‘You didn’t go on at me,’ Pepper insisted. ‘And I appreciated your advice – you were right. I perhaps should have waited for a time when the two of us hadn’t been drinking, though.’
By rights, Pepper knew she should be feeling the effects of the alcohol she had consumed, but the altercation with her mother had sobered her up. All she felt now was numb.
‘Don’t beat yourself up about it,’ he told her. ‘You know as well as I do that it doesn’t count as a proper wedding until something kicks off. Force any family to spend time together and there will always be a ruckus of some kind or another – especially if you add booze to the mix.’
‘I should have waited until we were back home,’ Pepper groaned. Now that her surge of courage had subsided, she felt ashamed. ‘My choosing right now to have it out with my mum is not very fair on her, or on Keira – or my dad,’ she added, with less conviction.
‘It’s done now,’ Samuel said simply. ‘What your mum needs now is time, and the best thing you can do is give her some space. I know your instinct is to look after her,’ he went on, as Pepper made as if to move, ‘but sometimes you have to put yourself first. This is one of those times.’
Samuel pushed the ballroom doors open with his foot, but Pepper backed away.
‘I think I’ll just go to my room.’
‘What, and miss the chance to dance to “Agadoo” with me?’
Pepper folded her arms across her shocking-pink bodice.
‘ “Agadoo”?’
‘Hell yeah!’ he said. ‘I want to push pineapple, shake a tree and sing with a Goddamn hula melody.’
‘Oh my God, you know the lyrics?’
‘And all the moves! Come on, you can’t deny a man his “Agadoo” moment.’
The disco was just beginning as Pepper followed him across the room, and she swerved to the side as a little boy slid past her on his knees. The DJ had opted to start the night with a movie soundtrack mega mix, and there were currently at least thirty arms windmilling around to ‘Greased Lightning’.
They found Keira smiling up at her new husband, and as soon as she turned and saw Pepper, she hurried over and pulled her into a hug.
‘What was that one for?’ Pepper asked, taken aback yet again by the unexpected show of affection.
Keira smiled. ‘This time, you looked as if you needed it.’
‘Well, thank you.’ Pepper smiled, then laughingly filled Keira in on Samuel’s ‘Agadoo’ plans.
‘I had better go and make sure they play it, in that case,’ she said.
‘So, the newest member of my family is an angel,’ Pepper stated, watching her glide away in her poufy dress.
‘I’m very glad you think so.’
It was her dad, red-faced and wonky-bow-tied.
‘Is everything OK?’ he asked hesitantly. ‘With Trin–– Your mum?’
Pepper caught the lie just before she let it out.
‘Honestly?’ she said. ‘No, not really. I know you meant well with that speech, Dad, but it really upset her. I’m trying,’ she began, glancing up at Samuel, who smiled encouragingly. ‘I’m trying to mend things between us, but it’s not easy. Everything with Bethan, it just . . .’ She fell silent and stared hard at the wooden floor.
‘I know.’ He put a hand in the crook of her elbow, stroking her arm with his thumb. ‘I blame myself. Neither of us handled your sister’s death in the way we should have. God! It’s taken me the best part of twenty years to be able to say that out loud,’ he added, letting out a huge breath. ‘I never wanted to deal with the grief, but Keira made me realise that I had to.’
‘She’s a wise lady.’ Pepper smiled, raising her eyes. ‘You did good.’
‘Yes.’ He nodded, looking around. ‘Yes.’
‘Martin, they’re about to play our song!’
Keira was swishing her way back through the throng of dancers, both her arms outstretched towards him.
‘Go,’ Pepper urged, as he dropped his hand.
‘OK,’ he agreed. ‘But we’ll talk more when I’m back from the honeymoon, yes?’
She watched him go, her heart lifting as he wrapped his arms around his new wife’s waist. He had managed to find love again, despite all the odds; forgiven but never forgotten.
The opening bars of ‘Fix You’ by Coldplay had begun, and a crowd of guests were forming a circle around Keira and her dad.
‘What about my “Agadoo”?’ Samuel pouted.
‘I think we can safely say the universe has spoken,’ Pepper told him gravely. ‘And decided that on this occasion, it is very much Aga-don’t.’
‘Boom!’
‘I hope you’re having fun?’ she added. ‘I know it’s nigh-on impossible to say no to the combined persuasive power of Josephine and my mum, but if you’d wanted to bail out on this weekend, I wouldn’t have judged you.’
‘Are you kidding?’ Samuel said easily. ‘Beautiful place, free bar, great company . . .’
‘Now I know you’re taking the mickey. Great? Us? With all the drama?’
‘I know,’ he gave her a sidelong look. ‘Hanging out with you is even better than watching a season finale of Grey’s Anatomy.’
‘You’re a Grey’s fan?’ Pepper looked at him with new respect.
‘I like shouting at the TV when they get things wrong,’ he told her. ‘I’m all like, “Mate, don’t cut that, she’ll bleed to bloody death!” ’
‘It’s more about the love stories than the medicine really, though,’ she said slyly. ‘And I seem to remember you mocking me once for daring to believe in all that mushy love stuff?’
‘Even I’m not immune to the charms of McDreamy,’ he joked. ‘I mean, I am only human.’
‘I’m surprised you didn’t give yourself that nickname during your own doctoring days,’ she threw back.
‘I should have,’ he agreed. ‘Might have helped me have better luck with the ladies.’
‘So, you haven’t been on any more dates recently, then?’
‘Nah.’ Samuel turned to face her.
‘There are plenty of women here that would happily scoop you up,’ she said quickly. ‘You should get out and, you know, get your flirt on. Hanging out with me is seriously cramping your style.’
‘Not true,’ he countered. ‘You’re the groom’s daughter – that makes you the third most important guest. I’m punching if anything.’
Coldplay was drawing to an end now, everyone singing along and swaying together from side to side. It was a great choice for a first song – Keira really had fixed her father.
‘Do you think it will ever get easier for me and my mum?’ she asked Samuel, her head on one side as she continued to watch the dancing.
‘I think you both want it to,’ he allowed. ‘Which means you’re probably halfway there.’
‘Some days, it feels possible,’ she told him. ‘But then on others, I can’t even imagine it. I worry that our roles in the story are too deeply ingrained now to change.’
‘So, leave that story behind,’ he said. ‘And start a new one.’
Chapter 47
Pepper half expected her mother to slam the door in her face when she went to knock for her just after breakfast the following morning, but she didn’t look remotely angry. What she did look was tired. Her usually impeccable appearance had been marred by dark circles under her eyes, hair that was scraped back and unwashed, and nails bitten down to the quick.
‘Am I late?’ she asked vaguely. ‘Do we need to check out?’
‘Nope.’ Pepper strode into the room, taking in the empty bottle of white wine lying sideways on the carpet, the remains of a room service scrambled eggs congealing on a tray. ‘Our flight isn’t until five, and I’ve arranged with the hotel to store our luggage until later. We can drop off the keys and our bags on our way out.’
‘Our way out where?’
‘Samuel and I thought we could walk along the coastal path,’ she said evenly. ‘There’s a place I want to see that I think you’l
l really like.’
‘So, it will be just us?’ she clarified. ‘Not Martin?’
‘Just us.’
‘Fine.’ Trinity pulled the sleeves of her hotel robe down over her wrists. ‘Give me ten minutes or so to get dressed, I’ll meet you both in the lobby.’
In the end, it was closer to half an hour before her mother emerged, but Pepper didn’t mind. The sun was out, they were on a beautiful island, and she’d ended up having a really fun time last night – there were plenty of reasons to be happy today.
Her mother still looked rather frayed around the edges, but she had managed to spirit a picnic lunch from somewhere, which a grateful Samuel stowed in his bag.
The three of them set off, weaving their way down towards the water without saying much.
It was not an uncomfortable silence, however, more of a measured calm, and when Pepper stole a glance across at her mother, she looked utterly lost in thought. That was to be expected, though. Yesterday had been a big day – and not just for Keira and her father.
They meandered through narrow streets past tall, square buildings, shops, pubs and a grand, mottled church. Hanging baskets overflowed with flowers, colourful strips of bunting fluttered along the High Street, and pigeons peered inquisitively from window ledges and the tops of walls.
There were far more boats in the harbour here than there had been in Barcelona, and the yellow marble of the sun above the hundreds of masts resembled a vast game of KerPlunk. Pepper was enchanted by the quaint beauty of the place, by the bright yellow phone boxes and deep blue post boxes, and by the smiles on the faces of the locals.
‘According to the leaflet I discovered on the hotel reception desk, if we follow this path here,’ Pepper said, pointing off to the right, ‘it will take us around the coast. Then we need to head inland at a place called Petit Bot Bay.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ approved Samuel. He was in shorts and a bright yellow polo shirt today and kept stopping every few yards to brush midges off his front.
It wasn’t long before the paving slabs gave way to a gritty shingle, and the crunch of their shoes as they walked across it added a steady percussion to the swish and fold of the sea.
‘You OK back there, Mum?’
Her mother raised her eyes. They still looked a little bloodshot, Pepper noted. Perhaps she should have left her mother to rest. When she and Samuel had concocted their plan in the early hours of the morning, it had felt important to Pepper that she follow through with it. The place she wanted to show her mother only existed on Guernsey.
‘I may have drunk a bit too much wine,’ her mother allowed, pausing as they came to a fork in the path. They could continue along the edge of the coast or take a detour through a wooded area. Pepper and her mother agreed they were happy either way.
‘Come on.’ Samuel headed towards the treeline. ‘If there was ever a place for spotting pixies . . .’
Pepper could smell the earthy tang of wild garlic and hear the gentle chatter of birds. The trees were tall and slim like Samuel, each one leaning inland as though buffeted by wind.
There was a fallen log just off the path, and Pepper bent to touch it. She never had been able to resist running her fingers over the springy fur of moss.
‘This is a bluebell wood,’ her mother said. She had moved off ahead and was examining a sign. ‘What a shame it’s too late in the year for them.’
‘If you like bluebells, I’ll happily paint you some,’ Pepper found herself saying, thinking wistfully of the lilac tile she had so painstakingly created all those weeks ago only to smash it. Despite not having done any new work since the fire, she had been trying hard to keep hold of the inner confidence that had bloomed inside her when she was painting her city scenes. Far from being anxious about the prospect of giving her mum something she had made herself, Pepper found that she loved the idea.
They walked on, Pepper doing her best to commit as much of the scenery as she could to memory. She appreciated how much things had been left to grow wild here, and how the signs they passed were inscribed stones rather than ugly structures made from metal or plastic. Not that they needed much help with direction – it was impossible to get lost when the sea was calling out to them, its gentle roar preventing them from straying too far.
When they emerged back out into the sunshine, it was to a steep hilly path that wound up and across the cliffs, the trodden line of the path nipping and twisting like a dropped ribbon through the grass. Samuel was halfway up the first slope when he stopped abruptly and beckoned for her and her mother to catch up.
‘Look,’ he breathed, smiling as a mother duck waddled into view with her two downy ducklings following carefully behind.
‘Makes up for missing bluebells,’ Pepper said, stepping cautiously out of the way so the birds could pass. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a duck so far from water before – unless they go in the sea? Do they, Mum?’
Her mother didn’t answer, so Pepper turned, shocked to see her face wet with tears.
‘Sorry,’ she stuttered, as Pepper fished in her bag for a tissue and, finding none, pulled out the spare pair of socks she’d chucked in there just in case. She expected her mother to at least smile when she saw them, but she didn’t even seem to notice.
‘This is why I never drink white wine,’ she said, dabbing her eyes. ‘Turns me into an emotional wreck.’
‘I think white wine does that to all of us,’ Samuel said comfortingly.
Pepper knew she should put an arm around her mother, or touch a hand to her shoulder – something, anything, even the smallest form of contact – but she didn’t want to risk upsetting her more, as she had last night. She understood now that when it came to her mother, small steps forward were the only option.
‘I don’t think it’s too much further to the beach now,’ she said, as they crested the clifftop and peered down at waves that were slamming up against the rocks. Pepper was reminded anew that they were on a small island – a floating collection of stones and minerals, plants and trees, houses and people. A tiny dot on the landscape of an entire world.
She glanced across at Samuel. He was so different from Finn but had somehow become an equally vital cog in her life. The closed bud of their friendship had blossomed this summer into something she truly cherished. She had never thought to introduce Finn to her mother – had been too wrapped up in her own time with him to invite any complication the single occasion he had flown over to see her – but Samuel now not only knew her mum, he also understood how tricky things were between them and tried his best to help.
‘This must be it,’ she said, as a spoon-shaped cove of caster sugar sand came into view below them. Rough stone steps led away down the hillside, and Samuel used his foot to push aside the sticky tendrils of goose grass that were growing across them. The landscape in Guernsey was charmingly unkempt – a scruffy-haired poet as opposed to a slick film star – and Pepper liked it all the more because of it. It was impossible to know what her mother thought – she had fallen silent in the aftermath of her tears and did not answer when first Pepper, and then Samuel, pointed out the heather, or the sprigs of white straggly flowers, or the grand-looking houses perched high above them.
It felt good to step off the trail and onto the damp sand of Petit Bot Bay beach. Waves scurried importantly up to greet them, bowing in a wet salute before returning back out to sea. Large, flat stones littered the shoreline, their speckled surfaces reminding Pepper of the boiled egg she’d had for breakfast and making her stomach rumble.
‘Anyone hungry?’
Her mother was squinting out at the horizon, her eyes searching for what, it was impossible to tell.
‘Pardon?’ she murmured. ‘Oh, I . . . No, not at the moment. But you two go ahead.’
Pepper looked at Samuel, who lifted his shoulders.
‘It’s OK.’ Pepper touched her mother’s arm. ‘We can wait.’
‘Do you mind if I sit here for a while?’ asked her mother, her gaze fix
ed on the water.
‘Sure.’ Samuel had begun to move away, and Pepper went to follow, to give her mother some space, then she hesitated.
‘Mum?’
Her mother opened her eyes a fraction wider.
‘I’ll be just over here, if you need me.’
She had been saying the same phrase ever since she was a teenager but wondered now how sincere she had been. For years, Pepper had prodded at her mum’s grief, looking for chinks into which she might slide a little comfort, but the less success she had, the more it became an exercise in simply going through the motions. Today, however, the words sounded different, and Pepper did not have to search long to work out the reason why.
It was because for the first time ever, she finally felt able to help.
Chapter 48
Pepper could still remember the first mosaic she had ever made.
Her mother had collected her from school, her bright red coat straining over the swell of her baby sister Bethan, and taken her down to the beach.
‘Pick up as many pretty shells and pebbles as you can find,’ she had told Pepper, pushing a little bucket into her hands. ‘Mummy will wait here for you.’
Pepper had done as instructed, picking her way along the shoreline where the stones were their shiniest. Every few paces, she had turned, looking back over her shoulder to make sure her mother was still there, that she could still make out the scarlet blur of her in the distance.
When her bucket was full, they had taken it home where her mother had washed all the pieces, laying them out on a tea towel to dry while she mixed up a bowl of plaster. This she spread inside the cardboard lid of a shoebox – ‘right to the edges, see?’ – explaining to Pepper how she could create a picture from half-burying all her treasures in its grainy surface. Seeing her picture come to life had felt magical, and it was a sensation she had carried with her always – that feeling of rightness, and of coming alive. It had ignited the artist in her, and that flame had not gone out. Not even in the darkest of times.
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