One Golden Summer

by Clare Lydon

  “It does. What’s your secret?”

  “For?”

  “Looking fab.”

  Kirsty waggled a finger in the air. “I’ve already agreed to teach you how to kayak. No need for shameless flattery.”

  “I’m not known for being shameless.”

  “Is that right? What are you known for?”

  Saffron couldn’t tell if Kirsty was taking the piss, but opted to give her the benefit of the doubt. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” Guh. Was that the best she had?

  “Sounds like a challenge.”

  “Do you like challenges?”

  “Only ones that are worthwhile.”

  Nervous laughter escaped Saffron. “I guess time will tell if I’m worth it or not.”

  Kirsty’s expression darkened. “You get paid how much per movie?”

  Again, Saffron struggled to decipher the true meaning behind the question and pivoted. “Do your parents still live in Sandy Cove?”

  Just like that, Kirsty’s cloudy eyes returned to vibrant. “Yes. You might get the chance to meet them at the festival.”

  “That must be nice.” Saffron regarded the family photos on the cheery pink wall. “When I was a kid, we used to go for beach holidays in Devon and Cornwall. Sandy Cove has the same charming character, but the beaches there were sandier. Sometimes, when I get overwhelmed, I like to close my eyes and relive the good memories with my parents at the beach.” As rare as they were.

  “Ginger told me they aren’t around anymore.” Kirsty’s voice was soft and full of heartbreak.

  Saffron took in a deep breath and clamped her hands together, applying enough pressure to staunch the blood flow. She’d taken great pains to bury her relationship with them. The fact she brought them up at all was troubling. “So, what’s the plan? I stopped by the marina and picked up a wetsuit. I also got a swimsuit. Which should I wear?”

  “I’d wear the swimsuit under the wetsuit to prevent chafing. Why don’t you change first? I’ll wait out here.”

  “What? You don’t think you can control yourself from not taking a peek at the goods?” Saffron levelled her eyes onto Kirsty’s, wondering if the woman would take the bait.

  “Considering you’re of the opinion that I’m not old enough to remember the seventies, I don’t think getting naked in front of you will help me maintain that belief.”

  Saffron’s eyes travelled up from Kirsty’s feet, along the curve of her calves, past her toned thighs, continuing still upwards, staying longer over the swell of the breasts, until finally resting on those stunning eyes. “I doubt you could disappoint in any department.”

  “No pressure, then. Go on. Get changed so we can enjoy the wonder that is the sea.” Kirsty spread her arms out wide, as if Saffron was about to experience a once in a lifetime event.

  Inside the hut, Saffron undressed and slipped on a simple black one-piece the man at the shop had recommended. She attempted to slide one leg into the wetsuit, only to be met with resistance, the neoprene refusing to budge up or down. She tried the other leg, ending up with both feet stuck.

  “Um… I may need help,” Saffron called out.

  “What?” Was the muffled reply.

  Saffron hopped to the door, opening it, and keeping her body out of view. “I can’t get the wetsuit past my feet.”

  “Did you buy K-Y?”

  “Are you talking about lubricant?”

  “Yes. It can help, especially with a newbie.”

  “Are you talking about me or the wetsuit?”

  “Well, given the situation, I’d say both. Do you want me to come in and help?” It was evident Kirsty was trying not to laugh, and her tone was laced with humour.

  “Please.” Saffron hopped back a step to allow her to open the door wider, still keeping out of view from the people walking to and fro on the promenade.

  Kirsty, with eyes closed, put out a hand. “Where’s the suit?”

  “On my feet. Why do you have your eyes closed?”

  “You’re the one who suggested I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from peeking.” Kirsty seemed tickled being able to toss that comment back at Saffron.

  “I have a swimsuit on. It’s not like I’m naked.”

  “Are you sure you want me to open my eyes?”

  “Are you good at fumbling in the dark with another woman?” Saffron sucked in a breath, shocked by her words. These were the types of statements that could get her into hot water if leaked to the press.

  Kirsty’s eyes flew open, and there was a mischievous twist to her lips. “I see how this is going to be.”

  “At least, you can see now. For a moment, I thought we’d never leave the hut.” Saffron gazed at the daybed, realising that wouldn’t be a bad trade off. She glanced down at her feet. “How does this get on me?”

  “One yank at a time.” Kirsty’s gaze roved over Saffron’s nearly six-foot frame. “This could take some time. Maybe we should send out for reinforcements. Or tea. A proper British woman can’t die without a final cup of tea.”

  “You think you’re so funny. I’d like to see you get into motorbike leathers.” Come to think of it, Saffron would love to witness that first-hand.

  “That’s an excellent point. You can put those on, but not this. Is this just a ruse to get me into the hut with you half naked?”

  “I wish I could say that was the case.” Saffron tried to change her footing, but wobbled, and if it weren’t for Kirsty steadying Saffron, she would have crashed to the floor. “This was your idea. Help me.”

  “Okay, okay. Let me get to work.” Kirsty leaned down, allowing Saffron to get a pleasing glimpse of cleavage.

  Saffron placed a hand on top of Kirsty’s warm shoulder. “Who invented these things?”

  “Probably the first brothel owner.” Kirsty yanked on one of the legs, nearly causing Saffron to topple over again.

  “Did neoprene exist in biblical times?”

  “I may remember the seventies, but not all the way back to ancient Egypt.”

  After much tugging, grunting, and much more tugging, the wetsuit was on Saffron.

  “Voilà!” Kirsty put her hand up for a high five.

  Saffron slapped it, her fingers curling around the hand, before letting go. “Do you need help with yours?”

  “Nah. I’m a pro.”

  “Okay, then. I guess I’ll step outside.” The air whooshed out of her chest, like a balloon being speared by a knife.

  On the porch, Saffron strained to hear Kirsty call out for help, but no such luck.

  After a couple of minutes, Kirsty bounded out of the hut, tossing Saffron some water shoes. “Put these on while I get the kayak from the storage in the back.”

  “Don’t you need help?”

  “And risk getting sued if Hollywood’s It Girl breaks a leg? After the wetsuit incident, I think it’s best if I take care of the dangerous parts.” She winked. “Lock up the hut for me, please.” She tossed Saffron a gold-painted oyster shell that had been repurposed into a key ring.

  Saffron took a seat to put on the shoes, watching Kirsty’s lithe body carry the kayak to the water’s edge. The woman had muscles on top of muscles. There was absolutely no way Kirsty was alive during the disco age. No way in hell. Not with a body like that. But why would she say it if it wasn’t true?

  “You coming?” Kirsty waved.

  Depends on your definition.

  Saffron locked the door and made her way over the pebbled beach to start their adventure together.

  Chapter 9

  “This is lovely, spending a little time with you. We hardly see you anymore since you’ve been planning this divorce party.” Her mum walked beside Kirsty along the promenade, the warm July sunshine already buttering their backs. To their left, the sea caressed the pebble beach, not quite full of sun-worshippers yet at just gone 9am. However, the early-morning water sports crowd were out already, taking full advantage of the good weather.

  “Always got time for a cu
p of tea at the beach hut with you. Although then I’ve got to meet Dolly at the Lobster Grill. It looks like she might be able to accommodate the party after she had a wedding cancellation.”

  Mum snorted. “At least that couple won’t need a divorce party down the line, so they saved themselves a lot of money. What’s this woman’s name you’re working for? Some kind of herb?”

  “Ginger.” Kirsty didn’t need to look at her mum’s face to know what it was doing. “She’s lovely, too. I’m sure you’ll meet her soon.” Kirsty clutched her parents’ beach towels, along with one of their bags of provisions for the day. They’d left Dad at the shop, choosing a paper and having a coffee with his friend, with instructions to “bring iced buns for elevenses.” Kirsty hoped Dad understood the importance of that task, or else there’d be hell to pay.

  “Is this Ginger single? Is that why you had your hair cut? It looks lovely, by the way.”

  Kirsty turned her head. “She’s divorced, so yes she’s single. But she’s also straight, before you start matchmaking.”

  Mum gave her a look. “Shame. I’ll have to tell Shirley, though. Her son just got divorced. Perhaps they’d be a good match? You remember Christian?”

  She did remember Christian. He was a total gobshite and Kirsty was only surprised his divorce had taken so long. “Shall we let Ginger get used to being divorced first before we marry her off again?”

  “I just want everyone to be happy.”

  “Not everyone’s version of happiness matches yours.” It’s a conversation she’d had with her mum many times. Kirsty had been at her happiest over the past few years, but Mum could never fathom that. Happiness for her equalled romance. For Kirsty, happiness was a state of mind. Although, she had to admit, since meeting the Oliver sisters, her quota of happiness had increased.

  “I shouldn’t invite him to the summer BBQ tomorrow, then?”

  “I hope you’re joking.”

  Mum elbowed her as they walked. “Of course I am. You’re coming, though? As well as Helena and Hugh?”

  Kirsty nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it. The annual opening of Dad’s BBQ is a tradition I’d never mess with.”

  “He’s got a new one this year. Gas. He keeps going out and turning it on when he thinks I’m not looking. Still, it makes him happy, so who am I to judge?”

  A whoop from the beach made them both turn their heads as two young girls ran into the sea, screamed at the temperature, and ran back just as fast. On their right, Saffron’s Beachcomber house came into view.

  Mum nodded towards it. “I heard the posh house is off the market for a while. Do you know who’s renting it?”

  Prickly heat tiptoed up Kirsty’s spine. “Ginger’s sister.”

  “She mustn’t be short of a bob or two.”

  “She bought a box of wine from the shop, so she gets my vote. I took her kayaking the other day, too.”

  “You still remembered how to do it? That kayak has been gathering dust for a long time since Anna. But good for you.”

  Her mum was now the second person to point that out. Perhaps she had forgotten the things she liked to do since Anna, and the shop had taken up more and more of her time. It had been almost a five-year break from kayaking, save for a couple of solo rides here and there. But after the past week going out on her own and with Saffron, she was back in the saddle. It felt good. Like she was returning to her true self.

  Kirsty put a hand to her chest as they walked past Saffron’s house. She looked up to the veranda. It was empty. Where was Saffron? Doing more movie publicity? Reading a new script? Thinking about moving back to London after her break by the sea? Something in Kirsty’s chest contracted at the thought.

  Watching the star of Girl Racer staggering about their beach hut and trying not to fall on her arse had made her smile. Kirsty was beginning to glimpse the human face of the movie star. The one the public never got to see. She’d also witnessed Saffron’s long, lithe body in her wetsuit that clung to her in all the right places. She had the mental snapshot stored safely in her mind. Kayaking with her had been invigorating, being back in touch with nature. Saffron had woken up Kirsty’s passion for getting out on the sea, not simply looking at it. Her shoulders ached after all the paddling, but it was a good ache. One that made her feel switched on, ready to jump back into living fully.

  Saffron made her feel alive. Kirsty had been happy, but maybe there were levels of happiness.

  In just a few short days, Saffron had made her level-up.

  They arrived at Toffee Cottage, and her mum unlocked the door, bringing out the easy lounge chairs and setting up the small table on the porch. Kirsty gripped the waxed white wooden railings and stretched out her back, taking in the view. She couldn’t imagine not living near the sea. It was part of who she was. She smiled up at the lighthouse, then turned to where her mum dropped a magazine on a chair.

  “I need to go to the loo again.” Her mum shook her head. “Don’t get old. Your bladder packs up.” She wandered off in the direction of the public toilets on the promenade five minutes further along the beach.

  Kirsty flopped into the opposite chair and stretched out her legs. She yawned then checked her watch. Two hours before she had to meet Dolly. She might just sneak in a coffee and iced bun if her dad showed up on time. She grabbed the magazine from the other chair, then stopped when she saw the front cover. A photo of Saffron holding hands with her Girl Racer co-star Echo Black sat in the top corner, with the headline: Are This Star-Studded Couple Made For Each Other?

  Kirsty sat up straight, her cheeks flushing red, a feeling of dread sinking down into her stomach. Of course, it would be naive of her to think Saffron didn’t have relationships, but was she still in one? Everything she’d said indicated otherwise, but how recent was that photo? Was that why Saffron had taken a break from filming? It would make sense. Kirsty flipped to the story to find out more, telling herself it meant nothing.

  She’d just met Saffron.

  They lived in different worlds.

  So why was it that seeing her on the pages of a magazine with another woman felt like she’d been punched in the gut?

  Dad turned up just in time with a packet of Digestives.

  Mum could barely hide her disgust. “Where are the iced buns?”

  “They’d sold out.” Dad took off his sunhat, and scratched his bald head.

  “There wasn’t even a cake of some sort? Have you learned nothing in our 50 years of marriage?”

  Dad buried his head in his paper, clicking his pen to tackle the crossword.

  Mum ate a Digestive, but her face said it was a protest biscuit.

  Kirsty passed around the coffee, smiling at the normalcy of her parents’ interaction. She’d never quite had that with Anna. She wanted it in her life going forward.

  An image of Saffron’s smile flashed into her mind, but vanished just as quickly, like one of those red dots in an eye test. Kirsty frowned at her thoughts. First, Saffron was a movie star. Second, she might be involved still.

  “Kirsty!”

  She stood up. All the hairs on the back of her neck did the same. Saffron’s face was now grinning up at her in real life from the promenade below.

  Kirsty’s heart boomed.

  Standing beside Saffron was Ginger, both wearing Aviator shades, black T-shirts and denim cut-off shorts like they were twins.

  Kirsty waved and beckoned them up the slight incline to the hut.

  “Mum, Dad, this is Ginger and Saffron. Ginger’s having the divorce party I’m organising. Saffron’s her sister and she’s renting the Beachcomber.”

  They all shook hands, and Ginger and Saffron removed their sunglasses. Saffron clipped them over the neck of her T-shirt and raked a hand through her hair.

  Kirsty blinked, remembering the magazine article and the way her spirits had slumped. Then again, maybe it was fake news? What had Saffron told her? “Don’t believe everything you read.”

  Besides, it was pretty hard to be annoyed with Saf
fron when she was standing in front of her looking every inch the movie star. Kirsty should have put more make-up on this morning. Was Saffron even wearing any? Then again, she didn’t need to. She had youth on her side.

  Dad was still shaking Saffron’s hand with his head tilted, trying to place her. “You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

  Saffron glanced at Kirsty. “You haven’t told them?” Her tone was amazed.

  Kirsty shook her head. “You said to keep it on the down-low, so I did.”

  Saffron opened her mouth, then closed it. Her lips glistened invitingly.

  “Wow,” she said, giving Kirsty a look that made every muscle in her body tense. “Not many people listen.”

  “I’m not many people.”

  Time stood still as Saffron stared at her for a few more seconds, before her mum’s voice broke the moment.

  “She told me you were Ginger’s sister, but that’s about it. But you do look familiar. Did you used to work at the Co-op?”

  Kirsty swallowed down laughter. “She’s an actor, Mum.”

  “Anything I would know?” Mum’s face lit up.

  Saffron flashed her superstar grin. “Nothing you should know, believe me. The Girl Racer movies?”

  Blank stares from Kirsty’s parents. “Not really our sort of thing,” her mum confided. “But welcome to our little town. You’re just visiting I take it?”

  Saffron nodded. “A few weeks of fresh air and the sea. I’m loving it so far.” She put an arm around Ginger’s shoulder. “But my sister here has bought a house, so she’s here for the duration.”

  “You’re having the divorce party?” Dad picked up his paper. “You might know this clue.” He picked up his pen. “Divorce, or abort. Nine letters.”

  “Terminate,” Ginger replied almost instantaneously.

  Dad checked, then gave her a grin. “Well done.” He reached for his pen and filled it in.

  Kirsty could have happily clunked him over the head.

  “This is a fantastic beach hut,” Ginger told Kirsty. “This is where you keep your kayak? Saffron was just telling me all about that. Sounds like fun.”