Chapter Thirty-Eight
The Parker fortress had taken second place, and Ollie had accepted the silver medal with the solemn pride of an Olympic champion.
Soon afterwards, the opening chords of the youth group’s open-air acoustic concert drifted across the lower green beneath a clear early-summer sky.
The harbour water was brilliant and calm, reflecting the deep blue above, and the crisp coastal breeze kept the heavy festival bunting snapping against the marquee ropes.
William stood at the back of the crowd near the refreshment tent, leaning his weight against a wooden barrel.
He had managed to brush most of the dry sand from his T-shirt, though a few stray grains still glittered on his shoulders.
For the first time all day, his posture felt loose.
The frantic, high-wire adrenaline of the morning had settled into a steady, easy community rhythm; his children were safe, and the village was wrapped up in the celebration.
Through the crowd, William watched Ethan standing beside Simon at the sound desk. The fourteen-year-old’s expression was serious and focused as he made small adjustments to the levels. He looked like a capable teenager entirely at home in what he was doing.
“He is,” Lydia agreed. “Simon told Christopher that Ethan was invaluable during the setup this morning. He has a remarkably steady head on his shoulders, William.”
William looked back down at his eldest son, pride softening the lines around his eyes. “He gets that from his grandfather,” he murmured, his mouth twitching into a small, dry smile. “Certainly not from me. I’m just the manual labour.”
Lydia laughed, a low, bright sound that felt completely natural. “Well, the chief architect was very impressed with your labour. He’s currently showing his silver medal to anyone who stands still for more than thirty seconds.”
William glanced toward the slipway wall where Ollie paced with his clipboard, his neon yellow vest bright against the grey stones, his bright blue plaster cast held out proudly as he detailed the exact mathematics of their shell defence to Pastor Mark.
Jake sat on the grass nearby, rolling his red toy car along the flat timber edge of a storage crate, while Mia and Sophie sat with Lorna, sharing a box of strawberries.
The easy, companionable weightlessness that had settled over them during afternoon tea held steady as the concert wrapped up. By eight o’clock, the holiday crowds began the slow walk back toward the High Street, and the village volunteers moved in to begin the practical logistics of packing up.
William slung his heavy canvas gear bag over his shoulder, reaching down to scoop up a sleepy Jake. “Right then, Parker squad,” he called out, gathering the younger ones near the boundary line. “Time to head back home.”
Lydia walked beside him as they headed up Sandy Lane, the children talking over one another about the medal and the concert.
The walk was unhurried, their voices carrying thinly on the salt air.
As they pushed open the heavy gate of Cliffside House, the sound of a car horn made them all turn.
Sam’s small hatchback pulled onto the gravel drive. The doors opened, and Sam and Jean climbed out into the evening sunshine, their faces tanned from their short holiday, their expressions lighting up instantly at the sight of the group.
“There they are!” Sam called, walking over to give Ollie a careful, grandfatherly hug that avoided the blue cast. “What’s this we heard about a silver medal? Jean, look at the size of this plaster!”
The hallway quickly filled with the lively bustle of the grandparents’ return.
Jean kissed the top of Sophie’s head, her eyes wide as Ollie launched into a high-speed explanation of the Year 9 judging panel, while Mia proudly carried the laminated certificate into the kitchen to place it on the dresser.
Lydia paused beside the gate in the dividing hedge and offered the family a quiet goodbye. William set the canvas bag inside the scullery, then turned back to watch her follow the path towards The Gables.
He listened to the warm, ordinary noise filling the house. His parents were home, the children were happy, and through the window the sunlit panes of The Gables caught the last of the evening light.
The long winter had finally begun to give way to summer.