Chapter 5
FIVE
I am out in the woods with my brother-in-law Archie, foraging for wild garlic. It’s not exactly hard to find – the woodlands here are old, and the floor is carpeted in swathes of the tell-tale little white flowers and pointed green leaves.
You’d be amazed how much food you can forage for if you know where to look. Fruits, vegetables, mushrooms, herbs, nuts and seeds, several different types of seaweed. It’s fun to forage, and somehow the food can taste better when you’ve found it yourself – maybe it’s a throwback to hunter-gatherer times.
I take small amounts – never more than nature can easily replace – and add them to the more traditionally sourced foods on my menu. The wild garlic is a favourite, and it also means a trip to the woods.
I love the woods. I mean, I love the beach as well – but something about the trees is so soothing. It’s a sunny day, and the light is striping through the canopy, dappled gold falling through the green. The air is alive with birdsong, and the only scents are those of nature – the thick, rich soil and the plants that grow in it. You could literally be in a different century out here, and I think that’s one of the reasons Archie loves it too – he loses himself in the ancient rhythm of it all. He’d fit right in as a hunter gatherer, I think, as I watch him crouched down working with his knife, slicing a few leaves and adding them to the harvest already in the basket.
He is a very big man, my brother-in-law. Kind of like a grizzly bear in human form. If this were a shape-shifting fantasy film, he would morph into a bear. Marcy would be an otter. Ella would be a lion cub. Me? A yellow Lab, at a guess. Maybe a manatee, on a good day.
Until relatively recently, Archie had the fur to go with his bear-like appearance – a big beard, long hair, sideburns, his face all but obliterated by the fuzz. Then he met Cally, who happens to be a hairdresser, and everything changed. She didn’t just give him a short back-and-sides – she gave him a whole new lease of life.
The car crash that claimed Simon also claimed his sister – Archie’s wife, Sandy. Simon was driving her to hospital because she was in labour with their second little girl, Meg. In the end Meg survived, but her mum didn’t. It fills me with joy that Cally is here now, because she is one of the most maternal women I’ve ever met. She’s kind and jolly and funny, and Archie is a different man now – and those girls have a second mama. Not one to replace the first, but one to help them grow up and turn into young women with a bit of feminine guidance. I’ve done my best but it’s just not the same.
We’ve always been close, me and Archie – we’ve clung to each other like life rafts in the last few years. We’re a tag team – stepping in to help when one of us feels overwhelmed. I had three teenagers on my hands, which wasn’t easy – but he had a motherless newborn, which was off-the-charts demanding. It’s been tough, horrendously tough, but I like to think we’ve helped each other through some very dark times.
Now, strolling through these woods, Archie in his element as he points out various plants and signs of insect life, I let the familiar and gentle music of our relationship soothe my rough edges.
“You okay?” he says, gazing up at me, shielding his eyes from a patch of sunlight. “You seem a bit out of it.”
I settle on a lichen-coated tree stump, and he joins me.
“I’m worried we’ve taken too much,” I say, looking at the basket. I’m worried about all kinds of things, of course, but that seems like a good place to start.
“No, it’s fine – there’s masses of the stuff, and we’ve cut the leaves so they’ll grow back. The bulbs are all still in place.”
“Right. Good. And how is the rhubarb coming along?”
“Great. There’ll be plenty for you to use. I’ve been growing sorrel as well.”
Archie is the gardener for the whole of Starshine Cove, but he also has a huge greenhouse, and a patch of land where he grows his own produce. Since Rose became his apprentice, he’s had more time to plan his empire, as well as provide fresh food baskets for local people who can’t get out and about too easily. The man is never happier than when he’s uprooting carrots or watering his rows of lettuce.
“Brilliant. So. Everything’s okay, then,” I reply.
“If you say so, Connie.” He’s looking at me curiously. “Feeling stressed because of the Spring Feast?”
The answer to that is, of course, yes – but the stress is part of the package. I’ve been in far more high-pressure situations than my little gatherings, where I only serve for about forty people, and anyway, I enjoy it. I thrive on that feeling of balancing a million little details at once, getting the timings right, the myriad moments that go into something like this. It’s pretty much the closest I get to an adrenaline rush these days.
It’s not just that bothering me, though, and he knows it. I look up at him, and he nudges me playfully with his shoulder. His shoulder is so big he almost knocks me off the tree trunk and laughs as he grabs hold of me to settle me back in place.
“Come on,” he says. “After all these years I can tell when something’s on your mind. Is it having Marcy to stay? Is she not settling in?”
“God, yes – I think that girl could settle in on Mars, she’s so bloody enthusiastic about everything! I offered her James’s room – it’s not like he uses it anymore. I should really clear it out a bit, maybe decorate it… but anyway, she said no, and she has a camp bed in Sophie’s room. I hear them giggling and chatting all night long. It’s actually really nice, having that kind of energy in the house again. They’re like Meg and Lilly, but they talk about different things. At least I hope so, because last night there was a lot of laughing about the boys they’d snogged on their last big night out in London.”
“Yikes,” he says, shivering. “I know that’s going to happen with my girls at some point, and I’m not looking forward to it.”
“Well, they’re only five and nine, Archie, so I think that’s a while off. Sophie’s had boyfriends before, as you know, so this kind of thing isn’t exactly a shock. I know what I was getting up to at her age… which now I come to think about it isn’t very reassuring! Anyway, they’re fine. Also, I’m making them work – this is technically part of their course, it’s not a holiday. I have to fill in logbooks and everything, almost as though I’m a grown-up.”
I’ve planned out tasks for them, some of which will be helpful for me but also good stuff to learn – food prep, cleaning, appliance checking, stock control, boring stuff. I’ve given them jobs in the café, which Sophie is an old hand at because I’ve been using her as child labour for years now, but also added in extra responsibilities like ordering from suppliers and going over our allergen information.
The fun bit, the bit they’re enjoying the most, is that I’ve also put them in charge of the daily specials – they come up with the idea, cost it, make it, sell it and serve it. It’s been highly entertaining watching them try to talk customers into ordering whichever dish they’re pushing, then waiting breathlessly for a response. You can learn a lot at catering college, I’m sure, but this is the magic – the moment when a meal you’ve created and lovingly cooked goes out into the wild. It’s like a little part of you, and you desperately want people to love it.
“Where are they now?” Archie asks. “Thought they’d want in on the wild garlic collecting.”
“Yes, Archie, because that is the stuff of dreams for all teenage girls, isn’t it? Actually I’ve got them back at the café after hours – I told them they need to go through a basic food hygiene inspection. I’ve set some deliberate booby traps, like putting raw chicken on the shelf above an open packet of ham.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Good Lord, man, how are you still alive?”
“Dunno. Cast-iron constitution, I suppose. Is Marcy’s dad supposed to be coming soon?”
And just like that, he whacks the nail on the head. I nod, but don’t add anything. Zack has been in touch a few times since we left London, initially in a bit of a panic because he hadn’t heard from Marcy.
I explained to him that we have extremely dodgy wifi and phone signals, and that only a few places – the inn, specifically the fire escape outside the inn, and the offices in the community centre – have decent reception due to dongles. Also, I will never, ever be able to say the word ‘dongles’ without laughing.
Zack was a bit taken aback at the slower pace of communication, which doesn’t surprise me – he seems to live with a phone glued to his hands, and he works in the media in London. That’s a very different, very quick-fire rapid-response kind of environment. Ours is more of a ‘we’ll get back to you a week on Monday’ kind of vibe.
Annoyingly, there was a cancellation for the feast, and a matching one for the room they’d booked at the Starshine Inn. I’m not entirely sure I’d have informed him if not for the fact that Sophie took the call, so I was all out of choices. I suppose it’s better than the alternative – him staying at our house. I’d planned to make him use Dan’s room, which is not for the faint-hearted.
Despite the cancellation, which means he could just visit, enjoy the night and leave the next day, he is still insisting that he’s going to come and help out, plus stay around ‘for a while’ if the mood takes him. I’d guess that he’s not a man used to having time on his hands – he has been busy for decades and has an empire to run – and the fact that his plans to head to France to see Amy have been derailed have left him at a loose end.
I, of all people, completely understand that feeling – he doesn’t want to spend his weeks off sitting around in the home he made with Rowena, alone apart from a chubby dog and his memories. He would probably find it hard dealing with the solitude and the lack of occupation – and I get it. He needs something to keep him busy, something that makes him feel connected to his family and to a world outside work.
That, it seems, is where we come in, and he is determined to come and visit. Why he can’t just dial up another stunning temporary girlfriend I don’t know – it’s not like he seems short of options on that front.
I have absolutely no right to be bothered by this. I have absolutely no reason to be bothered by this. I have absolutely no clue why I am in fact so bothered – but I definitely am, and as Archie is here with me, a human boulder by my side, maybe I should at least try and talk it through.
“I’m a bit weirded out by it all,” I say simply.
“By what?” Archie asks. “By Marcy’s dad? Sophie told Rose you used to know him, back in the day.”
“Yes. Back in the day. I think that’s the issue – I don’t really have many fond memories of back in the day, or my life when Zack and people like him were involved in it.”
I see Archie turning this over, obviously exploring a few options before he speaks.
“Right. Was he a dick to you? Do you want me to rough him up?”
“No!” I say, laughing. “Nothing like that at all – in fact if anyone was a dick it was me! You know I was on the verge of signing all these various deals, I’m sure I’ve told you – recipe book based on dishes from the restaurant, a signing tour, a TV show?”
“Yeah. I find it hard to imagine all of that, but then again, you probably find it hard to imagine me as a lawyer in London. We both kind of shed our skin when we moved here, didn’t we? Found things that made us happier.”
“Exactly. Well, Zack was the guy producing the TV show. I left him in the lurch so I do feel a bit embarrassed about that, but it was years ago and water under the bridge – he’s not holding grudges. It’s just… I suppose when I shed my skin, I basically burned the old one. Not just burned it – I burned it, locked the ashes in four different boxes, and buried them. It was different for you – you didn’t mind being a lawyer, and you had a life in London you were okay with. It was just that meeting Sandy brought you here and showed you something even better.”
“So how is it different for you?”
“It’s different because I hated everything about myself back then. I hated the way I behaved, the way I looked, the way I treated people – including me. I don’t even like thinking about it, it gives me chills. And then Zack bumbles back into my world, and it’s like everything feels a bit raw – like my old skin is still out there, looking for me.”
“I think you’re going a bit far with the skin thing – it’s starting to sound like a horror film.”
“That’s kind of how it feels.”
Archie shakes his head and says: “I think you might be over-reacting – and yes, I know, a man saying that to a woman usually earns himself a slap on the chops – but in this case I think it’s true. Look, you might like to think that there was this one big turning point, and that the Connie you are now bears no resemblance to the Connie you were then – but you’re wrong. Life can’t be neatly sectioned off like that, into the before and the after. You wouldn’t be who you are now without who you were then.”
“Archie, you’re at risk of sounding like some kind of zen master!”
He grins. “I am. I am the guru of the woods. So, let’s figure this out – tell me one of the things you didn’t like about yourself back then.”
“Well, for a start, I was a chef but I never ate. I was so skinny.”
He gently pokes my admittedly ‘womanly’ thighs, and replies: “I’d say you’ve sorted that out.”
“Gurus aren’t supposed to body shame.”
“I’m not body shaming – you’re gorgeous and you know it.”
I shrug, as if to say well, yes, I’m not too bad.
“What else?” he pushes.
“Okay. I was mean – I was a mean boss, and a bitchy person.”
“You are neither of those things now. You are the kindest woman I know, with the biggest heart.”
He gives me a little smile, and I take the compliment.
“I was selfish,” I go on. “Everything was about me. I never gave a damn about anyone else. I worked hard, and thought the whole world was mine.”
“Well, these days you’re the opposite. You organise all those little things that make people’s lives better – the food deliveries, the minibus, all the events that bring us together. You donate a portion of your earnings to the village funds. You are a mother, a daughter, a friend – your door is quite literally always open. You can’t do enough for other people. In fact, you’re practically a saint!”
“True. Or at the very least a minor angel. But… look, you see what I mean? Things are different here. I’m different here – and I like that.”
“I do see, but I also think you’re being deliberately dense. The life you led before, and the way it made you feel – that’s all fed into the life you lead now. Your experiences then built the foundation of what you are now – even just as an example of what you didn’t want your life to look like. You have a way of seeing beneath the surface of people, Connie, and figuring out what they need before they do – except when it comes to yourself. Then you’re just really, really thick.”
“Oi, you! You’re the worst guru ever!” I say, laughing at his mock-serious face. “I choose to accept the nice things you said about me and ignore the rest. Anyway, you’re not one to talk – you almost messed things up with Cally because you were so thick about what you really needed!”
“I did, you’re right – and you’re one of the people who made me realise that and sort it out. So, stop being so hard on yourself, and stop worrying – one face from the past isn’t going to bring everything you’ve built here crashing down on you. It’s too solid for that.”
He wraps me up in his arms and gives me a big bear hug, and I nod into his flannel shirt. He’s right, I think – I’m definitely being over-sensitive. It’s been such a transitional time, both with my own body and the kids starting out on their own journeys, that I suspect I’m feeling less stable than usual. That doesn’t mean impending doom – it just means change.
“Thank you,” I say simply. “You’re right, and I needed that.”
“It’s okay, you can repay me in scones.”
“Sorry, Cally’s banned me from giving you guys scones. She’s on a diet again.”
“Don’t worry, it won’t last!”
We gather up the basket, and I breathe in the fresh woodland air. I feel better for our chat, refreshed and ready to take on the world. Or at least my part of it.
We’re on a slight hill, looking down at the path that leads from a quiet road to the village. As we make our way towards it, Archie puts a gentle hand on my arm and draws to a halt.
“There’s someone on the path,” he says, peering through the trees.
For any normal path, of course, that wouldn’t be anything unusual – but this one is usually quiet and secluded. The road on the other side ends at the cliffs and is literally the road to nowhere. It is rarely used, even by hikers doing the nearby coastal route towards Lyme Regis.
We pause, and I find an opening in the branches to look through. Sure enough, a solitary figure is ambling along, a slightly confused look on his face. He pauses frequently, taking pictures and maybe video on his phone. A fat black Lab is bumbling along behind him, sniffing and peeing in time-honoured canine tradition.
“Is that him?” Archie whispers. “Is that Zack?”
“Yep,” I reply quietly, watching as he crouches down to look at a patch of wildflowers. “That’s him.”
Archie grins, and answers: “You didn’t tell me he was a silver fox, Connie. Now I’ve seen him, I’ve got my suspicions about why you feel so stressed about him being here. You bloody well fancy him! Was he an ex? Was there more to your relationship than the professional?”
“No! No, there wasn’t – and no, I do not fancy him!” I bleat, sounding unconvincing even to my own ears. “And anyway, he only goes out with supermodels and influencers. I’m more of a binfluencer – everyone looks to me when it’s bin day and they’re not sure which one needs to go out…”
“Binfluencers are important – I never remember when it’s recycling day. Anyway, come on – I’m starting to feel creepy lurking up here looking at him.”
He bounds down the hillside, his long legs confident, and I follow at a more sedate pace. I don’t especially want to greet Zack by sliding down a hill and landing at his feet on my backside.
“Ahoy there!” booms Archie, giving Zack a bit of a shock. He recovers quickly, and his face breaks into a smile as he sees the two of us approaching. God, he looks so good standing there, the sun dappling through the trees onto his hair. It’s like Mother Nature staged him just to make my tummy fizz.
“Ah,” Zack says, “I am in the right place after all. I got lost – did you know this place isn’t even on the map?”
“Yes,” I reply. “It’s actually an imaginary village, populated entirely by imaginary friends.”
He quirks an eyebrow, considers this, and says: “I wouldn’t be surprised. What’s with all the fairies and dinosaurs?”
“What fairies and dinosaurs?”
“Ha! Nice try, but I have them on video.”
“They’re my work,” says Archie, offering his hand to shake and introducing himself. “My little girls love them – you’ll see the fairies all over the village.”
Zack’s face breaks out into a warm smile, and he answers: “They’re cute. I look forward to meeting more of them. So, I’ve left my car parked up on the side of the road back there – is that right? I mean, there was no other traffic, but I was told there was a car park at the inn.”
Archie takes the basket of wild garlic from me and says: “I’m heading home. Connie will go back to your car with you and take you round. Welcome to Starshine, Zack!”
I try not to scowl at Archie’s retreating bulk and concentrate instead on stroking Bear’s velvety ears.
“Come on then,” I say. “Let’s get you sorted. This fella looks like he needs a bowl of water and a lie-down.”
“The same could be said of me. It’s really warm for March.”
We wander back along the path through the woods, Zack intermittently stopping to take more photos and video. I get it – this is a beautiful place, and I suppose given the nature of his job, he always has one eye on the visuals – but I always think people who spend so much time on their phones capturing the image of something often miss out on simply experiencing it. He’s a grown man, though, so it’s none of my business how he behaves.
We emerge onto the road, and Bear obediently clambers into the back seat of his car. I tell Zack to go back the way he came, and talk him through the slightly tricky route back around to the other side of the village. It’s hidden away, tucked between other routes but invisible from them – our own little secret slice of heaven.
We chat about how Marcy is doing, and what I have planned for the Spring Feast, and it’s all pleasant and harmless enough – but lurking in the back of my mind is Archie’s comment about me fancying him.
As I glance at his profile while he drives, I can’t deny that he might be right. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate a good-looking man – Jake, Ella’s husband who owns the inn, looks like a god in human form, and his brother Josh is just as gorgeous. But appreciating that and fancying them are two different things. I don’t think I’ve actually fancied a real-life man since I met Simon – setting aside the holy trinity of Daniel Craig, Chris Hemsworth and Henry Cavill, of course. I have life-size cardboard cut-outs of them in my living room, left over from Ella’s hen night, and they are fantastic company.
Now, though, I can’t help noticing the way Zack’s jeans fit snugly against his thighs, and the width of his shoulders, and the tiny gold flecks in his green eyes. I don’t want to notice these things, but I do, and it is unsettling. I keep imagining what it would be like to put my hand on those thighs, or wrap my arms around those shoulders. I think I’m managing normal conversation, but my mind is feeling decidedly abnormal. By the time we reach the inn, I am feeling hot and bothered and wishing I had my little fan with me. Hormones are absolute bastards.
I get out of the car as quickly as I can, scrambling for fresh air and hoping I don’t look as hot as I feel. Bear tumbles after me, and immediately pees on the wheel arch of Jake’s new car. He used to have a fancy Audi but he’s swapped it for something more boxy and big-booted since baby Kitty arrived. It never ceases to amaze me how much gear one tiny baby needs.
Zack is looking at me with slightly narrowed eyes, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Does he remember that spark we used to share, or was it all too long ago? Has he ever wondered what might have been? Or is the explanation much simpler – I’ve gone bright red.
“Would you like a quick tour of the village before you check in?” I ask, forcing myself to be welcoming even though I’d quite like to go home and stick my head in an ice bucket.
“Yes please,” he replies. “Will my gear be okay in the car? I’ve got my luggage, plus some quite expensive cameras.”
“Zack, your gear would be okay if you piled it up in the middle of the village green with a sign saying ‘steal me please’. I know it takes some getting used to when you’ve lived in London, but nobody is going to do anything like that. I was exactly the same, don’t worry – these days I’ve forgotten what keys are actually used for.”
“That must be nice,” he replies, walking by my side as we make our way across the car park. “And not exactly a long commute to work, either.”
“Nope. I could fall out of bed and roll there in my duvet. Anyway, as you can see, this is the Starshine Inn. It’s owned by Jake, who also owns several of the holiday cottages in the village. He’s married to Ella, who is the local GP, and they have a baby called Kitty, and a dog called Larry.”
He nods and says: “Okay. Just checking, will there be a test on this later?”
“Absolutely, and if you get anything wrong, we’ll tie you to a stake in the bay and let the crabs eat you.”
“Yikes. What a terrible way to go – sounds very Greek. What do I get if I pass the test?”
“A pint in the inn, and a crustacean-free night.”
He nods to accept the terms, and I lead him through to the village green. He actually pauses and sighs out loud when he sees it, and I feel the familiar lick of pride that I always get when somebody sees Starshine for the first time.
The central green is lush and neat, the bedding plants around it starting to blossom in clusters of spring pinks and purples. The homes that surround it are an interesting mix – chocolate-box thatched cottages, little terraces built of mellow golden stone, the old school that houses the community centre. Trevor’s shop, the bakery, my café – it all adds up to an impossibly pretty blend of old-world country charm.
“I feel like I’ve just stepped onto a set,” he says, predictably enough getting out his phone to frame some shots. “This would be an amazing filming location…”
“Ah. But then our secret would be out, and everyone here is pretty much happy being one of those places that get called a hidden gem. There is a tourist trade – the cottages are always booked, the inn too. People who know about us come back year after year, but it’s never too much. It doesn’t overwhelm us or take away from Starshine’s identity. I’m not sure we’d enjoy it if we started getting coach parties.”
“But wouldn’t that be beneficial, for the economy?” he asks as we stroll along the side of the green. “Help people make a living? I know it can be hard in rural areas, with the decline of traditional industries…”
I laugh out loud and shake my head.
“I’m guessing what you actually know about rural areas is based on reading articles or watching TV, because that sounded exactly like a quote you’ve picked up while you were sitting in an office in central London! And yes, of course, some places depend on tourism – but this place is a bit different. We have a real mix of people and they all do different jobs. It’s not just yokels desperate for cash and running moonshine across county lines – assuming that is a little bit patronising!”
He looks horrified at the accusation, and replies: “I’m sorry if it came across like that. And you’re right – it was my big city privilege talking. What do I know?”
“Nothing, when it comes to Starshine Cove. So, you see that bakery over there? That’s owned by the Betties. They don’t just churn out a few loaves for the locals – they supply high-end grocers all across the UK. They’re actually pretty famous.”
I see him processing the information, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah… okay, I think I’ve heard of them – or at least seen their cakes on the shelves. Do they have a logo like two letter Bs covered in seashells?”
“Yep, that’s them. And up there, over the rooftops and halfway up the hill, there’s a studio that belongs to a jewellery maker called Daisy, who isn’t here right now but is also really successful – as in, international shows successful. Jake, who owns the inn? He used to be one of the leading property developers in the UK. And Trevor, who runs the shop?—”
“Let me guess, he used to be the CEO of Amazon?”
“Don’t be silly – he’s just a nice old hippie dude who likes selling herbal tea and occasionally sleeps overnight in the middle of a stone circle. But anyway – I’m just making the point that this place isn’t hurting. It doesn’t need publicity, or to be a filming location, or any of that. I’ve noticed you getting everything on video – don’t be scheming away to make some kind of reality TV show about us, all right?”
I smile to take any potential sting out of my words, and he holds his hands up in surrender.
“Okay, okay – you caught me! I suppose I’ve just been doing my job for so long that my brain is trained to see potential. Are you sure, though? It’d be a great spot for a rural dating show, or one of those life-swap programmes where city slickers learn how to milk cows…”
“No. Absolutely not. Switch that part of your brain off and just enjoy yourself. Do you think you’re capable of doing that?”
“I’ll try my very best,” he says, sliding the phone into his jeans pocket. “I shall attempt a digital detox.”
We continue our walk, and I lead him around the green to the Cove Café. It’s early evening now and the place is closed, but I take him inside so I can get Bear a bowl of water. There’s no sign of Marcy and Sophie, but the place is spotless. I smile as I check the big fridge and find that all the fresh meat products are now correctly stored – looks like they didn’t fall for my cunning booby trap.
Zack stands and looks around, taking in the pale wood and the white walls and the pretty seaside relics on shelves. He holds up a large conch shell and smiles as he puts it to his ear.
“I can hear the sea…” he says, grinning. Something about a shell to the ear tends to bring out the child in all of us.
“That’s because the sea is right outside.”
“I know, but I choose to believe it’s magic! This place is lovely, Connie.”
“Thank you. I think so myself. It might not be a Michelin-starred restaurant, but I love it here.”
He nods and makes his way to the back of the room, where sliding glass doors open onto the terrace. Bear slurps down some water and follows him.
“Wow…” Zack says simply as he looks down at the bay. “It really is perfect.”
It is, I think, looking on as the sun starts to slide towards a horizon made entirely of shining blue sea. Maybe, while he’s here, I’ll show him the caves – no phones allowed.
I get us both some water as well, and we wander down the terrace steps, settling on the very bottom one and gazing out at the view. He seems engrossed, distracted, his eyes narrowed against the sun, deep laughter lines creasing around them as he loses himself in thought. He looks slightly sad, and I wonder what some of those thoughts might be – I know even now, when I encounter something new and wonderful for the first time, I inevitably wish Simon was there to share it with me. Maybe he’s thinking about his wife, and missing her.
I realise as I sneak peeks at him that despite his surface glamour, beneath the veneer of success, he is still a wounded man who needs to heal – and that just happens to be Starshine Cove’s speciality. I feel petty now for the way I resented him coming here, because I am beginning to suspect that he needs to be here. The others laugh at me – especially Ella, with her I’m A Scientist vibe – but I’ve genuinely always thought that this magical place somehow invites the people who need it most.
“You okay?” I ask, briefly touching his arm.
He looks at me as though he’s surprised to find me there, and nods.
“Yeah. Just… stuff on my mind, that’s all.”
“Well, we can’t have that – you’re on holiday! What’s the name of Jake and Ella’s baby?”
“Um… Kitty?”
“Congratulations! You win – come on, let’s go to the pub.”