Chapter 4
4
F leur was in the throes of going down to the market to her stall. Patrick and Lucy had left not long after breakfast to set everything up and she was at home getting a few last bits together and making something for dinner for when they got home. Removing the lid from the slow cooker, she plugged it in, took a jug of homemade stock out of the freezer, eased it from the sides of its container and dropped it in. Unwrapping paper from fresh fish from the kiosk on the harbour, she added it to the pot and then popped out into the garden snipping loads of fresh herbs from the little herb garden she’d planted near the back door. After throwing those in too, she dumped in fresh garlic, sprinkled on dried herbs for good measure, and poured in a generous amount of white wine, hoping her thrown-together amalgamation would make a lovely stew for later that evening. She was sure that she, Lucy, and Patrick would be exhausted after a long day working at the market and knew that her future self would be pouring her a glass of wine and putting her feet up when she got in. Racing around, opening cupboards and jars, and popping things in the pot, she thought about the day ahead and all she had to do.
After wiping down the sides and scooping dishes into the dishwasher, she went up to do the beds. As she pulled up the covers on her bed, tightened the duvet, and plumped the pillows she thought about Lucy and how she was now compared to just before she’d given up ballet school. Now, Lucy was like a different person; the change in her was striking. The counsellor who’d been suggested to Fleur by Birdie seemed to share a similar opinion. Pondering how Lucy’s sessions with the counsellor had turned out, as far as Fleur was concerned, the whole experience had been brilliant from start to finish and Fleur rarely said that about anything. Lucy had shown radical improvement from the very beginning; it was amazing to see how simply talking to somebody could help but in Lucy’s case it had done and worked like a dream.
Fleur mulled the Lucy situation over and over as she finished making her bed, tidied up her bedroom, moved to the mirror, and started brushing her hair. After twisting it up into a clip, she blobbed a few huge dollops of BB cream onto her face, rubbed it in, and dusted on some blusher. Looking in the mirror, she smiled. Lucy wasn’t the only one who was looking better. Fleur did too and it felt good to appear somewhat human again. She nodded as she smiled at her reflection, popped some perfume behind her ears, and decided she was ready for the day.
The market was already bustling by the time Fleur arrived. She parked her car near the harbour and began unloading a couple of last-minute notebooks and journals, locked her car and made her way towards the stall. Just as she’d turned down by the harbour wall, she saw Birdie carrying a tray of coffees coming the other way. Birdie stopped and smiled. ‘You’re looking well.’
‘Morning, Birdie. Thanks. Is one of those for me?’ Fleur joked.
‘Ha, help yourself.’ Birdie nodded to the left side of the tray. ‘That one is how you like yours.’
‘Lifesaver. Thank you.’ Fleur took one of the coffees and sipped. ‘Fab.’
Birdie smiled. ‘All part of the service. I’ve just been chatting to Patrick. How’s our Lucy doing? She looked great as far as I could see.’
‘Really well. The counsellor was fantastic, but I’m still taking each day as it comes. So far, so good, though. No more fainting and she’s put on weight. Yeah, all around she’s fine.’
‘Good. That’s all you can do.’
‘Thank you again for recommending the counsellor.’
‘Not at all. If you need anything, you know where I am.’
‘You’re a good person to know. The word-of-mouth recommendation worked in this case.’
‘The best way.’
‘Yep. Anyway, how are you?’
‘Oh, you know, getting on with it. Right, I'd better trundle on. It’s so busy today already. The sunshine helps…’
‘Yes, I’ll go and relieve the troops.’ Fleur held her coffee up. ‘Thanks for this. I owe you one.’
Fleur strolled through the market and smiled here and there at a few people she knew. She’d come to love market days and her little notebook stall. There was something soothing about the rhythm of the market; the chatter, the sea air, the cry of gulls over the harbour, happy Lovelies strolling here and there, the lighthouse in the distance. For Fleur, it was a reminder of how far she’d come since moving to Lovely Bay and how it had turned out to be one of the best decisions she’d ever made in her life. Not that she’d thought it at the time, but now here she was in the swing of it and dare she think it, but living the dream.
Once at the stall, she put her stuff down, kissed Patrick and Lucy, and sat down. ‘How are you getting on?’
‘Not bad at all.’ Patrick swooped his arm in the direction of the trestle table. ‘Looking good.’
Lucy smiled and wiggled her phone to indicate the payment app. ‘We’ve sold loads already. The nice weather does wonders.’
‘And because your mum’s notebooks are brilliant. People can’t resist them.’ Patrick laughed.
Fleur rolled her eyes. ‘Flatterer.’
As Fleur sat on the stool at the back of the stall and watched Lucy speak to customers and observed Patrick chatting to Colin from the riverboat, she smiled. Here she was with a new partner, Lucy seemingly thriving, sitting at her own market stall observing the general public fall in love with things she’d made with her own two hands. What a turn up for the books. People watching, sipping her coffee and letting the market and Lovelies drift by, Fleur felt a little pop of contentment in her core. Long may it last. More importantly, it had better blooming well stay.
A fter having a quick shower and getting rid of the day at the market which felt as if it was clinging to her skin, Fleur went downstairs in a soft, beige tracksuit and stepped into the kitchen, smiling at the sight of the lovely Shaker doors and the warmth of the little kitchen at the back of the cottage. Opening the window a touch to let in some fresh air, she caught a glimpse of the sea down at the end of the lane and really did think as she had done when she’d been at the market, that she was exactly where she was meant to be; living her best life in a little market town in a cottage by the sea.
Taking a mixing bowl out of the fridge with bread dough she’d made the evening before, she scraped the bowl clean, kneaded the dough into a rounded shape, covered it in poppy seeds, and placed it into a Le Creuset that had been heating in the oven. Just as the bread was finishing baking and Fleur was getting everything ready for dinner, she heard Patrick’s car pull up. She almost did a double take when she opened the door to go out and help. She hadn’t noticed quite how different Lucy was, but as she looked out onto the driveway it hit her like a tonne of bricks. With a gigantic storage tub in her arms, and even after a long day at the market, Lucy looked radiant and full of life. It was a far cry from earlier in the year when she’d been so frail that Fleur had wondered if there was something seriously wrong with her. Now, Lucy glowed; her hair looked as if it could reflect light, her cheeks were filled out and she beamed as she walked in through the back door. Fleur felt the last of the worries she’d had about Lucy float off down the lane. Oh, how nice that relief felt, indeed.
Lucy chuckled and smiled as she walked towards the front door. ‘It smells amazing. We could smell it halfway down Lovely Pott Lane. We’re starving.’
Fleur made a funny face. ‘Oh, just a fish stew I threw together this morning before I left. French-style thing.’
Patrick popped the lid on the boot. ‘You just threw it together?’
‘Yep, just before I left this morning. Homemade bread, too.’
‘It smells absolutely fabulous,’ Lucy gushed.
‘You’re just saying that because you’ve been on your feet all day and you could eat anything.’
Lucy raised her eyebrows. ‘Ooh, I love that bread. We haven’t had that for ages.’
Fleur smiled to herself. What had happened to her daughter who had barely been able to put any food in her mouth? Hopefully, all of them had seen the back of that Lucy. This Lucy was so much nicer to have around.
Half an hour or so later, after Lucy and Patrick had showered, the three of them were in the kitchen. Fleur placed a steaming pot in the centre of the kitchen table, freshly baked bread mingled with garlic and herb smells and all felt good in the world. As they tucked in, Fleur watched across the table and felt ridiculously happy at how well Lucy looked. Brighter, happier, and just, well, different. It wasn’t just that she was eating better, or that the gauntness in her cheeks had disappeared. Nope, it was that there was a lightness about her as if some unseen weight had lifted. It felt very good that the weight was nowhere to be seen.
Patrick dunked a piece of bread straight into the stew. ‘Throwing it together seems to have worked out perfectly. This is so good.’
Lucy hummed in agreement as she scooped up a spoonful. ‘This is exactly what I needed. The market was nuts today…’
Fleur watched as Lucy tore into the bread, eating with the kind of appetite she hadn’t seen in her for months, if ever. ‘Have to say, Luce, you’re looking well, better than well, actually. There’s a glow about you. What have you done differently?’
Lucy glanced up and shrugged. ‘Nothing. I just feel amazing. I love my job and I don’t know, I just don’t feel stressed anymore.’
Patrick smiled. ‘Good.’
‘Apparently, working at a market all day with fresh air, good food, and no pressure makes you happy,’ Lucy joked. ‘Who knew?’
Fleur leant on her elbow, chin resting in her hand. ‘Well, whatever it is, it’s working. Honestly, Luce, a few months ago, you looked like the wind could knock you over. Now, you’re glowing.’
Lucy laughed. ‘I’ll take the compliment.’
Patrick bantered. ‘Miracles do happen.’
Fleur narrowed her eyes a bit as Patrick and Lucy chatted about the market and discussed a problem they’d had with the payment app after Fleur had gone home. Lucy was radiant, her energy entirely different from the fragile, exhausted young adult she’d been not so long before. Fleur didn’t know what had shifted, but whatever it was, she hoped it stayed.
She swirled her wine and sipped. ‘So, what’s actually brought on this sudden transformation with you, Luce? Have you finally joined a secret wellness retreat without telling us? If so, I need some of it. Ha.’
‘No, nothing really. I think I’ve just started taking care of myself properly. Sleeping more. Eating better. Turns out, when you stop stressing about everything, your body actually thanks you for it. I feel really good lately. Better than I have in a long time. I’m just pleased not to be at ballet school. It was all-consuming and now I’m not there, I realise that I was way out of my depth.’
Patrick eye-rolled. ‘I should try eating better and less stress.’
‘Might take a few years off your worry lines.’ Lucy joked.
‘I do not have worry lines.’
‘You do.’
‘I absolutely don’t.’
‘Mum?’
Fleur held up her hands. ‘I’m staying out of this.’
Patrick rolled his eyes and Fleur laughed. Inside she felt a huge sigh of relief that Lucy really was on the mend. She was okay, or actually better than okay, and it had been a long time coming.
Lucy laughed, shaking her head. ‘I promise, I don’t have a guru or anything.’
Patrick swirled his wine in his glass. ‘You’re not secretly seeing someone you haven’t told us about yet, are you?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘A secret boyfriend, Luce. Is that it? You’ve got that look. That soft look. The one people get when they’re all happy and content.’
Lucy rolled her eyes, but there was the slightest hesitation before she answered. ‘No, I am not seeing anyone.’
Fleur turned her head to the side. ‘You hesitated.’
‘I did not.’
‘You did,’ Patrick pointed his spoon at her. ‘You definitely hesitated. Gotcha.’
‘There isn’t anyone. You two are imagining things.’
‘If you say so.’ Fleur wasn’t entirely convinced, however, she didn’t care; as long as Lucy was happy, she was happy.
‘I still think there’s more to this story.’ Patrick winked.
Lucy sighed. ‘I think I’ve just stopped worrying about everything. For so long, I was running myself into the ground—stressing about what I looked like, worried about ballet, stressing about people, overthinking everything and I think my body just gave up on all that. So, I’ve been taking it slow. Just letting myself be for once.’
‘Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s working. You do know that, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, hope so.’
Fleur nodded. ‘Alright, well, as long as you’re not keeping some massive secret from us…’
Lucy laughed, shaking her head. ‘There is no massive secret.’
Patrick smirked. ‘Which implies there’s a small one.’
Lucy rolled her eyes and joked. ‘Shut up and drink your wine.’
Fleur laughed, wondering if Lucy was keeping something to herself, but decided she would let it be, because, whatever it was or whoever it was, Lucy was happy and that was all that mattered. Hopefully.