The school bell rang to indicate it really was the start of the day and the classroom doors closed upon the emotional families. Joy wandered towards Monty, slowly, trying to remain as present as she could on this important day. She wanted to remember every detail, even though it hurt.
‘Patti has calls to make, what should we do?’ Joy asked Monty with a lopsided smile, pushing her glasses onto her nose, and the pair walked out along the main road above Clove Lore, which looked even prettier today in the September sun than it had all summer long, leaving the little primary school behind them for a few hours.
‘How about a spot of house hunting? Or you can help me set up my new grill stall? The gas tanks and the widget-things are arriving today.’ He put his arm around her shoulder as they walked.
Patti took a loud call some way behind them on the footpath.
Joy wiped at her eyes once more and sniffed. ‘Widget-things, you say?’
‘That’s what we say in the biz,’ Monty tugged at her arm, good humouredly.
‘In the fisherman and seafood grill business?’
‘Yep,’ he told her proudly. He’d come to an arrangement with Bella and Finan: they’d let him have the prime grilling spot outside the Siren by the picnic tables and he’d help his brother bring in the catch of a morning, and in the afternoons and evenings, he’d cook whatever had been drawn from the sea in their nets for the tourists and locals alike. He could even store his catch in the pub’s fridges. And Kit had received the fastest promotion in chefing, becoming the head of the Siren’s kitchens within days of their arrival.
‘You didn’t have to come straight off the boat,’ Joy told him. ‘You must be tired.’
‘What? And miss Rad’s first day at school? No way. Besides, I knew you’d need the hug.’
‘I do,’ Joy said, ‘oh, I really do,’ and she pulled him closer to her side as they walked through the very first of the falling leaves.
‘I guess I should get on the phone too,’ she told him. ‘Get some contracts settled for the winter, local stuff, or remote connections, things I can do from a home office. Gaz’ll have some ideas too.’
‘No regrets?’ he asked.
‘No regrets,’ she told him.
It had taken her a second or two to decide that day on the sea wall, when faced with the option of starting over again in London with her parents close by and Monty nowhere near, or beginning afresh in Clove Lore, the place that had stolen her and Radia’s hearts.
She’d made the right decision, she knew. Even though Pamela Foley had taken a bit of convincing that this was really what she wanted. She’d told her daughter she’d support her no matter what and they’d spoken on the phone every day since. There were plans already being made for a half-term holiday in Clove Lore, and Christmas too, and even her dad had said he couldn’t wait to come back to the seaside to visit them.
Patti had offered to stick around for a week or so to help them settle into their rooms at the Siren, though it was becoming increasingly obvious to everyone except Patti that she was showing very little sign of wanting to get back to the event-planning rat race in London.
‘It’s going to be a lot of adjusting,’ Monty said, gently, as they took the turning off the main road down towards the visitor centre car park that led to Down-along.
‘It is, I know,’ said Joy, but she was smiling nonetheless, her eyes fixed on the sloping seaside village where her future lay.
Only yesterday, the latest Borrowers had taken possession of Borrow-A-Bookshop, finding on their arrival a display of children’s books on the table by the door, to be kept in place throughout their stay, as was Jowan’s tradition. And beside copies ofOi Frog!,Mog the Forgetful Cat,Topsy and Tim,The Tiger Who Came to Tea,The Brilliant World ofTom Gates, and rather a lot of books about pirates because Radia couldn’t narrow them down at all, as well as, of course, a well-thumbed copy ofThe Borrowers, was a note making sure the new people understood that there was to be a children’s story timeevery Friday afternoon. The note had been signed off with these words: ‘I will let all my school friends know to come along. Please remember the strawberry squash and scones, Love Radia Foley, from the Siren’s Tail.’
Monty and Joy decided not to call in at the bookshop as they made their way Down-along.
‘Let them settle in, poor things. It’s a shock to the system, getting your very own bookshop to play in,’ said Joy.
‘Good idea,’ Monty told her, ‘and they won’t want locals interfering too much.’
‘Definitely not.’ Joy faked a shudder. ‘Shall we go and check on Mrs Crocombe?’ she said as they drew level with the Ice Cream Cottage.
Monty peered in through the glass where the old matchmaker could be seen perched on a stool behind the counter, watching Mr Bovis present her with a tall pumpkin-spice latte from the machine, topped with expertly swirled whipped cream.
‘He’s getting better at those,’ Monty said.
‘Just in time for autumn,’ Joy added, as Mrs C. spotted them through the glass and lifted her hand in a friendly wave.
She was still pale and tired-looking, Joy noted, but that was to be expected after the last few days. It went without saying that Mrs Crocombe would need time to get over the Lucky Boy she’d thought she’d been falling for.
Through the glass, Bovis was sprinkling a dusting of cinnamon over his latest creation and coming to join his friend on a stool by her side.
Monty and Joy watched the pair lift their cups to one another and take smiling sips, and Joy recognised the warm spark of companionship and kindness she was sure would be the cure for Mrs C.’s broken heart.
