Page 16 of A Summer Scandal

They stood shoulder to shoulder, or rather side by side, given that Cal was a good six foot two to Violet’s five foot four.

‘Wow,’ Cal murmured. ‘I’ve only ever seen inside it in photographs.’

His words reminded Violet how much the pier was ingrained in the locals, and also reinforced how bizarre it was really that she’d grown up with no knowledge ofit at all.

‘Do you know what it was used for?’ she asked, not yet moving further inside.

He paused. ‘Exhibitions, I think? And as a gallery too, for a while in the sixties. If my memory serves me rightly, it was a shopping arcade for a while too.’

‘Really?’

Cal nodded. ‘Local craft shops, souvenirs, that kind of thing.’

Violet gathered her coat closer around her. She had no idea what she was going to do with the pier, if anything. Her thought process hadn’t got much beyond this moment; seeing it, walking in Monica’s footsteps, trying to understand its power over her grandmother.

‘Shall we look around?’

Violet found herself glad of Cal’s suggestion; she’d faltered, held still by the quiet cathedral of the glass pavilion. Inside, it seemed to be separated into various spaces by smoked-glass walls, creating an illusion of rooms, almost.

‘This isn’t what I expected,’ she said, even though she didn’t really know what she’d expected.

‘I think the walls were put in to create the shop effect,’ he said. ‘They could probably come down again if you wanted them to.’

Vi nodded, not really taking the suggestion in beyond drily noting it as a male thought process, already assessing the place for DIY. Walking slowly, she led the way through the birdcage from empty room to empty room, saying very little and thinking a lot.

What on earth was she going to do with it? What had her grandmother done with the place when it was hers? She needed to know more, and given the amount that Cal knew already, she was pretty sure that the older generation in Swallow Beach would be able to fill in the gaps. Barty, perhaps. Each square space had smoked interior walls for privacy but the outer wall offered a wide view out over the sea. Standing in the back corner, Violet laid her hands on the cold, dusty glass.

‘Don’t lean on it,’ Cal cautioned. ‘You might end up in the sea.’

She smiled, far away. This room offered the best sea-view of all. She couldn’t see any land, just wall-to-wall water. Even the grubby windows couldn’t dampen the effect all that much; it was serene, like a cabin on a ship out in the middle of nowhere.

‘Want me to leave you in peace for a while?’

Vi turned to look at Cal, and as she did, she noticed that some of the floorboards in the room had been painted, much like out on the pier. They weren’t blue though. Someone, Monica presumably, had painted them in shades of the rainbow, faded now but still easily distinguishableas red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. More than that. She’d painted the names of the colours, the same golden swirly letters as before, illuminated by the early morning sun.

Kneeling by them, Vi caught her breath, reading the words one by one until she reached the last. Pulling her gloves off quickly, she swept the layer of dust away with her flat hands, then stilled, staring down at the glittering letters.

Violet.

Her name, written there on the end of the pier by her grandmother all of those years ago.

Hot tears bubbled up out of nowhere; it was so unexpected, and so direct a link, almost as if her gran always knew she’d one day kneel here and find it. Her logical brain understood, of course; her mum hadn’t just chosen her name at random after all. She’d always said it was a whim, but now Violet knew different. You couldn’t call a girl Orange or Green, but Violet … yes. Had her mum remembered this floor on the day she was born, maybe given her a name that made her think of Monica? Vi swallowed down a great gulp of air, sentimental to the brim.

‘That’s pretty special,’ Cal said, hunkering down next to her.

‘I can’t believe it’s here,’ she whispered, swiping her hand over her damp cheeks. ‘Sorry, stupid of me.’

He stood, holding his hand out and heaving her up too. ‘Not stupid at all,’ he said, reaching out briefly to touch the blue tips of her hair.

She nodded quickly, feeling out of her depth, then looked up, startled by a scrabbling noise on the glass roof overhead.

‘The swallows,’ Cal said, gazing up. ‘They gather on the pavilion roof.’

Violet watched them flit around for a few silent moments, not quite trusting herself to answer, not even sure what she wanted to say.

‘I’m glad you’ve come to Swallow Beach,’ he said softly when she looked back at him.

‘You are?’

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