Page 114 of Meet me at the Seaside Cottages

‘No,’ she had said. ‘I get it. I do. I’m sorry.’

She had watched the little pretty town in the side mirror, vanishing behind them, nestled between the sea and the soft rolling hills. How had she never noticed how beautiful it was, how lovely; that it was home.

‘She said . . . it’s good to get your mistakes out of your system while you’re still young. She said it quite a few times, in fact,’ says Essie.

They look out over the bright blue water, the tips just bobbing white in the northern breeze.

‘What were you thinking now?’ says Dwight, and for the first time since she met him again he seems slightly nervous.

‘What areyougoing to do?’ she counters. ‘With your properties. That are now full of...’ Former Essie would have said ‘absolute tat,’ but new Essie says, ‘ . . . a lot of eclectic things.’

‘Well, I thought . . . I thought I might take one of the cottages myself. And then the other ones . . . well, your mum’s friend Lish – her husband needs somewhere he can walk to work . . . ’

‘That’s a good idea,’ says Essie neutrally.

He looks at her.

‘Maybe . . . I could come and stay for a little?’ Essie says.

Dwight shrugs, but suddenly the cocky twinkle is back in his eyes.

‘That sure depends,’ he says.

He pulls her close, until they are hip to hip. She fits him perfectly. She finds, immediately, that she is trembling. The effect on her is extraordinary. He leans his lips to her ear, and she feels him hard against her. He whispers in her ear.

‘A man has needs, you know. Reckon that’s something you can handle? Because I am planning on being in the business of not really letting you go.’

‘That,’ says Essie, ‘is probably the only business we should be in for a while.’

And she puts her hands in the back pocket of his tight jeans, and, as the houses are still full of people, they go and take a very long walk, along the great crashing empty beaches, into the wide, glorious white sand dunes, utterly deserted, where they can make as much noise as they like, underneath a sky blown white and clean and new.

47

It is puppy day. Janey has woken up with a heavy heart.

Verity went back to her mum’s two weeks ago, at the end of the Easter school holidays, but has insisted Thalia bring her back for this. She is clinging to Lowell and Felicity. Janey and Essie are there because Ahmed is going to give them all their vaccinations and their certificates before they get handed out to the world. Janey cannot help but notice how affectionate father and daughter are, and how much happier Verity is. She’s filled out a little and has some pink in her cheeks, and happily runs around through the distinctly careworn garden. Janey pretends with all her might to be very engrossed in combing Freuchie’s beautifully lush snow-white coat, as opposed to the terrible wiry bits and bobs the others have got in odd places, when the small car draws up.

Ach, there is no doubt. Thalia is lovely-looking. Shiny hair pinned up; a thin face with high cheekbones that Verity has absolutely inherited. Her mouth is pursed and her eyes cool; she is wearing baggy hippy trousers rather too loose for the weather, Birkenstocks and a variety of feather bangles, and glancing impatiently at her watch, which doesn’t really sit well with the hippy aesthetic.

Janey glances at Verity, who looks awkward and torn, then looks at Essie. They share a look of deep understanding.

Verity is signing frantically to her mother, and trying to introduce her to all the puppies at the same time. ‘What’s she saying?’ Essie whispers to her mum.

‘She’s saying she wants to move here, to be nearer Felicity and Daddy,’ says Janey. ‘I’m glad she mentioned her dad.’

Thalia raises her eyebrows and signs something back.

‘She says . . . she’s saying she can’t afford to live up here,’ says Janey.

Essie looks at her seriously. ‘Is that really what she’s saying?’

‘Yes.’

Essie frowns.

‘I mean, if you knew of anywhere . . . ’ adds Janey. ‘She looks as if she likes handmade things . . . ’

‘Mu-um.’

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