Читать книгу The Lavender Bay Collection - Sarah Bennett - Страница 20

Chapter Ten

Beth opened the fridge to fetch the milk, and her eyes fixed on the plastic box on the shelf. Sam had left the rest of the petit fours for her to enjoy and she’d been rationing herself to one every day. There were only two left—one each of the fudge and the truffles. Every time she saw them, she was transported back to the dusty stockroom floor and that kiss.

In spite of their mutual agreement to keep things on a friendly basis only, she’d found herself conjuring up ever-more ridiculous excuses to drop into the pub. So far she’d resisted the temptation. For nine whole days she’d pushed her tangle of feelings for him to the back of her mind, but her resolve weakened a little more each time she savoured one of the treats. ‘Get it together, Beth,’ she muttered, slamming the fridge closed with more force than strictly necessary.

She’d just finished her coffee, and was perusing that morning’s to-do list when the bell attached to the back gate buzzed. Hoping Sam’s determination had cracked, she scampered down the stairs and unlocked the gate. ‘Oh, it’s you.’ There was no hiding her disappointment.

‘Gee, is that anyway to greet your best friend?’ Libby smacked a quick kiss on her cheek. ‘Annie should be right behind me.’

‘Annie?’

‘I’m here, darling.’ Sam’s mum appeared with a roll of black bin bags under her arm and a spotted scarf tying her hair back off her face. ‘Well, let us in then, Beth, there’s a good girl. We’ve a lot to get on with.’

Thoroughly confused, Beth stepped back, and the two women bustled past her and straight up the stairs. She hurried on their heels. ‘Umm, not to seem rude or anything, but what are you doing here, exactly?’

It was Libby who answered her. ‘We’re staging an intervention, B. Sam mentioned to Annie about you sleeping in your old room, and she called me. I had to wait until my day off came around, but we’re here to help you sort through Eleanor’s things.’

‘But…’ Beth paused just outside the door to Eleanor’s bedroom watching her friends survey the room with sad shakes of their heads.

‘But what? I could brain you for being so daft. You’re clearly finding it too tough to do this on your own, and you’re too bloody pig-headed to ask us for help, so we’re left with no choice.’ Libby folded her arms, giving Beth a challenging look she remembered all too well. Libs was braced for a fight, and she wasn’t sure she had the energy, or the will, to go toe-to-toe with her.

Ducking away from the confrontation, she crossed the room to fiddle with one of the Wedgwood figurines scattered across the dressing table. A thin layer of dust coated the little shepherdess, but other than that it was in flawless condition, without even a trace of wear on the gold edging around her crook.

They weren’t at all to her taste, but Eleanor had collected them for years and they were too good to throw away. Selling them seemed a bit mercenary, so it had been easier to ignore them, along with everything else in the room. She carefully replaced the statue. there were just too many decisions to be made and she didn’t feel equipped to tackle any of them. ‘There didn’t seem to be a lot of point doing anything in here when I haven’t decided if I’m staying or not.’

The excuse sounded pathetic to her own ears, and Libby’s snort told her exactly what she thought about it. Annie had apparently appointed herself ‘good cop’ because she curled an arm around Beth’s shoulder to give her a hug. ‘Come on now, lovey. You’ll have to go through everything whatever you decide. Might as well be able to rest in comfort until you make up your mind. You should have a painting party, get some prosecco in and invite Eliza down for the weekend. She could probably do with an excuse to get away.’

Beth raised her eyebrows as she and Libby exchanged a look. They’d had a chat with their friend last week and she’d sounded her usual chirpy self. Or maybe Beth had been too caught up with everything to pay enough attention. Eliza had made a few passing comments, but she’d dismissed them as the usual ups and downs all couples went through. She ran a quick calculation in her head; Eliza was ripe for a dose of the seven-year itch. Still, if Annie was worried enough to mention it, then perhaps it was time to get her down, so they could have a proper conversation. ‘What do you reckon, Libs?’

‘I’ll have to cover the early evening rush on Friday and Saturday, but Dad will pick up the slack for me.’ A twinge of guilt hit Beth square in the gut. Running the fish and chip shop took a lot of work, and she didn’t want to take advantage of her friend, or her father.

‘I can get someone in. The guys who did the windows were brilliant.’ It had become abundantly clear to Beth she had neither the experience or a steady enough hand to paint the exterior woodwork to a professional finish, so she’d recruited a local father and son team of decorators, while she’d confined herself to touching up a few faded spots around the shop floor itself. ‘I’m sure they’d be able to knock this place into shape in no time.’ She stared at the floral papered walls. Something neutral so potential buyers wouldn’t be put off…

Libby gave her the evilest of eyes. ‘Call me Madame Zelda and set me up a booth on the beach, ‘cos I can read your mind. A splash of taupe, a dash of cream, nothing to tie you to the place. Well, bollocks to that.’ She pulled a fistful of colour sample strips from her handbag and thrust them at Beth. ‘We’re going to make you feel at home, whether you like it or not.’

Annie laughed. ‘Well I might not have put it quite like that, but I agree. You need a space to call your own, lovey. And you certainly deserve it after everything you’ve been through.’ She squeezed Beth’s shoulders again. ‘Oh, don’t look so aggrieved. Eliza might be your best friend, but she’s my little girl first. Whatever she tells me goes no further, but I worry about you.’ She held out her hand to Libby. ‘I worry about both of you, but at least our Libs is close enough to keep an eye on. With Eleanor gone you need a bit of cossetting, and that’s what I’m here for.’

A warm glow spread through Beth at the sincerity in Annie’s words. She was loved, and cared for and needed, so why keep fighting it? As the three of them settled into a slightly tearful group hug, Beth’s thoughts drifted to Sam.

He’d arranged all of this—somehow understood exactly what she’d needed when she had no clue for herself. Even with everything on his plate, he’d taken the time to rally the troops. She could get used to having him take care of her if she wasn’t careful.

Turning her thoughts away before they strayed too far back towards the kiss again, she began to clear the dressing table, wrapping each of the figurines carefully in some old packing paper Libby had produced from the store room and stowing them safely in a cardboard box. She could decide what to do about them—and Sam—another day.

Beth hefted the final box from the bedroom, hooking the door closed behind her with her foot before she made her way down the back stairs. The airy room had been emptied of everything but the largest furniture which she, Annie and Libby had shifted away from the walls between them. Old sheets had been draped over them and the bedframe to protect them.

Everything she wanted to keep was stored safely in the larger of the spare bedrooms, and the last of Eleanor’s things had been delivered to the RNLI charity shop. There’d been a lot of tears over the past couple of days, but plenty of laughter and fond memories too. All that remained was an old, red suitcase containing what looked to be personal papers, an intricately carved jewellery box, and the Wedgwood figurines wrapped up in the box under her arm.

Entering the shop floor, she placed the carton on the counter and turned her attention to the empty mirror-backed cabinet which held pride of place behind it. A smiling woman reflected back at her, a woman who was looking towards the future at last.

Once she’d stopped getting in her own way, organising the emporium became a challenge, rather than a chore. Getting to grips with the stock had made things so much clearer and had spurred her into clearing the junk and damaged items from the shelves and re-organising the layout of things. She wanted to keep the flavour and charm which Eleanor had worked so hard to create, but needed to put her own stamp on things.

Banana monkey still held court beside the front door, in all his ugly, kitsch glory. His outstretched arm held a circular, revolving hanger draped with diaphanous scarves covered in pretty florals and bolder seashell designs.

The joiners had finished and erected the new signage above the main window, but she’d asked them to keep it covered for now. She’d also cleared the window displays and lowered the internal blinds so interested neighbours (read: busybodies and nosy parkers) couldn’t see the changes being made. She had enough doubts of her own without a chorus of tart observations and helpful ‘hints’ from Hester Bradshaw and her cohorts. Smiling enigmatically and murmuring, ‘Wait and see,’ seemed to be working to hold most people at bay, but she’d have to make a start on dressing the windows soon.

She still didn’t feel quite at home, although her back was looking forward to sleeping in the big brass-framed bed rather than cramped onto the single in her old room. She still needed to get in touch with her landlord in London and make arrangements for the rest of her things to be shipped, but that could wait. Giving up her bedsit still felt like a commitment too far. Finding somewhere within her budget had been a nightmare, and she’d need somewhere to go back to if things didn’t work out as she hoped with the emporium.

The colours for the walls had been picked; a white with the palest hint of lilac for the three larger walls, and a dusky mauve-grey for the solid end wall. Her budget wouldn’t stretch to new furniture, but Eliza was the queen of crafty things and after screaming ‘Project!’ with an alarming amount of enthusiasm during a Skype chat had promised to transform the dark wood chest of drawers, wardrobe and matching dresser. There was also a trip planned to the local household superstore to hunt for complementary accessories and accent pieces for the walls.

Beth knew when to fight and when to surrender to the superior knowledge of others, and when it came to anything creative, Eliza was the expert of the three of them. While she’d still been struggling to get to grips with threading a sewing machine properly, Eliza had been turning out her own clothes. Knowing her friend would be insulted if Beth tried to pay her, she’d set aside some vintage pieces from Eleanor’s wardrobe in the hopes Eliza would like them.

Humming to herself, she began to unwrap the figurines and position them on the cabinet shelves. The quirky little figures were perfect for the revamped design of the shop—a graceful hark back to a bygone age with a touch of artistry. She hadn’t decided whether she would sell them or not, and the locked cabinet would be both the safest place and provide a daily reminder of Eleanor. Beth had nosed around a bit on eBay, and had been stunned at some of the asking prices. She adjusted the angle of the little shepherdess and smiled to herself. If Henry the Eighth and his six wives had been part of Eleanor’s collection, she’d have been straight online trying to sell them! No, she’d wait and see if anyone showed an interest and then decide.

Closing the cabinet, she turned the key and tucked it away in the cash register then checked her watch. There would just be time for her to grab some lunch and double-check everything was ready for the weekend. Mick had arranged for cover for his daughter at the chip shop, so they would have two whole days to spend together. A quick glance around the shop assured her everything was in order and she headed back upstairs.

Without Annie’s near-constant supply of meals, Beth might not have got through the past few weeks, and although she was grateful, it was past time to stand on her own two feet. Heating up a can of soup wasn’t beyond her, and she’d started bookmarking videos on YouTube with basic recipes she was pretty sure she could follow.

If she was going to start taking care of herself properly, she needed to get into a regular exercise routine too. Especially if she was going to be on her feet all day in the shop. In London, she’d had to walk past the gym on her route from the tube to her front door, so it had been simple enough to call in and slog on the cross-trainer a few times a week. Perhaps she should start joining Sam on his morning run. Once he’d seen her sweaty and red-faced a few times, he’d soon lose his enthusiasm for kissing her.

‘It’s so good to see you!’ Eliza swept Beth into a warm, richly scented embrace then stepped back to look around the room. ‘Wow! Look at this place. It’s the same and yet, so different.’ Her words were the exact ones Beth needed to hear and a knot loosened in her tummy. Trust her sweet, sensitive friend to see exactly what she was trying to achieve. Eliza shoved up the floppy sleeves of her sweater—a pointless act as they fell straight back down again—and grinned. ‘And look at you! You’re looking so much better.’

Beth snagged an arm around Eliza’s waist and hugged her close again. ‘It’s all the fresh air. Honestly, I feel like I’ve been shedding layers of city grime.’ She stroked the end of the ponytail curling over her shoulder. ‘Everything was dull, you know? Not just my hair, or my skin, but my brain too.’

Her friend nodded. ‘I get it. The air up north doesn’t taste the same either.’ She breathed deeply. ‘I don’t know how I let Martin talk me into moving away in the first place.’ A troubled look clouded her brow. ‘And now he wants to drag me halfway around the world.’

‘What?’

Pushing her cloud of curly hair back from her forehead, Beth sighed. ‘Oh, nothing. I’m just being a drama queen. Martin’s been invited to apply for a fantastic promotion, but if he gets it, it would mean relocating to Abu Dhabi.’

Clad in an emerald green flowing wool dress, cinched at the waist with a bright red belt that matched her tights and the huge scarf wrapped around her neck, Eliza was a vision of jewel shades. The colours perfectly complimented her pale, freckled skin. Pale skin that turned bright red at the first hint of the sun. Her friend had spent every summer in Lavender Bay smothered in high-factor sun cream and sheltered under an umbrella. How on earth would she cope with the extreme climate of the Middle East? How on earth would Beth cope with her friend so far away? ‘Eliza, you’ll burn to a crisp! How will you cope with the heat?’

‘It won’t be so bad. The company has a lovely compound there. There’s a swimming pool surrounded by palms and cabanas. The apartments all have wall-to-wall aircon. Martin’s showed me the pictures.’ The wavering in her voice belied the reassurance in her words. ‘Oh, these are new!’

Still stunned at the prospect of them being separated by so many miles, Beth watched Eliza hurry across the room to examine the central display she’d created to exhibit local craftsmen and women. Eliza pressed her nose practically against the glass—making it clear the topic of Martin’s potential promotion was off limits.

For now, Beth conceded, silently.

Eleanor’s notebook had proven to be a goldmine of information. Sylvia, the creator of the jewellery Libby had been so taken with, had invited Beth to join a Facebook group which was part chatroom, part artisans’ guild. The post she’d put up offering display space on a sale-or-return basis had been inundated with responses. From hand-thrown pots to delicate watercolours, the local artists had provided her with a beautiful collection of unique pieces. A card stood beside each item providing details of the artist and a couple of lines about the inspiration behind it. ‘What do you think?’

Eliza turned to her, eyes glowing. ‘I think it’s wonderful. Who knew Lavender Bay was such a creative hotbed?’ It wasn’t difficult to sense the longing in those words.

‘You should think about making something for me to sell.’ An impulsive suggestion, but the words tasted right on her tongue.

‘Me?’ Eliza scoffed. ‘My silly little dabblings aren’t a patch on these.’

If Martin had been standing there at that precise moment, Beth feared she would have done him violence, so great was the wash of anger filling her veins. She could picture him saying those exact words, his face fixed in a patronising smile as he hugged his wife around the shoulders. Passive-aggressive wanker. He’d never taken Eliza’s interest in art seriously. Oh, it was fine for a hobby, but he couldn’t see the value in it so therefore assumed no one else would either. He’d been the one to steer her away from an arts foundation degree, arguing in that perfectly reasonable tone of his she’d be better off doing something more appealing to prospective employers.

With the grades he’d achieved at school, Martin could have attended the university of his choice, but he’d chosen the same one Eliza and Beth had opted for. It had a decent enough computer science course, but there were others with a better reputation. The important thing for both he and Eliza had been to be together. Still deep in the throes of first love, nothing and nobody had been able to dissuade them otherwise. Beth had thought them too young, Martin too controlling in his need to be with Eliza all the time, and had tried to say so. It was one of the few serious fights the two of them had had, and in the end Beth had swallowed her doubts rather than risk destroying their friendship. Beth sighed. If anyone had tried to criticise Charlie to her, she’d likely have done the same thing. Tender hearts rarely listened to anything which didn’t fit their ideal.

‘Earth to Beth.’

Eliza waved a hand in front of her face, and she blinked back into the present. ‘Sorry, I was woolgathering.’

Her friend wrinkled her nose. ‘By the expression on your face, you were thinking about he-who-shall-remain-nameless.’

Beth held up her hands. ‘Guilty as charged. Bloody hell, did you always know he was a total arse?’

‘Always.’ She softened the blow with a kiss and another fragrant hug. ‘But then I know what you and Libby both think of Martin, so it’s swings and roundabouts.’

She thought about arguing the point. Whilst she and Charlie were history, Eliza was still very much married. In the end, she copped out. ‘As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.’ They looked at each for a long moment, then burst out laughing.

‘God, but you’re a terrible liar, B, always have been,’ Eliza said between giggles.

A knock on the front door startled them both and they turned to see Libby with her mouth pressed against the glass. She’d blown out her cheeks, the way they used to do as kids, pulling a hideous face which set them off again. ‘Look at the bloody mess you’ve made on my nice clean window!’ Beth wagged a finger at Libby as she pulled open the door.

Libby tugged the sleeve of her jumper down and rubbed it vigorously over the wet mark, smearing it further. ‘Look, see, all fixed.’ She raised the arm she’d been holding behind her back to show a bottle of pink Lambrini. ‘So, are we having a party, or what?’

An eternal goth, she’d paired thick-soled boots with the skinniest black jeans, a black and red striped jumper and ears full of studs. The rainbow hair had been covered in jet-black dye and stood up in all directions. She reminded Beth of a miniature Dennis the Menace, and she said so.

Libby gave a graceful twirl, which shouldn’t have been possible in a pair of thick-soled Doc Martin’s. ‘You’re just jealous of my style, B.’

Eliza grabbed the bottle from her with a hoot. ‘Where the hell did you find this?’ She shuddered. ‘Just looking at it makes my head ache.’

Libby snatched it back. ‘Hey! I don’t care what kind of swill you drink these days, but I’m loyal to our past. It was this or a six-pack of Babycham.’

Beth shut and locked the door. ‘Come on upstairs, the pair of you. You’re supposed to be here to help me, not just get drunk.’

Libby’s heavy boots thudded on the steps behind her. ‘I vote we do both.’

‘Me too,’ Eliza piped up from behind her. ‘Two to one, you’re outvoted, Beth. Get the glasses out.’