Chapter Sixteen #2
Ivy stared at the screen a moment too long before jabbing the lock button and shoving her phone quickly into her pocket.
‘Did you text him?’ asked Josie, looking up from her yogurt. ‘Because you and Trip really did have—’
‘Do not say we have chemistry,’ Ivy snapped. ‘We have nothing.’
‘Oh,’ said Josie, looking taken aback. ‘Well, in that case—’
‘And no, I didn’t text him,’ Ivy went on. ‘Because honestly, I’ve realised it’s been a bit of a relief having him gone. All that endless optimism and the good deeds … like, has he ever had a bad day in his life?’
‘Well, I’m sure—’
‘The answer is no, he hasn’t. Because everything’s easy for him.
He swans around the world on some sort of never-ending gap year.
Deciding which of the many colleges he might grace with his presence.
With his perfect hair and his perfect teeth, rushing around Fox Bay like some sort of boy scout.
No, actually, he’s like a golden retriever, always under my feet.
Well, he wouldn’t be so cheerful if his life wasn’t so charmed. ’
Josie blinked. ‘Darling, this all sounds a little—’
But Ivy barrelled on, all her hurt and confusion at Trip’s radio silence and then the picture on Instagram pouring out as one long diatribe.
‘And don’t even get me started on his name.
Trip. Trip. Who names their kid that? It’s not a name.
It’s a hazard. It’s what happens when you don’t look where you’re going and end up hurting yourself. ’
‘Ivy—’
‘No, seriously. You can’t trust anyone who sounds like an accident. I hope he and his fake sunshine stay far away in London—’
‘Ivy—’ Josie’s tone was sharp.
‘What?’
She followed Josie’s gaze towards the doorway and froze.
Trip stood there in the open door, weekend bag slung over his shoulder, expression unreadable except for the slight tightening round his mouth and an unmistakable flicker of hurt in his eyes.
‘Morning, guys,’ he said politely.
There was a horrible extended silence.
‘What are you doing here?’ Ivy managed at last in a strangled voice. ‘You’re meant to be back this afternoon at the very earliest.’
‘We thought we’d get a late train yesterday instead,’ he said.
‘But it broke down last night outside of Truro. We ended up staying the night in a Premier Inn and getting a taxi back first thing. Brooke’s gone for coffee and I thought I’d come along here and see if anyone was up.
’ He hesitated. ‘Anyway, I think I’ll go up and shower.
It was a long night.’ He headed for the door to the stairs. ‘See you guys.’
Then he walked out without another word.
Silence crashed over the room. Ivy sank her head into her hands, cheeks burning. ‘Oh God,’ she whispered. ‘How much do you think he heard?’
‘Er,’ said Josie. ‘Maybe not much.’
There was another long silence and then Ivy lifted her head. ‘Do you think he hates me now?’ she asked weakly.
‘Of course not, darling,’ Josie said stoutly. ‘I don’t think Trip is the hating type. And besides, you can always apologise, can’t you?’
Ivy groaned. She had, yet again, made a huge mess of things.
After a long, miserable day in the shop, Ivy would have much preferred to avoid the Fox Bay pre-winter solstice bonfire in favour of going home to stare at the ceiling, fuming over Trip and Madison.
But Josie had insisted on dragging her down to the beach, marching Ivy between her and Fin like a prisoner in a sparkly flower crown.
‘I will simply not have you brooding, darling,’ she had said firmly.
‘My prescription for heartache is a cold winter night on the beach, a blazing fire and some good music to get the blood going.’
Fin had patted her arm. ‘Josie might be right about this one,’ he had said gently. ‘Sometimes holing up and fretting doesn’t do any good.’
Ivy had been too crushed to protest. She had been coming to this bonfire since she was five, when the tradition had started.
It was just as she remembered it, the fire roaring in the centre of the sands, blooming bright and golden and sending up sparks that disappeared into the velvet sky.
Lanterns bobbed on strings between lamp posts, casting a soft glow.
It was as ramshackle and enchanting as Ivy remembered it.
The Seafoam Serenaders were already in full swing by the time they arrived, their fiddles whirling through sea shanties and jigs with cheerful abandon.
Kids darted past with sparklers, scrawling neon shapes in the air, and Lou handed her a paper cup of mulled apple juice before she could protest. The scent of woodsmoke and winter spices hung thick in the air.
Everyone was there: her mum and Liv, Bethie and her mum Lydia, Simi and Lou, Old Bill and Kate, Mr Hargreaves.
Even Ynez the postie was dancing near the chip van as Josie started distributing flower crowns to the crowd.
And there too, of course, was Trip, nodding enthusiastically at Callum as he seemed to be explaining something.
She turned away before he could catch her looking.
Erin appeared at her side with a cider. ‘Ivy, we’re all over here. Come and hang.’
Ivy gave her a weak smile. ‘Maybe in a sec.’
Erin rolled her eyes. ‘You don’t need to be tortured the whole time, you know.’ Her voice was slightly slurred. ‘It’s a party. You could loosen up, hang with us, dance …’
‘I’m okay here for now.’
They stood in silence for a moment, watching the flames twist and crackle, before Erin nudged her gently.
‘You know,’ she said, ‘I’m studying psychology at Bristol. And I aced my end-of-term exams.’
‘Right, I know,’ said Ivy, confused, and then remembered her own average marks. ‘Good for you.’
‘And if you’ll allow me to psychoanalyse you, Ivy, I’d say that I think sometimes you’re scared.’
Ivy stared. ‘Scared? Me?’
‘Sure. At school for instance. You barely spoke to us. Or to anyone except Raye and the art teachers. You always acted like everyone else was beneath your notice. We’d try – we’d ask you for coffee or study sessions or to go to the cinema – but you’d always make up some excuse and scuttle off.
I remember asking you to my twelfth birthday.
You told me, if I remember correctly, that you were allergic to bowling. ’
‘I think it’s the varnish they use,’ said Ivy weakly. ‘It gives me a headache.’
‘We couldn’t work out if you were shy or grumpy or just hated us or what. But I figured it out the other day at Winter Wonderland. You’re scared.’
Ivy glanced at the cup in Erin’s hand. ‘How much of that cider have you had?’
‘You’re scared of all of it,’ said Erin, waving her cup expansively, sloshing some cider on to the sand. ‘Life. People. Romance. The future. You keep this little buffer of sarcasm and cynicism around you like bubble wrap, and I have to say, it’s very effective. Because no one dares get close.’
Ivy opened her mouth to protest, but Erin cut her off by holding up a mittened hand.
‘I’m not judging you. I get it. It’s easier to assume everything’s going to disappoint you than risk opening up, being wrong and getting hurt. But, I don’t know … it must be kind of lonely, right? Shutting people out.’
Ivy stared into her own cup, momentarily lost for words. There it was again. That word people kept using about her. Lonely. She took a sip of her drink. The juice had gone cold.
‘I don’t shut people out,’ she said at last, in a small voice.
‘You shut us out,’ Erin said. ‘At school, I mean. Me and Mei and Callum.’
‘I …’ Ivy’s voice trailed off. ‘All those times you asked me to do stuff, I thought you were just doing the right thing. I didn’t think you really wanted me there,’ she finished lamely.
‘Why wouldn’t we?’ Erin said softly. ‘You’re cool. We like you.’
Ivy thought back over the last few years of school. All that time saying no. Her and Raye hiding out in the art room, making fun of the cool kids with the great hair and their denim shorts, their bowling parties and cinema trips. She had been so sure they were only tolerating her, when actually …
‘You mean you properly wanted to be friends?’ she asked. ‘All this time?’
Erin slapped her forehead dramatically. ‘Yes, Ivy. We properly wanted to be friends. All this time.’ She sighed and downed her cider.
‘Listen, I’m going to dance now, because sometimes people like to do that at parties.
But think about it, Ivy. If you keep shutting people out, insisting they’re acquaintances rather than friends, you’ll end up with a pretty small world.
And you know who else you’ve shut out, right?
’ She nodded meaningfully to the cluster of kids by the fire, where Trip was standing, head thrown back, laughing at something the others had said.
Erin squeezed Ivy’s arm. ‘Come over and join us any time. And the pagan-crown look suits you, by the way.’
Erin headed over to the fire, slipping an arm round Mei’s waist. As the music swelled and more people joined the dancing, Ivy felt herself drifting at the edge of it all – full of confused thoughts, too tired and sad to figure them out.
She told her mum she had a headache and left before the final song, boots crunching over the frosty path as she made her way back through the dark.
From the beach, she thought she heard someone call her name, but she didn’t turn back. She just needed to be home.