‘Steady on.’ Melody moved the laptop safely out of Hugo’s reach. ‘You’ll be giving me a seriously inflated ego. Almost a match for yours.’
Hugo gave a slow, sad shake of his head. ‘Nah. You’ll never reach the levels I’ve cultivated over the years.’
‘Good point. What was I thinking?’ Melody sat down at the table. Her ankle was starting to throb again but it was too soon for more painkillers. She thought she’d hidden her discomfort well until Hugo placed a hand on her arm, his brows pulled down.
‘Are you okay?’
She nodded. ‘Just a bit sore.’
‘How long are you going to be out of action?’
‘A few days.’ Melody shrugged. ‘Maybe more. Who knows?’
‘Well, there’s one good thing to come out of this,’ Hugo said. ‘At least we get to hang out for a bit longer.’
‘Yes, but what’s the good thing?’ Melody teased and Hugo laughed.
‘Ouch. My ego won’t stand for that.’
‘Speaking of standing,’ Melody said. ‘Do you think you could pop the kettle on? I would, but…’ She lifted her foot and adopted a ‘poor me’ face.
Hugo filled the kettle, following Melody’s instructions to locate cups, teabags and coffee. They divided the sandwiches and pie from the fridge, which they ate at the table while Hugo entertained her with funny tales from the ice-cream business.
‘Are you any closer to making a decision about taking on the premises in the park?’ Melody asked and Hugo shook his head.
‘James is still dragging his feet. Understandably, given what a huge gamble it’d be, but I’m itching to get going with it. I really do think we could make a success of it.’
Melody pinched off a piece of pie crust and popped it into her mouth. It was delicious; buttery yet light. ‘What would you do with Maisy once you’re up and running?’
‘Keep her going,’ Hugo said. ‘We’d have the best of both worlds then: the parlour in the park and the van out on the seafront. We could still use her for events too. We don’t necessarily have to give her up.’
‘You’d be doubling your workload,’ Melody pointed out.
‘And hopefully doubling our income.’ Hugo shrugged. ‘It’ll be hard work, but I love a challenge. That’s why I’ve befriended you.’
‘And who said we’re friends?’ Melody said. ‘I’m merely tolerating you.’
Hugo sighed. ‘Story of my life.’ Melody almost felt sorry for him until his face cracked, displaying a huge, toothy grin.
‘Are you ever serious?’
‘Not if I can help it. Life’s too short to be serious.’
Melody nodded. ‘You’re right about that.’
‘You should have fun at every single opportunity.’ Hugo raised his eyebrows. ‘So, are you ready?’
Melody wiped the crumbs from her fingers on a sheet of kitchen roll. ‘For what?’
Hugo stood, holding a hand out towards her. ‘To have some fun. It’s too nice a day to be stuck inside.’
‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed.’ She stuck her foot out again. ‘But I’m not fit for outdoorsy stuff.’
‘You won’t have to walk,’ Hugo said, hand still reaching out. ‘Trust me.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Willow
She’d left the house early, her feet placed carefully on each step as she moved slowly down the stairs, the door easing shut behind her to create as little noise as possible. She’d waived breakfast, choosing instead to remove herself quickly before the others woke. The grumpy-looking cat was sitting on the wall outside the house, watching as she scurried along the garden path. It meowed – once, quietly – but she didn’t stop to stroke him, or even offer a hello.
The sun was still weak as she climbed into her van, eyes shooting back towards the bed and breakfast to make sure she hadn’t been spotted. She appreciated Mae and Melody’s empathy the previous evening, appreciated more than anything that they hadn’t uttered the flippant ‘well, there’s always adoption’ she’d come to expect whenever she confided her worries to people, but she couldn’t help feeling ashamed. She’d revealed far too much, far too soon, and her stomach roiled whenever she pictured herself bursting into tears in Mae’s living room. She couldn’t imagine Mae mopped up the tears of many of her guests, and she felt foolish for giving in to her emotions so publicly.
Coupled with the shame was the guilt Willow often felt. She had a good life, a life better than most. She had a job she loved (though that was now in jeopardy too), a husband she adored, and the beginnings of a beautiful home. She knew she was privileged to have these things, so was she greedy for wanting more? There were people out there with nothing and yet she was crying over the one thing she couldn’t have.
She drove to the shop, slipping inside before locking the door behind her and heading straight to the workroom. It was too early to open the shop but she was determined to complete the dresser today, to concentrate on the finishing touches so she wouldn’t have the headspace to think about how she was going to face Mae and Melody later, or how she would cope with losing the shop, or the ever-present fear that she would never give Ethan the child they both so desperately wanted.
Her phone rang shortly before eight o’clock and while she normally pounced on the phone when she saw her husband’s name on the screen, she was reluctant that morning because she knew Ethan would be able to detect her distress. He’d know it had nothing at all to do with the house or the shop, would know Willow had failed yet again.
Her period had turned up the previous evening, shortly before Mae opened the first bottle of wine, shortly before Willow burst into tears and poured out her worst fears. Though uninvited and certainly unwelcome, the arrival of her period was not surprising since it was bang on time, as it always was. Still, the sight had been shocking. Devastating. Though she tried so very hard not to, Willow had still clung to the hope that this time it would happen. This month, finally, she wouldn’t be greeted by the regular visitor, wouldn’t feel those warning cramps shortly before that ate away at her dreams, slowly and determinedly, until a trip to the loo confirmed all hope had vanished, for that month at least.
Willow had become an expert at hiding her desires outwardly: she no longer turned to mush as she passed tiny baby clothes in the shops (in fact, she marched straight ahead as though she hadn’t noticed them at all), she no longer stared at pregnant women, the world around her disappearing as her eyes bore into their bumps, and she’d stopped stockpiling pregnancy tests, just to double-check her body wasn’t deceiving her.
But inside she was in constant turmoil. She did notice those tiny baby clothes, even if she fixed her gaze straight ahead, and those baby bumps were like a knife slicing through her abdomen. She’d unsubscribed from all the baby-related newsletters she’d signed up for as it was too upsetting every time one dropped into her inbox and she still wasn’t pregnant, but then she’d subscribe again pretty much straight away as she didn’t want to miss out on any information in case she did manage to get that positive result. And she signed up for and then deleted her account on pregnancy and baby forums in a rotation even more regular than her menstrual cycle.
Her real-life friendships had suffered too. She’d started to distance herself from the friends with babies and children when it first became clear she and Ethan were going to struggle to have a family of their own, spending her time with childless couples and, even better, her single friends. But even they started to procreate, dropping off one by one, so even those without long-term partners announced the imminent arrival of their offspring. Outwardly, Willow had been thrilled at the news. Inwardly, she was plotting her escape so she could grieve for the babies she would never have.
She still kept in contact with her old friends, but it wasn’t the same. Willow kept herself at a safe distance as she couldn’t bear to see the constant reminders of what she couldn’t have, and she always had an excuse at the ready to miss all but the mos
t important occasions to get together. And even now, when she and Ethan were in dire need of emergency accommodation, she couldn’t bear to ask for a sofa to sleep on, as being in the middle of her friends’ family life would have sent her over the edge. The constant why them and not us would have been toxic for the friendship, however flimsy it now was.
Willow had devised these coping mechanisms, but she knew Ethan could see right through them. He’d know, just by speaking to her, and she’d have to relive it all again: her period signalling another failed month, crying in front of Mae and Melody, her general feeling of being a failure. Of being a useless wife and human being.
‘You are not a failure,’ Ethan told her, as she knew he would. She also knew before she heard the words that she wouldn’t believe him. He didn’t mention the shop during their conversation, knowing Willow could only cope with one loss at a time. But it was still there, murmuring in the background, and she knew she’d have to face up to the possibility of giving up on another dream soon.
She returned to the dresser once she’d hung up, determined to forge ahead with the project and not think about the other things clashing around in her head, and was tightening the screws on the new cupboard door handles when Gary arrived. It was the final job for the dresser so it was almost ready to meet its new owner. It was her favourite part of her job, presenting a new piece to a client, watching their reaction and hoping they would be as in love with the item as she was. She’d miss making people’s faces light up more than anything if she lost her shop.
‘You look rough.’ Concern was etched on Willow’s face as she placed the screwdriver on the floor and stood up. ‘Are you okay? Do you still have that bug?’ She crossed the workroom and placed a hand on Gary’s forehead. It wasn’t particularly warm, but he had a greyish tinge to his face, his eyes ringed and watery.
‘Not sure,’ Gary mumbled. He swayed slightly and Willow reached out to steady him.
‘You should go home and get back in bed.’
Gary shook his head. ‘Nah, I’ll be all right in a bit.’ As the words left his mouth, he screwed up his face, his hand moving up to his mouth. He hesitated for just a split second before he bolted towards the loo. Willow headed for the kitchen, filling a glass with water and waiting outside for Gary to emerge. When he did, he looked even worse than before.
‘You’re going home,’ Willow said as she handed the glass over. ‘I’ll drop you off.’
‘But the shop…’ Gary’s voice was weak, his free hand clutching at his stomach.
‘The shop will be fine. You, on the other hand, are not.’ She grabbed the keys and jiggled them. ‘Come on. You need to rest.’
Willow made sure all the van’s windows were wound down before she set off. Gary didn’t live too far away, but the last thing she wanted was a vomit van. Her own stomach was feeling a little delicate after last night’s wine. It had been quite a while since she’d given up the booze in a bid to lead a healthier lifestyle and her body was unused to it. Cleaning up vom would push her over the edge, she was sure.
‘Will there be someone in to look after you?’ she asked as they pulled up outside Gary’s house. She knew Gary lived with his mum and an older brother.
‘Mum and Kev will be at work, but I’ll be all right. I’ll just get my head down for a bit.’ Gary unbuckled his seatbelt and pulled on the door handle. ‘Sorry about this. I’ve let you down.’
Willow tutted. ‘Don’t be daft. You haven’t let anybody down. You can’t help being ill. Go and get some rest and I’ll see you when you’re better, okay?’
Gary nodded and clambered out onto the pavement. He closed the door before lifting a hand in a farewell gesture and sloping off towards his front door. Willow waited until he was safely inside before she set off back to the shop.
With the dresser practically finished and no Gary to distract her, she had a long day ahead of her.
She kept herself busy with a smaller project she could carry out in the shop rather than out in the workroom, creating heart-shaped keyrings out of fabric scraps and embroidering simple messages onto them. She’d made similar ones in the run-up to Mother’s Day, selling a good number both in the shop and online. This time, instead of limiting herself to ‘Mum’, she branched out with a wider range of messages. Hand-stitching required concentration, so her mind wasn’t free to wander towards Mae, Melody and the baby-that-might-never-be.
She was engrossed in stitching intricate letters to form ‘Love You’ on the latest keyring when the shop’s door opened and the pregnant woman from the day before huffed her way inside. Inwardly, Willow groaned. She’d forgotten all about the appointment they’d arranged, hadn’t even looked in her diary, and she wasn’t looking forward to discussing the furniture for this fortunate woman’s unborn child. Outwardly, however, Willow rose from her stool, smile fixed in place as she greeted the woman, offering tea, coffee and a seat at the counter.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,’ Willow said as she placed cups of coffee down on the counter.
‘It’s Yasmina.’
‘What a beautiful name,’ Willow said as she hopped onto a stool beside her new client. She’d become a bit obsessed with names since she and Ethan had started trying for a baby, storing away her favourites in case she ever got chance to use them.
‘Thank you.’ Yasmina beamed, a dimple appearing in her left cheek. ‘It was my mum’s choice. Dad wanted to name me after his grandmother, but Mum put her foot down. She said there was no way a child of hers was being named Agnes, though those old-fashioned names are coming back, aren’t they? I quite like Ida for a girl, but my husband isn’t keen.’
Does she realise how lucky she is? Willow wondered as she pulled a notepad and pen towards her.
‘Are you having a girl?’ she asked, pen poised.
‘We don’t know.’ Yasmina placed a hand on her bump. ‘We wanted a surprise. Bump is just called Poppet at the moment.’
Willow nodded, smile pushed into place. ‘So, will you be going for something quite neutral, colour-wise?’
Yasmina nodded and pulled her phone out of her pocket. ‘The room’s already painted. I thought it might help if I showed it to you.’ She showed Willow a series of photos of a reasonable-sized room painted a soft grey. One wall, made up of large square panels, was painted in a pale slate-grey, creating a feature and focal point.
‘I want to put the cot against the darker wall,’ Yasmina said, swiping across the collection of photos to show the pieces of furniture again. ‘With the wardrobe and drawers on the opposite wall and the rocking chair in front of the window.’
Willow tapped her pen against her chin as ideas mulled around her head. ‘I could paint the cot a soft grey to match the three walls. It’ll look striking against the darker grey, and of course I’ll use baby-safe paint. The other pieces could be painted in the darker shade, with some vintage papers on the drawer fronts to lift the piece and make it more stylish and unique. I have some soft grey paper in at the moment, with a white floral design I think would suit the room perfectly. I can show you if you’d like?’
‘That’d be great, thanks.’ Yasmina took a sip of her coffee while Willow slipped off her stool. She made her way into the workroom, taking a moment to take a few deep breaths before she hunted out the paper she had in mind. She sometimes didn’t know how she held it together so seamlessly and it was only now she was on her own that she could allow the mask to slip.
‘Here we are.’ She returned to the shop with the papers, along with a bundle of fabric. ‘I also found this, which I could use to reupholster the rocking chair.’
Yasmina ran a hand over the fabric. ‘I love it!’ It was a cream fabric with a pattern of little grey elephants. ‘It’s so much better than the moth-eaten fabric on there at the moment.’
Willow perched on her stool and started making notes. She managed to get through the remainder of the consultation, arranging a convenient time to pick up the furniture, a
timescale, and the cost.
‘Thank you so much,’ Yasmina said as Willow showed her to the door once all the details had been covered. ‘I was a bit dubious when I saw the furniture, but I can’t wait until they’re in there now.’
‘I’m looking forward to working on them,’ Willow said, which was true. Yes, she wished she could work on a nursery in her own home, but she loved bringing furniture to life again, and this was a big project she could really sink her teeth into.
She closed the door behind Yasmina and gathered the cups to wash in the little kitchen. It was a good project. Fun. And she’d be bringing an expectant mum so much joy.
Her shoulders started to shake as she washed the cups and she was suddenly grateful Gary wasn’t in the shop as a fat tear plopped into the sink. She allowed herself to have a little weep, then she dried her eyes and returned to the shop and the little fabric keyrings.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Melody
Hugo had carried her from the bed and breakfast to his car, like the reverse of a new bride being carried over the threshold. Melody hadn’t been convinced the trip was a good idea; Hugo could hardly carry her around all day, and she wasn’t sure she’d want him to. She felt vulnerable in his arms, which wasn’t a comfortable feeling in the slightest. But she had to admit the few minutes of discomfort were worth it as the car pulled up on a sandy track beside a handful of ramshackle buildings. There was a thin strip between the buildings, revealing a tiny glimpse of sea, shimmering in the bright sunshine. It was breathtaking, even from the limited view on offer.
Melody allowed Hugo to guide her out of the car and didn’t so much as murmur her disapproval as he lifted her into his arms again. She was too busy gazing ahead, down the sloping sandy track to a tiny strip of fine sand, which in turn met the gentle lapping of the sea. The sound was spectacular, the pull and push of the water the only noise she could hear. There was no raucous pier doing its best to drown out the sounds of nature, no families creating a combined cacophony, no seagulls crying out as they searched for scraps of food. There were no other people around, no animals or birds from what she could make out, just Melody, Hugo, and the beautiful scene set out before them.
The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea Page 20