Only You, Only Us

Chapter 3

Mum doesn’t mention anything more about my birthday. We usually stay in Tregethworth and go for a meal at The Port William or The Little Bistro.

There were plenty of other places nearby, but we liked what we knew.

“Morning!” She bursts into my room. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” She sits at the foot of my bed with a bag on her lap, grinning from ear to ear.

“Morning, Mum. Thank you.” I was awake, but I still felt groggy with sleep.

“Here.” She pushes the bag towards me. “Presents.”

She always got me the best gifts. They weren’t big or over the top — her budget didn’t afford that — but she made up for what she lacked in money with how personal and special each gift was. She just knew what I’d want.

I peer inside the bag and see several neatly wrapped gifts, all with bows and ribbons. They look perfect, and I almost don’t want to tear into them and spoil the aesthetic.

Almost.

Pulling out the first one, I look up at Mum. She has a soft smile on her face, as though her excitement is fading, and she’s simply waiting for my opinion. I gingerly peel away the wrapping and pull out a leather notebook. It’s heavy and thick with luscious, creamy pages. The brown cover is smooth and beautiful, and in the bottom corner, there’s an A embossed with gold.

“I thought you could start writing down those endings to make those films better.”

Mum, being an artist herself, had always wanted me to take a creative path. And I can’t help but be pulled in by the beautiful gift. It’s a work of art in itself, too nice for me to mar the pages.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful.” I go to lean in for a hug.

“No, keep going. Hugs after.”

I pull the next one, a box about four inches square. I gently pull at the paper and reveal what looks like a jewellery box. My eyes look up at her, but she just encourages me to keep going. As I crack the box open, I see it’s not jewellery but a watch with a silver strap, a small dial, and a tiny diamond on the face. It’s understated and sophisticated — perfect.

“Mum, it’s great.” I smile at her.

“I wanted to get you something you’d always be able to keep. Here.” She holds her hand out, and I give her the watch so she can wrap it around my free wrist. “It’s waterproof, too. So, you don’t need to worry about taking it off if you forget.”

The last one is squishy, so I guess it’s clothes. And I’m right. It’s a pretty turquoise-blue top with small flowers dotted over it. It’s a little more sophisticated than I’d usually wear, but I like the idea of maybe getting dressed up to wear it out.

“And I booked us at a seafood restaurant in Constance Cove.”

“Really?”

“It’s your birthday.” She shrugs and now is when I jump forward to hug her.

Constance Cove was a short drive from Tregethworth, but it was nothing like it. A beautiful white sand beach was the star, with a small private harbour lined with glass and steel homes, all worth millions. It was where the rich holidayed. Little boutiques and expensive restaurants littered the cobbled streets leading down to the cove.

It didn’t have the same laid-back atmosphere as Tregethworth, but it was pretty and certainly exclusive, filled with second-home owners. We’d been there a few times. Mum had tried to sell some of her pieces to one of the jewellery stores, but it wasn’t the right fit. Her prices were off by at least one zero.

“I don’t have anything to wear!” I realise.

“The top would be perfect.”

“Shoes, Mum? I can’t go there wearing flip-flops.”

“You have sandals. And your black wrap skirt is fine.”

“I didn’t pack that,” I protest, having a bit of a panic.

“But I did. You can’t just get a table. I’ve had this planned for us.” She beams. “Come on. Up. Breakfast at Molly’s. Pancakes?”

I lean in for another hug from her.

She’s the best.

Sammy

Happy Birthday! What did you get?

Sammy’s text arrives as we’re in the middle of demolishing a huge stack of fluffy delights with maple syrup and fruit.

I send her a quick snap of the food and a selfie of Mum and me.

Sammy

Have the best day. Call me later x

We spend the day soaking up the sun on the beach. I smother myself in sunscreen, not wanting to get strap marks or burns that will spoil the new top for tonight. I barely tan anyway.

Mum sketches in her notebook in between naps in the sun. It’s a perfect day, with nothing to worry or care about, and contentment fills me up. It’s these times — these feelings — that I store up and keep locked away for when I hear someone say something cruel at school or when I’m picked last in sport.

It doesn’t bother me so much now. I’ve been hearing the mean cast-off comments for years.

Besides, apart from Sammy, who do I care about at school? It’s a means to an end. University is in my future, and then I can leave behind the pettiness of school.

The sun is still warm in the sky when we head back to get ready.

“Come on, sweetheart, or we’ll be late!” Mum calls up the stairs.

I’m looking in the mirror, fussing. I don’t usually bother with makeup when we are in Cornwall. We are at the beach and in and out of the water, so what’s the point? Luckily, I have a few bits in my toiletries bag — eyeliner, mascara and some tinted lip balm would have to do. At least my skin has a little more colour thanks to the good weather — a little pink tinge to my cheeks, which stops me looking so washed out.

A final check and I bounce down the narrow stairs.

“Oh, you look lovely.”

Mum has dressed up too. She’s wearing a summer dress with red flowers splodged all over it. She looks beautiful.

She takes my hand and twirls me around, and we giggle as we leave the cottage.

I’d googled the restaurant online, and it looked pretty sophisticated. It’s right on the harbour, with glass doors to give the patrons the best view over the bay. There was a photo of it all dressed in lights at dusk, and it looked magical.

We park and walk in, waiting to be seated by one of the staff dressed in a smart white shirt and black apron. Normally, the places we visited were all polo shirts and cut-offs, but this wasn’t normal.

We’re shown to a small table to the side of the open-plan dining room. Although there isn’t a view over the harbour, it’s still really nice.

A big table occupies the best view — it looks like a celebration of sorts. They’re loud, and it’s a little off-putting. I try to ignore them and focus on our night.

“Did you look up the menu?” Mum asks.

“Maybe.” I hide behind the menu card. It was my thing — I’d always check out what I wanted before we arrived. Making decisions about food took me forever. I wanted to try everything, so getting a head start was smart. At least, that’s what I told myself.

“And?” she prompts.

“It’s a seafood place, and the reviews all say to indulge.”

“Yes, go ahead. I didn’t book this place for you not to have what you want on your birthday.”

“Well, I’d love the moules mariniere. I thought we could share that for a starter. Get the large portion?”

“Perfect. I’m going to have the scallops, too.”

I’ve never tried lobster before, and it sounds so good, but the cost makes me second-guess my choice. The scallops are another starter. Mum never eats much, but I can’t ignore how much this will all cost her.

Our waitress arrives and pours our water before asking for our drinks order.

Just as we do, the big table cheers as a cork is popped from a bottle of champagne. It’s then I see the sixteenth birthday banner hanging to the side of the table and the shiny helium balloons.

“I’ll have a Rock Gin and tonic, please.”

“Just a Coke, please.”

“Of course. Are you ready to order?” he asks my mum.

“Sure. We’ll have the large moules mariniere to share as a starter with extra bread. And for the main, the poached lobster, a side of fries, and the scallops.” My eyes flash to Mum, who gives me a knowing smile.

“A small or as a main?” He doesn’t look up from his little pad.

“Small.”

He leaves with an efficient nod.

“Mum, you didn’t have to do that.”

“But I wanted to.”

Our drinks arrive, and we clink in a quick and quiet toast.

“Sorry, I didn’t get you balloons.” She nods her head, indicating the large party.

“I don’t need balloons. You’ve done plenty.”

The girl who’d shown us to our table, maybe a couple of years older than me, returns and places a small slate plate between us with two curls of butter sprinkled with sea salt and herbs on top. Next, she sets a slightly larger plate down with two slices of bread, followed by the bowl of mussels.

“Ohh, fancy,” Mum mocks.

“Oh my god.” My eyes bulge, and I tip my head down, staring at the bowl.

“What? What’s wrong.”

“Jeremy Archer is here. He’s at the big table.” I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks already.

“Oh, which one is he?” she says, turning around and looking.

“Mum, stop it.” I put my hand up to my forehead to try and shield myself.

“He’s just a boy.”

“Yeah, okay, Mum.” I shake my head at her and slump down a little in my seat.

“Why don’t you go and say hi.” She twists around again.

“Are you mad? No. And stop looking. It’s embarrassing.”

But I can’t stop sneaking a peek over to his table. He’s not smiling, even with a glass of champagne in front of him. He’s sitting at the end of his table with his phone out in front of him. I’m pretty sure it’s not his birthday, as there was a rumour of him having a big party when we were still at school.

I scan the rest of the table and notice a couple of other people who look our age. Maybe one of them is celebrating? A family thing, or maybe he’s out with friends? But my eyes are eager to wander back to him.

It’s then, as if he can feel me watching, he looks up.

He spears me with his eyes, finding mine immediately and sending a hot flush racing for my face. I turn my head away in an awkward and obvious way. Maybe he won’t recognise me. He seemed to do a good job of ignoring me at school.

“Anna, you look —”

“I’m fine.”

We focus on eating, but my eyes keep lifting to check where Jeremy is looking.

The girl comes to clear our dishes and, luckily, blocks the line of sight from our table to his.

“You look a little flushed, Anna.” Mum’s smirking at me, and I just shake my head at her.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” I stand and head towards the entrance, hoping they’re that way. Of course, I’m too busy hoping Jeremy will notice me that I don’t see the bathroom sign. I have to ask at the bar and turn around, heading back towards our table and a skinny little passageway.

I feel so awkward, and when I look at myself in the mirror I cringe. My cheeks are red, and I have a little shadow of black over the top of my eyelid from the mascara.

I splash some water on my cheeks to cool down and set about rubbing the misplaced makeup off my browbone.

I don’t know why I’m acting like this. I didn’t have a problem going up to him at school. Granted, the conversation that followed wasn’t too hot, but here, I feel all out of sorts.

After checking my top for splashes of oil or food, and making sure nothing is stuck in my teeth, I take a breath to compose myself and walk back out. His head is down, watching his precious phone, and I slide back into my seat unnoticed.

“Better?” Mum asks.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s cute.”

Our main courses arrive, and the lobster looks amazing, but it doesn’t stop me from giving Mum my most disapproving look. “I’m not cute.”

She laughs. “Well, that’s debatable.”

Her good mood is infectious, and I can’t help chuckling a little, too.

“Hey, Anna.” I look up to see Jeremy standing next to our table.

“Hi, Jeremy,” I force the words out, stunned that he’s standing next to us.

“The lobster is excellent.” He nods at the plate in front of me.

“You had it, too?” My tongue feels funny in my mouth as I speak, and my stomach is suddenly doing flips.

“Not today. My family eats here when the chef has the night off.” His voice is so matter-of-fact that I don’t think he realises the impact of his throwaway comment.

“Chef?” I ask, my voice squeaking a little.

“We have a house in the Cove. Mum doesn’t like to cook, so we have a live-in chef. We come here for celebrations and on her nights off.” He looks right at me as he speaks, and I can’t escape his eyes. They are so dreamy.

I knew Jeremy was rich but I didn’t realise he was Constance-Cove-own-chef-rich.

“Are you in the Cove, too?” he asks, and I take a moment to put my thoughts together to answer.

“Um, no.” I sit up a little taller. “We’re staying just down the road.”

“Cool. Maybe we can meet up if you’re down here for the summer.”

Did I hear that right?

“Um, yeah. Well, sure… for the next few days.”

“I’ll text you.”

“Great. Sure. Um, Jeremy, this is my mum.” I nod towards Mum, who’s sitting with a huge smile on her face. I only introduced her because I didn’t want him to leave.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Rose,” Jeremy says as if it’s just the easiest thing in the world. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

He walks off, and the rest of his party seems to file out in dribs and drabs behind him.

“Come on, eat. That lobster’s getting cold.” She nods at the food in front of me.

“Hang on, did I just get a date with Jeremy Archer?” I whisper across the table at her.

“Well, I maybe wouldn’t go that far, sweetheart.” She squints her nose up at me.

“Mum, seriously, did you not hear him.” My head is spinning. I’ve got to tell Sammy about this.

“Yes, I did.” She sniggers.

“What?” I dig my fork into the juicy lobster meat.

“I’ve just never seen you like this. You’re usually so calm. It’s nice to see you all coy.”

“Coy?” I frown at her and take my first bite. “Oh god, this is delicious.”

After confirming he’s left, I calm down and enjoy the rest of the meal. It’s the best thing I think I’ve ever eaten. And we finish the night off with ice cream. It’s fancy, with a homemade combination of flavours, but it’s perfect. We even get to go out and look at the lights across the harbour.

It would have been a special night without Jeremy Archer but seeing him and knowing he was here too is the cherry on top of my birthday.