Chapter 12
These shoes were not made with walking in mind – I don’t even think these shoes were made with standing in mind, and yet here I am, walking up the hill to get home.
I just needed to get out of the house today so I took myself for a walk into town, to investigate the shops on Main Street, and to just see the sea really, because the novelty of being back at the coast hasn’t worn off yet.
It’s different in autumn, quieter and moodier, with a grey-blue sky hanging over the water – but still plenty of tourists regardless.
Main Street is the sort of place tourists stop to take photos of before they’ve so much as entered a shop or a café – the kind of place you could visit just to see the street, without needing to go inside anywhere.
It is beautiful. It slopes down towards the sea in a crooked line of old stone buildings, a mixture of shops, cafés and cute little homes.
It’s the kind of shops you hope to find when you visit the coast, selling things that no one really needs, but everyone wants.
There’s a shop that sells nothing but jam, called Fruitopia, which I love.
A vintage clothes shop. A bookshop. A small art gallery.
The kind of places you can browse happily, not needing to buy a thing to feel like you’ve had a great day out, although I’m sure I’d struggle to go home empty-handed if I allowed myself to do anything beyond window shopping.
The pavements are narrow and uneven, polished smooth in some places thanks to years and years of visitors wandering up and down with ice creams – or lattes, depending on the season.
In summer, the whole street feels bright and busy, but in autumn it has a different kind of charm.
The shop windows mist slightly at the edges, all of the menus change to offer the best of the season, and I love to see everyone go all-out with the autumn decorations – it’s little more than a taste of what’s to come, when we finally get into the festive season, and the whole town turns into a winter wonderland.
I’m actually quite looking forward to it.
At the bottom of the hill, between the rooftops, the sea appears in sudden flashes of grey-blue. You can smell the salt in the air, even up here, at the top of the hill. You can smell fresh fish and chips too, and it’s making me feel absolutely starving.
I decide to pop and see my old friend Ivy, who runs the year-round Christmas shop on the edge of the town.
When I was little, it was the most magical place in the world.
A tiny, glittering wonderland of baubles, wooden nutcrackers, snow globes – it even had a miniature steam train that raced around the shop.
Mum used to bring me all the time, but I have really fond memories of visiting her in the run-up to Christmas, to stock up on festive supplies.
Ivy’s always been like a sort of big sister to me.
Her mum passed away years ago, and Ivy took over the shop.
I’d heard she’d expanded it, but I’m still surprised when I get there and see just how much bigger it is now.
The old shop is still there, rebuilt but with the exact charm of the original, but now there are cute little holiday rentals too. It looks great.
I’m heading for the door when I notice my phone ringing in my bag. It’s a number I don’t recognise, but after only a moment of hesitation, I answer it with an overly cheery hello.
‘Hi, Lia,’ a man’s voice says.
‘Speaking,’ I say, rather formally, considering it’s a sort of familiar voice.
‘It’s Si,’ he tells me.
Oh, obviously, because I only gave him my number last night. Who else was it going to be? For a second I thought it was Mr L, because of course I did. Idiot.
‘Si, of course, hello,’ I say brightly. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m great, cheers,’ he replies. ‘How’s the head?’
‘Better than it was earlier, when I woke up to my parents having a jam-making session.’
‘Is that…?’
‘Not a euphemism,’ I quickly insist.
‘Glad to hear it,’ he replies. ‘Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight?’
‘Oh,’ I say, and then I go quiet, because obviously I’m terrible at this stuff.
‘I’m cooking,’ he continues. ‘Are you going to make me eat alone?’
I smile to myself, despite the wind cutting through my jacket. Suddenly I feel oddly warm, which is pathetic, really, because all the man has done is invite me over for dinner.
‘Okay, sure, I would love that,’ I tell him.
‘Great, I’ll message you a time, and my address, and I’ll see you later,’ he says, the excitement evident in his voice.
‘Fab, see you soon,’ I tell him. ‘Can I bring anything?’
‘Just yourself,’ he tells me.
I feel like I can hear him smiling. I’m smiling too. I think I have a date with Si.
I push open the shop door and the bell jingles. I swear, it’s the same jingle from when I was a kid, because the nostalgia hits me like a ton of bricks.
Mmm, and it smells the same too. Like Christmas trees, cinnamon and something sweet and buttery, like biscuits baking behind the scenes.
‘Lia?!’
I look over and see Ivy standing behind the counter.
‘Ivy!’
She abandons the miniature tree she was decorating and hurries around the counter. The next thing I know, I’m being pulled into the kind of hug that briefly makes you feel like you’re fighting for your life.
Ivy really was like a big sister to me when we were younger.
She was older, cooler, prettier, impossibly grown-up.
She taught me how to French plait my hair, gave me my first proper grown-up make-up – I remember she once told Rory she’d bury him in the back garden if he ever made me cry again, after he put one of my Barbies on the barbecue.
I adored her. In fact, it was her who passed on all her Leonardo DiCaprio posters to me, so perhaps she’s the one to blame for my crushes on unattainable men.
‘Look at you,’ she says, pulling back to take me in. ‘You look so grown up.’
‘Well, I am thirty,’ I reply, pulling a face.
‘Wait until you hit forty, then you’ll panic,’ she jokes. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
‘You too,’ I say, and I mean it more than I expected to.
The shop looks so beautiful, every way I turn. Bigger, yes, but still familiar. Shelves stacked with hand-painted baubles, garlands looped over beams, tiny lights glowing everywhere. There’s Christmas music playing softly in the background – I always loved that, even when we would visit in July.
‘You’ve done an amazing job with the place,’ I tell her.
Ivy smiles, looking around the shop, beaming with pride.
‘Thanks. I was terrified of ruining it, honestly. Mum loved this place so much,’ she says with a sigh. ‘But I think she would be really happy with how it has turned out – and how well it’s doing.’
A man appears from the back room, tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and a phone pressed to his ear. He pauses when he sees me, ending the call with a quick promise to ring whoever it is back.
‘Sorry,’ he says, smiling. ‘I didn’t realise we had company.’
‘Seb, this is Lia,’ Ivy says. ‘Helen’s daughter.’
‘Ah, hello,’ he says warmly. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
I don’t know if he has, but saying so instantly makes me feel welcomed.
‘All good, I hope,’ I joke.
‘Mostly,’ Ivy teases.
He comes over to shake my hand.
‘Nice to meet you.’
‘You too,’ I reply.
‘I’d stay and chat, but I’ve got a meeting,’ he says. ‘Apparently someone thinks the cottages need hot tubs.’
‘They do,’ Ivy insists. ‘Lia, help me out, tell him how much guests would love to sit out in a hot tub, even in the cold…’
‘That does sound lovely,’ I say – it really does.
‘I will never understand the fascination with what is essentially a family bathtime,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘But what the lady wants…’
He leans in and kisses her on the cheek before he goes. It’s such a small thing, so ordinary and unshowy, but the way Ivy looks at him makes my heart ache.
There is so much love in her eyes. It must be nice, to have someone – someone who not only makes you feel loved, but doesn’t hide it from the world.
Seb gives me another quick smile before disappearing through the back.
‘He seems great,’ I say.
‘He is,’ Ivy replies, smiling in the direction he walked. Then she turns back to me. ‘Anyway. You. Sit down. I want to know everything.’
She leads me through to a small seating area near the back of the shop, where there are two armchairs beside a perfectly decorated fireplace.
She disappears briefly before returning with two lattes and a plate of mince pies.
‘Isn’t it too early for mince pies?’ I ask.
‘Er, look around you,’ she jokes. ‘In this shop? Never.’
She hands me one then sits opposite me, tucking her legs beneath her.
‘So,’ she says gently. ‘You’re back. For good, or for now?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I confess.
‘How’s your mum?’ she asks.
‘Driving me mad.’
Ivy smiles, but suddenly I feel awful. I’m sure she would give anything to have her mum around, driving her mad.
‘You would think I had just come out of a coma, rather than moved back from London,’ I continue. ‘Although that may have something to do with how I left.’
‘What happened?’ she asks.
I stare down at the mince pie in my hand. I could lie. I’m quite good at lying by omission. I could say the job didn’t work out, or that I fancied a change, or that I missed the sea… But this is Ivy. I feel like I could tell her anything, even after all these years.
‘Everything went wrong at once,’ I say. ‘I was seeing someone. My boss, actually.’
Her eyebrows lift slightly, but she doesn’t interrupt.
‘I know. Terrible idea,’ I reply. ‘But I thought we were serious, that my life was on the right track – that we were keeping it a secret because our work didn’t like employees dating each other…’
I can feel my throat tightening, so I sip my drink before I can continue.
‘Except he was already in a relationship with someone. Living with them, in fact. And that person was his boss. So, my boss’s boss.’
Ivy’s face changes.
‘Oh, Lia.’
‘When she found out, she sacked us both,’ I reply. ‘I don’t blame her, to be honest.’
‘But you didn’t know,’ Ivy points out.
‘But no one believed me,’ I reply. ‘They thought I must have known. People looked at me like I was “the other woman”. Like I’d set out to sleep my way up the ranks.
I couldn’t afford to stay in London without the job, and honestly, even if I could have, I couldn’t walk into another interview with my head held high.
It’s not like I was going to get a glowing reference… ’
‘Oh, Lia, that’s awful,’ Ivy says.
I look down at the mince pie again because if I look at Ivy, I might cry, and no one should cry in a shop this joyful.
‘I’ve only told Mum,’ I say. ‘And now you. That’s it. I plan to keep it that way.’
‘You have nothing to be ashamed of,’ she insists.
‘Yeah, but no one actually believes me,’ I point out. ‘Even if I was innocent.’
Was I innocent? I really didn’t know that he was seeing someone else, but maybe I should have? Maybe I should have asked more questions. Maybe there were signs and I ignored them because I liked the version of my life that I could have had with him.
Innocent or not, I was definitely stupid.
She reaches over and squeezes my hand.
‘Well, that’s the good thing about being back here,’ she says. ‘No one knows. And no one needs to know.’
‘Yeah, there’s always that,’ I reply with a sigh.
‘Marram Bay is a great place for starting again,’ she says with a reassuring smile. ‘You have lots of people here who care about you.’
‘You always were so optimistic,’ I point out.
‘Lia, I run a year-round Christmas shop,’ she jokes. ‘I have to be.’
That makes me laugh, which is exactly what I need right now.
‘So what are you going to do now?’
‘No idea,’ I reply. ‘I guess I’ll have to stick around for a while, while I figure out my next steps.’
‘Well,’ she says, glancing around the shop, ‘with Christmas looming, I’ll be looking for more staff soon.
Tourists love autumn here, but November onwards is when this place starts getting ridiculous.
If you wanted something to keep you busy, I know it’s not exactly dream job material, but I would happily employ you – no references needed. ’
She flashes me a cheeky smile.
‘That’s lucky,’ I say with a laugh. ‘That’s so kind of you, Ivy, thank you. I might take you up on that.’
‘No pressure,’ she insists. ‘I just thought I’d offer.’
‘Thank you.’
It’s a lifeline when I need one. Plus, perhaps dream jobs are overrated – my last ‘dream job’ turned out to be more of a nightmare.
Maybe right now I just need something steady.
That’s how I’m looking at my date with Si too – not that I’m going to tell anyone about it, not yet. Well, the mistake I made last time was rushing ahead of myself, getting too serious too quickly.
With Si, my plan is to see how it goes, see what happens…
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited though.