Page 36 of A Snowy Seaside Christmas
TWENTY-THREE
FRIDAY 5TH DECEMBER
Lark gave in to a wide yawn as she followed the sound of whistling to the kitchen. There, she found her dad still in his pyjamas, rummaging through the cutlery drawer. He, too, was an early riser.
The pot of tea on the table, with its woolly cosy pulled tightly over it, drew her eyes. It was a welcome sight. Lark couldn’t function until she’d started the day with at least one cup of proper builder’s tea inside her. She drank herbal teas and green tea at other times during the day, but proper, strong tea you could stand a spoon in was her favourite.
‘Morning, Dad,’ she said sleepily, wisps of golden hair framing her face, her cheeks pink and crumpled from slumber.
‘Morning, sweetheart.’ He turned to her, his eyes shining. ‘Sleep well?’
‘Mm. I did, thanks. You?’ She headed over to him, pressing a kiss to his unshaven face, his stubble tickling her cheek, reminding her of when she was a little girl. It wasn’t hard to work out why he was so chirpy this morning.
‘Like the proverbial baby. As soon as my head hit the pillow, that was it’ – he clicked his fingers – ‘I was out like a light. I can’t remember the last time I slept so well. Must be the sea air, orthe aromatherapy oils you have dotted about the place in various guises. Whatever it is, it knocked me out.’
More like a certain curator who lives not too far from here. Lark kept her thoughts to herself as she observed him quietly from the corner of her eye, stifling another yawn. Even his body language seemed different, more positive.
‘You look busy,’ she said, as she reached for the teapot, splashing tea into her mug.
‘Thought I’d make us some breakfast. Smashed avocado on toast topped with a poached egg and a pinch of smoked paprika. Oh, and a handful of crushed pecan nuts. Sound okay?’
‘Mmm. Sounds wonderful, thanks.’ She held the teapot above his mug. ‘Need a top up?’
‘Please.’ He shot her a smile as he closed the drawer and set the cutlery down on the table. ‘Seems the sea air has worked its magic on my appetite, too. I woke up absolutely famished despite that hearty meal we had last night.’
Lark could’ve danced with happiness. She hadn’t expected to see such a change in her dad so quickly, but she was overjoyed. He had a real spring in his step today.
Over breakfast, they chatted about the events of the previous evening, how much they’d both enjoyed the reading and nibbles afterwards.
‘You seemed to be having a good chat with Louisa,’ she ventured, slicing through the perfectly poached egg, its golden yolk oozing over the toast. ‘Did she mention the suitcase?’
‘Mm.’ Silas nodded, swallowing his mouthful. ‘She did. She enthused about it actually. She’s over the moon you and Nate have donated it to the heritage centre.’
‘To be honest, Dad, the heritage centre’s the best place for it.’
‘I totally agree.’ He took a slurp of tea. ‘She’s all fired up about a new exhibition for it, says the items will be a real draw. Judging by her plans for the place, she’s going to turn it around.’He paused a moment, knife and fork in hand, as if he was contemplating something.
‘That’s what we thought, too.’ She waited to see if her dad would share what was on his mind. When he remained quiet, she said, ‘So are you still wanting to do a spot of house-hunting this weekend?’ Lark had asked Zara to cover for her over the next couple of days so she could spend time with her dad.
‘Very much so,’ he said. ‘Once I’ve got the training session out of the way this morning – shouldn’t take long – we can check the internet, see what’s available in Micklewick Bay.’
‘And you know how on Friday nights I join the lasses at the Jolly? It’s usually a man-free zone, but I know they’ll make an exception for you.’ Lark didn’t want him to think he had to spend the evening in on his own; he’d done enough of that over the last three years, and her friends wouldn’t want him to either. All but Maggie had known him since they were children.
He cleared his throat. ‘Well… um… I’m very happy toheadto the Jolly with you…’
‘Oh?’ She’d picked up on his emphasis on the word “head”, wondering where this was going, noting he looked suddenly bashful.
‘Yes, but I won’t be imposing myself on you and your friends since I’ve actually arranged to meet Louisa there. We’re going to continue our chat about local history over a dinner of fish and chips and a bottle of wine.’ He looked at her, almost shyly. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’
Lark reached for his hand, a smile spreading across her face. ‘Of course I don’t mind, Dad. Louisa’s lovely, I’m glad you’ve found a new friend.’
He beamed. ‘Well, unexpected as it is, so am I.’
TWENTY-FOUR
Lark linked her father’s arm as they left Seashell Cottage and made their way along the cobbles, her teeth chattering noisily. According to the weather app on her mobile the current temperature in Micklewick Bay was minus two degrees, but that didn’t account for the northerly wind that Lark was sure made it feel more like minus ten. It was so cold it actually hurt! And though there’d been no more snow, underfoot was treacherous, icy patches glittering in the moonlight. Despite being layered up with a long-sleeved T-shirt under her thick hand-knitted jumper in ombre shades of pink, and knitted purple tights under her heavy purple skirt, Lark was still glad they didn’t have far to walk to the Jolly.
‘So, are you tempted to book a viewing at any of the houses you found online today?’ she asked, her breath floating in the air in front of her. They’d spent a couple of hours trawling the internet, and having a drive around the town in search of somewhere suitable.
