Page 117 of A Secret Cornish Wish
I shrugged. ‘Well, you and he must be . . . ’ I waved my hand awkwardly at her. ‘You know?’
‘Sleeping together?’
I feel embarrassed now as I remember.
‘Most people assume that,’ Nixie replied calmly. ‘But we’re not. Our relationship is totally a professional one.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Stop apologising. What is it with you English and your apologies? Is it like queuing? Do you just enjoy doing it?’
‘Not really. We moan about it mostly – queuing, that is.’
‘And the weather.’ Nixie winked.
‘Yes.’ I grinned. ‘We moan a lot about the weather too.’
Nixie smiled again, before becoming serious. And I saw in her sharp eyes she was definitely no bimbo. Underneath all her Botox and bleach, Nixie was one smart cookie. ‘You only get one life, Frankie. You never know how long it will last. Do what you think is right for you and for your daughter. Don’t go worrying about anyone else. Life has a funny way of showing you the right path to take. It might not be the path you’ve chosen for yourself – but know that whatever happens, life has got your back – eventually.’
And then without needing to dry her hands, she left.
‘Life has got my back?’ I repeat now.I sure hope so, because this next path already seems to have so many obstacles and I’ve not set off along it yet.
Realistically, what are Mack and I going to sort out when he phones? He lives halfway across the world in a huge busy metropolitan city. And I’m currently considering moving even further away from him, to a tiny, if beautiful, Cornish fishing town.
How are we supposed to have a relationship with that distance between us? Right now, it seems totally impossible.
But even just the memory of last night puts a huge smile on my face.
‘Life, I really hope you’ve got my back this time,’ I say into the wind, which picks up my words and carries them off into the sea. ‘Because this is definitely not the path I expected to be on – in fact, my whole life has suddenly become a huge, great detour.’
I reach into one of my pockets and pull out what I picked up from the shop window ledge.
It’s a beautiful conch shell. I probably wouldn’t have thought much of it if I found the shell anywhere else. But finding it so prominently on the flower shop windowsill made me think.
You never know what’s going to happen next . . .
‘If this is a sign from you, I get it,’ I say into the wind again, as it carries my words out onto the waves once more. ‘I have to make the most of every opportunity, because you never know when it might be your last.’
I reach into my other pocket, and then I look at what’s in my hand.
Two small shells rest in my palm – a cockle shell and a horn shell. Both of them in delicate shades of pink and cream.
The cockle shell, I found on the sink when Nixie left the restaurant toilets, and the horn shell had been on my seat when I stood to shake Cordelia’s hand after I accepted the job at the gallery. How I didn’t feel it when I sat down, I still couldn’t figure, but now it doesn’t seem to matter.
‘If that’s what you want, life, then that’s what I’ll do!’ I call out to the sea. I look down at the beach and then behind me at the town. ‘St Felix!’ I declare. ‘At long last it looks like . . . ’ My voice breaks. ‘I’m coming home!’
A tear runs down my face. As I brush it away and turn back, I hear the familiar, and for the first-time, comforting sound of splashing down below.
As I look down a tail flips over in the waves below me – its scales shimmering in the bright afternoon sunlight. I watch totally mesmerised as the tail splashes around below me not once, but several times. And suddenly I realise that the tail, and whatever it belongs to, is giving me its unique seal of approval.
Thirty-Two
May 2024
‘Thanks, Jack!’ I call as I leave the art shop on the high street. ‘You’re my saviour!’
‘No problem,’ Jack calls from his wheelchair as he manoeuvres swiftly around his shop, adding more stock to the shelves already packed with art equipment. ‘Any time.’
