Summer at Shell Cottage (41 page)

A few days later, it was the end of the holiday and time for the traditional last-evening party.
Bunting and fairy lights were strung around the garden, the barbecue was fired
up and the fridge groaned with salads and meat and bottles of champagne.
Despite the chatter and the jollity, the spectre of Alec still loomed large, with all of them fondly remembering how
he’d loved this end-of-holiday last hurrah.
He’d always taken charge, issuing orders from his position at the barbecue, bellowing for more champagne, taking great joy in complaining
about whichever music his children or grandchildren had put on (‘What a racket!’) and then leading the toasts when everyone was sated.
‘To the holiday!
To my splendid wife!
To my
magnificent offspring!
To
their
marvellous offspring!
To the weather!
To the wine!
To our health!
.
.
.’
He would go on all night, given half a chance, thinking up one thing after
another for which they should give thanks and celebrate.

And tonight they would have to do it all without him – and tomorrow night, and the night after that, and all the nights to come, of course.

It wasn’t so long ago that this thought had gripped Olivia in a state of fearful paralysis – the sheer terror that came from being left a widow.
And yes, of course, there were still
moments when she felt his loss most keenly, and looked ahead towards Christmas and the winter, for instance, with a certain amount of trepidation.
Yet this summer had proved to her that it was
possible not only to survive when the worst happened, but to smile again, laugh again, take your clothes off and cavort in the sea if you felt like it.

It had also reminded her that life went on – and that you could start again.
Two days earlier, she and Libby had filled a flowerpot with compost and then carefully pushed in the apple pip.
‘Once it’s big enough, we’ll decide where to plant it out in the garden,’ Olivia said, filling the watering can, ‘and with a bit of luck, it’ll still be
producing apples when you’re coming here with
your
children.’
The flowerpot on the sunny kitchen windowsill was a symbol of that hoped-for longevity.
New life to come.
Every
time she looked at it, she felt optimistic.

The pip-planting wasn’t the only positive thing she’d done recently.
She had gone out with Gloria a few nights ago, and found herself dancing to a live band in The Hope and Anchor.
Dancing like a teenager, no less, as if she didn’t have a care in the world!
She had even found herself laughingly telling Mitch that she would quite like a tattoo of a scallop shell, just as
soon as she plucked up enough courage.
‘Good for you, girl!’
he’d cried, those blue eyes twinkling.

Girl.
It had been a long time since anyone had called her that.
It felt wonderful, she thought with a smile.
Really wonderful.

Katie and Leo had arrived for the barbecue, both looking slightly anxious as they handed over a Tupperware container of home-grown plump strawberries and a bottle of cava.
Olivia couldn’t
help a catch of breath in her throat as Katie said hello to everyone and introduced Leo, but the awkwardness soon passed, and she saw both Robert and Freya making an extra effort to speak to her
and find ways to engage Leo.
He was their half-brother, after all.
Part of the family.
This was how it would be from now on.

‘You okay there, love?’
said Gloria in Olivia’s ear, arriving with a huge Victoria sponge crammed with whipped cream and raspberry jam.

Olivia smiled gratefully.
‘I think so,’ she replied.
‘I can live with it, anyway.’

Now that all the guests were here, the barbecue could get under way, tended lovingly by Robert and Freya, who had stepped into their father’s usual position as Guarder of the Meat Tongs
and Chief Sizzler of the Sausages.
Meanwhile, Harriet and Katie were mixing up cocktails, Molly was teaching Libby and Teddy a series of dance moves, and Victor had set up the telescope to show
Dexter and Leo some of the constellations that were just appearing in the sky above.

Yes, thought Olivia, as she clinked a glass of champagne with Gloria, this
was
okay.
They had made it through a difficult summer together, and everyone was just about in one piece.
What
was more, she was planning to stay on a few extra days after everyone had left, to enjoy the peace and beauty all by herself.
Well, she corrected herself, not strictly by herself.
She and Gloria
had already made plans for a return visit to their secret cove and she was going to take the plunge and ask Mitch round for dinner one evening, too.
And why not?
She was single these days, after
all – and didn’t everyone say that a bit of what you fancy did you good?

Later on, when everyone had eaten their fill and most of the adults were pleasantly drunk (Freya was managing fine on sparkling water, Olivia noticed, feeling proud of her
determined daughter), Robert surprised them all by producing a white paper lantern and some marker pens.
‘It’s a Chinese lantern,’ he said.
‘One of those that you set alight
and let drift away into the night.
I thought we could each write down a few words about Dad, or this summer, or anything at all, then light it together.’

‘What a gorgeous idea,’ Freya said.
‘Kids, did you hear what Uncle Robert said?
Think of a nice message to write on the lantern.
Maybe about Grandad, or something really lovely
we’ve done together.’

The family leaned around the picnic table, taking it in turns to compose their sentences.

Goodbye Dad.
Thanks for all the summers.
Robert

Miss you, Dad
, wrote Freya.
PS New barbecue chiefs are in town.
Hope we did you proud!

Harriet, after a glance across at her husband, wrote,
All you need is love.

Gloria looked surprised to be passed the pen but duly scrawled,
I thought your books were cracking – thanks, mate.
PS Your wife is awesome.

Bit by bit, the lantern filled up with messages.
Katie – tactfully – just wrote her name and a kiss underneath.
Leo drew a picture of the terrier puppy they were planning to bring
home in a few weeks.
You so weren’t a talamanca, Grandad!
Dexter wrote, much to the puzzlement of everyone except Freya and Victor, who rolled their eyes and laughed.
I likd
roling down the hill
, Teddy wrote laboriously, his tongue poking out with the effort.

Libby, of course, couldn’t resist one last joke.

Knock, knock, Grandad!

Who’s there, Libby?

I map!
(‘Oh,
Libby
,’ Freya said, seeing this.
‘Honestly!’)

I map who?

REALLY, GRANDAD???!!!!

And then it was Olivia’s turn, and all of a sudden she had nothing left to say.
She had yelled out her anger and hurt in the first week, she had sobbed out so much sadness and loneliness.
Were there any last words still to voice?

Summer wasn’t the same without you, Alec
, she wrote eventually.
But we’ve all learned something from it.
I hope you’re smiling, wherever you are.
Your Liv x PS I
read the manuscript and I think I understand.

She turned the lantern over so that nobody else could read her words and smiled brightly at the others.
‘Done!
Now, how do we light this thing, then, Robert?’

There was something about standing silently in the darkening garden, watching the glowing yellow lantern sail majestically up into the evening sky and out towards the sea, that
felt completely magical, thought Freya, slipping her hand into Victor’s.
Even the children were hushed as the floating ball of fire became smaller and smaller until it was a tiny speck.

Standing there, her husband beside her, surrounded by the whole family, new additions and all, she felt a soft, velvety peace settling on her shoulders.
The holiday was almost over.
Summer would
turn into autumn within a matter of weeks, and they’d be flung straight back into work, as well as the flurry and rush of a new term at school: homework, PE kits, packed lunches.
She knew
already how quickly the long sunny days on the beach would fade into distant memories.
Here at Shell Cottage, life was easier, with fewer pressures to absorb.
Once back at work, it might become
more difficult to stay on the wagon, when her To-Do list spilled onto several pages, when Christmas shopping became an issue, when she began to panic about juggling homework supervision and carol
concerts and nativity play costumes, and the rest of it.
But next time, if it all got on top of her again, she would talk to Vic before everything got out of hand.
She had learned that it was okay
to say, ‘I’m not coping very well,’ to him or to her mum or even to Harriet, and the world wouldn’t come crashing down as a result.
Hopefully, this knowledge would make all
the difference.

‘Mum,’ said Libby, sidling up to her just then.
‘I’ve got a joke for you.
A really, really good one.
Knock, knock!’

And in the meantime, thought Freya, laughing and putting an arm around her daughter, she had Libby and Dex and Teddy to keep her on her toes.
That was all anyone needed, really, wasn’t
it?

Once the Chinese lantern had drifted away into the darkness, Harriet realized that Olivia had vanished as well.
Oh dear.
Perhaps the lantern had been a step too far.
It had
made
her
feel like welling up, she could only imagine how emotional Olivia must have felt, after everything else she’d been through lately.

Just as she was about to murmur her concerns to Robert, though, Olivia reappeared out of the back door, clutching what looked like an armful of paper.
Harriet nudged Robert and they both watched
in surprise as Olivia marched over to the barbecue and heaved the pile of paper onto the smouldering coals.

‘Oh!’
Robert exclaimed.
‘Mum, what are you .
.
.
?’
He gaped, stricken.
‘Is that Dad’s manuscript?’

The tranquillity of the Chinese lantern’s journey was forgotten as everyone whirled around to see Olivia squirting lighter fuel onto the barbecue, causing bright orange flames to flare up
with an audible
woof
, licking greedily around the papers.
‘Whoa!’
Dexter cried.
‘Granny’s gone pyro on us!’

‘I heard that, young man,’ Olivia said, but there was a smile of satisfaction on her face.
More than that, Harriet observed, she looked positively gleeful, standing there, prodding
the burning paper with the barbecue tongs.

‘Mum, is this such a good idea?’
Freya asked, although it was already way too late to be posing such a question now.
The paper was charring around the edges and scraps of ash flew up
like soft grey snowflakes into the air, along with twisting plumes of smoke.

‘Oh, I think it’s a very good idea,’ Olivia said, still busily prodding.
‘The world doesn’t need to read Alec’s book about a wife and a mistress, do they?
I
don’t want them to, anyway.’

Katie was standing in the shadows, her hands on Leo’s shoulders.
‘I don’t want them to either,’ she said, exchanging a glance of recognition with Olivia.

‘There are some things which are best kept within a family,’ Olivia said.

And amen to that, Harriet thought.
This family had had its fair share of secrets in recent times – some that had festered and caused pain, admittedly – but this kind of secret was
one she could endorse.
Why create more discomfort when there was no need?

She looked across to where Robert had wandered over to talk to Leo, ruffling his hair and making him laugh about something, and she felt her heart swell.
He had already found a couple of sports
coach training programmes that he liked the sound of, one of which was based very near Riverdale, the school where Harriet worked.
‘We could have sneaky lunch dates,’ he had said.
‘Catch the Tube home together every night.’
She had not entirely forgiven him for the monstrous lies he had told – that would take a while – but she liked the thought of
sneaky lunch dates and maybe even cheeky pub stops on the way home together.
She was glad, too, that they were giving things another try, rebuilding trust one day at a time.
That was all you could
ask for in a relationship anyway, wasn’t it?
Nobody came with a lifetime guarantee that they wouldn’t malfunction and go weird on you.