Chapter 2
2
The beach hut, St Aidan, Cornwall
Orange boxes and a view from space
Tuesday
‘S o where did the new hotel next door spring from?’
It’s almost two weeks later by the time Clemmie, Nell and the gang come to call on Shadow and me, and once they’ve had their tour of the hut, and are clustered onto the veranda, that’s my most pressing question.
Just like me, they looked straight past the weathered clapboard outside of the hut in dire need of paint and the wobbles on the rickety tin roof, and saved their gasps for the lovely outdoor decks, and the unexpectedly airy spaces inside.
When I first arrived and glimpsed the picket fence at the back, and the little gate with its very own postbox, I started to cry and carried on for the next few days. Mostly they were happy tears at what a wonderful place I’d stumbled on by accident, but it was also a reaction to the shock and eventual happy outcome of Clemmie’s ten-minute labour. Even someone not sensitive about babies would have found that traumatic.
It’s only since I’ve arrived that I’ve had time to ponder what exactly made me make that split-second decision to come back to the childhood home I’d been so happy to leave all those years ago, and it’s about a lot more than The Hideaway. I’m here because my instincts told me to run to somewhere safe. Somewhere with no complications or challenges. A place where I can pull the metaphorical quilt over my head and have no need to leave. And so far, it’s proving to be a perfect fit. But even in a seaside idyll that seems to be the answer to all my problems, where I’m already perfecting the art of becoming a hermit, there is an undercurrent of worry.
At eighteen it was a thrill to move to a city where there was no one I knew to judge me, and I adored the freedom, the excitement of being an anonymous stranger in a huge metropolis. Adored that there were wild new people to party with, a different club to go to every hour, that I could walk for a day, a week, a year, and still the streets wouldn’t run out.
It was only when things got tougher that I found comfort in more familiar things and surroundings that I wound my way back, to draw on the unconditional love and support of friends and family who’ve known me my whole life. Perhaps the reason I’ve really come back is to be close to the people with whom there’s no need to explain myself.
For someone who founded so much of my identity on the wonderful city I lived in, alongside the relief of finding sanctuary, it’s also terrifying to know my world is shrinking. Now I’m back in a place where it takes fifteen minutes tops to walk in at one end of town and out of the other, I’m frightened that I will shrink in proportion. Not that I’d done too much to be proud of in my life compared to Sophie, Clemmie and the gang. And not that I’d mention this to them – but now I’m back in this tiny place, what if I disappear altogether?
Clemmie and I shared our best and worst bits of her grass-verge birth by phone as she waited to be discharged from hospital. I’ve cooed over pictures of Bud holding baby Arnie back at home on Messenger and she’s sent me brownies too. I’ve kept the others happy posting photos of Shadow looking out from the rain-drenched windows on the WhatsApp group they named ‘Flossie May is back in town, woohoo!’. And according to Clemmie, Kit’s ‘thank you’ cake hamper was delivered to an address he gave in Dorset, so that’s drawn a line under that one too.
As far as beach huts go, this one is as battered as they come but bigger than I could ever have hoped, and thanks to its position up on the slope above the tide line, the views around St Aidan Bay are fabulous in the day and at night the lights fade into the distance in a wide starry arc. The wind might drive the raindrops along the window panes in horizontal lines when it blows off the surf, but the way the hut nestles in the dunes is why it’s called The Hideaway. There’s even somewhere to leave the car alongside the track that runs behind the sandhills, and a tiny cabin with an outside loo.
The inside is the same weathered white planks that were in the photos Mum had sent me, and Ivy had cleaned the place from top to bottom and even left basic furniture with a few extra bits. I’d put most things from the London flat into storage, and as I only brought with me what would fit in the car, the unpacking here was minimal. Sure, Dillon was older than me, but when it came to buying swanky sofas and designer pieces he was light-years ahead, which is why most things we had belonged to him. He and his mates vied over who could spend biggest, outdoing each other with their hard-edged masculine vibe. As in most areas of our life together, Dillon was in charge, and I was happy to let him get on with it. But because I’ve never been a homemaker, when it comes to making this place cosy, I haven’t the first clue where to begin.
During our first few days in St Aidan the non-stop rain turned the sea and the sky to a dark, gunmetal grey, and the bleached plank floors were covered with Shadow’s soggy paw prints, but at least the rain bought us some settling-in time .
And now the sun has come out, the sea has turned to shivery aquamarine and Sophie, Nell, Plum and Clemmie have come for tea. Now they’ve had their tour I’m hoping they’ll fill me in on the biggest surprise after Arnie’s arrival.
I carry on with my explanation. ‘The plot next door was still a sand dune when I looked at the beach hut on Google Maps.’
Nell pulls a face. ‘It’s total donkey-droppings that they update those satellite pictures every hour.’
Every expectant mum carries their bump differently, and Nell looks very much as she always did, with her tummy concealed between the sides of a padded waistcoat she’s borrowed from George.
Plum’s sitting on the steps that lead up to the front deck. She tosses her dark ponytail and fiddles with the strap on her paint-splattered dungarees. ‘Your new neighbour is the High Tides Serenity Spa Resort, Floss; it’s so exclusive it refuses to call itself anything as downmarket as luxury.’ The disparaging shake of her head she gives is unnervingly like Dillon’s. ‘They started building last year, and they’re opening as we speak.’
Plum is awesome, with her huge seascape paintings and the gallery she converted from a disused chandler’s store, but however close we once were, lately I tread more carefully around her. Even though Dillon and I parted as friends, it’s only natural she’d feel protective of her brother.
Sophie, who is leaning against the wooden side rail surrounding the deck in her usual head-to-toe pale aqua, joins in. ‘Those Italian Cypress trees might look out of place, but it’s certainly pulled this end of town up by its boot strings.’
Clemmie shoots a sideways grin from the director’s chair where she’s cradling a sleeping Arnie. ‘Those lawns look so neat I’m expecting La La and Po to come running over the hill.’
We’ve pulled a wooden armchair outside for Nell, and she stretches back against the cushions. ‘With the prices they’re charging we mermaids won’t be wallowing in their salt splashes any time soon!’ These four first called their friendship group ‘the mermaids’ as kids, and they’ve never given up using the name.
Clemmie turns to me. ‘How do you feel about it, Flossie?’
I’d hate them to know that as I’ve watched the builders add the finishing touches to some super-swanky beach huts at this end of the site, my heart has sunk further every day, so I make my voice bright. ‘Mine’s bound to look scruffy next to it, but there’s nothing I can do – so let’s move on to cake.’ As I carry the tea tray out there’s a chorus of cries. ‘Nice cups!’
I laugh and hand round the brownies they’ve brought. ‘The cupboards are full of them. There’s no saucers, plates, or dishes, so Mum’s friend Ivy must have drunk tea and nothing else.’ Then I add an afterthought. ‘With three gables and two covered verandas, I’m definitely not grumbling! People in St Aidan fight to get their hands on places half as pretty as this. I’m very lucky.’
‘Too right you are!’ Sophie’s retort is a second too quick.
Like most sisters, we fought fiercely as kids, but as adults we usually have each other’s backs. No one’s more kind and generous than Sophie, she also works like a demon, and we all know not to be fooled by those baby-blue chinos – when she’s set on something, she’s ruthless. But there has to be something I’m missing here.
‘You had turned this place down before Mum offered it to me?’ My heart drops as I take in the shake of Sophie’s head. ‘She didn’t tell you?’
She sniffs. ‘It’s fine, I’ve got a castle with steps down to the sea. This way it’s in the family and we get to have you living here full-time.’
‘I still wish you’d known about it.’
Sophie squeezes my hand. ‘It was only a shock because we thought you were so committed to the city. But a beach hut is very “you” – wonderfully airy and impermanent.’
I can see where she’s coming from; if she’s accusing me of seeing London as the unrivalled centre of the universe these last sixteen years, I’m guilty as charged. St Aidan’s never been in my top ten places to rock up, it’s more my desperate last resort when all else has failed.
But Sophie is the last person I’d share my problems with because she’d be straight in with the handouts, and I’d hate her to feel she had to help me. ‘Well, I’m here now, so let’s make the best of it!’
Sophie’s smile warms. ‘It’s great if your narration work is paying well enough for you to afford a place like this.’
Sophie’s one of the few people who could get away with a statement like that, due to the fact her company’s worth so much she could buy and sell St Aidan several times over. But where I found the money for my hut is another topic I want to steer her away from, and if I want to move on fast the new baby is the obvious choice.
‘Anyway … Shadow and I are very honoured that Arnie has come to see us for his first trip out.’
Clemmie’s smile widens. ‘As if I’d go anywhere else after what you did for us both.’
Plum looks up at me. ‘You know, Flossie May is still St Aidan grapevine’s hottest topic. Your nerves of steel in the face of an arriving baby may yet eclipse your reputation as a fire raiser.’
Everyone laughs at that, then turns to look at Arnie, so it’s job done, and the pressure’s off me.
As I move to smile down at the baby Clemmie squeezes my hand. ‘Don’t worry, Flossie Flapjack-face. When the time is good, I know it’ll all fall into place for you too.’
She’s trying to be reassuring, but it’s funny how far behind she is with my game plan. I know exactly what she’s talking about; for someone in my position, I’m very lucky that I got to freeze my eggs.
The whole of St Aidan knows about this because that’s just the kind of place it is, but I owe it to Plum to give credit where it’s due. ‘That’s how lovely Dillon was, leaving me with enough to pay for a surrogate.’
When we divided everything up, even though most of our savings had come from him he insisted I took the lion’s share, so I’d have enough to pay to have a baby if ever the time came. But after the pain I went through separating from Dillon, I can’t ever see a time I’d want another partner. And I saw enough of Sophie coping on her own with her first baby, Milla, when she got accidentally pregnant as a student, to know I’d never want to go it alone. All of which is how I came to change my forward planning and put my faith in a different kind of future for myself.
Arnie snuffling into his fist is compelling to watch but Sophie’s gaze drifts. A moment later she turns on me, realisation on her face.
‘Please tell me you haven’t, Flossie?’ Even though I don’t flinch a muscle under her scrutiny, a second later she blinks again, and punches the air. ‘ You used Dillon’s surrogacy money to buy The Hideaway!? ’
My heart is plummeting that they’ve found out so fast, but I’m going to have to stand my ground.
Plum’s forehead wrinkles. ‘No judgement, Flossie – but you may regret that decision down the line.’
Clemmie lets out a wail. ‘Now I feel so much worse that you had to deliver Arnie!’
Nell’s looking at me over the top of her bump. ‘You chose to invest in what was most important to you now, Floss, and we should all respect that.’ She hesitates for a second and when she carries on, she’s cocking an eyebrow at Plum. ‘And however we talk about the money, it’s hers to use as she wishes, not Dillon’s.’
I’m truly grateful that Nell is so down to earth, holding steadfastly to her accountant’s view of the world, while clearing up that last point too.
I need to reinforce what Nell’s said. ‘I agonised long and hard, but now I’m here it feels right.’ It’s as if wiping out the possibility of a surrogate baby has taken away the pressure I didn’t realise I was feeling. I wouldn’t say it out loud in case Sophie’s still miffed, but a few months of total rest here in this fabulous place are going to be wonderful. Amazing even. But however good it is, it’s only temporary. My plan is, when my voice comes back I’ll pick up my work again, and tiptoe back to town.
Sophie’s brownie is still untouched on the upturned orange-box next to her cup. ‘You do know there’s a catch?’
I have no idea what Sophie’s grimace is for, but I can’t let her know that.
Clemmie and Nell exchange glances, but Sophie carries on. ‘The council own the land these huts are built on, and when they granted permission for the hotel, they re-designated the huts at this end of the beach as live-work units.’
‘And that’s important because…?’
Nell huffs and sits up straighter. ‘You’re only allowed to stay overnight in the huts along here if you’re running a business too.’
Damn. I was so caught up in checking the picket fence could stay, I totally missed the significance of the what the ‘live-work’ bit of the contract meant. ‘Does anyone even care?’
Plum frowns. ‘They certainly will once the visitors arrive.’
Sophie shakes her head at my gaffe, then visibly mellows. ‘It’s absolutely not a problem. We’ll simply set you up as a Sophie May outpost, testing our products in the field.’ Her arm slides around my shoulder. ‘St Aidan Bay is renowned for its complexion-wrecking westerlies, you’ll be our researcher on the beach!’
She’s trying her best, but I’d hate her to feel she has to step in just because I’ve screwed up.
Clemmie’s watching as I ease out from under Sophie’s arm and she catches my eye as my bottom lands on the step next to Plum.
‘A Little Cornish Kitchen at this end of the beach might work, if you’re more comfortable with cake than cosmetics?’
I can’t believe that she’s offering. ‘That might be … more visible.’ I’m jumping at this because any offer from Clemmie will come with fewer strings than Sophie’s.
Clemmie’s beaming. ‘There’s no one I’d rather help out, Floss. If I lend you a few bits, you’ll look like the real deal by tomorrow.’
I catch my breath. ‘I don’t want to be too authentic!’ Blondies are one thing, customers are something else entirely.
Sophie sniffs. ‘No worries on that score, this part of the village is deader than Elvis – paying footfall is non-existent.’
I smile up at her. ‘That’s a perfect fit for me. We both know I have zero business ambition and even less aptitude.’
While the rest of them have striven for success, achievements have passed me by. My rule with work was it had to be fun, and even though I had responsibilities at The Circus, in everyone’s eyes I was still only a waitress.
Nell nudges me. ‘Never say never, Florence! No experience, and you did fine delivering Arnie over there.’
My hopes and dreams are in tatters and I know I should wrap this up before anyone drops any more bombshells. ‘If you’ve got to hurry Arnie home, Clemmie, that’s fine – we can catch up more when I call round for the props.’
But Clemmie’s oblivious, staring out across the dunes.
Plum taps her knee. ‘What’s so interesting, Clems? If Chris Hemsworth is in a High Tides hot tub, don’t keep it to yourself!’
Clemmie’s craning her neck. ‘Floss, over there by the glossy new beach huts…’
Nell’s rubbing her bump again. ‘I may be nine months pregnant, but I still know a hottie when I see one – not that I’m objectifying.’
Plum stands up to get a better view. ‘Nothing like Chris, but the calibre is equally high.’ She laughs. ‘Someone here must be doing something right, he’s heading this way and he’s waving!’
Clemmie’s voice rises in excitement. ‘It is him, Floss, isn’t it? That’s Kit who phoned the ambulance!’
I can’t begin to imagine what he’s doing here, but it fits with the general downhill trajectory of the afternoon. Giving up on men has been easy so far, so I’d rather not see one who makes it feel hard.
I look up and catch Sophie’s eye in an effort to make up. ‘How would it be if I promise to give you first refusal if ever I sell this place?’
Let’s face it, I’m not going to be here for ever, it’s only until I sort myself out. In reality, it isn’t if I sell, it’s when I sell, and Sophie knows that as well as I do.
A curious look of satisfaction spreads across her face. ‘Thanks, Flossie, that makes me feel a lot better. I can definitely work with that.’
I wasn’t expecting these undercurrents of animosity to come out with the first cup of tea! There I was, wafting around, talking about coming back for family support, and I should have brought my boxing gloves.
But it could be about the transition. Before I was a visitor. Now I’m a resident, and the territory has shifted.
But now for the next job of the afternoon: finding out what the hell Dr Love2Love is doing in town.