by Paige Toon
The last five years have been hard – tougher at some points than at others. It was very difficult at first. I’d lost Dad and then Van, too. We spoke every day that he wasn’t out at sea – sometimes twice a day – and that helped, but all I wanted was to be held by him and it was a long time before we could make that happen. I managed to go to Australia about eight months after Dad passed away and Van and I had three weeks together. I was nervous about meeting Libby – what if she didn’t like me? But she was such a little cutie and we had loads of laughs together.
How I pined for Luke during that time, though. I couldn’t afford his flight as well as my own so he stayed behind. A year later, Van came to Cornwall to visit me, but once more, he had to come without Libby. It wasn’t only the money; Sam didn’t want her daughter disappearing abroad for weeks and she point-blank refused to let her go.
Since then, Van and I have seen each other about once a year, but it’s not enough – it’s nowhere near enough. It’s been almost twelve months since we were last together, but he’s coming over in a few days – and Libby, finally, too. Sam has relented and I still can’t believe it. Libby is taking a whole month off school! It’s the British summer holidays and we’re going to have the best time. I can hardly contain my excitement.
‘What are you up to tomorrow?’ I ask Ed, dusting sand off the wooden table surface. The beach is literally across the road, five metres away. I love it here because I can chill out in the sunshine and Luke can play by the water, skimming stones and messing around with his pals.
‘I’m going to take the boat out.’ The shop is closed on Sundays.
Ed bought a small sailing boat a few months ago, but I still haven’t been out on it.
‘Why don’t you come?’ he asks. ‘Or have you got other plans?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ I reply ruefully. ‘I have to put up a bunk bed.’
‘A bunk bed?’
‘For Libby and Luke. They’re sleeping in the bedroom that Van and I used to share. I stupidly swapped our bunk for a single bed when I was a teenager.’
I’m very open now about my relationship with Van. I took Ellie’s advice five years ago and have told it to people straight ever since. If anything, people have found the idea of me falling in love with my best friend kind of romantic.
Mum was the only person to raise her eyebrows, but that’s mainly because she’s a snob and thinks I can do better. She made her feelings clear about Nick in that respect, too.
We’re on pretty good terms at the moment, probably the best we’ve ever been. We speak on the phone every few weeks, and Luke enjoys his chats with Grandma.
‘You going to be all right building a bunk bed on your own?’ Ed asks with concern.
I shrug. ‘Should be. I might have to beg poor Nick for help, otherwise, and he’s got more than enough on his plate this week.’
Nick and Stefanie, his girlfriend of three years, are tying the knot on Friday. I like her a lot and Luke adores her. As for Nick, he’s absolutely besotted – I’ve witnessed no signs of him straying. I’m glad to see him so settled.
Nick wanted some one-on-one time with Luke before he and Stefanie set off on their honeymoon, hence the camping trip. Last time Van was over, Nick took Luke to Italy with him and Stefanie for two weeks, which worked well for everyone. But this time, Van and I are finally going to be able to spend time together as a foursome with Luke and Libby.
‘Don’t trouble him,’ Ed says with a frown. ‘I can give you a hand if you need it.’
‘No!’ I wave him away. ‘You don’t want to be coming all this way again.’
‘Let’s do it tonight, then. After dinner.’
‘Really?’ I ask dubiously.
‘Why not?’
‘I’d better stop drinking, then.’
Ed and I hit it off straight away and I would definitely class us more as friends than colleagues, but it’s only been in the last six months or so that we’ve started seeing each other socially. The main reason for this is that Ed’s wife was a proper cow. I say ‘was’, but I mean ‘is’, as in, she is a proper cow, but was his wife. They broke up late last year after he walked in on her in bed with another man. I think he’d suspected her of straying – she had at least once before, in London – but it was still a shock to catch her in the act.
Tasha hadn’t wanted to leave London – she’d complained to me on several occasions about how bored she was here. I used to find it hard to believe that such a nice guy could’ve married such a miserable, moany cow, but Ed claims that she wasn’t always like that.
I only found out later that she’d agreed to their fresh start under duress. She’d confessed to an affair with her married boss after his wife had found out, thinking she’d get in first by telling Ed. Ed agreed to give her a second chance and they relocated to Cornwall, but I know the last few years have been a struggle for them. He opened up to me back in December after breaking down. I’d always liked working for him, but that day we became firm friends.
I adore Ed. He’s such a lovely, kind man, and the thought of Tasha cheating on him makes me furious. He’ll have no trouble replacing her when he’s ready.
‘I hope this weather holds out.’ I tilt my face up to the sun.
I hear a rustle of paper and glance at Ed to see that he’s picked up the menu. ‘Five-day forecast is looking good,’ he murmurs.
‘What does the monthly one say?’ I ask with a grin.
He eyes me over the top of his sunglasses. ‘Wish I could tell you.’ He pushes the glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and scrutinises the food options. I don’t need to look – I already know what I’m having.
Ed scratches his arm. He’s so tanned at the moment from all of the sailing he’s been doing, and the light-brown hairs on his lean forearms are tinged blond. It’s the best he’s looked since I’ve known him. He lost weight after the split – not that he was overweight before – but now he looks fit and healthy and… yep, the waitress has noticed.
Ed thanks her distractedly as she collects empties left over from the last people who were sitting here. ‘Are you okay to order at the bar?’ she asks him with a flirty smile.
‘Sure,’ he replies, glancing at me once she’s gone. ‘Do you know what you’re having?’
‘When do you reckon you’ll be up for dating again?’ I lean in closer to ask, giggling at the immediate comical expression on his face.
‘Talk about an out-of-the-blue question.’
‘I’m just thinking you look kind of hot right now. You could totally pull if you wanted to.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ he replies sardonically.
I smile. ‘So? When are you planning to put yourself back out there?’
‘It’s not a question of when. If the right girl…’ His voice trails off and he frowns. ‘Anyway, I’m not even divorced yet.’
‘Neither is Tasha, but that hasn’t stopped her.’
He snorts wryly under his breath. ‘Yeah, well, that’s Tasha for you.’
She’s been wandering around Falmouth with a new man on her arm – not even the guy she cheated on Ed with.
I wish she’d move back to London. She complained about it for long enough, but she’s still here, rubbing salt in Ed’s wounds. She was flabbergasted when he filed for divorce – I think she thought she had him wrapped around her little finger and that he’d give her yet another chance.
‘The waitress keeps looking at you,’ I whisper, leaning in closer again.
Ed tenses, his shoulders going rigid. ‘Really?’ he whispers in return.
‘Yeah.’ I grin at him. ‘She’s pretty.’
‘I hadn’t noticed.’
‘So start paying attention!’
‘Are you all right out here or shall we move inside to eat?’
I laugh. ‘Nice change of subject. Let’s stay out here for a bit longer.’
‘Do you know what you’re having?’ he asks again.
‘Fish and chips. I’ll go.’ I bend down to gra
b my bag from under the table.
‘No, this is my treat,’ Ed says firmly, already on his feet. ‘We’re celebrating.’
‘You got the drinks.’
‘Shh. Another Prosecco?’
I know when I’m beaten. ‘Yes, please.’ I beam at him and he looks amused as he turns away.
Plonking my handbag on the table in front of me, I pull out my copy of Fudge and Smudge, the River Piskies. It feels totally surreal – I can’t believe that I wrote this and that Van illustrated it. It’s been five years in the making, but we did it – we actually did it – and there are more in the pipeline. We signed a three-book deal and delivered them all straight up, and now we’re working on another three. Hopefully there will be a market for them, but we’re not in it for the money, anyway. It’s just as well – the advance was minimal.
I open the book to the dedication:
For our cheeky little piskies, Luke and Libby
When they’re older, they’re probably going to hate that we referred to them as piskies. The thought makes me smile.
The kids have been amazing. I used to write the stories and read them to Luke, and when I’d addressed any suggestions he had, I’d pass them to Van to read to Libby.
Luke’s captivation massively spurred me on. But my favourite moment was seeing his face when I showed him Van’s very first picture. It was of Fudge and Smudge, huddled together on a branch of the crab-apple tree, with the river sparkling in the background. It’s the same image we’ve used for the front cover of the first book.
Van had worked on that piece for months – a mixture of pencil drawing and watercolour. He wouldn’t let me see it as a work in progress, nor any of the drafts that he discarded. He wasn’t at all confident that he could pull it off, but I was blown away when he showed me his work on FaceTime. He was so nervous, waiting for my reaction. The original piece is a lot larger, but I was able to get a true sense of how it would work as a book illustration when he sent me a smaller still by email.
Luke thought it was magical, seeing the characters being brought to life.
Ed returns, removing his sunglasses and putting them down in front of him on the table. The sun has disappeared behind the buildings so now we’re in the shade, unfortunately. Maybe we will move inside after all.
I slip my book away and return my bag to the sandy ground, smiling across at Ed.
‘Cheers,’ he says, chinking my fresh glass.
‘Thank you,’ I say again, and I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Ed didn’t just put me in touch with the right people, he read the stories and helped get them ready for submission to publishers. When I commented on what a good editor he was, he revealed that he had worked with his dad and brother on and off over the years. He could’ve continued to work for the family business, but it sounds like it was a case of too many cooks. He didn’t want relationships to be strained – especially between him and his younger brother – so he went out on his own.
‘You’re welcome,’ he replies, not making light of the sincerity in my eyes. He shakes his head. ‘It still blows my mind that you told me about Fudge and Smudge all those years ago.’
He remembered this soon after I’d started working at Dragonheart, when I’d admitted to writing children’s stories in my spare time. Under duress, I shyly told him what the stories were about and his face lit up with recognition. He reminded me of how we’d sat on the lawn outside the cottage while Van was in the studio, painting, and I laughed, recalling that Van had been in a right stroppy mood that day. I’ve suspected ever since that Ed’s hearing the stories as a child is probably why he’s invested in them now.
‘Twenty-five years ago,’ I say. ‘Took us long enough.’
‘Better late than never.’
The waitress comes over again to clear the table. I give Ed a meaningful look as she takes his beer glass.
‘Thanks.’ He narrows his eyes at me. ‘What?’ he asks as she walks away again.
‘You didn’t even look at her!’
‘I’m not interested,’ he brushes me off.
A thought strikes me from out of nowhere. ‘Oh my God,’ I say. ‘My friend Brooke! You have to meet her! She’s recently moved back to Cornwall!’
Ed shakes his head.
‘Seriously!’ I exclaim. ‘She’s single! She split up with her boyfriend a few months ago.’
‘Nell, please.’ He frowns and takes a sip of his beer.
‘Oh, come on, Ed,’ I berate him. ‘She’s stunning. Honestly, I really think you could get on. Maybe we could have a barbecue when Van arrives.’
He puts his glass down with a forceful clunk.
‘Fine, then, forget it.’
He sighs. ‘If you invite me to a barbecue, of course I’ll come. But please don’t try to matchmake me, okay?’
‘Okay.’ I shrug.
I won’t need to, if Brooke’s around.
‘Still up for a bit of bunk-building?’ Ed asks, pulling up behind my car on the drive.
‘Are you sure?’ I check apprehensively. ‘You’ve spent all day with me. You really want to do some DIY, too? You know that’s how people fall out?’
He smirks and unclicks his seatbelt in response.
‘I should’ve brought my electric screwdriver,’ Ed says a short while later, as he takes in our surroundings.
Last night I disassembled the single bed and moved it and all of the furniture out of Luke’s bedroom. Now we’ve unpacked the bunk and there are planks of wood of varying sizes laid out on the floor and propped up against the walls.
He swoops down and picks up the instructions. ‘So we need that bit with this bit.’
I’m reaching for my glass of Prosecco so I miss where he’s pointing. ‘Sorry, which bits?’
‘This would be more fun with a beer,’ he states as I take a sip of my drink.
‘Why don’t you stay in the annexe tonight? It’s all made up. Go on,’ I urge when he doesn’t immediately say no. ‘I’ve got a spare toothbrush – I’ll get it for you.’
I jump to my feet, half-expecting him to call after me. I’m pleased when he doesn’t.
I hand him a beer on my return. ‘Keys and toothbrush are on the windowsill in the hall, so you have an escape route for when it all becomes too much.’
‘Are you sure?’ Ed tentatively accepts the bottle.
‘Sure, I’m sure. Why not?’
‘Thanks.’
‘No, thank you.’ I pull a face. ‘You’re helping me out big time.’
‘Let’s see about that later. Cheers.’
‘I can’t believe I’m trying to make a children’s bed when I am completely and utterly shit-faced.’
Ed chuckles. ‘We’re almost done.’
‘Is this massively irresponsible?’
He opens his mouth to speak.
‘Don’t answer that question,’ I cut him off.
‘I think we’ve followed the instructions correctly.’ He grabs the bunk rail and gives it a firm shake. ‘Feels solid.’
‘Maybe I should sleep up there tonight to test it,’ I say.
‘At least you’d fit.’ He’s smiling.
‘Yeah, I know, I’m a short-arse.’
He’s just shy of six foot himself.
‘I’m going up there,’ I claim with determination, hauling myself up the ladder.
‘Careful.’
‘Ooh, I like it!’ I flop onto my tummy. ‘I could totally do this. Come up!’
He shakes his head.
‘Go on.’ I grab his arm and am faintly surprised by the feeling of his muscled bicep under my fingers.
‘That would definitely exceed the weight limit.’ He steps out of my grasp.
I roll onto my side and prop my head up on my palm, grinning at him.
‘Thanks, Ed.’ My voice is full of warmth.
‘You’re welcome.’
He has wood dust on his nose. ‘Here, you’ve got some…’ I beckon him forward and his eyebrows pull together as I clean him off
.
‘You’ve got some, too,’ he murmurs, brushing his thumb across my cheek. We meet each other’s eyes and a nervy feeling starts up in my stomach. I jolt as my phone vibrates on the windowsill.
‘Can you chuck me my phone?’ I ask shakily.
‘Van.’ He reads the display as he hands it over.
‘Hello!’ I exclaim as I answer.
‘Hey!’ Van says amiably, his face filling the screen.
‘Wait!’ I call after Ed, who was about to leave the room. ‘Van, say hi to Ed.’ I turn the screen around. Ed waves bashfully.
‘Ed’s been helping me erect the bunk,’ I say in a jolly voice. ‘Look.’ I show Van what I’m sitting on while Ed hovers in the doorway.
‘Nice work,’ he says.
I return the screen to my face and giggle.
‘Are you drunk?’ he asks and rightfully so.
‘Yep. We were celebrating. Oh! Where’s my bag?’ I look around, but my bag is nowhere to be seen.
‘It’s downstairs. I’ll get it,’ Ed offers, leaving the room.
‘Thank you!’ I call after him, shifting to sit with my back against the wall.
Van is waiting. ‘Celebrating what?’
‘You’ll see,’ I reply mysteriously.
Van has short hair and a beard now – not a huge bushy one or anything, but it’s definitely several millimetres more than stubble.
He also has a scar cutting through his left eyebrow. For a while I couldn’t look at it without feeling physical pain myself. He did it while surfing the Yanerbie Bombie in Streaky Bay, an absolutely enormous, horrifically powerful wave. He wiped out on the reef and got pretty badly bashed about – he was lucky he didn’t break bones.
It kills me that I wasn’t the first person he called – but how could I be? I can’t be his emergency contact when I’m so far away. I’m thankful he has friends like Dave who he can depend on when things go wrong.
He promised me he wouldn’t go surfing there again. The accident scared him, too.
‘Shall I call you back?’ Van asks.
‘No, hang on a minute.’