Chapter Twenty-One
The kitchen at The Gables smelled of fresh coffee, while the scent of rain-washed mint drifted through the open back door. It was a bright Wednesday morning, and Lydia sat at her wooden island with her laptop open, surrounded by several neatly tabbed binders.
Her phone buzzed against the stone countertop, displaying a text message from Christopher Westwood. Attached was a document titled Youth Hub Proposal — Brookleigh Bay Carnival.
Lydia tapped the file open and skimmed the contents. Her eyebrows lifted.
The original Carnival plan had been simple: a few of the older teenagers helping with the children’s games and setting out chairs.
Instead, Christopher’s document detailed an open-air acoustic concert by the harbour, a youth-run cake stall organised by Lucy, and a football target challenge with a point-scoring grid.
Lydia picked up her phone and dialled the youth pastor. He answered on the second ring, the low hum of the church office drifting down the line.
“Lydia! Morning,” Christopher said, his voice full of his usual infectious energy. “Did you get the brief?”
“I did,” Lydia laughed, leaning back on her stool. “Christopher, this isn’t a volunteer brief. This is a full-scale festival. You’ve expanded the layout by about three plots.”
“The group got a bit excited on Friday night,” Christopher admitted cheerfully.
“The band has been rehearsing, and Lucy has already organised a baking rota for the cake stall. Simon was worried about running the sound desk while performing, but Ethan Parker stepped up to help. Simon says he’s picked things up remarkably quickly over the last few weeks, so he’ll manage the laptop links and keep an eye on the input levels.
He also suggested the football target challenge. ”
Lydia pulled her colour-coded master list toward her. “That’s fantastic. It sounds like the tech crew is completely sorted then.”
“Exactly,” Christopher agreed. “The young people can manage most of their section themselves, with me overseeing things, which takes a considerable load off the main team.”
“Well, in that case, the answer is definitely yes,” Lydia said, clicking her pen to make a note on her grid.
“We’ll shift the hook-a-duck and the wooden stocks to the upper lawn by the boundary line.
That leaves the entire lower harbour front open for the stage and the cake stall.
It will give the sound system more room to breathe anyway. ”
“Brilliant. You’re a star, Lydia. I’ll let Simon and Ethan know they have the green light to plan the speaker positions and cable routes.”
After hanging up, Lydia sat quietly for a moment, her eyes drifting to the kitchen window. Through the glass, past her own wild hedge, she could see the pale stone walls of Cliffside House.
Down in the adjacent garden, William was outside in an old grey jumper, helping Sam clear a strip of twitch grass from the border.
Ollie, evidently taking a break from his schoolwork, was kicking a football against a wooden board near the garage, while little Jake chased the rebounds, his laughter carrying faintly through the salt air.
Lydia looked back at the proposal and added Ethan’s name beneath Simon’s on the sound-team list. The youth hub had disrupted her carefully ordered layout, expanded the work and rearranged half her plans.
Yet, as she drew a neat line around the new section, she found herself smiling. For once, making room for something unexpected didn’t feel unsettling.
It felt right.