Chapter Six
On Wednesday, Ivy decided the week was flying by with unnerving speed and that she had to at least try and do some college work.
She motored through her morning tasks at the shop, finally clawing back a free hour before the rush started, sitting down with a muddy coffee, determined to get something, anything, on the page.
She decided to try a mindfulness technique they had studied in college in the first week to ‘loosen them up and get the creative juices flowing’.
She picked up her pencil, set it on the page and closed her eyes.
Quick pencil lines, letting her mind go where it chose and allowing her fingers to follow.
It was surprisingly soothing. An image came unbidden to mind: a shop, drowsy with early morning sunshine, bottles glinting in the pale light, the clutter of books and cushions and a windchime above the door …
she drew on, smiling slightly, lost in the moment, letting the lines flow from her pencil …
At last, she opened her eyes and frowned at the page. There was a tall figure, doing some sort of yoga pose, hair falling into their eyes in a way that seemed unnervingly familiar.
Ugh, thought Ivy, and slammed the sketchbook shut.
Enough of this, she thought. If Trip was invading even her private thoughts, not to mention her sketchbook, it was time for baked goods.
Fin had told her yesterday that he was planning on making his mythical cheese and chive scones this week and if anything would aid artistic thought – or at least make Ivy feel better about being an artistic failure – it was one of those, warm from the oven and smothered in lashings of butter.
She hopped off her stool and stuck her sketchbook into her coat pocket. Maybe there were a few things worth returning to Fox Bay for.
Ivy ducked into the bakery, planning to grab the goods and go.
But Fin was out back and she found herself wedged between a tray of cinnamon buns and a tall girl ahead of her in a tan coat, with perfectly tousled hair, listening to Taylor Swift so loudly that Ivy could hear the strains of All Too Well even through the earphones.
It was nice being back here, she thought, in this cosy space.
She’d been buying cakes off Fin ever since she was small when he had decided to turn his hobby into a business.
To pass the time, she took out her sketchbook and began to draw, trying to tune in to the smells and warmth of the little bakery, the rows of croissants and baguettes, the old-fashioned till, the railway clock on the whitewashed wall—
‘Ivy?’
Startled, Ivy looked up from her drawing to see the girl in front had taken her earphones out and turned round. Of course. Erin-from-school. She should have recognised her from that perfectly tousled honey-blonde hair.
Erin looked exactly the same as she had at school, only somehow even prettier and shinier.
Along with her friends Mei and Callum, Erin had slipped effortlessly into the vacuum created when the previous cool kids Skye, Jacob, Seb, Isla and their gang had left Fox Bay.
But while Jacob and co had been known for trouble-making – late-night parties and drinking on the beach – Erin had been an earnest force for good.
She was always hosting a beach barbecue for charity or organising litter-picking or getting the choir to sing at the retirement home or running for leadership positions at school.
Erin was popular and effortlessly good at everything. She was also, infuriatingly, nice.
Which somehow, Ivy thought, made her more annoying.
She and Ivy had technically been friends, in that they both did art, and Erin was so determinedly sociable even Ivy’s icy stare and curt answers hadn’t put her off.
But Ivy had assumed that she was just acting out of obligation and this would fizzle as soon they left school.
Now, Ivy quickly shoved her sketchbook with its uninspired croissant drawings into her pocket.
It was too early and too hot in the little bakery to be confronted with the most popular girl at school.
‘Hi, Erin. You must be back for the break,’ she said.
‘Yes! Ivy! No way. I thought that was you, given you were buried in a sketchbook as usual.’ Erin gave one of her trade-mark wide smiles, revealing gleaming white teeth. ‘I picked up on the general scornful vibe, along with the red hair.’
Ivy gave a weak laugh. ‘It’s kind of my signature look.’
‘That and your cute old cardigan,’ said Erin affectionately. ‘Look, you’re still wearing it! We all used to tease you about it, didn’t we?’
‘I remember,’ said Ivy, through gritted teeth.
‘I can’t believe you’re back!’ Erin said. ‘Still doing art? Of course you are. You were always so committed. Oh my god, Ivy. Remember your GCSE project? The three-foot mermaid with the broken heart? And Ms Leach cried.’
‘Ha.’ Ivy managed a shrug. ‘Yep. Still doing my art.’ Sort of, she thought. ‘I’m at Cornwall Art College.’
‘We should hang out while you’re home,’ said Erin, her smile firmly in place, eyes fixed on Ivy. ‘Cal and Mei are back too and they’d love to see you. Everyone’s got so much exciting news to catch up on!’
‘I’m super busy right now – I’m working every day at the bookshop,’ said Ivy hastily.
The last thing she wanted was to hear everyone’s exciting news.
She cast a desperate look around for Fin, but he must have still been getting the bread out of the oven.
‘And I’m going to be helping with the school show. ’
‘Wait, that’s you working on the show?’ Erin said, her eyes widening. ‘My sister Lucy, you remember her? She’s in Year Four. She said someone’s moody older sister was going to make a life-size lobster costume for the maritime number. I should have known!’
Ivy sighed. ‘Yeah. That’s me.’ She had no choice but to make conversation. ‘And you’re at Bristol, right?’
‘That’s right. Psychology. Loving. It.’ Erin beamed. ‘Isn’t uni amazing?’
‘Amazing,’ said Ivy woodenly, willing Fin to come out with the scones. ‘Just … amazing.’
‘Well now that I’ve run into you, you’ve got to come out tomorrow night,’ Erin said. ‘I won’t take no for an answer. Everyone’s heading to the Mariner’s.’
‘Who is everyone?’ asked Ivy, stalling for time.
‘The gang, Ivy!’ Erin shrieked, like they hung out all the time.
‘Callum and Mei. Like the old days. Only we can drink legally now, of course.’ She winked.
‘Not that it stopped us before, did it? Although Simi was always so strict about letting us in the pub. Now we can have a civilised G+T and share all our news. What do you say?’
Ivy hesitated before her eager gaze, casting around for an excuse. ‘I don’t know …’
‘Come on,’ Erin coaxed. ‘It’ll be a fun night. Apparently there’s some new guy in town who is always doing yoga on the beach, which is bold given the weather. Mei says he’s ridiculously hot. She wants him to come along. Funny name …’
Of course. ‘Trip,’ said Ivy resignedly. ‘He’s Josie’s new Airbnb guest at the shop.’
‘Perfect! Well you can bring him along with you,’ said Erin, clapping her hands. ‘That works out nicely.’
Ivy opened her mouth to say no. But that suddenly felt like admitting defeat.
‘Okay,’ she heard herself say. ‘Just for one drink.’
Erin grinned. ‘Yes! Nice one! I’ve got your number of course. I’ll add you to the WhatsApp and message you the deets.’
To her relief, Fin came out just then with a tray of golden scones that smelled delicious. ‘Ivy, I saw you waiting and knew you’d want one of these,’ he said, tucking it into a napkin for her. ‘And take this for Josie, will you?’ He handed her a fresh loaf.
‘Thanks,’ Ivy mumbled, backing away.
‘See you tomorrow!’ trilled Erin, waving vigorously as Ivy hurried out. ‘Can’t wait!’