Chapter 18
18
Lily had said that the weekly beach afternoons were generally family only. I realised, making my way down the last set of steps to the sand, the rental bike left well out of smelling distance, that ‘family’ had a loose definition on Siskin. As well as various Hawkinses, plus Hugh, all busy setting up cricket stumps, seating and other activities, I spied Hugh’s parents, who I’d met at the party, Barnie and another young man who must have been his identical twin. A gaggle of children who didn’t seem to belong to anyone were running in and out of the waves with the farm dogs and Pigeon, which inevitably meant Celine was also there, looking resplendent with her beach waves, bikini top and cut-off shorts as she batted a volleyball to no one in particular.
‘Oh. It’s you again,’ Aster said, eyeing me up and down like a cow at the island auction. ‘Are we inviting mainlanders to everything now? Is she coming for Christmas?’
‘Ma.’ Gabe gave his mother a warning look as he handed me an iced tea.
‘I’m only asking.’ She waved a hand in resignation. ‘If Lily is going to bring all her guests to our private, family afternoons then I’d like to be warned in advance so I can decide to stay at the farmhouse and clean out the chickens instead.’
‘Come on, now, Mammaw,’ Malcolm said, kissing her hello. ‘I thought I’d convinced you that we aren’t all bad.’
‘Did you, now?’ She sniffed in reply.
I’d said hello to a few people and now stood awkwardly, debating how to ask where Pip was in a way that wouldn’t arouse any more suspicion, when a small motorboat chugged around the rocks on the far side of the cove, Pip sprawled out on one side, Lily perched on the other with Beanie, and Richard steering.
‘Is that Richard’s?’ I asked Malcolm as the boat pulled up to a tiny wooden dock half hidden behind some boulders.
‘It belongs to everyone. The farm’s boat, really,’ he answered as we wandered over to help unload the cool boxes and bags. ‘Most families have at least one.’
‘Do you and Lily?’
‘We have a couple of surfboards, if that counts.’ He took Beanie and put her down before offering a hand to help her mum, who lifted her maternity maxi-dress out of the way with the other hand as she stepped out of the boat. ‘All our spare cash has gone into children or the businesses, so we settle for borrowing this one for now.’
Once Lily had moved to the side, Pip helped his uncle clamber off, then hopped out himself before walking over to the end of the dock where I stood waiting.
‘Hi.’ He smiled, sticking his hands in his shorts pockets. ‘You look nice.’
‘Oh. Thanks.’ I looked down at the shorter, rose-pink dress I’d worn a few days ago, as if I’d not tried on everything in my holiday wardrobe before selecting it, hoping my face didn’t look quite as sappy as that compliment made me feel.
‘It’s okay to say that, seeing as we’re friends?’ he asked, forehead creasing. ‘It’s not overstepping?’
‘I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t mind.’
It might be hard to mind now every time he didn’t say it.
‘Well, that’s good enough for me.’
He fetched the cool boxes and passed me one, while Malcolm and Lily unloaded the rest of the items from the boat and we carried them over to a pop-up shelter.
‘I don’t believe this.’ Lily groaned, opening up one bag to find a very agitated hamster, still in its plastic ball. After scolding Beanie with the promise that the next time she brought her pet on an outing, they’d leave him there, she tasked her children with building an enclosure where Mister Whiskers could roll about in the shade, using rocks, driftwood and whatever else they could find. Lily then poured herself a drink and took a seat on a deckchair, nodding for me to sit beside her.
‘That poor animal has been with us, what, six weeks? I can’t believe he’s survived that long,’ she said, shaking her head while biting her lip in a way that implied she was desperately fighting a belly laugh. ‘These are ninth-generation farm kids. Eber Hawkins will be face-palming in his grave.’
She tipped her sunhat down over her nose and shuffled lower in the seat. Approximately thirty seconds later, Jack was tugging on her arm.
‘Mammy! Mammy! Maaaaa!’
‘What?’ Lily replied from behind the brim of her hat, her voice resigned.
‘You promised we could have the pasties when we got to the beach. We got here hours ago, and I’m so hungry I really, really, really need one. Right now, Mammy!’
‘Is Mister Whiskers safe?’
‘Yep.’
Lily tipped the hat back to see where Flora and Beanie were busily arranging a long black branch.
‘Beanie and Flora are watching him, so he is safe,’ Jack argued.
‘Go and help them finish off, and I’ll get the pasties ready.’
Unlike the previous few days of clear skies, this afternoon, the streaks of cloud drifting above our heads made a warm pasty the perfect accompaniment to the intermittent sunshine and fresher breeze.
Everybody had at least one, so the cool boxes were soon empty.
‘That was divine,’ Violet said, wiping her fingers on a napkin. ‘Emmie, are you sure you won’t consider setting up a franchise at our airport?’
‘Excuse me,’ Barnie, sitting beside her on a blanket, huffed. ‘Are you trying to do me out of business? I really don’t need the threat of any competition right now.’
‘If you learned how to make a half-decent doughnut then Parsley’s Pasties wouldn’t be a threat,’ Violet teased.
‘You said my doughnuts tasted like a dream holiday in food form.’
‘True. But they look like a bad day at work.’
‘Ouch.’ Barnie winced. ‘You know how I said I like it when you’re honest with me? Scrap that. Lies are fine when it comes to my food.’
‘Could you ship these over?’ Hugh asked, finishing off his second helping. ‘Maybe Barnie could sell them on his stand, so they’d be no threat to his dough-blob business.’
I shook my head. ‘They’d have to be transported frozen, then baked here. It wouldn’t be cost-effective for a business my size, even if I did have time to make enough.’
‘Shame,’ he mused. ‘These would be perfect for our wedding.’
‘Oh. My. Days.’ Iris, sitting beside him, grabbed his arm. ‘I was thinking the exact same thing.’
‘Really?’ I looked up in surprise. ‘They’re not exactly fancy.’
I’d never been to a wedding, but on films and TV-show weddings, people ate classy dishes with at the very least a knife and fork, not a pie specifically designed to be eaten with your hands.
‘If you hadn’t noticed, we’re not that bothered about fancy around here,’ Violet said.
‘Besides, tasty beats fancy any day,’ Iris agreed.
‘We wouldn’t have to bother with plates,’ Hugh added.
‘We’d still have plates,’ Iris said sternly. ‘People might want to put their pasty down while they pose for a photo, or tell the bride how gorgeous she looks.’
‘That’s a grand idea,’ Pip said, smiling. ‘Given that the only islander who won’t charge ridiculous tourist rates for catering got herself pregnant at the worst possible time.’
‘I have apologised for that,’ Lily retorted. ‘It wasn’t planned.’
‘Yeah, we gathered that by Malcolm’s face when he announced it.’
‘All the decent places are booked up anyway,’ Iris went on. ‘Even if we wait two years, they insist on hosting the entire reception on site, which costs another fortune, and is pointless when we’d rather use the farm.’
‘Is that settled, then?’ Hugh asked, turning from Iris to me. ‘We’re expecting about eighty people. Is that doable in Lily’s kitchen?’
‘What?’ I must have lost track somewhere, because surely Hugh wasn’t asking me to cater his wedding. ‘I have to fly home on Friday at the latest, so I can be ready to reopen on Sunday. Otherwise I get a fine and could lose the lease. Same if I miss any more days in the next twelve months.’
‘What are you doing on Thursday?’ Hugh asked Iris.
‘I was planning on helping your ma with the new gelding, but I guess I’m getting married instead.’
‘Um. What?’ This must be a joke.
‘Can you get everything ready for then?’ Hugh asked me, before suggesting a price that seemed more than reasonable as I quickly calculated the cost of eighty pasties and added a generous discount.
‘I… I suppose so. But can you ?’
Iris shrugged. ‘We’ve got outfits and rings already. The bridesmaids are sorted. The wine and other drinks are stacked in the back barn. Someone can arrange a few flowers and I’m sure Richard’s band will be free. What else do we need?’
‘How about the means to actually get married?’ Rosemary, who due to sitting a short distance away hadn’t joined in until she came to fetch Gabe another pasty. ‘You know, a legal ceremony, signing the register, trivialities like that.’
‘Arnie, are you around on Thursday?’ Iris called over to where the man who looked the spitting image of Barnie was chatting with Richard.
‘They’re twins?’ I whispered to Pip, while Arnie brushed the pastry crumbs off his shorts and ambled over. ‘Arnie and Barnie?’
Pip grinned. ‘Barnaby and Arnold. His ma and da didn’t twig until they got old enough for nicknames.’
‘I’ve got a couple of meetings in the morning. Why?’
‘Will you marry me?’
Arnie laughed. ‘I’m not sure what my wife would say about that.’
‘I’m serious. On Thursday. At the church.’
‘Did you notify the registrar within the past year?’
‘November.’
‘Are you still planning on Hugh being the groom?’
‘She’d better be,’ Hugh chipped in.
‘Then it would be my pleasure. Talk to Linda about the music and whatever else.’
‘Thanks, Arnie. You’re the best minister on the whole island.’
‘No bother.’ He squeezed past them, took the very last pasty and gave me a wink as he went back to his seat. ‘I’m the only minister on the island.’
‘Oh, is two o’clock okay?’ Iris called after him.
‘Perfect. Gives Linda time to vacuum up after the toddler group and put some chairs out.’
‘You all got that, right?’ Iris shouted, standing up so everyone on the beach could hear. ‘The wedding’s back on – 2p.m. ceremony, then food and dancing in the Old Barn.’
She leant down to take Hugh’s hand. ‘Come on, phone reception is rubbish here, and we’ve got a load more people to invite. I’d probably better make a list or something too.’
The beach reverberated with the news as Iris and Hugh gathered their things and left. I was still slightly in shock.
‘They’re seriously going to organise a wedding in four days?’ I asked Pip.
‘Looks like it. Although, like they said, most of it’s already done.’
‘I take longer than that to work up to a big food shop.’
It was incredible to me that someone could make such a momentous decision with such apparent ease. Hugh and Iris hadn’t even discussed it. Where were the planning, the spreadsheets, the agonising discussions, the headaches?
‘I guess I’m staying until Friday, then.’
Pip smiled, a blush creeping up his face. ‘I guess so.’
Aside from a few more snipes from Aster, it was a perfect afternoon.
I played cricket for the first time, discovering that I could hit a ball a decent distance, but was a hopeless bowler. I built a sand church with Beanie and a couple of Hugh’s nieces, and we conducted weddings with a shell for the bride and a dead crab for her groom, until his legs fell off. I sat and watched boats sailing past, enjoying the kiss of sunshine on my bare skin, and listened to the blend of excited chatter and more serious conversations.
I talked to Pip. And when I wasn’t talking to him, I automatically tuned in to where he was, what he was doing, including joining in Celine’s volleyball game, and investigating rockpools with Jack.
I also couldn’t help continuously searching out Gabe. The man who would have been my stepfather, if things had turned out differently. The only man my mother ever loved – or even liked. Despite Pip having told me that Richard was the older brother, as the one who ran the farm, Gabe was clearly patriarch of the Hawkins family, and he carried the honour with easy grace and calm composure. I surreptitiously watched him chatting to every single person on the beach, dividing up the teams for games, ensuring the children were being safe in the water, checking Aster had a comfy seat and enough to drink.
‘Pip said that you do this most Sundays,’ I said to Lily, who spent most of the afternoon snoozing, in between rescuing Mister Whiskers from repeated escape attempts.
‘When the weather’s good enough. If it’s wet, we don’t bother, and if it’s cold, we only last a couple of hours.’
‘I thought farmers were supposed to work all the time.’
‘They’ve worked all week. And this morning. An afternoon off is hardly an indulgence.’
‘Yes. I just… this is really off.’
‘What do you mean?’ She sat up and twisted around on her deckchair to look at me properly.
‘I spend my afternoons off cleaning or catching up on jobs.’
Lily screwed up her nose. ‘Then how is that off?’
I thought about that for a minute. ‘I don’t know.’
‘When do you catch up on doing nothing?’
‘Today?’
‘Are all mainlanders like that?’
I considered what Mum would have said about the kind of mainlanders who sat about at weekends, doing what she called ‘nothing’ and I was starting to realise other people called ‘resting’, ‘recuperating’ or ‘enjoying themselves’.
Her answer to this question would have been, All decent, hardworking, responsible ones are.
For the first time, I was seriously questioning whether she was right.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘I was going to say. No wonder you’re all stressed out and anxious over there, if you don’t know how to take time off.’
‘Now it looks as though I’ll be spending my time off baking pasties,’ I said, smiling, because honestly I had got so much from these past few days, I was happy to give something back. Busy and frantic was my comfort zone, after all.
‘Baking pasties, and hopefully helping me sort some decorations? I know Iris is all for keeping it casual, but it’s not every day my baby sister gets married and moves to the other side of the island. I want to make up for letting her down with the catering.’
‘Whatever you need, I’d love to help.’
As the afternoon mellowed towards evening, a small bonfire was lit and Rosemary handed out hot dogs to anyone who could squeeze one in. The children, now huddled in sandy towels with damp hair plastered on rosy cheeks, roasted marshmallows as Richard led the adults in a round of haunting sea shanties, depicting wild tales of smugglers, shipwrecks and women driven half mad with grief, waiting for their lost sailors to come home.
Eventually, as the warmth of the day began to dissipate, the family started to disperse. When Richard readied the boat just before nine o’clock, there was a small queue of people opting to avoid the climb back up the cliff, so Pip offered to walk instead.
‘Are you heading up now?’ Rosemary asked as she shook the sand off a blanket. ‘Your father needs you in the chicken shed tomorrow while he shows Hugh that sick calf.’
‘I know.’ Pip took the other end of the blanket and helped her fold it before placing it in the storage box. ‘But I’m going to stay a bit longer.’
Rosemary furrowed her forehead, opening her mouth to reply. She then paused as she caught his stance, arms folded, shoulders set, a myriad thoughts flitting across her face before she simply sighed.
‘Well, you’re a grown man. I suppose you can decide what time you go to bed.’
‘I am, and I can.’ He leant forwards and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’ve missed a lot of island sunsets over the past two years. I’m going to savour this one.’
Rosemary glanced over to where I was gathering up plastic glasses and putting them in a bag. ‘You’ll be wanting breakfast?’
‘Yes, Ma.’
‘Porridge will be ready at six.’