Summer Secrets (23 page)

It’s only then that I notice Clover standing behind me.

“Are you all right?” she asks me quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you like him. It’s hard to say goodbye, isn’t it.”

I nod. “He’s just so different to the boys in Dublin. But I don’t know him, not really. Not like I know Seth. It was only a holiday thing. A baby-size crush. His life is here. I can’t see him living in a city, can you?”

“Nope. He needs space, like a wild animal. This is his kingdom.” She stops. “He’ll be fine, Beanie; you can’t fix everyone.”

“I know… Gramps said that too – but I can try.”

She smiles. “That’s why I love you. Ever the optimist. Now go and say goodbye to Kit properly. You’ll kick yourself if you don’t.”

She’s right. I walk downstairs and out through the French doors. He’s still on the patio.

He turns around at the sound of my footsteps. “I was looking for you, Amy,” he says. “You’re off this morning, aren’t you? Here. It’s for you.” He takes something wrapped in midnight-blue velvet off the patio table and hands it to me carefully.

I peel back the velvet and stare at the paperweight in my hands. It’s the one I had admired in the boathouse – the Selkie woman. “But I can’t,” I say awkwardly. “It’s too much. You’ve already given me a book.”

“Please. I want you to have it. To remind you of Haven. And to say thanks.”

“For what?”

“For making me think. I’ve talked to Da, and I’m moving home in September. It’s time. I might even go to horticultural college or something.” He leans over and kisses me on the cheek. My skin tingles under his firm yet soft lips. “You’re amazing too, Amy,” he says. Then without another word, he walks down the lawn, Jack by his side.

I watch him until he disappears. “Bye,” I whisper, my cheek still tingling.

Before I get the chance to recover, Dave nabs me. He seems excited, like a five-year-old who’s just been given a new bike. “Amy, I need your help.” He tells me what he’s hoping to do. “Do you think it will work?”

“Are you sure about this?” I ask.

“Yes! Positive. That business with Alex really cleared my head.”

“In that case, of course I’ll help you. I have an idea…”

Chapter 38

On
the way back to Dublin we’re all meeting at Inchydoney Beach for one last shared lunch in a swish hotel. It’s Dan’s treat; he’s in on the plan – but Prue’s not. Dan’s not all that sure she’ll approve.

Once the cars are packed up, Clover and I dash on ahead in her Mini. We take Denis along for the ride.

“Right, Denis, you’re on the first word,” I say as we speed off. “Clover, you’re drawing the heart and I’m writing the rest. Have we all got our sticks?”

“Yes!” Denis says enthusiastically. This morning he found us three long sticks in the garden and carved the ends into points; they make ideal quills.

“There it is.” I point at the big sandy beach that has just come into view.

As Clover parks the car, I text Dave and Dan:
ARRIVED SAFELY AT BEACH. WILL TEXT WHEN DONE. A

“Right, troops,” Clover says, climbing out of the car. “Action stations!”

“Aye aye, captain,” Denis says.

Once we’ve finished writing our sand message, we guard it like Beefeaters minding the Crown Jewels. Denis frightens away two dogs who are running towards the area by waving his stick at them.

Their owner isn’t amused – until he sees what we’re up to. “Who’s Sylvie?” he asks.

“My mum.”

He looks at me a little oddly.

Then my mobile beeps. It’s a message from Dave:
DAN’S GOT THE KIDS. BE THERE IN A MO. LOOK OUT FOR SYLVIE. SHE’S IN THE OTHER CAR PARK AND ON HER WAY DOWN.

“They’re coming!” I yell to Clover and Denis. “Thunderbirds are go!”

As planned, Denis runs up the main steps to stall Mum. His job is to distract her to give Dave enough time to run into position on the beach, down a different flight of steps.

There’s quite a crowd gathering at the top of the cliff; everyone’s staring down at our heart. It’s hard to make anyone out, but then I spot Dave running towards us.

“Nice work,” he says, puffing a little. “But the first word’s—”

“No time for chatting,” Clover snaps. “Stand on the X. Quick.”

We run off, leaving Dave standing just inside the bottom of Clover’s large sand heart.

“There’s Sylvie!” Clover points at the steps.

Mum is staring down in disbelief. Then she whips around and starts walking back up the steps, away from the beach.

“Mum!” I shout, sprinting up the steps, followed by Clover.

Dave is still standing in the heart, looking forlorn. “Stay there!” I yell at him over my shoulder. “Don’t move.”

“Mum,” I puff. (It’s no joke leaping up dozens of concrete steps.) “What … are … you … doing?”

Mum stares at her feet and shrugs.

“Sylvie, what’s the matter?” says Clover.

“Does Dave think that’s funny?” Mum asks glumly.

Funny?
Adults are so weird.

“Sylvie,” Clover says, “you do want to marry Dave, don’t you?”

“He’s serious?” Mum says, her face brightening. “This isn’t some sort of joke?”

“Of course he’s serious, Mum,” I say. “He’d hardly be standing in a wonky heart in the middle of a crowded beach otherwise, would he? He’s trying to be romantic.”

“Wonky?” Clover scoffs. “That heart’s perfect, I’ll have you know.”

“But look what it says.” Mum points down at the sand. Inside the heart and just to the right of where Dave is standing it reads:
MARE ME, SYLVIE.

I laugh; I can’t help it. Poor Mum. “We should have checked if Denis could actually spell first. I’m so sorry. But it’s supposed to say ‘Marry me’. Honestly.”

“Oh.” Mum looks down at Dave, who’s shifting from foot to foot, looking mortified.

“Sylvie, you’re disappointing your bridesmaids.” Clover puts her arm round my shoulders and pulls me towards her, a sappy grin on her face.

Mum looks at Clover and breaks into a smile. “In that case…”

Mum’s eyes start to well up and she walks down the steps towards the wonky heart. Dave beams up at her and blows her a kiss.

Bridesmaid? For my own mother! Clover has got to be kidding.

“Not so fast,” I say. “I’m not wearing a pink frilly dress for anyone, even my female parental.”

“Lighten up, Beanie. I’m thinking black Vera Wang dresses with cream sashes, pink champagne, the Golden Lions, pink tea roses or maybe peonies – Sylvie loves peonies. The wedding list will be in Brown Thomas department store. Apparently, you can bring any unwanted gifts back and swap them for shoes – imagine! I’m also thinking…”

Oops, presents. That reminds me, I forgot to get something for Seth in Miami. What will I get him now? Then it comes to me. A copy of
Into the Wild
. I started reading it last night and I couldn’t put it down; I know Seth will love it too. I won’t give him the copy Kit gave me, of course; that would be too weird. And besides, inside the front cover Kit has drawn a little Selkie and written:
TO AMY – A RARE TREASURE.
I’ll write something on the flyleaf for Seth too. Something special.

“Are you listening, Amy?” Clover says. “I’m telling you my plans for the wedding.”

“
Your
plans?”

“Sorry, I’ll include you in all the decision-making, of course.”

“I meant, what about Mum?”

Clover smiles gently. “Sylvie wouldn’t have a clue. Given half a chance she’d get married in a barn, with a barbecue and line dancing. No, if we want a stylish wedding, this has got to be our baby, Beanie. Yours and mine. Clover and Amy, wedding planners
extraordinaire
.”

Uh-oh. I get the feeling Clover’s about to get me into a whole heap of trouble. Again!

“Pay attention, Beanie,” she says, waving her hands in the air dramatically. “I see tealights, little iced fairy cakes with everyone’s names on them, instead of place names. And for the wedding cake, I’m thinking something theatrical…”

Epilogue

Newsflash on Movie Emporium’s website

Movie star Matt Munroe has been spotted in Cork, Ireland, canoodling with a raven-haired local beauty. Her identity remains a mystery.

Matt’s been in Ireland ever since his shock announcement on
Oprah
last week that he’s no teen and is actually Irish and not American at all. His tearful plea for understanding touched so many viewers that the casting agent of
Life Swap
has given him a new role as an Irish cousin.

“You know what they say,” Matt’s agent Gabe Grossman said. “All publicity is good publicity. Matt’s gonna be the new twenty-something heart-throb. Watch out, Zane Danvers!”

And, in a shock move, Matt granted his first post-
Oprah
interview to Irish teenzine
The Goss.
“After all, I am Irish,” he said.

Acknowledgements

Heaps
of thanks to … first and most importantly my own family: my partner, Ben; my very helpful son, Sam, chief Facebook and music adviser; and my littlies, Amy and Jago, for keeping out of my study when I’m trying to write (most of the time!). Jago, I have almost forgiven you for sitting on my keyboard and making the “m” stick. Almost!

My best friends, Nicky and Tanya, who after years and years of tolerating my weird writerly moods are still talking to me, which is always a bonus. My friend Andrew, who tries to help me understand the strange world of boys. My writing friends, especially the lovely Martina Devlin for the lovely long walks which stop me going completely bonkers. And my fellow “tween and teen” writing friend Judi Curtin, who is always such a tonic to talk to.

The gang at
wunderbar
Walker Books have been cheerleaders for Amy Green from the very start, for which I’m
trés, trés
grateful. Many air kisses to my clever editor, Gill Evans, who put sticky-plaster on this book when it needed it; the lovely Jo Hump-D and her equally lovely Puggy, for tea parties and all kinds of fab pink things; the super-fab Annalie Grainger, who polished
Summer Secrets
until it gleamed; Alice “Blooming Brilliant” Burden, for always being fun to hang out with; and Katie Everson, for the beautiful butterfly-strewn cover. And last but most certainly not least, the man who squeezed a copy of
Boy Trouble
into every available nook and cranny in Ireland, the one, the only … come on down, Mr Conor Hackett! Plus the rest of the wizard Walker sales and marketing teams. You rock, ladies and gents.

Kate Gordon is my special teen adviser and a big shout out to all her class, third year in Rathdown, Glenageary, Co. Dublin. Hi, girls! I’ll be back to visit you soon, promise!

And huge thanks to the Starbucks girls: Kate, again (did someone mention child labour? I hope not – I pay her in books, promise!), Isabel, Emma and Sinéad, my crack teen research team, for divulging all their secrets.