Page 39 of One Golden Summer
“As long as Pearl is in your life, you’ll never be able to have a normal relationship. You can’t look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want to see where things can go with Kirsty.”
“What if I get to know Kirsty more and I end up really liking her?” Saffron dropped her eyes, surprised she’d squeezed one of her hands, which was now white and starting to throb from lack of blood flow.
“Isn’t that the goal?” Ginger’s smile was kind.
“For normal people, yes.”
“I have news for you, even Saffron Oliver is simply a woman. You’re no different from the rest of us. You just pretend you are.”
“My lifestyle isn’t built for a happy ever after.” She knew this part as fact.
Ginger shook her hands in the air. “Build a life so you can have that. We both know our time on this earth can be fleeting. Grab on to the good bits, because in the end, that’s all that matters. Not the next blockbuster. Not the red carpet. Loving someone and being loved back. It doesn’t get much better than that.”
It sounded nice.
But like their childhood chatter about a forever home, it was only that. A dream that fizzled under the harsh light of reality.
Chapter 13
“One more shell? Five more shells? I never bloody know.” Helena stood back and assessed the tasting table display. Bottles of wine clad in knitted mermaid outfits—handmade by Hugh—sitting on a beach of oyster shells and sand. Anna had first made something similar the year the shop opened, and Helena had seen photos. She’d put Hugh to work, and he had made something far more stylish. It made Kirsty smile to see Anna’s designs upgraded.
A bit like Kirsty’s life since their split.
Kirsty strode over and stood next to her, tilting her head. “It looks absolutely fabulous. As for the shells, you know what my dad always says?”
“You can never have too many?” Helena bumped Kirsty’s hip with hers.
“Exactly. It looks perfect.” Helena had spent the previous couple of weeks being far more attentive to the shop’s festival needs than she ever had before. Kirsty wasn’t complaining. She wanted to ask Helena why the sudden drive, but she didn’t want to interrupt her flow, either. She’d learned from years of working with her that striking the perfect balance was never an easy task. Helena’s interest in the business waxed and waned. Right now, she was the perfect partner. Kirsty did not want to get in the way of that.
The loud beat of a drum made Kirsty open the shop door, securing it with their special wine doorstop. She smiled up at the clear blue sky, as the summer heat hit her airwaves. The festival parade opener was going to be a scorcher. She slipped past a couple of people and peered down the High Street. She could taste the anticipation in the air. She couldn’t see the parade yet, but she could hear it. The pavement outside the shop was busy with spectators, but it was nothing compared to the harbour, which would be rammed.
Opposite, Donald’s Menswear sat empty, aFor Rentsign plastered on the window. Strangely, she missed Donald on the pavement. Would the shop be let soon? She hoped so. The other end of the High Street had a few vacant premises, but this end, nearer to the harbour, was otherwise fully occupied. She wanted to keep it that way for their business and for everyone else around them.
Minutes later, the drums were upon them, a troop of ten men in two rows of five, banging hip-level drums. Behind them were members of the Chamber of Commerce, this year dressed as oysters, as they had been for the entirety of Kirsty’s life. Two years ago, she’d suggested they try something different. It had been greeted with horror by the whole organisation. The pace of change was slow in this town. As was the pace of the parade, but that suited everyone just fine.
“Show us your thighs, boys!” Helena leaned against the shop doorway, giving the players of Sandy Cove Football Club her best wolf whistle, Hugh in particular.
Kirsty winced as the decibels reached her ears.
The team’s red-and-white striped kit was a tight fit, but Hugh carried it off with aplomb. He wore a rainbow headband around his receding hairline, and teased his shorts up a centimetre or two at Helena’s command. He dashed onto the pavement to land a smacker on his wife, before jumping back into place.
“Stop objectifying me!” he shouted, giving Kirsty a wink.
“You love it!” Helena replied with a dirty cackle.
Kirsty rolled her eyes. She was glad their son Anton wasn’t here. He might have died on the spot.
Next came the Sandy Cove Lawn Bowls Club, with her dad looking splendid in his club whites. He was waving to the crowds like he was a well-worn royal. It always made Kirsty smile.
Fifteen minutes later and the parade had passed, the last two slots being taken up by Catch Oyster Bar, their entire staff dressed as oysters. Originality wasn’t a treasured commodity in the town. However, the final pub taking part, The Mariner’s Arms, had at least come dressed as three giant crabs. Kirsty hollered loudest for that.
She was just about to walk back into the shop when her mum appeared, sprinting along the pavement as if she was in her 40s, not her 70s. Nobody had told Mum she needed to slow down, so she never had. If she ever did, she might never get restarted again.
“Did you see your dad?” She was hardly out of breath.
Kirsty nodded. “He was doing his Prince Charles wave again.”
Helena appeared at Kirsty’s side, giving her mum a kiss.
