Chapter 30
30
A week or so later, there had been no further communication on either side. In a constant drizzle of rain, with her bag over her shoulder, a carton of blackcurrant in her hand, and without a smile on her face, Cally stomped through Lovely in the direction of the riverboat. She was on her way to Nina’s on the harbour side of Lovely to start going through the decorations for Nina’s Chowder Festival event. To be frank, discussing the ins and outs of the decor, lights, chairs, and whatnot of Nina’s speakeasy was the last thing she wanted to do. Our Cally was not in a good mood but needs must if she wanted to be part of the Lovely community. To say that the Chowder Festival was a massive deal in Lovely was putting it lightly. A once-a-year extravaganza that was not only much loved but taken very seriously indeed. Woe betide you if you didn’t go all in. You don’t like chowder? Suck it up, buttercup.
As she stood under her umbrella, waiting at the jetty, she looked all the way down the river and watched as tiny little dots of rain punctured the top of a very still River Lovely. Since the phone call with Logan when he’d told her in no uncertain terms that she could come back to him when him loving her was enough, she'd been around in circles, but she’d certainly not gone back. She wasn’t really sure where that left them. She supposed the Cally and Logan thing had come to an abrupt end. Bye bye, Henry-Hicks. Nice knowing you.
Not only that, it was as if the tables had turned a little bit. When she’d spoken to him, she’d sat there on the sofa thinking that she had all the cards, that she was oh-so high and just as mighty. That she had the upper hand because he’d lied. She’d been quite the superior one, or so she’d thought. Get out the violins that she’d always had to hold up the sky. Boo-hoo that she might be hurt. Poor Cally having to shield her heart all the time.
Logan had taken that on board but when she’d pushed him too far, he’d flipped it back on her. His take on it was that he loved her and that should be good enough.
Henry-Hicks had shown his own cards, thank you very much. Played a tough game.
Cally pondered the whole situation as she stood in the rain and watched as a young mum in one of the navy-blue Lovely coats with the hood up bumped a pram up onto the jetty. She’d not heard from Logan and she’d not contacted him either. To be quite frank, she had no idea what to do or think in the latest instalment in the scenario. Logan had more or less told her to take it or leave it. What was she supposed to think about that? She supposed she was leaving it. Cally de Pfeffer and Henry-Hicks were no longer a thing.
She assumed that by not contacting him, she was calling his bluff and wouldn’t be coming back. Part of her wanted to run like the wind up to the manor and jump in his bed and stay there forever. Like, ever, ever. Instead, she did nothing but festered in a huge pool of self-pity and poor, poor, poor, old me. Eyeroll.
Somehow, though, our Cally needed the wallowing. Indeed, she’d spent the days since the call and Logan’s harsh words in a cocoon of wallow; way, way, way too much blackcurrant cordial, ditto gin, and there had been a lot of partaking in Lovely Bay chocolate. There’d also been a lone walk past the lighthouse, along the beach, and back again as it had been approaching midnight. Even the stars and a clear, dark, Lovely night hadn’t helped her. Melancholy was her new best friend. As she watched the boat chug along in the drizzly rain, she just about managed to smile as Colin waved. She wasn’t in the mood for him, either. Shame that because he was his usual upbeat self.
‘Afternoon, our Cally!’
‘Hey, Colin. How are you?’
‘I’d be better without the rain. We had sunshine this morning, and then it was windy, and now this.’ Colin held his hand up to the sky just after he threw a rope.
‘Yup.’
‘I should be used to the four Lovely seasons in a day by now, right? Only lived here all my life.’
‘Ha, yeah, you should.’
‘What are you up to? All ready for the Chowder Festival?’
‘I am. I’m just on my way over to Nina’s now, actually. We’re doing some prep.’
‘Ahh, she’ll have that all sorted.’
‘I know. She doesn't really need me.’
Colin secured the rope to the jetty and glanced up at Cally, his weathered face creasing into a smile. 'So, you're off there now? She's a force of nature, that one.'
Cally nodded, adjusting her grip on her umbrella. 'That she is. I sometimes wonder why she even wants my input.'
Colin chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 'Ah, don't sell yourself short.’
The young mum with the pram approached the gangplank, struggling to manage both the pram and her shopping bags. Cally stepped forward. 'Need a hand with that,' Cally offered, reaching for one of the bags.
The woman looked up gratefully, her hood slipping back slightly to reveal a harried face. 'Oh, thank you. That's very kind.'
Cally took the heaviest-looking bag and followed the woman onto the boat. She set the bag down next to the pram. 'There you go. All set?'
The woman nodded. 'Yes, thank you so much. It's not easy managing everything with a pram.'
Cally smiled, feeling a twinge of something she’d never felt before. Glancing at the sleeping baby in the pram, she smiled. 'I can imagine. Aww, so sweet.’
As she sat down under cover, the drizzle had eased slightly, but the air remained heavy with moisture. The river’s surface was a mottled grey under a dense, overcast sky that stretched away. In the distance, on the opposite bank, the colours were a smudge of green and brown, creating a misty veil over the river. Once they were going, Colin came up the stairs, chatted with the woman with the pram, and then smiled as he passed Cally on his way back down.
Cally attempted to make conversation even though she most certainly was not in the mood for small talk. ‘How are the Chowder Festival decorations coming along?'
‘You thought you’d seen bunting? You ain’t seen nothing. This year, we’re going for the most we’ve ever had. You won’t be able to move for it in Lovely. Blue and white bunting all along the harbour front and up the main street. Reams and reams of the stuff and not all that rubbish from overseas. Handmade right here in Lovely. We’ve been working on it since last year.’
'Sounds lovely,' Cally said, genuinely intrigued. 'What about the lighthouse?'
Colin's eyes twinkled. 'Ah, now that's where the real magic's happening. The whole thing is being covered in fairy lights as we speak. We have got millions of lights this year. Might even hit a billion.’
'You're joking! How on earth are you managing that? You’ll need a lot of help, won’t you?'
'Aye, that's Lovely for you. Everyone pitches in. It's what makes this place special.'
‘Yep, it is.’
‘It's all hands on deck, quite literally. We've got half the town working on it. Robby’s blokes are doing the outside bit.’
Cally raised an eyebrow. 'That’s right, Neens, did say. I guess he’s well-qualified to throw himself down the side of the lighthouse to attach a few lights.’
‘Too right. Rather him than me. There will be a turning on of the lights extravaganza just for Lovelies...’
'It does sound magical.’
Colin straightened up, puffing out his chest a bit. 'Well, it's a team effort, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't proud. Now, tell me, what's Nina got you working on?'
Cally sighed. 'Oh, you know. Tablecloths, chair arrangements, napkins, that sort of thing. Nothing as exciting as your lights.'
'I know you're still finding your feet here in Lovely. But trust me, being part of this festival—even if it's just deciding on napkin colours—it's a big deal. You're weaving yourself into the fabric of the town.'
Cally looked up at him, surprised by the insight. 'I hadn't thought about it like that.'
'Course you hadn't. You've been too busy moping about a certain fella from up there at the manor.'
Cally's mouth fell open. 'How did you?—?'
Colin tapped the side of his nose. 'Small town, love. Word gets around. But don't worry, we all have our dramas. It'll sort itself out.' Colin squinted up at the sky. 'Weather's turning again. There’s a storm coming, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘Yep, feels like it. Hope it doesn’t rain for the festival.’
‘Ahh, well, rain or shine, we do it anyway. It's about remembering where we came from, you know?'
'How do you mean?'
Colin's eyes were fixed on the river. 'Lovely wasn't always the quaint little town it is now. Back in my granddad's day, it was a proper fishing area and very isolated too. Harsh life it was. Men out on boats in all weathers, women keeping everything together back on shore. I’m not being sexist. That’s how it was back then.'
Cally tried to imagine the Lovely of yesteryear. ‘Must have been quite different in those days.’
'Oh yes,' Colin nodded, 'In actual fact, the Chowder Festival started as a way to use up the less popular fish, the ones that didn't sell so well at market. Waste not, want not – that was the motto. Over time, it became a celebration of the town's resilience, its ability to make something wonderful out of whatever life threw at it.'
‘I love the history of it here.’
‘Yup. Then there’s the chowder competition. Will you be entering?’
'Me? No! I’m so not qualified.’
‘You never know. Everyone's got a special recipe tucked away somewhere. Besides, it's not just about winning. It's about being part of it all.'
Cally laughed. ‘Will you be entering?’
‘Of course! We’ve got an old recipe book that's been in our family for generations.’
‘Good luck with that.’
‘You never know I might win. Right, I’d best get on.’
As the boat rounded a bend in the river, the harbour came into view. The misty rain created a dreamlike quality, softening the edges of the buildings and boats that lined the waterfront. At least Cally had Lovely to soften her landing. Right at that moment, she felt as if that was the only thing she had at all. Tended to occur when you were stubborn and dropped the best thing that had happened to you from a very high height just to see how far it would fall.