Chapter 13
The Surf Shack, St Aidan, Cornwall
Dog days and castles made of sand
Wednesday
It’s Wednesday afternoon before we hit the perfect storm of spaces in everyone’s diaries and enough settled weather to make an outing to the Surf Shack worthwhile.
The delay means I’ve also had time to work out how I’m going to handle spending time with Lando on photo shoots when he brings up such a mix of emotions.
The revelations about his family’s involvement with Sav have unleashed some long-buried yet ambiguous feelings about his wealth.
Mum always taught us that having less than someone else materially or financially was never a reason to feel inferior, but that was always hard to reconcile when Lando’s talents, confidence, and easy access to large amounts of cash appeared to be linked so closely to his family fortune.
Looking back, it’s funny to see how the material discrepancy had such a different effect on each of us siblings.
Sav wanted to emulate it and became ambitious to strive until he was rich, but I found the whole concept of excess less attractive.
Far from wanting it for myself, the more I understood the wider implications of wealth and exploitation, the more I grew to dislike it.
So where Sav was embracing and applauding Lando’s background, I didn’t hold back on my criticism.
And the more of Lando I see now, the closer those old flashes of anger and irritation are to the surface.
Running alongside that is the memory of all those teenage years of unrequited adoration; the way my heart felt as if it was being wrung out. As a full-grown adult, I’d hate to feel like that.
And lastly, the big one; now it’s obvious Lando is here for more than a fleeting visit I have to somehow find a way to tell him that Nemmie is his. It would be wrong to keep putting it off.
Which all amounts to a lot.
My immediate survival tactic with the shoots is to leave my personal feelings out, put any fears about my life being turned upside down to one side, and simply treat this as a job.
So long as we approach this in a purely professional way, I should be able to mark my boundaries clearly and stop any accidental spillage into my family life or emotions before it even starts.
I simply need to keep my cool long enough to decide how I’m going to move forward.
That’s the plan anyway. I just hope it works.
After deliberating, Tia decides to come as herself rather than a bride so she can concentrate on setting up the pictures, and Sera finds me a simple dress with layers of fine cotton that slips on and falls softly down to break on the silver Salt-Water sandals Tia has lent me.
Admittedly the plunging neckline exposes way more cleavage than I’d choose, but that’s more than offset by the long sleeves that keep out the May breeze.
Once they tie a cute white lawn bow around my head and push Angel’s lead into my hand, we’re good to go.
I know Angel being here is immediately blurring the line between home and work, but when Tia and Sera mentioned how much a large white dog would add to the photos, I jumped at the chance to bring him.
Not only will he be an ideal buffer between Lando and me, but he’ll also let us get straight on to poses that look real.
Believe me, anything that gets this over faster is worth embracing.
We pick up Lando on his way down from menswear, looking super cool in a white open-neck shirt, light blue suit and aviator shades.
I get the same uncontrollable shuddering whenever I see him, but I suspect that’s down to fear about the future rather than anything lingering from the past. Then we take the short cut down the alleyways and steps so we reach the dunes without meeting too many locals, and set off across an almost deserted beach, where the retreating tide has left the sand flats ribbed with watermarks.
We pause by the remnants of an old jetty and get some lovely shots, which are mostly about the deep blue sky. Then we run down to the sea where the lines of breakers are gently curving around the bay and the small frothy waves are rolling up and down along the waterline.
Angel is every bit of the gift I hoped he’d be.
Instead of Lando and I standing rigid while we try to pretend there aren’t twenty years of animosity and awkwardness to get over, Lando is holding up sticks to throw while Angel and I look on.
If my loving expression is directed at Angel rather than Lando, no one is going to know that when they look at the final pictures.
We get to the randomly built pile of driftwood and planks with its broad sunny terraces known as the Surf Shack, and Tia carries on snapping while we stand at the counter selecting the biggest ice cream sundaes they have.
Then we choose a table in an empty corner on the outside deck, do a few more close-ups of us pouring over the menu, have a quick whizz through Tia’s phone to see how we’re doing – not bad – and finally relax in our aluminium bistro chairs to wait for our order.
For the first time this afternoon we aren’t totally focused on the job, and I’m trying to work out what I can tell Lando about Angel to fill the silence when the man himself gets in there first.
‘Apparently we do weddings too.’
Lando is idly tapping the menu card on the table, watching the clouds scudding across the sky as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
I try to overlook that he’s still every bit as stunning as ever, which is, after all, why Jess has got him here in the first place, and stare at him sideways. ‘Would you like to tell us more?’
He leans back and pulls down the corners of his mouth. ‘The Silver Meadows glamping site is fully licensed for marriages thanks to a stone structure at the edge of the meadow.’ He holds out his hands. ‘And before you say it, I don’t have the first idea what weddings involve.’
I’m puzzled. ‘How have you missed all your friends getting married?’
He gives a shrug. ‘When I was travelling and checking out conservation projects, there was no time to break off for trivial events like marriages.’
Tia exchanges glances with me. ‘It fits that your place is a meadow rather than a plain old field.’
He nods. ‘We have silent discos, a fire pit and a horse box bar.’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. ‘State of the art shizzle then?’ I have no idea why this is needling me when it’s probably been going on for ages, but it feels as if he’s stealing my wedding venue thunder.
He carries on. ‘Obviously my offer of help with the beach hut still stands, but technically we’ll be in direct competition.’
Tia gives a cough. ‘Up until now the local wedding venues have all offered very different experiences and price points, and they’ve always tried to support each other.’
He gives a cough. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to continue that tradition.’
I shrug. ‘I’m afraid as the freshest, newest, teensiest gem in the St Aidan wedding crown, I may have the advantage.’ I give him a second to take that in. ‘Your location is spectacular, but as Poppy will tell you, tents and agricultural bars aren’t as hot as they once were.’
His forehead creases. ‘I’m completely out of my depth. I’m going to have to make use of your expertise.’
Tia grins at me. ‘We’ll have to ask Jess if she’ll allow a consultation.’
I give a sniff. ‘Or you could give weddings a miss and target high-end city types who want an entire beach to themselves for their holidays?’ I give another shrug. ‘Bankers with more cash than common sense. You should know that market back to front.’
Something about the unfairness of this has turned me back into a teenager.
Lando’s voice rises in protest. ‘That’s very discriminatory, Maeve.’
I laugh. ‘If you’re going to tell me hedge fund managers can’t help being loaded, tell me something I don’t know.’
It’s a random retort, and I’m not expecting an answer, but the second it’s out, the look on Lando’s face tells me I’m going to regret it.
He tilts his head on one side. ‘Funny you should say that because I do have other news.’
My stomach is already clenched in anticipation of what’s coming. ‘Go on…’
His faces brightens and the words tumble out. ‘I’ve rented a cottage on the harbourside.’
‘The harbourside here?’
He stares at me sideways. ‘I’d hardly choose another one when my main development site is so near.’
‘But those places are minute!’ I’m blinking in disbelief. I was struggling to cope with Lando visiting St Aidan once, and now he’s going to be here every day. As the seagulls fly, he’ll literally be yards from our house.
‘There’s only me. It’s up by the cut through, you’ll pass it whenever you go to your beach hut or up to the school.’
I try to divert him. ‘Can’t you go and live in your parents’ castle?’
He gives me a look. ‘Stately homes aren’t that welcoming. Why do you think I always came to yours as a kid?’
I ignore that and carry on. ‘Somewhere bigger, higher up the town, might work … if you’re staying a few years.
’ I’m voicing my worst fears out loud, hoping they’ll go away.
‘They have lovely carbon-neutral shepherd huts up on Saltings Lane. Or there are some superbly insulated new executive homes down by the station.’
He’s blinking at me with a bemused expression. ‘I’ve always wanted to live on the quayside. I thought you knew?’
I’m incredulous. ‘You haven’t been near the place for a decade!’
He studies his knuckles. ‘I’ve been now and again, but maybe not long enough for you to notice.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I’ve always kept a mooring here.’ The corners of his mouth twitch. ‘We have moorings all around the coast, but I never saw dancing brides anywhere else.’
I change tack. ‘A mere eight days ago you said you hadn’t put down roots!’
His shrug is inscrutable. ‘For ten years I haven’t. But now I might. Sav and I had a long-standing agreement that I’d give him space, but now that’s no longer a priority, I have the green light to settle in and live the dream.’
It’s hard to believe he’s talking about the same, one-up-one-down cottage I think he is.
‘Let’s hope it lives up to your expectations.’
Tia cuts in. ‘And here come the ice creams! Let’s hope they’re as good as they look!’ She turns to me and gives an imperceptible shake of her head.
As the waiter slides the tall, colour-filled glasses towards us, I try to block out the last ten minutes and make my voice airy. ‘If you want sundaes the size of your head with five flavours of ice cream and more whipped cream than a trifle factory, you’ve come to the right place, Lando.’
Tia gets to her feet. ‘Dig in when you’re ready, and I’ll capture the joy.’
I’d usually demolish one of these in minutes, but as Lando and I lift our spoons towards the sundaes I’m not sure I’ll manage a mouthful.
One look at Angel staring at my sundae, and I have a better idea. ‘Hold it there! Let’s give Angel his first.’ I look up at Lando. ‘Angel licking his dog-friendly frozen yogurt is so cute it would be worth moving to Cornwall just for that.’
Let’s face it. Pictures of a bride and groom with their dog slurping ice cream were always going to work better than me looking daggers at Lando. As for my sundae, I crunch on the end of my wafer but hardly touch the rest.
As Lando swallows his last spoonful, he turns to me. ‘You always beat me to the bottom of a sundae.’ He frowns at my barely touched ice cream. ‘Is anything wrong?’
I’m opening and shutting my mouth, thinking about how I’d explain the express train that has driven through my life in the last twelve days, but he starts again.
‘You’re not … sick?’ His frown lines deepen.
I’m bemused. ‘Do I look sick?’
He blows out his cheeks. ‘Of course not. But I guess … as I’m already in my own very deep hole, is this a good time to ask if Nemmie’s dad is still around?’
I’m so taken aback my mouth drops open. Then I pull myself together and it hits me this could be my perfect opening.
He’s standing right in front of me. She’s yours, Lando … is all I have to say.
Except there are a hundred implications I need to consider first.
I wrinkle my nose. ‘Things didn’t work out for us. Unfortunately.’
It’s not a lie, but I mustn’t rush this. He’s only been around two weeks, and until today we had no idea how permanent he was going to become. I’ll definitely tell him the minute things are straight in my head.
I drag in a breath and pick up where we began.
‘Those four-foot-high photographs of you, me and a strawberry tart on the shop walls have temporarily taken away my appetite for eating in front of a camera.’ I give a sigh.
‘I’m sure it won’t last.’ I heap up my spoon and nod towards it.
‘You might have to help me out here with a spoonful or two? For the sake of the camera.’
Lando’s eyebrows go up, and his voice is low. ‘Are you setting me up for a face full of ice cream?’
I laugh. ‘No one could blame me if I were, but there isn’t a catch.’ I laugh at his hesitation. ‘Hurry up, before it melts! It could be the photo of the afternoon.’
I’m so thrown by Lando’s reluctance, I’ve missed that Angel has got to his feet, and is eyeing the loaded spoon as closely as Lando.
There’s a split second when Tia calls ‘Watch out!’ but it’s too late.
Angel launches himself, and as he swipes the cream off the spoon his shoulder simultaneously knocks my sundae glass into orbit.
It flies across the table, flips upside down at the edge, and deposits a full glass of melting sundae all over my boobs.
I let out a cry. ‘Nooooo, please, not again!’
Lando gives a cough. ‘Every time we meet, you mess up a dress.’ He frowns. ‘I’m no expert, but this could be the worst yet.’
Tia leans over to look at the cascade of ice cream and chocolate sliding down my front.
‘Luckily the dress Sera sent you out in today is fully washable.’ She gives me one of her widest grins and comes in with her phone.
‘If I capture the full glory of the spill, we can do some pictures before and after the clean-up. Accident-prone brides will be delighted and astonished.’
For the first time all day, my smile comes from the heart.
Lando landing here isn’t what I’d planned, but I can’t take it lying down; I’ve got to find the best way through that I can.
All I keep thinking is: if I needed a plan before today, I’m desperate for one now.