The Boardwalk by the Sea

by Georgina Troy

  “You will now, my darling,” her aunt said, waving over the waiter. “Let’s order another couple of these delicious cocktails. Or, would you rather try different ones?”

  It was going to be a blissful evening, Sacha realised. Her aunt was feeling better and by the looks of things was intending on catching up on all the time she’d spent in the darkened hotel room in Rome.

  They were half way through their trip, enjoying afternoon tea served by white-gloved waiters in the Queens Room, where themed balls would be held on several evenings during the cruise. Sacha had enjoyed a pleasant few hours walking through the town of Ajaccio. Her aunt had insisted they visit a museum, filled with magnificent 18th-century furniture and documents that had belonged to Napoleon, and Sacha had enjoyed learning a little about the history of the Bonaparte family.

  She waited for the tea to be poured and had just picked up her cup when her aunt stunned Sacha by saying, “I was thinking about Alessandro today. I saw this young couple, obviously very much in love, and it made me think that you were right not to take any notice of my encouragement between the two of you.”

  Sacha took a sip of her Earl Grey tea. “Why?”

  “Well, when I saw this couple walking along, hand in hand, it made me think of what Alessandro’s aunt told me about him and Livia.”

  Sacha’s heart pounded. She didn’t like the way this conversation was going, but was unable to stop herself from asking, “Who is Livia?”

  Aunt Rosie leant slightly towards her across the small, highly polished table between them. She checked that no one was listening to their conversation, which was a little out of character and alarmed Sacha further. “She was his fiancée, and he was desperately in love with her.”

  “Was?” Sacha’s heart pounded.

  “She died, darling. It was too tragic. His aunt was only telling me about it the morning we left Rome.”

  Sacha couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Poor Alessandro, no wonder he’d had a haunted look that she kept noticing. “When did she die?” she whispered. “Whatever happened to her?”

  The waiter came up to their table, holding a silver salver displaying tiny pastries. Her aunt pointed at a chocolate éclair and a small jam and cream sponge. The waiter smiled at Sacha. “No, thank you,” she said, desperate for him to move on to the next table so her aunt would continue telling her about Alessandro’s tragic past.

  When he’d gone, she said, “When?”

  “Oh, um, it must be two years ago now,” her aunt said, taking a small bite from her éclair. “This is heavenly darling, you should try one.”

  “No thanks. What happened to her?”

  “It was heart-breaking,” Rosie said, popping the other half of the cake into her mouth and eating it. “She was hit by a car, in Paris, I believe. The poor boy was broken with grief.”

  Sacha’s heart contracted at the thought of what he must have gone through. “Poor Alessandro.”

  “Yes, the poor chap, such a waste. I gather there’s been no one since.”

  “Too heartbroken, I suppose. It’s understandable.” Sacha took a sip of her tea and looked out of the window at the beautiful port of Ajaccio’s pale stone buildings, with their terracotta roofs gleaming in the strong Mediterranean sunlight. So much beauty in the world, yet so much tragedy. “I don’t suppose he’ll ever feel he can replace what they had together.”

  “No.” Her aunt waved the waiter over to top up her tea. “She was incredibly beautiful, too.”

  Sacha wasn’t surprised by this information. Someone as handsome as Alessandro would never have a problem finding stunning women to date, should he so wish.

  “You met her?” she asked, confused.

  “No darling, but I’ve seen her picture in the magasines over the years. You must remember her?”

  What was her aunt going on about? “When would I have seen her?”

  “I suppose you don’t treat yourself to editions of Vogue and Harpers, do you darling? Not now you have to be so cautious with money.”

  Sacha hadn’t ever bought those magasines, but couldn’t see what that had to do with Alessandro’s girlfriend. Then it dawned on her. She trembled with shock, spilling her tea all over her navy Capri pants. “She was a model?” So that’s why her aunt had been concerned that someone might overhear their conversation. Alessandro’s fiancée had been famous.

  “Yes, darling. I thought I said, Livia Bianchi. You must have heard of her, surely?”

  She had, vaguely. Sacha thought for a moment and then it came to her. The stunning model who had died so tragically, she remembered now. Sacha recalled seeing photos of the beautiful woman, with her equally tall, beautiful and attentive boyfriend, in Hello! magasine when she’d last visited the hairdressers, several months before. She’d remarked to the woman cutting her hair how fabulous the couple had looked, and was upset to discover that the magasine was months old and that the woman had been killed. That’s where she’d seen Alessandro before.

  She cleared her throat, not wishing to show how much this information had shocked her. A waiter came over to their table to refill their cups, but her aunt waved him away with an apologetic smile.

  “Are you alright, Sacha? You look rather upset.”

  She forced a smile. “I’m fine. It’s such a sad story, that’s all. I had no idea Alessandro had gone through something that devastating.”

  “I know. Poor chap. I’m not sure how anyone recovers from such an unbearable loss.”

  “Neither am I.” She couldn’t help wondering what he must have been thinking when he kissed her. Was it his way of trying to move forward from his heartbreak, or something else? Whatever it was, any woman would need to be incredibly special to compete with someone as glamorous as Livia Bianchi.

  Chapter Three

  Home

  Sacha stood on the boardwalk and watched several Oystercatchers darting above the waves, while others strutted along the beach, their long orange beaks stabbing the wet sand, looking for food. She stared out to sea. Every day the colour seemed different. Today it was a pale, jade green, the colour it always became during stormy days. So different to the navy blue of the Mediterranean that she’d been used to for the past week.

  Sacha rested her palms on the cool, newly painted railings, sticky to the touch with salt from the waves that had washed over them during high tide, earlier. She’d enjoyed her cruise with Aunt Rosie. It had been more fun than she’d expected, despite her discovery about Alessandro. She had soon suppressed any fleeting fantasies she’d had of them together. Why would he ever look at anyone as ordinary as her, when he’d been engaged to a supermodel?

  She had enjoyed visiting the beautiful and inspiring places where they’d docked, but it was good to be home and standing on her beloved boardwalk. Sacha turned to face the Summer Sundaes Café. She loved the pale blue of the shopfront, shining in the weak sun that was forcing its way through grey clouds. A warm, cosy feeling rushed through her; she’d missed this place.

  She looked up at the two windows above the café; the living room window to the left and her bedroom on the right. There was a strange mark on the shopfront, next to the door handle, and she was about to go and inspect it when a drop of rain landed on her forehead. Sacha laughed; she was certainly home. She bent to grab her suitcase just as the café door opened. Her brother stood frowning and waved her inside.

  “What are you doing standing out there?” he shouted. “Get your bum in here before you get soaked.” He pointed out to the bay behind her. “Didn’t you spot that shower coming towards us from Guernsey, while you were gawping at the sea?”

  Yes, she was home and by the looks of things, Jack was glad she was back so he could return to his high-powered girlfriend. She’d already received twelve messages on her phone from her mother since her plane landed three quarters of an hour ago, moaning about Nikki’s constant phone calls to Jack while he was supposed to be looking after the café. Despite trying to explain to her mum that Jack was twenty-nin
e and had long ago stopped accepting her advice about girlfriends, her mother continued to fret about his relationship.

  The rain began falling more heavily and Jack ran across the road to her, grabbed her case without waiting for her to say anything, and waved for her to follow him inside.

  “You’ve spent too much time with Aunt Rosie, she’s always daydreaming, too,” he said, carrying her suitcase upstairs to her flat with a few loud groans. “What the hell have you got in here, pebbles from all the beaches you’ve visited? Or is it bottles of booze to cope with having to share a cabin?”

  Sacha could hear him continue to grumble as she walked into the café. She was pleased she’d returned after closing time. She looked around the familiar room, which she’d had updated eighteen months ago. The walls were painted Vanilla Dream, and she’d had a local carpenter make some tables using reclaimed wood. Straightening a large piece of driftwood propped up in a corner with fisherman’s nets strung above it, she couldn’t help giggling at Jack’s comment. He was right. Aunt Rosie was a little eccentric and could be a bit exhausting, but she was also great fun. When Jack came back downstairs to join her, Sacha admitted that she’d happily go away with her on another cruise.

  She couldn’t miss the smell of burnt toast. “Again?”

  “It’s that bloody toaster,” he grumbled. “Damn thing doesn’t work properly.”

  “It works just fine,” she said, wondering how many times this had happened while she’d been away. “You just need to remember when you put something in it to toast.”

  “So, how was it?”

  “I knew you weren’t listening. I had a fun time, thanks.”

  He pulled a face. “Seriously? I thought you’d both be at each other’s throats. The ballsy Sacha I remember so well wouldn’t let Aunt Rosie get away with any of her annoying games. Although, I must say you do seem to be getting some of your old confidence back. Slowly.” He glowered at her. “It’s a good thing I was away when everything happened with that arse Giles, you know.”

  “It is.” Jack had always been protective of her, and would probably have enjoyed punching Giles. “I’m glad you weren’t around,” she said.

  He put his arms around her and pulled her into a bear hug. “I liked it when my sister was Miss Independent and it’s good to see her coming back.” He let her go. “Still though, I find it hard to imagine you spending so much time with Her Ladyship.”

  “I did imagine it to be harder than it was. I expected us to fall out.” Sacha tilted her head. “To be honest, there were a couple of moments, but it was great fun overall.”

  Jack nodded.

  “How did you cope while I was away?” She took one of the large latte glasses from the shelf and made herself a drink. “Want one?” she asked.

  “Nah, you go ahead. I had one a while ago with some toasted cabbage loaf. It’s so tasty, I wish we could get it on the mainland.” He turned the sign on the door to ‘Closed’ and sat down at one of the tables nearest the window. “Mum has nearly driven me nuts though, and Nikki hasn’t stopped phoning, texting and emailing me the entire time I’ve been here. I don’t know who’s been more annoying.”

  Sacha sympathised. “Mum does tend to try and over-protect you sometimes.” Which always seemed very odd to her. He wasn’t shy in standing up for himself. It never ceased to amaze her that her mother always assumed he was pretending to be tough and was actually very sensitive on the inside. “Thankfully, she doesn’t really do it with me.”

  He stared out of the window at the rain rapping against the glass. “Nikki has gone from being really chilled about everything, to crying and threatening to dump me if I don’t go back to the mainland as soon as you’re home.”

  Sacha blew on her drink in a vain attempt to cool it. “She’s obviously worried that you might decide to stay here. Anyway, I’m back now, so there’s no reason for you not to return to her as soon as you like.” She took a sip of her latte and waited for him to reply with his usual quick retort. When he didn’t, Sacha was taken aback. “What’s wrong?”

  He rubbed his face. “I’m not sure I want to go back, Sis.” He closed his eyes and shook his head thoughtfully. “I didn’t realise she was such a control freak.”

  “Who, Mum?” Sacha asked.

  “No, Nikki. She’s been a right pain. She knows why I was here and to be honest, I’ve loved doing it.” He smiled for the first time since her return. “The locals are characters, aren’t they?”

  She agreed, always grateful for those who continued to visit the café even in the depths of winter.

  “And the holidaymakers are usually cheerful.”

  “It’s that sort of place,” she said. It had been something she’d never considered before working here, how coming to a place where you served ice cream sundaes was an activity that made everyone happy. Why wouldn’t it? It was part of why she loved this job so much. “You want to stay working here, with me?”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, I think so. If you need me, that is?”

  She and Jack got along for the most part and she liked the idea of him working with her, but wasn’t sure if there was enough to do through the winter. She didn’t want to have to give her assistant Lucy, or Milo, the teenager who sometimes helped her out after school and during the holidays, the push.

  She’d met Milo when he’d come to the café to have an ice cream with his father. She’d been frantically busy and had dropped the ice cream she was preparing for him.

  “I’ll do my own, if you like,” Milo had said, jumping up to join her behind the counter before she had a chance to argue.

  Too busy to mind, Sacha had let him get on with it, and, later, when he’d asked her about a holiday job, she’d been delighted to offer him work. She shared her thoughts with Jack, then drank the rest of her coffee while he mulled it over.

  “Good point,” he said at last. “Maybe I could help you out through the summer and find something else to do at the end of the holiday season?”

  “Would you make enough money to live on, though?” she asked. “And where would you sleep? I’ve only got one bedroom upstairs in the flat.” She didn’t have the heart to tell him out-right that she would rather not share the flat with him. She loved her twin, but despite sharing the same colouring, almost everything else about them was different. He seemed to take up so much room, which she suspected had more to do with his enthusiasm for life rather than him being tall. He also believed that tidying up after himself was a waste of good kayaking time, and that there was nothing wrong with eating a microwavable meal straight out of the pack without transferring it into a bowl or onto a plate, which he probably exaggerated to irritate her. Which it did.

  He laughed. “I might get on okay with you Sis, but I wouldn’t want to be your flatmate. You take too long faffing about in the bathroom, I seem to recall. I remember only too well having to fight my way through jars of make-up stuff and knocking over boxes of horrible things when I went to the loo in the middle of the night.” He shuddered. “Still haunts me.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. Anyway, it’s something you have to think about.”

  “Boxes of… things?” He looked horrified.

  “No, of course not,” she said, wondering why men seemed so horrified by tampons. “Where you’ll live if you stay on the island. I can’t imagine you wanting to move back home again, Mum would never let you leave a second time.”

  They laughed. It was true. She thought back to her mother feigning the risk of a heart attack from devastation when he’d initially moved away from home. That she ever thought her dramatic threats would be believed by him amused them both. After a lifetime of being on the receiving end of their mother’s adoration, Jack was used to taking little notice of his mother fretting about all the terrible things that could befall him should he move away from the island.

  “I wanted to ask you if you’d noticed that strange symbol on the front of the shop?” Jack asked.

  So, he didn’t know what it wa
s either. “I was going to ask you about that.”

  He opened his mouth to add something, when the left pocket in his shorts vibrated. Jack closed his eyes briefly in irritation and pulled out his phone to gaze at the screen. “Shit. It’s Nikki, with another ultimatum no doubt.”

  “You chat to her,” Sacha said, taking her glass over to the dishwasher and placing it inside. “I’m going upstairs to unpack and get my clothes ready for tomorrow. Thanks though, Jack, for looking after this place. I owe you.”

  “You do,” he said, giving her a wink as he pressed his phone to take the call. “Nikki, babes…”

  Sacha left him to pacify his girlfriend and wondered if he really would return to the island and come to work at the café. There would have to be rules, she decided as she ran upstairs to the flat. She was going to have to make sure Jack realised that she was in charge now she was back. It wasn’t going to be as easy for him, once the novelty had faded. He always used to say, “You turn either left or right out of the driveway and wherever you go to on this island, you soon arrive back home again”.

  Sacha walked into her cosy bedroom, with the high headboard made from driftwood, and a gale lantern on the pine stripped floor. It would soon be time to replace the candle inside. She flung open the lid of her suitcase, which Jack had left on her blue and white quilted bedspread. She left the clean clothes on the top, not that there were that many, and dumped her worn clothes in her wicker laundry basket. She’d take them to the laundrette later in the week, when she had a bit of time.

  She wondered how Lucy had coped with Jack taking over. A petite girl in her early twenties, Lucy had come to the island from Ireland last season, looking for work. She was always on time, and didn’t mind working late if necessary, and she and Sacha worked well together.

  Sacha closed her suitcase and lifted it up onto the top of her ancient walnut wardrobe, to make the most of the space in the small bedroom. She walked over to the window, stared out at the rain, and hoped Jack hadn’t annoyed Lucy while she’d been away. She noticed he hadn’t mentioned her at all.