Snowflakes at Lavender Bay

by Sarah Bennett

  On that thought, her gaze strayed automatically back to her dad. His expression of concentration had been replaced with a worried frown, which he was directing straight at her. Libby twitched her lips into a smile, expecting to see his face brighten the way it always did when their eyes met, but to her disappointment, her dad jerked his eyes down to the bottles in front of him. Telling herself she was reading too much into it, she waited for him to look back up.

  And waited.

  Minutes passed, but Mick kept his attention firmly locked on the work before him. Every time Libby glanced across, his head was down. The ball of hurt in her middle expanded. Her dad was never one for sulks and silences, never really one for bad moods in general. Added to that, she couldn’t think of anything she’d done that would’ve upset him—unless he was unhappy about her and Owen, but that didn’t make any sense. He’d never been bothered about her dating before, and she might still live at home, but she was a grown woman in every sense. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to shrug it off. She was probably making a fuss over nothing. It was still punishingly hot; maybe he just wasn’t feeling too good.

  Worried now for his health, Libby made her way around the table to his side. ‘Everything all right, Dad? Can I get you a cold drink?’

  With only the barest glance towards her, Mick shook his head. ‘I’m fine, lovey, but I think I need to be getting back. Lots of prep to do before the evening shift.’ Straightening up, he wiped his hands on a cloth he’d picked up from the bench. ‘Say goodbye to Sally and the others for me. I’ll see you later.’

  She stared after his departing back, stunned. Not in all her years had her dad ever said hello or goodbye to her without giving her a kiss. Heart in her mouth, Libby chased after him, catching him next to their little white van. ‘Dad, what’s the matter? What have I done?’

  Looking uncomfortable, Mick fiddled with his keys. ‘It’s not you, lovey.’

  ‘Then what is it? You’ve got me really worried here.’

  He folded his arms. ‘How long have you and Owen been involved with each other.’

  The inflection in his tone was sharp enough to make her flinch. ‘A few weeks, just since he’s been back in the bay.’

  It was his turn to look shocked. ‘So he’s the one you’ve been sneaking out to see.’

  Sneaking out? Upset and confused by his overreaction, it was Libby’s turn to snap. ‘Come off it, Dad. If I was 16 rather than 26 then you might have some room for concern. Just because I don’t choose to flaunt my love life in front of you—because I was under the apparently mistaken impression we respect each other—it doesn’t mean I’m doing anything to feel ashamed of. We’re both free agents.’

  Taking her arm, Mick walked them further away from the open door of the shed. ‘You don’t know anything about the man. You don’t even know what he’s doing here in the first place.’

  This conversation was taking a very strange turn. ‘What’s the matter with you? You’re talking about him like he’s a Russian spy or something. For your information, I know exactly why he’s here.’

  The blood drained from his face. ‘You can’t possibly know.’

  What on earth was he talking about? As far as she knew, her dad and Owen had exchanged barely half a dozen words. And even if he somehow knew about Owen being given up as a baby by some mystery woman from the bay, why would he care? The most dreadful thought popped up in her head, and it was so horrifying Libby thought for a moment that she might throw up. Father unknown might be exactly the kind of thing a woman would write on a birth certificate if she’d been having an affair with a married man… ‘Oh my God! You’re not…’ She shook her head. ‘No, you can’t be.’

  Mick reached for her. ‘Come on now, lovey, I can explain.’

  Oh, no, no, no, no, no! Her mum and dad had been proper childhood sweethearts with eyes for no one else since they’d first held hands in the playground. How many times had he told her that story? How many times had she comforted herself with the fact that for all her mum had died so young, they’d at least shared a magical true love almost their entire lives. But what if that wasn’t true?

  Holding up her hands, Libby backed away. ‘You told me you’d only ever been with mum.’ It had come up during an excruciating conversation when Mick had sat her down at 15 and attempted to give her ‘the talk’. They’d both been dying of embarrassment by the end of it, but it had been just one of the many times her dad had negotiated the minefield of raising a daughter on his own, and she loved him for it.

  Mick frowned. ‘What’s that got to do with the price of fish?’

  She was nearly crying now—life couldn’t be this cruel, it couldn’t be! ‘Owen wants to settle in the bay because he’s looking for his birth parents. His mum gave him up when he was a baby and all he knows about her is a name and that she came from around here. The only reason you could possibly know about that is if…’ She choked on a sob. ‘…Is if you’re his dad, too.’

  ‘What? Oh, no, lovey. No! Come here now.’ Mick gathered her shaking frame into his big bear hug. ‘Shh, it’s nothing like that. Nothing at all. Goodness, talk about getting the wrong end of the stick. What a bloody muddle we’re all in.’

  The stream of reassurances eventually got through to her, and Libby raised her tearful gaze to meet his. ‘You’re not his dad?’

  Mick gave a half-laugh. ‘Absolutely not. I wasn’t lying to you about me and your mum, so you can put that nonsense right out of your head. I just don’t want you falling for the first bloke who comes along and catches your eye. There’s a big wide world out there, lovey, and I want you to take the time to explore it before you think about settling down.’

  Giddy with relief, Libby clutched onto her dad as her knees wobbled. ‘Oh, God!’ She started to giggle a little raggedly as she tried to swallow back her tears. ‘I thought I was going to be sick! You seemed so dead set against me and him being together that I assumed it must be because of something awful. I know there’s a big world out there, Dad, but I’m very happy with my little corner of it. Owen hasn’t made any promises to me, but I have a really good feeling about us. He’s a great guy, once you get to know him.’

  Mick gave her a little shake. ‘You’re only saying that because you’ve never been given the chance to get out there and see for yourself. I know I held you back, I still feel terrible about you having to stay here while your friends went off to university and beyond. But that’s going to change, and very soon.’

  Not this old chestnut. He had such a selective memory sometimes. Libby might have been devastated when Eliza and Beth went off to university, but only because she’d hated being separated from them. She’d never had any academic ambition, and exams had been an absolute horror show. She’d be up all hours revising, and then the moment she’d sat in her seat the answers had slid from her brain leaving her shaking and sweating. Putting herself through any more of that had been her idea of a nightmare.

  Mick knew all that. He’d been the one to mop her tears when she’d been so sure she’d failed every one of her GCSEs, and the one who’d bought a bottle of champagne to celebrate what would’ve been a very mediocre set of passes as far as most other parents had been concerned. How many times did she have to go through this with him? ‘Dad, please. I love my life here in the bay. I know my place, and once you’re ready to retire then I’ll be more than happy to take over from you.’ She took a deep breath. Now seemed like as good a time as any to talk about it. ‘I’ve got a few ideas, actually, for things I’d like to do with the shop in the future. That’s if you wouldn’t mind…’

  ‘No! You’ve got to stop this, because it’s not going to happen.’

  Shocked to the core, Libby stepped back. She’d known the idea she wanted to change the chip shop might be a bit of a hard sell at first, but she’d never expected he’d refuse out of hand to even listen to her. ‘Dad, please. Let’s go home and I can show you what I’ve got in mind.’

  ‘That’s enough, Elizabeth.
I know you think you’ve got it all worked out and you’re convinced you are content here, but that’s only because you don’t know any better. Once the shop is sold, you’ll have enough money to do whatever you want! You can go to Europe, go to the States, even. The world will be your oyster.’

  Sold? He couldn’t possibly mean it. The world gave an alarming lurch and Libby had to brace her hand on their little white van to stop herself keeling over. ‘Tell me you’re joking.’

  Mick shook his head. ‘It’s no joke. I’ve already found a buyer and it’s all signed and sealed. On the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve, the shop will have a new owner.’

  She couldn’t believe her ears. How could he possibly have done all this behind her back? She thought back to those shifty meetings he’d gone off to, the ones she’d stupidly believed were him going off to meet a lady-friend and been excited for him. Instead, he’d committed the ultimate betrayal and sold not just their business, but their home out from under her. ‘But where will we live?’

  Mick’s face flushed a dull red. ‘I’m going to stay with Val and Eduardo in October to do a bit of apartment hunting.’

  ‘In Spain? You don’t even plan on retiring here in the bay? Bloody hell, Dad, who even are you? I can’t believe you kept all this from me. I thought we told each other everything.’ She was crying hard now. Beyond the shock of it all was a deep hurt that he’d not confided in her about any of these plans, when they’d always told each other everything.

  ‘You didn’t tell me anything about your new boyfriend, so I’m not the only one who’s been keeping secrets.’ His harsh tone softened. ‘I’m so sorry, lovey. Please, let’s not fight. I didn’t think you’d take on so.’ He patted her shoulder, his face a picture of abject misery.

  ‘Then why didn’t you talk to me about it first?’ Libby dug around in her pockets and eventually unearthed a clean—if crumpled—tissue. Blotting at her face, she gasped in a couple of breaths as she tried to swallow down more tears.

  Mick wrung his hands. ‘Since the day your mum passed, being here in the bay has been an agony for me. I kept waiting and waiting for it to get better, for my heart to get used to her not being around, and it never has. If it hadn’t been for needing to keep you close to your friends, I’d have packed us both up and moved somewhere else straight away. By the time it felt like you might be okay to manage on your own, it was too close to retirement for me to bother. So I held on, even though every corner I turn is a constant reminder of your mum. Even now there are some nights I sleep in the chair in my room because the thought of lying in the bed we shared is too much for me.’

  Libby couldn’t imagine it. One of the things she loved so much about Lavender Bay was that all her memories of her mum were here. There were some days when she found it hard to recall every detail of her mum’s face, but that didn’t matter so much when a stroll along the prom brought back learning to ride a bike, or the weekend they’d built the world’s biggest sandcastle—or so it had seemed to her, Eliza, Sam and Beth. That was one of her most favourite memories, the four of them brown as berries from hours in the sun as their parents took it in turns to supervise. They’d had a huge picnic lunch on the Sunday afternoon. That weekend had been full of smiles and laughter, when they’d believed themselves invincible and their innocence had still been untouched by the harsh realities of life.

  Any time she was sad or lonely she wrapped herself up in the blanket of those memories, of the garden-fresh scent of the Timotei shampoo her mum always used, the decadent crack of a spoon through the crunchy top layer of a Wall’s Viennetta ice-cream dessert—the height of luxury and sophistication to Libby’s childish palate.

  She’d always assumed her dad sought similar comfort in his own memories—but evidently not. ‘Ah, Daddy, why didn’t you ever tell me how hard it was for you here?’

  Mick held out his arms. ‘And why would I do that, my angel girl? You needed to be here, and that was all that ever really mattered to me.’

  Libby snivelled into his shirt, absorbing the heat and scent and love of the one man who’d been her rock through everything. That once dark hair might be peppered with silver, his solid frame a little looser in places than it had been, but he was still a solid wall of reassurance. ‘So, you really want to go away?’ she asked when her tears had abated once more.

  ‘I don’t know, lovey, but I have to try something. It’s not like you need me anymore.’

  ‘Don’t ever say that. Don’t ever even think it, because I’m always going to need you.’ She straightened up. ‘If you need to get away, I understand, but can’t we find a way for you to do it without selling up?’

  Mick gave a sad shake of his head. ‘My pension’s enough for me to live on, but I need some of the money from selling the shop to buy a place for myself, and I want you to have the other half to treat yourself. You’ve worked hard since the day you left school, and it isn’t right. I know it’s my fault you’ve been deprived of so many chances, and this is my way of putting that right.’

  She started to protest once more, but he held his hand up. ‘I won’t be moved on this, Libby, so don’t even try. You’ve trusted me this far to know what’s best for you; trust me just once more.’ He touched a broad, calloused finger to her cheek. ‘You’ve got a few months to get used to the idea. Let’s not waste them by arguing when you could be spending the time planning the trip of a lifetime. No more tears now, promise me?’

  With a nod and a watery smile, she let him go and when he glanced across just before driving away, she made sure to give him a wave to show him she was all right. It was a lie. She’d never been so far from all right in her life. All her plans and dreams lay scattered at her feet among the discarded stalks of lavender littering the yard. He didn’t understand, and she didn’t have the words right then to make him see. But he was right about one thing: she had a few months and she would spend them doing her damnedest to find a way out of this mess. If her dad wanted to sell the shop, then fine. He could sell it to her.

  Needing a few moments to calm down, Libby took herself off to the farmhouse to use the bathroom and wash her hands and face. A quick check in the mirror showed only a bit of redness around her nose, something she could blame on a sneezing fit caused by the dust or the overwhelming scent of lavender in the processing shed. With a pinch on the arm for courage, she jogged back to join the others. No need to tell anyone about what her dad was planning, not until she’d figured things out for herself. They all had enough on their plates and if she was going to do this, it would be under her own steam. To prove to not only her dad, but herself that she could.

  Chapter 15

  ‘This better be bloody worth it,’ Owen grunted to Sam as the two of them wrestled with opposite corners of an enormous rectangular fish tank.

  ‘It will, trust me. A couple of inches your way and it’ll be just right.’ Sam huffed his fringe from his eyes, seemingly unconcerned about the death stare Owen was levelling at him.

  ‘That’s what you said twenty bloody minutes ago. Whose idea was it to stick a bloody fish tank in the middle of a restaurant, anyway?’ Owen braced a shoulder against the tank as he shuffled backwards.

  ‘It’s an aquarium, not a fish tank—at least that’s what we’ve put on the website. And we wouldn’t be having to move it if some smart-arse hadn’t decided to change the specs for the seating.’

  Owen couldn’t decide if it was the utter calmness of Sam’s tone or the fact he was absolutely right that made him want to punch his business partner on the nose. The fact that Owen was the smart-arse in question didn’t help matters either. ‘Those booths I found are going to look fantastic,’ he grumbled.

  A supplier he’d worked with for years had got wind of their plans to create a high-spec restaurant in the unlikely venue of an old skittle alley beneath Sam’s parents’ pub in the tiny seaside town of Lavender Bay and made contact. His firm had recently designed some composite low-backed booths which could be customised in a variety of
materials and colours. The deal he’d offered in return for cross-promotional images and a booking on opening night for him and his wife had been too good to refuse.

  Unfortunately, the change meant some rejigging of the already agreed layout of the restaurant and the resultant shifting of the fish tank. And an increase in the budget, though Owen had decided to swallow that himself. ‘I should have checked everything on the CAD before I suggested the change.’ The specialist software allowed Owen and his design team to reproduce the layout for all their projects on the computer, so they could plan interiors to pinpoint accuracy.

  Sam shrugged one shoulder, dismissing the issue. ‘I’m not the one complaining, mate. I love the samples for the booths, and this is exactly why I needed someone with your experience on board. If you started messing around with the menus, that might be a different story.’

  As if he would. The restaurant had been Sam’s dream for a long time and he’d been well on the way to achieving it on his own terms before Owen had volunteered himself as a partner in the project. ‘I’ll leave the food and drink to you Mr Cordon Bleu.’

  Sam grinned. ‘I never get tired of hearing that.’

  Once upon a time, when he’d been young and stupid it was the kind of thing Owen might have taken the mick about. These days, he was a big believer in aiming high and shouting about every damn achievement along the way. ‘I don’t blame you, if it was me I’d have it tattooed on my arm.’

  Sam laughed, then straightened up with a groan. ‘I reckon the tank will be fine here, and if it’s not I don’t care anymore.’

  ‘Aquarium, not tank, remember?’ Owen couldn’t resist the little dig. ‘Right, what do we have to do with the damn thing now?’

  ‘Nothing, thank God. Mr Gould from the pet shop is a serious…’ Sam waved his hand in the air like he was searching for the correct term. ‘…Fishologist.’