Page 9 of Summer in Sunset Harbour
Josie gulped down the last of her wine, then covered her mouth with a hand as she started to cough. She wanted to tell Hilda about Tiffany, but it was one humiliation too great. She was yet to respond to her daughter’s message. She just didn’t know what to say to convey the witch’s cauldron of emotions the message had stirred up.
‘Baby steps,’ Hilda said. ‘Believe me, this will be good for you. I’m there to help, and Nat said he’s available if you have any questions. Look, if you get through this, just think how proud you’ll feel.’
The background music playing gently in the pub suddenly changed, and Josie lurched to her feet, grabbing the back of the chair for support as her spinning vision threatened to make her keel over.
‘Are you all right?’
‘I need some air. This song … I can’t listen to this song.’
‘I tried my best because she took the rest; when I stood my ground, she burnt my house down—’
Hilda had been swaying from side to side, tapping her hand on the table as she mouthed along to the lyrics. ‘Oh, my wonder, this isn’t it, is it? Reid’s song?’
Josie didn’t wait to reply. She ran out of the pub and across the street to the harbourside wall. Peering down at the black water gushing through the gloomy river channel, she resisted the urge to jump in. Instead, she kicked at a nearby bollard, serving only to hurt her foot.
She was still hopping up and down when Hilda, leaning on a stick, came outside and wandered over.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Absolutely not. My entire life is a total and utter shambles. You know, he wrote that song while we were married. He told me it was a “hypothetical situation”. Do you know how many people have asked if I really burnt down his house?’
‘Go on, enlighten me. How many?’
Josie tried to count. There had been the woman at the post office, but she’d been fluttering her eyelashes at Reid for years. Then there had been….
‘One,’ she said with a resigned sigh. ‘People don’t even know he was married.’
‘Perhaps that’s for the best?’ Hilda said, patting her on the back. ‘Now, are you going to be sick? For if not, it’s a little chilly, isn’t it? Perhaps we should go back inside and order something to warm us up.’
‘Brandy?’
‘I was thinking more of hot chocolate, but you do what you need to do.’
Josie wokeon her first morning in Porth Melynos Caravan and Camping Park with a mild hangover. As she rolled over on the hard wooden pallet that served as her bed, peering up at the cabin’s slat roof, through a narrow gap between two of which the sunlight glittered through the trees, she thought that at least she wasn’t in hell, otherwise she might be a bit warmer.
She pulled back the blankets Hilda had lent her and sat up. The room swayed, although mostly with her lack of confidence and self-belief. She was a failure. Her life was a failure. Everything was a total disaster.
Baby steps,Hilda had said. What was step number one?
Josie forced a smile.
Of course.
Coffee.
The cabin, three connecting rooms made entirely of pieces of varnished pine nailed together, at least had a semblance of a kitchen, a small worktop, a gas hob and a microwave. While the electric and gas worked as Hilda had promised, the sink was filled with dead flies floating in a gunky green residue, reminding Josie that she had tried the long-unused taps last night. Now, much to her relief, the water ran clean, even if it did have a slightly grainy taste.
She drank two large glasses of water, then found some coffee—another donation from Hilda—and heated some water over the hob. Some powdered milk took away a little of the bitterness, but she would need a fridge for some real milk if she was somehow going to make this work.
Carrying her coffee, she slipped on a pair of sandals and went outside. Stacked concrete blocks lifted the cabin off the ground, and a pile of stones and earth that had settled over the years into a solid pile made for an awkward set of steps. At the bottom, an overgrown path led down through the trees into the main camping area.
Outside, surrounded by trees, a sense of peace fell over Josie. For the first time in a while she felt disconnected from all her troubles. As long as she stayed here in this valley, she was safe. Down here no one could get to her, take away her dignity, humiliate her … nor contact her by phone, as there was zero reception unless you walked up the lane to the gate on the coastal road. Here, she was cut off from the world.
How difficult could it possibly be to open and run a campsite? Even if the caravans were beyond use, all she needed to provide for campers was a bit of open space to put up their tents. There was a toilet block, of course, which Nathaniel claimed still had running water and just needed a decent clean, ‘Plus a few saplings grown up through the tiles need hacking down,’ so all she really needed was to cut a path down to the beach supposedly at the bottom of the valley, then perhaps clear the weeds off the sign up on the road, so campers would know where to come.
Easy.
Was it?
