Page 68 of Coming Home to Wishington Bay
‘Last night. Something about asking your age, and then that being something, as your boyfriend, I should know. You said, quite rightly, that such a faux pas was deserving of flowers. At least. And possibly chocolates.’
‘That does ring a bell now,’ I said, laughing.
‘So there’s these too,’ he added, taking a box of beautifully wrapped handmade chocolates from his lap, as he pushed Bryan’s nosey enquiries away once more. ‘Not for you, mate. Not good for you,’ he said to the dog as he passed them across to me.
‘Gabe! You shouldn’t have done. I mean, really shouldn’t have done. I was only mucking about!’
‘I know.’
‘And as I’m only your fake girlfriend, you can just make up a fake age. But be sure it’s under my actual one, because, FYI, there’s not enough flowers in the world to make that up to a woman.’
‘Point taken.’ He smiled but it didn’t seem to light up his eyes the way it normally did.
‘Is there something wrong?’
‘No, of course not. So, what are you up to today?’
‘I hadn’t really got that far. I need to tackle Gigi’s bedroom and dressing room at some point but I think that’s a job for another day. She had a lot of stuff!’
Gabe wasn’t fooled by my smile but he didn’t say anything and I was grateful for that. It wasn’t a total fib. Gigi really had had a lot of stuff. Not only was there was there a large wardrobe in her bedroom, but she’d had the second bedroom converted into a dressing room to accommodate all of the rest of her collection. And it was some collection. Gigi had never been one to throw things away, astutely knowing that certain things would always come back into fashion. And they did. And when they did, Gigi was ready with a piece that couldn’t be found on any high street.
I’d always loved Gigi’s style. And that’s what she’d had, in spades. She’d always followed fashion, but what she had, and what my mother had had, was style. Elegance. That natural feeling about how something could look completely new and different and unerringly stylish just with a little tweak. I was always envious of this ability – even though Gigi would give me encouragement and tips, I never felt that I’d got it. Mum had naturally followed in Gigi’s footsteps, shopping together as she’d grown up, flicking throughVogue, as well as the foreign editions that Gigi always sent for, seeing what was out there.
But I’d never had that chance with Mum. The style osmosis had never had a chance to fully develop. Of course, Gigi had done her best and it was entirely possible that the natural style she and my mother had had merely skipped a generation. My grandmother had quickly pooh-poohed this idea the first – and every – time I’d mentioned it.
‘You just have to let your self be who it wants to be!’ she would exclaim. ‘You’re always so worried about what your colleagues and bosses might think. And before that, your school and university friends. It doesn’t matter what they think, Holly, darling,’ she would say. ‘It only matters whether you love a piece and how it makes you feel.’
‘You have a very faraway look on your face.’ Gabe’s voice was soft as it brought me gently back to the present.
‘I was just thinking about Gigi.’
‘You miss her very much.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘I do.’ I rested my chin on my hands and studied him for a moment. ‘And I think you must too.’
‘You’re right. Every day.’ His answer was open and honest.
I swallowed, feeling my throat tighten and roughen a little. ‘I wish I’d made more effort to come down. And maybe met you when she was alive, like she always wanted.’
‘Hey,’ he said, scooching his chair closer as Bryan hared off the porch after an unsuspecting seagull. ‘You can’t think like that. You did what you could and, let’s face it, if Gigi was really unhappy, she would have told you. Those times she spent up in London with you? She relived them for weeks and months afterwards. She told me that doing that with you made her feel young again.’
‘She said that?’
‘She did. She’d come back and swish in, and say, “Oh, Gabe, darling! It was wonderful! I felt like a young girl again!”’ I laughed as he flung his arm out as he spoke, exactly how my grandmother did. He smiled, taking one of my hands from under my chin and holding it within his own. ‘You gave her that, Holly. You gave her moments and feelings back she thought she’d lost. When I first met you, you said you asked her up to London because you wanted her to feel spoiled and pampered. Despite me being a knob about it at the time, you were right and I knew it. That was exactly how she felt, and she loved it. It’s what she was born to. She was a right stunner and I can just imagine the attention she used to get, and then when she married a man with money whose main pleasure in life was to spend it on her and make her happy – that’s what she got used to.’
‘Do you think she was unhappy here?’ I asked, suddenly worried that I might have missed more than I thought.
‘No! Not at all. Her life changed when she had your mum, like everyone’s does when kids come along but that was their new life then. They still travelled by the sounds of it, but things changed and life can slow down as one gets older, especially once your grandad’s health worsened. This spot was perfect for that life, and she loved it. You know she did.’
‘Yes, I suppose. I can’t help wishing I’d done some things differently though.’
‘That’s just human nature. No one’s perfect. She worried about how much you work, that’s true, but I guess you already knew that.’
I nodded.
‘But she was so proud of you, Hols. Honestly, she loved talking about you and her eyes would light up when she did. Even before this whole crazy scheme got cooked up, I think I knew more about you than I did about women I’d actually dated.’
‘Oh no! That’s so embarrassing!’ I covered my face with the one hand he wasn’t holding.
