Chapter 11
11
The Hideaway, St Aidan
Chelsea buns and other tight corners
Saturday
W hen Mum arrives at four o clock, I’m stacking the last of Kit’s scones on a cooling tray in the little kitchen.
She breezes in and swoops me into a hug. ‘Baking? Ivy will be so happy to hear you’re using the kitchen.’
She’s petite and blonde, like Sophie on speed, with a few more wrinkles and a lot less pale turquoise in her wardrobe. I’m assuming that like Nell and Plum earlier, she’s only popping in briefly, because she’s wearing her second-best painting overalls.
I’m frowning down at my scones. ‘They’re still not as fat as I’d like, but at least they’re golden this time.’ A lot less like rocks too.
‘They smell delish.’ Mum closes her eyes and breathes in the scent, then she snaps her eyes open again. ‘I hope you’re not upsetting yourself over that message you got the other day!’
‘What’s this?’
She pushes her fringe back off her forehead. ‘Your offer from the hotel of course! It’s scandalous, the whole of St Aidan is up in arms!’
There’s no point asking how they know. Information here whistles down the wind faster than you can say ‘pinot noir’.
My mum frowns. ‘Ivy was clear, it’s yours to sell if you wish. But if a sale is what you want, hold out for more and drive up the price!’
Wheeler-dealer isn’t my style, but I need a clear reply to feed back to the village. ‘I’ve already said no. I’ll be staying where I am, and keeping the hotel at arm’s length, along with everyone in there too.’
There’s no point offering my mum a scone, as she’s super strict about not eating between meals. But as she moves out into the living room she nods. ‘Nice bird strings, Flossie! Wall-to-wall white is overrated, those dashes of colour make the place feel much more “you”.’
‘I’ve hardly done enough decorating to have my own style, Mum, but you’re right.’ I let my grin go. ‘How can a few scraps of coloured paper make a place feel like home?’
She rubs her nose. ‘I never felt the flats you and Dillon shared reflected you at all.’
I laugh. ‘That’s because they didn’t. Dillon wouldn’t have let paper birds within a mile of any place of his.’
Twee and whimsical were his pet hates – his idea of accessories was vintage Land Rover bonnets, random engine parts and large fossils. Dillon was also hooked on what he called his ‘sand palette’. My one stand was to slip in a snowy White Company duvet cover, but that was buried under a mountain of baked-earth-coloured quilts and throws.
Looking back I feel like I spent the last ten years living in the kind of landscape the Dakar Rally crosses. That was another macho event on all of their bucket lists, although, between us, the extreme endurance and desire to rough it were all a bluff. I doubt they’d have lasted a day on the dunes here, let alone a fortnight driving across deserts, living like nomads.
Mum’s moved to look out across the front deck to the sea. ‘You were quirky though – back in the day.’
I stop to consider. ‘When we first got together it was because Dillon liked how skinny I was.’ He always went for thin women, which definitely isn’t how I am now, but I can’t help noticing the wistful tone in Mum's voice. ‘Do you miss him?’
She agonises for a second. ‘The family definitely feels smaller since you separated.’ As she hesitates and fixes her eyes on the horizon, it’s like she’s trawling for the right words. ‘What I miss most is having his parents and Plum round on Christmas Eve, and us going to Dillon’s parents’ on Boxing Day. And the get-togethers whenever you came home.’ Her stare is still searching when she turns to me. ‘How about you?’
I wasn’t expecting the question to bounce straight back, but I might as well be honest. ‘I miss being loved.’
She comes over and slides her arms around me. ‘My poor baby. We need to teach you to love yourself better, and then you can look for someone else.’ This is Mum through and through. She doesn’t talk endlessly about emotions, but she gets straight to the heart of the problem.
I have to protest. ‘Definitely not! From now on I’m going to learn from you, and fly solo.’
She purses her lips. ‘Except I’ve never been truly on my own – I’ve always had you and Sophie travelling with me.’ She draws a breath. ‘There’s a big difference.’
And that’s so profound, I don’t have an answer to it. I do have one more question though. ‘Please tell me you aren’t holding out for a reunion?’
She draws in a long breath. ‘I know all the mermaids are, and for a long time I was too. But since you’ve been back here again, I’m less sure.’ She squeezes my hand. ‘From what Plum says, it sounds like that door is still open.’
None of them know the full truth about our split. So far Dill and I have been learning to live without each other with that get-together-again safety net always there but I know jumping into it wouldn’t be right.
I shrug. ‘I can’t see myself in Dubai.’ To be fair, I never saw myself in St Aidan either, but I don’t want to get into that now.
There’s another squeeze. ‘If you’re with the right person, where you are isn’t important.’
And dammit for how wise my mum is considering how long she’s been on her own. ‘Are the girls okay down there?’
She nods. ‘Are you expecting anyone, Floss? Because you seem to have Men in Black approaching your veranda.’
I shake my head in disbelief. How many guys does it take to carry a dozen scones? And whatever happened to kicking back when the client didn’t show and losing the white shirts? ‘It’s the guys from next door, come to collect their baked goods.’
Mum frowns. ‘I thought you’d cut ties with that awful place.’
I pull a face. ‘I succumbed to extortion. It won’t happen again after today.’
As they come in through the French windows their eyes are bright with expectation. I take the rolled-up note Kit presses into my hand, then move on to introductions.
‘Kit and Rye, meet my mum, Suze. Mum, Kit is High Tides’ resident goldsmith, and Rye’s a newly arrived groundsman with a side-line in fire extinguishing.’
Rye laughs. ‘What she means is that I’m helping out down at the fire station.’
Mum has visibly perked up. ‘If you’re ever giving out free smoke alarms, you’re very welcome to knock on my door – I’m up at The Hermitage.’
Rye’s smile is wide and friendly as he takes in her overalls, cinched so tightly at the waist that she looks like she might snap in the middle. ‘Another painter? I was hoping last week’s painter might be here too?’
I smile. ‘Mum’s a perpetual decorator rather than an artist. And I’m afraid you’ve missed Plum, she and Nell dropped in earlier.’
‘That’s a shame.’
I take pity on Rye because he’s visibly deflated. ‘Plum has the Deck Gallery, just above Crusty Cobs bakers. If you ask nicely and pay her a few thousand pounds, I’m sure she’ll paint you a seascape to cheer you up.’
His expression brightens. ‘Maybe she could do some for the hotel?’
I assume from that he has the hots as badly as she does. ‘You’ll have to ask her that, although you might need to run it past Mr Byron first. Apparently he has more money than sense, so I doubt you’ll have any trouble persuading him.’
Rye’s eyes are wide open, and Kit seems to be choking into his sleeve, so it’s a relief when Milla comes bursting in from the deck.
‘I thought we agreed not to entertain hotel staff at The Hideaway, Aunty Flo?’
I grin at my mum. ‘They’re just leaving. Is there anything you girls want? I’ve hardly seen you!’
Milla nods. ‘There’s some Fanta chilling in the fridge.’
I turn into the kitchen, bring out the drinks tray for Milla, then go back and wrap the scones in a clean tea towel. When I get back to the living area I’m surprised to see Milla’s still there.
As I push the scones into Kit’s hands Rye gives a cough. ‘To show how much we appreciate Florence’s baking, we’ve come with gifts.’
Kit shuffles. ‘A few hotel freebies, they’re nothing much.’
Milla’s eyes open wider when she spots the fan of cards in Rye’s hand. ‘Vouchers for a High Tides Spa session. How awesome will that be! Thanks, guys!’
Rye turns to Milla. ‘I’m afraid these are midweek evenings, for over-eighteens only, although we do offer facilities for babies and nursing mums.’
Milla gives him her best Disgusted-of-St-Aidan snort. ‘I hope you realise you’re being extremely discriminatory there, Rye?’
Kit smiles at her. ‘High Tides is very much a sanctuary, the guests don’t want to be disturbed by rowdy teenagers.’
Milla’s nostrils flare. ‘Adolescents being noisy is a complete myth perpetuated by fun-sucking adults who can’t bear to see young people enjoying themselves.’
The rest of us are so taken aback by that, for a moment we all stand there with our mouths open. But as we do the silence is broken by a series of piercing shrieks from the beach.
Kit puts his hand behind his ear. ‘As the screams in the distance don’t appear to be coming from pensioners, I rest my case.’
Ever the diplomat, my mum reaches across and takes the cards from Rye. ‘Thank you, this is very kind.’ She narrows her eyes, as she always does when she tries to read without using her close-work glasses. ‘Complimentary spa treatments, including hot stone massage, facials, mud wraps and pedis, and a hot tub for twelve with fizz! There’s a lot to like about this!’
Kit nods. ‘The hope is to trial the hen party package, if you and your friends wouldn’t mind helping?’
Mum is purring. ‘Bring it on! Reporting for duty and ready to be pampered!’
I can’t quite believe what I’m hearing, or how fast she’s changed her tune. Before this gets any more out of hand I take the cards from Mum, stack them into a neat pile and push them back at Kit. ‘Thanks for thinking of us, but I’ll be severing ties with the hotel from now on. I’m sure you won’t have any problem finding other volunteers.’ I give a sniff because I may as well make myself clear while I’m here. ‘That includes baking orders too. I won’t be doing those either.’
Kit’s brow wrinkles and his voice is full of concern. ‘What’s happened, Floss? Is something wrong?’
As his hand falls on my arm I twist away. ‘ I came here for sanctuary too. I’d rather not compromise that.’
Kit pulls away. ‘Absolutely, it’s your call. In that case, we’ll say thanks for the scones, and leave you and your guests to your…’ he hesitates for a second ‘…quiet afternoon.’
I’m shouting over the yells from the beach. ‘Great! Goodbye, then.’
As they make their way back onto the sand, Mum watches them all the way down the steps. Then she turns back to me. ‘Well, those two were nice!’
I let out a wail. ‘No they weren’t! They’re the enemy, remember? Not that I’m paranoid, but anyone as determined to get what he wants as Mr Byron may well attack on several fronts. Kit and Rye could well be the sneaky team, wriggling in with the freebies.’
Mum pulls a face. ‘Fine, thanks for reminding me. But if lovely Rye comes round offering free smoke alarms, I am going to take them. Is that okay?’
I can’t believe she just called him lovely. ‘So long as he calls round in his capacity as a fireman…’ I stop to grin at her for how incorrigible she is ‘…knock yourself out.’
Milla chimes in. ‘Mum would like Kit’s bum, it’s a dead ringer for Bruce Springsteen’s.’ Her face breaks into a grin. ‘I was actually checking him out for you, Aunty Flo. Did you notice he was looking at you like he wanted to eat you?’
I’m not taking this lying down. ‘The man was ravenous for sultana scones!’ I need to move this on, and fast. ‘Talking of being hungry, as soon as you’re ready for tea, we’ll put your pizza order in. How does that sound?’
Milla nods. ‘We are ordering from the place with the hand-stretched dough, wood-fired oven and vegan options, not the rubbish one down by the harbour?’
I can tell she’s Sophie’s daughter. ‘Absolutely.’
Her face breaks into a smile. ‘There you go, Kit said that too! One of the biggest giveaways of attraction is accidental mimicking of language.’
I let out a squeak. ‘Where on earth did you get that from?’ I could do with knowing so I can keep one step ahead of her.
She shrugs. ‘I think we read that in Grazia . Tallulah gets it when her older sister’s finished with it. It’s great for sex tips too.’
‘Sex tips?’ I’m mouthing the words, and nothing’s coming out. I make my smile very bright and thank my lucky stars they’re only here for another couple of hours. ‘I was thinking we could make mocktails later?’
Milla smiles. ‘The girls will love that. But you do know they’re called alcohol-free craft-beverages now?’
‘Absolutely. Thanks for reminding me.’ I kick myself for that the second it’s out. And even worse, when did I get so left behind with the trends?
She laughs. ‘We’ve been saying, next time we’re round we could have a driftwood fire and toast marshmallows by moonlight.’
I’m opening and closing my mouth. ‘You want to come again? ’
She pulls me into a hug. ‘Absolutely!’ She digs me in the ribs to make sure I get the joke. ‘Everyone adores it here, and you’re such a great hostess! Will next Saturday be okay for you?’
I stare across at my mum for help.
She wades in. ‘We’ll have to see what your mum says first, Milla.’ Phew to that! Sophie will hate the idea. ‘But it’s good for Aunty Flo – you’re like a breath of fresh air – so I’m sure your mum won’t mind.’
Damn!
Did I mention sanctuary earlier? Because it’s not. It’s more like St Pancras on a Friday teatime. One more crazy Saturday, then I’ve promised myself I’m going back under my ‘duvet’.