
‘Are you all right?’ said Sheila, immediately alarmed. ‘Are you feeling giddy?’
‘No,’ said Robyn. ‘I just fancy cake, that’s all. I’m fine, Mum.’
Sheila had turned into a helicopter mum ever since Robyn had announced she was pregnant, checking up on her several times a day. It was sweet, really, for Sheila wasn’t usually the kind of mother that hovered. But as she had told Robyn, after everything she had been through herself, pregnancy in anyone else made her anxious. It was wearing, though. If Robyn yawned, or decided to sit down, or gave any hint of something not being quite right, Sheila panicked.
Robyn and Clover had persuaded her to take the day off for them all to go wedding shopping in Exeter. Clover had put herself in charge of styling them both. Robyn had been thrilled to bits with the outfit Clover had sourced for her. She’d researched it in advance on-line and reserved it in two sizes. Robyn had tried it on, nervous at first, for it wasn’t what she would have chosen, but it suited her perfectly, and there was even room in case she suddenly put on weight. It was folded up in tissue paper in a paper carrier bag with rope handles, and she felt relieved to have got her wedding outfit out of the way.
It was proving more tricky with Sheila.
‘How about this?’ Clover picked up some wide-legged white linen pants and teamed it with a navy blazer. ‘You can go blazer for the registry office then swap it out for a sweater on the beach. It’s chic. And the nautical look fits in.’
‘I can’t wear white,’ said Sheila, horrified at this flaunting of protocol.
‘Mum, you can wear white. I don’t mind at all. I’m wearing green.’ Robyn pointed out.
‘Yes, well.’ Sheila looked disapproving. ‘You know what they say about marrying in green. It’s the fairies’ colour. It’s bad luck.’
‘You always say if you drink tea someone else has poured, you’ll have ginger twins,’ Robyn laughed. ‘Which would mean the world would be full of them. I’m not superstitious.’
‘Come on, Mum.’ Clover waved the outfit at her.
‘OK, I’ll try it.’
She disappeared back into the changing room.
‘I’m exhausted,’ said Clover. ‘I was thinking about becoming a stylist but not now. It’s a nightmare.’
‘Don’t be silly. You’re going to become a high-court judge.’
‘Oh yeah,’ Clover hit her head as if she’d forgotten. ‘And wear six-inch Louboutins.’
Robyn smiled. She could picture Clover in a wig and gown and towering heels. Her little sister was going to take over the world, she was sure of it.
Sheila emerged from the changing room looking un-certain. Both girls burst into spontaneous applause. Clover was right. The outfit was flattering and chic and made Sheila look far younger than any of the dresses she’d tried on.
‘It’s perfect,’ said Clover. ‘You can get some thick-soled white canvas sneakers. And I’ll do your hair on the morning.’
Sheila admired herself in the mirror, surprised at the effect, turning from side to side.
‘We just need to get something decent for your dad now.’
‘I’m going to pick him up a navy polo shirt and chinos from M and S.’ Clover had already worked out what she could persuade Mick into. ‘You’ll look like a Hamptons power couple.’
Sheila had no idea what Clover was talking about, but she was happy as she paid for her outfit. ‘One less thing to worry about. I’ve just got to get baking tins from Lakeland. I’m still not sure about naked, though.’
‘Naked?’ Clover frowned.
‘The cake. It’s the fashion. I like a thick layer of icing myself, but Robyn’s insisting.’
‘She’s such a control freak.’ Clover rolled her eyes.
Robyn smiled, knowing they were teasing. She could not be less demanding. She was leaving everything to everyone else, pretty much. Mostly Gwen. And Rocky. Sometimes she felt guilty about it, but everyone was being so generous with their time.
Ten minutes later, they were in the department store café having shortbread and coffee. Robyn checked her emails automatically, then froze.
There it was. An email to say her birth mother was on the register and would like to make contact. Her details were there in black and white.
Emily Silver was only a click away.
She put her phone back in her bag hastily. The conversation carried on around her but Robyn couldn’t hear anything. She was stunned. Even though she had thought endlessly about the possibility of this happening, she hadn’t realised how very much she wanted it to.
Her birth mother wanted to make contact.
She might actual
ly get the chance to meet her.
The woman who had carried her, just as she was carrying her own baby right now.
She wanted to cry, with happiness and relief and wonder, but she couldn’t. Now was not the time.
‘Everything OK?’ Sheila detected a change in her, ever on high alert.
‘Yes. Just a client chasing a quote. No such thing as a day off,’ Robyn joked.
‘To my mind, you shouldn’t be working at all.’ Sheila passed Robyn a hunk of shortbread, just in case she starved.
‘Mum, stop worrying. Everyone works right up until the last minute these days.’
‘Well, you needn’t think you’re going to. I’m already worried about you heaving things about.’
‘I absolutely promise you: Jake isn’t letting me lift anything heavier than a pot of lavender.’
It was true. She wasn’t even allowed to push a wheelbarrow. She felt as if she was slowing things down at the hotel, but Jake had assured her she wasn’t. They were on track to finish today, apart from the final planting, which she would do next week, giving her the week after to get ready for the wedding. Not that she would have much to do. The invitations had gone out and Gwen had sent her a list of menu suggestions for approval and seemed to have everything under control.
Thank goodness. Robyn didn’t think she would be able to put her mind to anything now. All she could think about was the email on her phone, buried deep in her handbag. It was like a hand grenade. As soon as she pulled the pin, there would be consequences.
‘I know what we should do now,’ said Sheila. ‘Go and look at baby things.’
‘What?’ Robyn said. ‘It’s way too early.’
‘It’s never too early to look,’ said Sheila. ‘This is my first grandchild. I want to make sure it has the very best.’
Robyn looked at her smiling face and her heart quailed. Would there ever be a good time to broach the subject? Perhaps it would be best to wait until after the wedding? Everyone was slightly hyper and feeling the pressure, she could sense that. Even though it was a nice kind of pressure, there was an invisible clock ticking. They were all running around doing their bit to make her wedding day perfect for her.
If she told everyone now, she risked the chance of ruining the big day. She wasn’t so worried about herself, but she certainly didn’t want to spoil it for Jake, who was working all the hours he could. Or Sheila and Mick, who were beaming with pride. Or Rocky, who was putting his heart and soul into renovating the Shedquarters.
An emotional bombshell would be incredibly selfish.
‘Come on,’ said Sheila. ‘I want to look at cots.’
‘Isn’t my old one in the attic?’ asked Clover.
‘They’ve changed all the rules since then. The bars have to be closer together.’ Sheila was sweeping up her bags.
Clover looked at Robyn. ‘She wants to buy a new one,’ they chorused, and collapsed laughing.
Her family was perfect, thought Robyn as she followed her mother and sister to the baby department. Was she jeopardising everything she had, just because there was a need, deep inside her that she couldn’t ignore?
28
‘What do you think?’
Standing in the middle of the kitchen, Sheila held her wedding outfit aloft for Mick’s approval.
‘Very nice.’ Which was exactly what she knew he’d say. Even if she’d held up a dress made out of sticky-back plastic and safety pins, he would say ‘Very nice.’
‘And Clover picked this out for you.’ She pulled the navy polo shirt and chinos out of the bag. ‘You just need to get yourself some decent shoes.’
Mick surveyed the outfit that had been chosen for him. ‘I can always wear my wellies,’ he replied, deadpan.
Sheila cuffed him round the head playfully. ‘You,’ she said, and folded up the clothes. ‘I can’t believe it’s only two weekends away.’
‘We’re not having to worry about too much, are we?’
‘The cake!’ Sheila put her hands on her hips. ‘I’ve got to worry about the cake.’
‘You can do that in your sleep.’
Mick had every faith in his wife’s baking skills. She sat down at the table with a sigh.
‘I’m proper tired after all that shopping. Robyn insisted on going to the pub with Jake. She should be having an early night. She does too much.’
‘Leave her be.’
‘I know, but I can’t help worrying.’ Sheila’s face was crumpled with concern. ‘I know she’s past the twelve-week hurdle but you know …’ She took in a deep breath. ‘It can happen any time. Can’t it?’
She turned to look at him. There were tears in her eyes suddenly. Mick strode across the room and put a large hand on her shoulder.
‘Now stop that. There’s no reason why it might go wrong.’
‘I know. But I’m still so scared. I can’t ever forget. How awful it was. I don’t think I could cope if it happened to Robyn.’
‘Come here, now. You’re being silly.’ Mick folded her into his arms. It upset him when she remembered. He found the memories agony too, but not as painful as his wife’s distress.
Sheila wiped her eyes.
‘I know I’m being silly. It’s not as if it’s going to run in the family. She’s not my real daughter.’
‘She is your real daughter.’ Mick was fierce. ‘She’s your real daughter as much as makes no difference. I won’t have you talking like that.’
‘I just worry. It’s all too much. How am I going to find the time to help her when the baby’s here? It was all I could do to get today off to go shopping.’ She smiled at Mick. ‘And thank you.’
He’d held the fort for her, dealing with the drop-offs and pick-ups, which she knew he hated. He didn’t like talking to clients and handling money. He was much happier cutting hedges and creosoting fences.
‘I’d do anything for you. You know that.’
He walked over to the dresser and picked up a slim folder.
‘There is something I want to talk to you about. Which might affect the future.’
Sheila looked alarmed. ‘You’re not ill?’
It was her default to assume the worst, and Mick cursed himself for not being more subtle.
‘No. No, course not. It’s a good thing. Well, it could be a good thing.’ He put the folder on the table.
Sheila stared at it. ‘Dandelion Court?’ She shook her head. ‘Oh no. We always said we wouldn’t do a conversion.’
It had always been an option, to convert the outbuildings that went with the farm, like so many other farmers did. But they’d never wanted strangers on their doorstep.
‘Not a conversion. Geoffrey Minard got in touch with me. Says he’s got a bloke wanting a place like ours on the coast.’ He knew he was equivocating slightly about the order of events, but he didn’t want to distract Sheila. ‘He’s willing to pay quite a bit. More than I ever thought the place was worth.’
‘You want to sell?’ Sheila sat down in her chair, the one nearest the range. ‘You’re selling Hawksworthy behind my back?’
‘No. This will be our decision. In fact, it’s more your decision than mine.’
‘Even though you’ve been planning it?’
‘I wanted to look at the options. What it would mean to us. I could have just told him no. Straight. But I reckon it could be good.’
‘But this place is our life. It’s everything.’
‘It takes over our life.’ Mick corrected her. ‘I love this land more than anyone, but every month my heart sinks when I look at the figures. And you’re working all the hours God gives and more. It’s not right.’
‘I don’t mind.’
‘No. But things are changing for us. Robyn’s moving out. Clover will be gone at the end of the summer.’ He tapped the brochure. ‘If we got roughly what this bloke migh
t offer, we could get one of these. And have money left over that we could invest. You wouldn’t have to work again.’
‘But I love my work.’ Sheila picked up the brochure and started leafing through. ‘Not the kennels so much. But I love the satisfaction of turning a dog around.’
‘You could carry on. You could go to people’s houses, or hire a village hall. You don’t need all this land. We’re working just to keep my birthright. We don’t need it, Sheila.’
She held up the picture of the house Mick had looked at.
‘Underfloor heating. Power showers. The water would never turn cold halfway through in a place like this.’
‘It would be bloody luxury, maid.’
‘You’d really give all of this up?’
‘My heart’s not been in it since we lost the cattle. You know that.’
‘I know,’ said Sheila softly, as her eyes misted over. ‘Triple-glazing. Built-in wardrobes.’
Mick smiled. ‘He wants to come and look at it next weekend.’
‘That doesn’t give us much time to tidy up.’
‘We don’t have to. I’ve told Geoffrey it’s sold as seen.’
‘You mean they’d probably knock the place down.’
‘He can do what he likes, if he gives me that kind of money.’
Sheila looked again at the drawings.
‘We wouldn’t be next door to Robyn and Jake.’
‘Maybe it would be a good thing, to give them some space?’ Mick was shrewd. He could foresee Sheila wanting to get too involved if they were on the doorstep. Driving Robyn and Jake mad. ‘The little one would still have a field to run around in. And the sea at the end of the garden. And we’d only be two miles away. I reckon that’s just about perfect.’
Sheila’s eyes were drawn back to the picture of Dandelion Court.
She was already imagining them in the kitchen, with its silent integral dishwasher and the pyrolytic oven. She wasn’t sure what that was, but she was sure it was better than an ancient range that always had a hissy fit on Christmas morning and cost two hundred quid every time the repairman came out.
A Wedding at the Beach Hut: The escapist and feel-good read of 2020 from the bestselling author of THE BEACH HUT Page 17
