Page 63 of A Summer Scandal

‘Maybe you are a little crazy,’ he said, raising his glass to hers. ‘But far better to be crazy than dull, darling. Your gran had a truly adventurous spirit.’

A sombre question hovered on Vi’s lips. ‘Did you go to her funeral?’

It felt important to know that Monica had a fitting farewell, hopefully a celebration of colour and vitality.

Barty’s face fell. ‘I didn’t, my darling,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t. There wasn’t one.’

Violet sat for a long time after Barty left, a mug of coffee going cold in her hands. She was in her bedroom, curled into the armchair in the bay window as she so often was when she couldn’t sleep, a blanket over her legs.

He’d elaborated a little more about the funeral, or lack of it. As far as he could remember, there had been an inquest after Monica’s death, and although the people of Swallow Beach expected a funeral to follow, Henry packed up his belongings and he and his daughter had left town. Everyone had assumed that a funeral was to be held elsewhere, and of course Monica’s many friends had asked to be kept informed, only to receive a very short missive via Henry’s solicitor in the form of a notice attached to the pier gates. Barty couldn’t remember the exact words, but it was something to the effect of Monica’s funeral having taken place, a small private affair held in Shrewsbury.

How odd. Probably Grandpa Henry just couldn’t face the idea of a big funeral, but it was such a shame that Monica hadn’t been properly mourned and honoured. Was it evidence that her grandfather had uncovered Monica’s affair? Had they argued on the day she died? The whole business felt murky and dark, as unfathomable as the pitch-dark sea out in the bay.

Closing her eyes, she made a silent promise to Monica.I’ll keep your secrets, Gran, and I’ll make you proud.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

‘Violet, there’s a problem and only you can solve it,’ Beau said, making a beeline for her when he arrived for work the following Tuesday morning.

‘Should I be nervous?’ Vi said, smiling through the mouth full of pins she was using to adjust the corset laid out on her workbench.

Beau shook his shaggy head, his bright blue eyes glittering. ‘Not unless the idea of hosting a gala award ceremony on the pier makes you nervous.’

Picking the pins out one by one, Vi stuck them back in the felt sunflower pincushion and put her head on one side.

‘Run that one past me again?’

He came further into her studio and dropped down on her sewing chair. ‘Picture it. The sun’s out, the pier is laid with gorgeous tables, a dance floor here outside the birdcage …’

She nodded slowly. ‘And all this would happen because …?’

He grinned. ‘Because the Good Sex industry awards board just got word that their usual venue in London has been closed down due to health and safety, and they need somewhere else at short notice. Somewhere quirky, somewhere fitting for the event.’

‘The Good Sex awards? Is that really what they’re called?’ Vi said, distracted.

Beau threw his upturned hands out to the side. ‘We have a sense of humour in our line of work. What can I say?’

‘But why on earth would they want to have it here?’

‘Because a certain handsome American who’s up for an award suggested it?’

‘You suggested it,’ Vi said. ‘But what about …’

‘Imagine Cal’s mother’s face,’ Beau said, trying to cajole her into agreeing.

‘When is it?’

‘The third Saturday of July.’

‘That’s next month! In fact, it’s less than four weeks away, Beau,’ she said.

‘Hence the urgency,’ he said, as if she’d proved his point.

‘I don’t think so,’ she said, doubtful. ‘What if … I don’t know, what if it rains, or … what if people get drunk and jump naked from the pier like loons? Lady Mayoress Dearheart would have a field day.’

‘Loons?’ Beau laughed. ‘Who cares what people think? I’ll make sure no one is drunk and disorderly and I’ll put an express order in for glorious sunshine.’ He made it sound so easy. ‘Come on, Violet. Be adventurous. Say yes.’

His choice of words pulled her up short.Adventurouswas the exact word Barty had used to define her grandmother.

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