Chapter 1 #3
Instead of spending her week surrounded by golf carts and people named Alastair and Penelope, she could’ve been at the main event of the horology calendar.
The annual Clockmakers’ Convention was like Glastonbury, but for time nerds.
People travelled from all over the world to attend lectures, trade rare pieces, showcase antique pocket watches, and argue passionately about escapement mechanisms over warm conference coffee and biscuits shaped like clock faces.
This year, there was a special talk being given by Horace Vale, who was in his late eighties and something of a living legend. ‘Horace Vale’s speaking,’ she went on, her eyes lighting up despite the trauma she was currently going through. ‘I’ve been fascinated by his work for years.’
‘You were obsessed with the Vale Brothers even at primary school.’
‘Their partnership dissolved decades before then, but I was still obsessed with their designs. They were two geniuses. They started out making clocks together in a renovated barn on Puffin Island Farm, which belonged to the parents of Agatha Turner – she later married Walter Vale – and they were on the cusp of greatness, the most famous partnership British horology had ever seen. Then … BAM! Something happened, and they never spoke again.’
‘Oooh,’ said Rose, now completely invested. ‘What happened?’
‘No one knows. It’s rumoured they fell out spectacularly. Walter stayed on Puffin Island, where he lived with Agatha, and Horace moved to London. It appears they never met or spoke again, and now Walter’s dead and Horace is basically the Dumbledore of clocks. And…’
‘And?’
Pippa smiled. ‘There’s a rumour, total clock-geek hearsay, that Horace is going to talk about the rift, though I can’t see it. Either way, people are buzzing.’
‘And you’re not going why?’
‘Because I was supposed to be getting a massage in Portugal while Rob practised his swing.’ Pippa rolled her eyes.
‘You’ve definitely taken the more exciting option,’ Rose said, grinning. ‘There’s nothing stopping you going now.’
‘I probably need to stay here and face the music.’
‘Do you? If this was me, I’d keep running. Chase down the mystery of two feuding brothers.’
Pippa raised her mug of Prosecco like a toast. ‘Honestly, it sounds like self-care,’ she laughed.
‘You’re free now. No husband. No honeymoon. Just you, a suitcase, and a bunch of old men in waistcoats arguing over pendulums.’
‘You make it sound irresistible.’
‘You’ve done the dramatic church exit; you might as well go full romcom and escape to a windswept island.’
‘There is no way there would be a spare cottage or B&B room to rent at this late stage. The convention starts tomorrow morning.’
‘We can have a look. I may be stating the obvious, but this would be the ideal opportunity to gather your thoughts before you have to face anyone. Here, use my phone as I’m sure you don’t want to go anywhere near yours.’
Pippa took the phone and tapped ‘Puffin Island clock convention accommodation’ into Google. She scrolled, her expression increasingly grim.
‘Told you. The pub on Puffin Island is fully booked. So is the B&B. One hotel in Sea’s End – the nearest town – has a single room, but it’s a box above a fishmonger with a shared bathroom, which is … not my vibe.’
‘What about Airbnb?’
‘Even worse. Someone’s trying to rent out their garden shed for ￡250 a night and it’s got a composting toilet. I have limits, Rose.’
Rose reached over and refreshed the page. ‘Just humour me. Try again.’
With a long-suffering sigh, Pippa tapped in a fresh search. Then something caught her eye.
‘Oh my…’
‘What?’ Rose leaned in. ‘Why do you sound like you’re about to combust?’
Pippa handed over the phone so Rose could read what she’d found.
WIN A STAY AT CLOCKMAKER’S COTTAGE
Calling all Puffin Island Horology Convention attendees…
Set your watches and take your chance to turn back time with a two-night stay at the historic Clockmaker’s Cottage, tucked away on Puffin Island and surrounded by ticking treasures, sea air, and centuries of craftsmanship.
Every ticket purchased is automatically entered into the Clockmaker’s Draw Lottery where one careful turn of the key could unlock something special.
Entry closes at 3.00 p.m. on 15th July.
Winners announced by email at 3.30 p.m.
Pippa’s eyes widened as she realised something. ‘Clockmaker’s Cottage… I’m sure that’s Walter Vale’s cottage! I’ve researched it in the past but … it can’t be.’
‘It’s the home of one of the actual brothers and it’s available? This weekend?’
‘Not quite,’ said Pippa, her eyes scanning the words quickly as she read the small print.
‘The Horology Committee have teamed up with Horace Vale, who apparently still owns the property, to offer this exclusive one-off opportunity. A couple of convention attendees can win the chance to stay in the cottage during the event. Anyone who buys a ticket online is automatically entered into a draw for the stay … and the entry window closes in’—she checked her watch—‘five minutes.’
‘Five minutes?’ Rose exclaimed. ‘Get yourself a ticket! Take a chance. Are there any left?’
Pippa’s fingers flew across the keyboard.
‘Yes! Come on … come on…’ Tapping furiously, she was all fingers and thumbs as her heart was racing so fast. She hurried back to the tiny registration box that was buried at the bottom of the page and typed her name and her email.
She cursed under her breath as she mistyped the address, watching the countdown tick lower.
Three minutes. Two minutes. Finally, with thirty seconds to spare, she finished filling in her details and hit ‘enter’. The page spun… The screen stalled…
‘No, no, no! Don’t freeze on me now!’
‘Have you got a ticket?’ pressed Rose.
Pippa stared at the screen. It flashed … then went blank for a second…
‘Yes!’ she exclaimed as the confirmation page loaded. ‘Ticket purchased! So sorry, just used your Apple Pay – I’ll pay you back. They’ll notify the winner in … thirty minutes, by email. They’re leaving this right to the wire, given the convention starts tomorrow, aren’t they?’
‘It’s more exciting if it’s a last-minute opportunity.’
‘Very last-minute. Just imagine if I won! If I don’t, I’ve got a ticket for a convention with nowhere to stay, but worse things have happened today.’ She handed back Rose’s phone as her own phone’s screen lit up again.
Reluctantly, she picked it up. Her notifications were stacking up.
Rob. His family. Bridesmaids. Friends. Even the caterer, for heaven’s sake.
Everyone wanted a piece of her, but the only person she wanted to speak to was her dad.
With a shaky hand, she rang him. She felt dreadful and guilty.
She hadn’t even warned him! She’d just run and no doubt left him fending off questions.
It rang twice, and she almost lost her nerve, but then his voice came on the line, warm and steady as ever. ‘Pip? Are you okay?’
She swallowed. ‘No,’ she croaked. ‘I mean, yes. I mean, I don’t know. Dad, I’m so sorry.’
There was a second of silence that made her heart pound. Then he asked, ever so gently, ‘Sorry? What on earth for?’
‘For today. For humiliating you. For running out on Rob. For leaving everyone sitting there in their wedding hats wondering what went wrong. I’ve ruined everything. All I could think about was what Mum said and—’
‘Stop right there,’ her father said firmly. ‘You haven’t ruined anything, do you hear me? You haven’t let anyone down. You’ve been true to yourself, Pip. That’s the bravest thing a person can do.’
The tears came hot and fast, and she let them roll. ‘But I saw your face, Dad. You looked so proud when you walked me down the aisle and then … then I bolted. Who does that?’
‘A woman who realised in time that she wanted something different,’ he said without hesitation.
‘Sweetheart, walking you down that aisle was one of the proudest moments of my life, and nothing can take that away. But I’d rather you walked away today than walked into a marriage that wasn’t right for you. ’
She pressed the heel of her hand to her eye. ‘I just feel like such a coward.’
‘You’re the opposite. It takes courage to stop a runaway train, and listen … your mum would agree. You have to do what’s right for you, Pip. Always.’
The knot in her chest loosened as his words settled over her.
‘I will always love you no matter what, and there’s nothing you can do that wouldn’t make me proud.’
‘I love you, too,’ said Pippa, overwhelmed with love for her father.
‘What’s the plan now? Are you going to stay with Rose?’
‘I was going to, but I’ve actually just got a ticket to the Clockmakers’ Convention on Puffin Island, so if I can find accommodation…’
‘I’ve got everything crossed.’
‘And…’ She hesitated, suddenly almost giddy. ‘There’s this raffle thing, Dad. I’ve just entered a competition. I know it’s unlikely, but if I’m lucky and win, I could end up staying in the actual Clockmaker’s Cottage. Like … the famous one. I’ll keep you updated.’
‘Sounds to me like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be,’ he said reassuringly.
By the time she hung up, Pippa’s cheeks were blotchy and her nose was pink, but her heart felt a little lighter.
‘You okay?’ asked Rose.
‘All the better for speaking to Dad.’
‘That’s good. So now we’re email-watching. Not long to go.’
Pippa held the phone between them and refreshed her inbox. Nothing. Refreshed again. Still nothing.
Refresh. Refresh. ‘Another couple of minutes to go.’
Ding. Pippa gasped, then sagged. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’
‘What?’
‘Your car warranty is about to expire!’
Refresh. Refresh.
Ding. Pippa’s eyes lit up, then dimmed. ‘Lose two stone in two weeks with seaweed tea.’
‘What the hell is seaweed tea?’
‘No idea, but it sounds grim.’
Pippa refreshed again.
They sat in silence, waiting.
Refresh. Refresh. Nothing.
Then…
Ding!
Her heart rocketed to her throat. One new message.