Chapter 11
ELEVEN
A few days later, the population of Starshine Cove increases by three.
Dan comes homes from university at Liverpool, as does Cally’s son, Sam, who is studying marketing in Manchester. My oldest, James, has also returned from Jersey to spend a week with us. Or, more accurately, a week where he mainly sees Miranda and Evan and pops in to say hi to us lot every now and then.
It’s the first time I’ve had all of my children around me for a while, and I have to say it feels good. I’m surrounded by them in the Starshine Inn, and James is taking a selfie. I’d tried to do it myself, but they’d all got frustrated with me as I repeatedly failed to fit everyone in. This is, apparently, ‘classic Mum’. I can’t help it if I have freakishly short arms, can I?
James takes several shots, and even manages to get one where none of us are gurning. Miraculous.
“What a handsome bunch you are,” I declare, staring at the screen. All three of the kids are varying levels of blonde – Sophie’s is very light, like mine, and James’s settles at the darker end of the spectrum. Dan is in the middle, but is also currently growing his way out of some misadventures with box dyes so he looks a bit stripey.
“Dunno,” says Dan, pulling a face. “Reckon we look a bit like Children of the Corn. Or the creepy kids from Village of the Damned .”
“Oooh,” says Sophie, poking him in the ribs. “Guess who’s dating a film student? You’ll be quoting Citizen Kane and pretending you like French New Wave next. Those of us who’ve known you for more than five minutes know your favourite ever film is actually How To Train Your Dragon .”
“This is true,” Dan concedes. “But if you meet her, never mention that, okay?”
“Maybe Julia secretly loves it too,” James says. “Maybe you could role-play Hiccup and Astrid together. That would be so romantic!”
Dan doesn’t rise to the bait, which tells me he definitely likes this girl. Instead, he just smiles and says: “I don’t care what you think. And I will avoid any possible complications by simply never letting her come here.”
“Ah, don’t be like that!” I reply. “I’d love to meet her! I have so many questions…”
All three of the kids groan and pull horrified faces, and I feign a moment of hurt feelings.
“What?” I ask. “What do you mean?”
“We mean, Mum, that you’re so nosy you scare normal people!” Sophie replies on their behalf.
“I’m not nosy. I’m just… interested.”
“You’re NOSY!” they all say at once, with some intensity. Huh. I suppose they’re right. Some people do find it intrusive. Ella, when she first landed here, was extremely cautious of me – took me ages to break down her resistance, which was of course futile. Cally was the complete opposite – she’s as ‘interested’ as me, and always happy to answer any questions with a complete lack of reluctance. My kind of gal.
Exactly at the moment I think about her, she walks through the door to the pub. Just in case I actually have magical powers, I close my eyes and imagine any of my holy trinity – Daniel Craig, Chris Hemsworth and Henry Cavill – doing the same. None of them appear, so sadly it looks like it was mere coincidence.
She gives us a wave and walks over to join us, sending Sam to the bar for drinks. Sam is much taller than his mother but has the same thick dark hair and lovely smile. He’s dressed in a pair of red-and-black tartan trousers and a top that seems to be made from leftover scraps of net curtain and extra-large safety pins. As ever, Sam manages to make it look stylish.
“Isn’t it a joy?” Cally says, sliding into the seat opposite me. As if choreographed, all three of my kids move along a bit, so they can talk amongst themselves.
“Isn’t what a joy?”
“Having them back? Even more so for you I imagine – at least I have Lilly and Meg knocking around the house. But still, I’ve missed him so much.”
“I know what you mean,” I say, in a half-whisper. “But I’m trying to keep it quiet so I still look cool.”
“Good for you! I think I left cool behind a long time ago. In fact, never even had it. I’m just thrilled to have him back for a bit.”
Sam spent the summer before he started uni travelling with his then-boyfriend Nathan, and only had a few days back here before he headed north again.
“Dan’s in love, by the way. It’s a new look for him. Any romance on the horizon for Sam?” I ask, as he walks towards us with a bottle of Prosecco in an ice bucket, carrying just the one glass. He nips back to get his own G&T, and I laugh at Cally’s expression.
“I didn’t ask for a whole bottle all to myself, honest,” she bleats, staring at the bucket. “I just asked for ‘a Prosecco’ – I meant a glass!”
“Looks like he knows you better than you know yourself.”
“Ha! As for romance, nothing serious from the sounds of it. I think he’s just enjoying the buffet rather than choosing a main course, if you know what I mean.”
“Are you talking about me?” Sam says as he rejoins us. “Of course you are! Connie, I believe you’ve invited a super-glamorous showbiz hit-maker into the sleepy community of Starshine Cove…”
“Um. I’m not sure that’s what’s on his CV, Sam, but I suppose I have.”
“Marvellous. I can’t wait to meet him. I have some ideas…” Cally groans and holds her face in her hands. He rolls his eyes and adds: “She’s worried I might embarrass her. Little does she know that I am a showbiz genius. When can I meet him?”
I glance at my phone and see that it is nearing seven p.m.
“Pretty soon, I guess. He’s been out for the day with Marcy and they’re due back soon.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, the door to the inn opens and Marcy and Zack walk inside, followed by Bear.
“What are you doing?” Cally asks a moment later. “Why have you got your eyes closed and why are your lips moving? Are you praying?”
“I was trying to conjure up Henry Cavill. It seems to work when I think about other people – this just isn’t fair!”
“What isn’t fair?” asks Zack, sitting next to me. He’s sent Marcy to the bar – this is one of the most useful aspects of your child technically being an adult, I’ve found. You might lose the cuteness of baby teeth and cuddles and bed-time stories, but you gain a slave who can legally purchase booze on your behalf.
“The fact that Henry Cavill isn’t here!”
“Ah. Right. Well, yes, I can see why you’re upset about that. Do you want me to call him and see if he fancies a pint?”
My eyes pop wide, and for a moment I dare to dream.
“Really? Do you know him?”
Zack grins and shakes his head.
“Nah,” he replies, “sorry. I probably know someone who does, but we’re definitely not on night-in-the-pub terms.”
There is a communal sigh of disappointment around our table as Cally, Sam and myself give up on the idea. At least for the time being – I’m sure there’s a way!
I introduce Zack to Sam, and start counting in my head. It takes less than twelve seconds for the words ‘I have a great concept for a show’ to come out of his mouth. I meet Cally’s eyes and she laughs – she was obviously doing the same.
To give Zack credit, he doesn’t even flinch. I’m guessing that he must get pitched to by random strangers everywhere he goes. As soon as people find out who he is and what he’s involved with, he probably stops being a human being and starts becoming An Opportunity.
“Go for it,” replies Zack. “But I need it in less than two minutes, or it’s too complicated.”
“Really?” I say. “Too complicated if it takes more than two minutes?”
“Absolutely. We’re not talking Oscar-winning documentaries here, are we?”
“That’s fine!” says Sam. “Mum, time me!”
She nods and gets her phone out, waits until it hits a minute on the stopwatch screen, and signals for him to go.
“It’s called Charity Shop Challenge ,” Sam announces confidently. “You assemble a panel of expert judges drawn from a variety of fashion backgrounds – haute couture, street style, urban, a cross-section. What they all have in common is that they’re looking for originality, and a fresh eye. Then you bring in your contestants – either individuals or in teams – who are given a budget, a geographical location, and a theme, and they have to create a runway show from their findings. Example: two best friends with an eye for style are given ￡200 to spend in the charity shops of Liverpool, with the theme of ‘Somewhere Under the Sea’ – models are provided, but they have to source the clothes, accessories, anything extra for stage design.”
He pauses, even though he obviously has more to say, glancing at the stopwatch on the phone. Under a minute – not bad.
“The charities get loads of free publicity, plus maybe video segments on what they are and who they are helping. The experts get to find new talent, and get their faces and brands on telly. The contestants get… well, that could be flexible. It could be cash. It could be glory. Or, if it played out right, it could be even better – it could be the chance to get a job or an internship with one of the experts. A life-changing opportunity, plus fantastic entertainment! It’s Bargain Hunt meets Project Runway meets The Apprentice . What do you think?”
Zack sips his orange juice, now delivered by Marcy, and seems to be weighing up his words. Personally I think it sounds great, but what do I know?
“I think,” he says eventually, “that it has some potential. It draws together a lot of formulaic elements, but in a different way. It could even expand – you could have the same concept for interior design, for example. Let me give it some thought, Sam. I’ll make sure I get your contact details before I leave.”
Sam stands up, does an ornate little bow, and moves further along to join the rest of the Young People. Cally is staring after him, shaking her head.
“That was actually pretty good, wasn’t it? Probably because Sam’s been living Charity Shop Challenge for years. It’s one of the reasons he started his TikTok and Insta.”
“Does he have a lot of followers?” Zack asks, looking even more interested. I guess this whole influencer generation has changed the way everyone looks at stuff, certainly in the media.
“He does,” Cally tells him. “Nearly twenty thousand on TikTok now. Mainly people who are interested in sustainable fashion, plus watching Sam tart around in a new hat or whatever. He curates his own little collections – when we moved here, he raided George’s wardrobe and did a whole run of stuff called ‘country classics made fresh’. He’s genuinely very passionate about it all.”
“That’s a good thing,” Zack replies. “You can fake a lot of stuff these days, but viewers tend to be able to spot it when people are authentic. I’ll have a think about it all, anyway.”
Cally looks a little befuddled by the idea, and decides on the only sensible route – getting stuck in to that bottle of Prosecco. She pours herself one, then says: “I’m getting another glass from the bar. I feel like a proper alkie.”
“Will you drink less if you have two glasses?” I ask.
“Nope, but it’ll look like it, and that’s what counts!”
As she heads over to the bar, I notice Zack looking on as Marcy shares a story at the other end of our row of tables. She looks animated, and everyone is laughing.
“It’s nice to see them all getting on so well,” I say.
“It really is. It’s all you want at the end of the day, isn’t it? For them to be happy?”
“Exactly. Especially at this age – there’s plenty of time for the tough stuff later in life! I know our kids have been put through the wringer more than most, but here they are, looking like they don’t have a care in the world. How was your day together?”
Marcy and Sophie have now technically finished their placement, and I have given them both glowing reviews in their online logbooks. I’ve listed the skills they’ve gained, the tasks they’ve done, and highlighted a few areas for improvement. It made me feel all grown up, and I kind of wished I’d been able to just draw smiley faces instead of making constructive comments.
“It was good,” he says firmly. “We went to Corfe Castle, and walked along Studland beach, and generally mooched around having a nice time. Has Sophie told you they’re planning on heading to Crete?”
“She has. I felt guilty about using them both as free labour for the past fortnight anyway, so I’ve given them a little leaving gift – I suspect it will be translated immediately into either cheap flights, or a lot of alcohol. She said there’s a villa there they can stay at?”
“Yes. It’s not mine, it’s her godfather’s – one of my work colleagues. It’s in a nice, quiet part of the island. More of a cocktails-by-the-pool vibe than getting off your head and dancing till six a.m.”
“I’m sure one could lead to the other if they were determined.”
“True. We’ll just have to hope not, or we’ll be in for a lot of sleepless nights. Anyway. How do you feel about it?”
“I’m okay,” I reply, knowing exactly what he means. “Dan and James are here for a bit, though I suspect both of them have their own plans too. I’ll be busy with the café once the school holidays start. I’m… well, I’ll be all right. What about you?”
He shrugs, and can’t quite hide the sadness in his eyes. I see him try, though, and recognise the gesture. Us parents get very good at hiding our sad moments.
“I’d be lying if I said the last few weeks haven’t been a bit of a let-down on the whole ‘spending quality time with daughters’ front – they’ve basically both been too busy. But this is what life looks like now, isn’t it? And that’s good, I want them to be busy. I want them to have friends and jobs and plans, and not to feel obliged to set aside time for their ancient dad. Besides, it’s been a lot of fun in other ways. I got to hang out with this cool chick I used to know back in the day.”
“Really? I bet she was awesome.”
“She was. In fact I’ll miss her when I go back to London.”
“Well, a wise woman would probably point out that London isn’t exactly Timbuktu?—”
“Which is in Mali, did you know that?”
“Funnily enough I did, yes. Anyway. You can visit – we won’t ban you from the village or anything. And I’ll probably be in London more seeing Sophie anyways, so we can always meet up again. When are you heading back?”
“Well I can be flexible. Technically I have five days left, so I’ll play it by ear. If it works out I can give the girls a lift to the airport.”
“Ah. So you have time for your date with Susan, then?”
Susan is the woman he contacted from the dating app. The one with the perfect hair and the slim figure and the annoyingly warm smile. I’d quite like to hate her, but she looks too nice.
“Yeah, maybe. We’ve been chatting and she knows I’m not down here permanently. She still seems quite keen on meeting up though.”
Of course she does, I think, schooling my face into a neutral expression. She must think she’s hit the jackpot – Zack is, as Archie said, a silver fox. He’s hugely attractive, clearly successful, and as far as I know has all his own teeth. He’s quite the catch.
I do hate her, I decide – I don’t care how nice she looks. This is not the most mature of responses, I know. In fact it’s a very silly reaction for any number of reasons. I have no claim whatsoever on Zack, and it should be irrelevant to me who he dates. We are just friends – although I must be an especially bad friend. He has done his best to encourage me to go on dates and look for happiness, whereas I am secretly hoping that when he meets Susan, she will have crippling halitosis.
What kind of monster am I? I don’t have the courage to tell him how I feel, but I still don’t want him to see anyone else, at least while he’s here. It’s hypocritical and cowardly, which are two words I don’t especially like to associate myself with.
“Anyway,” Zack says, finishing off his drink and then stifling a yawn. “I’m going to head up to my room for a bit. Bear needs a nap.”
“Are you sure it’s Bear who needs a nap?”
I have noticed that Zack is a real fan of naps, and often disappears for a quick midday slumber.
“Yep, for sure. I’m a human dynamo. It couldn’t possibly be that I’m exhausted after a day of keeping up with my super-fit, annoyingly energetic daughter… um, are you doing anything later?”
“As you’ve spectacularly failed to get Henry Cavill here, no.”
“Marcy said the younger lot are heading out for the night – something about a music festival on a farm?”
“Ah. Well, ‘music festival’ is a slight exaggeration, but it does make it sound a lot more exciting. Ged – he of the Funky Farmhands – has organised it. His parents run a dairy farm nearby, and he’s always keen to diversify. I think he has in mind that he’s creating the next Glastonbury, and this year is a soft launch – lots of local bands, two stages, kegs of ale and free camping.”
“Right. Sounds fun. Are you going to it?”
“Nope. My camping days are over, and believe me, I’ve seen these particular bands and singers about a million times each. They’ll have fun, but I’d just wake up with creaking joints and a sore back.”
“I could drive us, if you want to go?”
He stands in front of me, all tanned skin and stylish hair and gorgeous smells, and I realise that it’s this kind of thing I will miss when he leaves. The easy way we have paired off, spent time together, enjoyed each other’s company. Even if you take away the ‘fancying him rotten’ aspect, there is a lot left to like.
“I don’t think I do,” I say eventually, after giving it some thought. “It’s actually walking distance anyway, though admittedly quite dangerous walking distance up a big hill if you were drunk… but no. I think I’ll leave them to it. All I can offer you is a very dull night in front of the telly, possibly with some pizza and popcorn.”
“Is there a dress code?”
“Strictly scruffy casual. Anyone too smartly dressed will be turned away at the door.”
He nods and says: “Great. I’ll see you about eight? After Bear has had his nap…”
Cally returned for the tail-end of this conversation, waving goodbye as he disappears towards the back of the building and the stairs that lead up to the hotel rooms. She raises one eyebrow at me as she sips her Prosecco. I can never do that – it’s both or nothing – and I’m jealous of her skills.
“You like him,” she says after a few silent moments.
“Yes, he’s nice – don’t you like him?”
“No, I mean you like like him.”
“What are we, twelve?”
“No, about fifteen I’d say – at least from the way you’re reacting. Look, why don’t you do something about it?”
“Like what – get one of my mates to tell him I fancy him?”
“Maybe!” she replies, laughing. “I’d do it for you! Or you could scratch ‘CL Loves ZH’ on one of the benches at the edge of the green. Or send him a note asking him if he wants to walk you home from the school disco…”
I throw a beer mat at her head to shut her up, and she spills her booze as she dodges it. Serves her right, I think.
“I’m too old for any of that nonsense,” I say firmly. “I know I’ve been on a couple of failed dates, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready for anything more than a coffee.”
“I’m calling bullshit on that one, Connie. The way you look at him? The way you are together? It’s obvious there’s something there.”
“It’s called friendship.”
“No, it’s more than that – why are you even bothering to deny it? That’s a genuine question – it’s not like it would do any harm if you two had a fling.”
I take a deep breath and lean back against the wall. I know she’s not even asking to wind me up – she’s really curious. I bite my lip, and try to rally some words that make sense when they’re strung together. I also glance further down to my side, checking that none of the younger crowd are listening in. Of course they aren’t – we’re not that interesting.
“It’s hard to explain,” I say eventually. “I’m not quite sure how to express it.”
“You fancy him, but you’re worried in case he doesn’t fancy you and then you make a tit of yourself?”
“Okay, so maybe that bit isn’t so hard to explain – yes, there is an element of that. But even more scary would be if he actually did fancy me. What would happen then?”
I see Cally bite back laughter before she replies: “Oh, I don’t know – really hot sex? Would that be so awful? You’re never too old for really hot sex!”
“I totally agree… but I’m not sure how good I’d be at that.”
“At sex? I mean, I know it’s been a while for you, Connie, but it’s not like you’ll have forgotten what to do…”
“I don’t mean that – of course I remember what to do, and of course it would be excellent! No, what I mean is, I’m not sure how good I’d be at really hot sex that was casual. The last person I felt this kind of attraction to was Simon, and I married him.”
Cally, of course, knows my history, linked intimately as it is with Archie’s. She considers what I’ve said, and all mockery drains from her face.
“Right,” she says quietly. “I get that. It was terrifying for Archie as well, when we got together. So terrifying that he almost blew it.”
“I know. I’m glad he didn’t. I’m glad you gave him a second chance. But this isn’t the same.”
“Why not?”
“Because you and Archie were just so right for each other. You and Archie were just so right for Lilly and Meg as well. It was the perfect fit, for all of you, and it was worth fighting for. Me and Zack? I’m not sure either of us wants anything serious. I’m not sure either of us is ready for that, and maybe we never will be. Maybe we’re better off staying as friends.”
Cally leans across the table and takes one of my hands in hers.
“I understand what you’re saying,” she says seriously. “And they are valid points. But come on, woman – what about the really hot sex?”