While Monty and Kit started on the fried breakfast orders, Joy asked her sister for a few minutes alone and stepped out onto the harbour wall, just to breathe Clove Lore in one last time.
There were no boats moored by the sea wall today. ThePeter’s Bountywas out dropping its nets already. Seagulls, terns and oystercatchers turned over shells on what was exposed of the beach and scouted around the benches looking for food. The tide was still in, covering much of the sand and the long chains that crossed the bay.
Not one person was about. The holidaymakers, she supposed, were heading home, ready for the beginning of the school term, something she’d have to get her head around. September was a time for settling down to a long stretch of work before the homemaking of autumn and the cosiness of the dark nights really set in.
Radia was excited for school, of course. She’d have a lovely time with her grandparents and her aunt Patti, and there was Christmas to look forward to too. It was going to be good, Joy told herself.
Only, out on the sea wall, looking at the shimmer on top of the gentle waves, and the watery blue of the sky, London didn’t have the same appeal as it had a few days ago. She knew why too. The idea of not being within touching distance of Monty felt like an impossibility somehow, especially after last night when there’d been nothing whatsoever withheld between them, no secrets, no half-told stories, nothing sad or hurting at all – nothing but the thought of today and her departure, that is, and it had been perfect, the happiest Joy had felt in years.
She took one last look down towards the great lantern at the end of the harbour wall and drew in a deep breath, one that would have to last her for many weeks, months even, until she could get back here. This couldn’t be her last visit to Clove Lore, not when there was still so much to see here, so much to feel.
As she turned to leave, a woeful sound met her ears, carried on the breeze. A woman, crying, she thought.
There, at the end of the harbour wall, someone was looking out to sea, and Joy recognised her. She picked up her feet and ran to meet her.
‘Mrs Crocombe, what’s the matter?’ she cried, as she got closer.
‘Oh, Joyce, dear,’ Mrs C. replied, wiping her eyes on a tissue that she hurriedly concealed up her sleeve.
‘You’re crying. What’s wrong?’
‘I’ve been a fool,’ she said, weakly. ‘His boat’s gone. He’s gone.’ She turned to face the sea again and Joy’s brain caught up.
‘The Captain? He wasn’t at the wedding, was he?’
‘No, dear. He left without saying goodbye. Mr Bovis thinks he was after my recovery-fund money, and after a lot of thought, I think he might be right. After all, why on earth would a man like that want me for myself?’
‘You got played,’ Joy said, thinking hard.
‘Played?’
‘Taken in. Happens all the time.’
‘Not to me it doesn’t. Well, I’m glad he’s gone.’
‘Yeah?’
‘All that excitement, not knowing what I was imagining, what was real? Feeling old and silly one minute, then young and hopeful the next. It wasn’t as enjoyable as I thought. I’m too old for that kind of companionship.’
Looking back along the sea wall over Mrs C.’s shoulder, Joy had to disagree. ‘I’m not so sure about that. There’s still plenty people who won’t make you feel like that. Solid, dependable people.’
‘Hmm?’ Mrs Crocombe turned, following Joy’s eyeline to where, in the middle of the sea wall, in his skinny T-shirt and holding two mini tubs of mint choc chip, stood Bovis, his lips hidden away in a sorry smile.
‘Oh!’ exclaimed Mrs C.
‘Peace offering,’ he said, as he approached, holding up two pink plastic spoons. ‘An’ I thought you might like to know my ideas for a nice rhubarb and cinnamon winter gelato?’
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Joy said, squeezing Mrs C.’s shoulder gently, winking at Bovis as she went. ‘Look after her,’ she told him.
‘I’ll do my best,’ he promised, before taking the last few steps towards Letitia Crocombe who, despite having won a cool ten bob on Monty and Joy this summer, would never, not over the course of a million summer love matches, at least not until today, have thought about putting her name in her betting book alongside the glowing-cheeked, earnest Mr Bovis.
‘So that’s it then,’ Monty asked the top of Joy’s head as he bear-hugged her outside the Siren. ‘Breezed into town, cruelly made me fall for you, re-established Jowan’s business, and now you’re off.’
Joy laughed into his chest. ‘That’s the long and the short of it.’
Radia clung to Patti a few feet away, acting up and not wanting to leave at all now that it was happening, even with the prospect of Granny and Grandad waiting for them in London.
‘I… uh… I bought something for Radia,’ said Monty, unsure of himself suddenly. ‘I ordered it online after hearing her talk about it. Do you think I should give it to her? I don’t want to interfere.’
