Page 35 of A Secret Cornish Wish
‘Right, after three, then,’ Mandy says. ‘We all push the barrel and wish at the same time, and we all do it in secret. OK?’ She looks at Claire.
Claire nods.
‘Right, one, two,three!’ Mandy shouts as we all brace ourselves.
With one mighty push, the barrel rolls over a little, then goes toppling back into the waves. While at the same time, standing on the rocks, we all close our eyes for a moment and make our own special wish.
‘Now,’ Claire says, as one by one we all open our eyes and stare into the waves at the barrel floating away. ‘Let’s make a wish all together.’
‘For what?’ Mandy asks.
‘Let’s wish . . . No, let’spromiseeach other that whatever happens in our futures that we’ll always try to be friends.’
‘Of course we will!’ Suzy says brightly. ‘Why wouldn’t we be?’
‘Please, can we just do it?’ Claire asks again. ‘I love you all so much, I want you in my life for ever.’
‘If we’re going to do it, we should do it sooner rather than later,’ I say as a wave licks the toe of my trainer. ‘Otherwise, I’ve a feeling we’re going to get very wet in a moment or two.’
‘Close your eyes again.’ We all do as Claire says. ‘Now make the wish in your heads.’
And right there, on Morvoren Cove, as the waves cover us in their salty spray, we make our promise to each other.
Ten
August 1994
Stunning.
That’s how I always describe the view as I arrive back in St Felix via train. As it winds its way around the pretty Cornish coastline, I, along with all the other passengers, get my first glimpse across the sea of the little harbour town I still call home.
And that view, after all this time, still makes my heart leap with joy, especially now I spend most of my time in Glasgow. It’s a warm summer’s day and St Felix looks picture-postcard perfect as the bright sun shines over the town, highlighting its quaint beauty against a vivid azure sky.
As I alight from the train with the other passengers on this Wednesday lunchtime, I too carry my luggage along the platform, then up some steep steps towards the town.
But unlike most of the other passengers, I won’t be staying in a rental cottage or a B&B. Tonight, I will be sleeping in the familiar surroundings of my old bedroom, in my old single bed, with posters of Bon Jovi, Michael J Fox and Rob Lowe looking down on me from the walls.
This is a journey I’ve made many times over the last few years, as I travelled back and forth from art college. In my first year, I lived in halls of residence, and I had no choice but to return home during the holidays. In fact, I was quite glad to come home and be spoilt by my mum for a few weeks. But last year I moved into a shared house with some of my student friends, so trips home became less frequent and worked around when I could get time off from my part-time job in the Sauchiehall Street branch of HMV.
Next month, in September, I will enter my last and most important year at college, but for now I’m home for a very special occasion.
After I’ve spent some time with my parents – and been fed to bursting by my mum – I unpack a few things in my room and decide to take a walk down into town.
‘Will you be back for dinner, love?’ my mum asks as I tell her I’m heading out for a while.
‘You’ve just fed me enough food to last three days, Mum! You can’t possibly expect me to think about dinner yet?’
‘You know I worry about you up there in Scotland fending for yourself,’ Mum says, looking genuinely concerned. ‘I like to make sure you have plenty to eat when you come home.’
‘I know,’ I say gently. ‘But I live in Glasgow city centre, Mum, not the remote Highlands. There are plenty of shops and markets. I do eat when I’m away from home, you know?’
Mum gives me a reproving look. ‘Wait until you have children of your own, Frankie, then you’ll understand. Talking of which . . . how’s that nice boy you brought home at Easter?’
I roll my eyes. ‘That nice boy is certainly not marriage material, if that’s what you’re thinking. And if you must know, Paul and I have broken up.’
‘Oh, Frankie.’ Mum pulls a disappointed face. ‘Why? He seemed such a nice boy.’
‘He was a nice boy, until I caught him cheating on me.’
