‘You could always have written me a note,’ Tasha quipped.
Jules smiled.
‘I could have done, but then you’d have thought I was really weird.’
‘I wouldn’t now though.’
‘I’ll remember that when I don’t feel up to talking.’
‘That’s what I like about throwing a pot. You don’t have to talk. You just concentrate on breathing and the rhythm of the wheel and the feel of the clay. It’s magical. You should try it, you know.’
She placed the washed glasses on the draining board and ushered Jules out of the door.
‘Thanks for the chat,’ she said.
‘Thanks for the drink and the tissues,’ Jules said, still clutching a clump in her hand.
‘We criers need Kleenex,’ Tasha said with a smile. ‘See you around, Jules.’
‘Maybe – or if you don’t see me, you might hear me blubbing.’
‘Gotta get those tears out,’ Tasha joked, leaning forward to give Jules a quick, shy hug and then almost running away, but turning to wave at the corner of the old cowshed before disappearing out of sight.
Jules kicked at a loose stone and strolled back up the driveway towards Hideaway Cottage, remembering how difficult it was to be fourteen. Peoples’ lives were so complicated. Youcould never really know what was going on even if you knew that person well, let alone if you’d only just met them.
‘What’s this?’ Carrie asked, plucking something from the back pocket of Jules’s jeans. ‘Are you thinking about doing a course at The Pottery?’
‘What? No! Certainly not!’
Jules stared at the leaflet Carrie was studying intently.
‘I’ve got no idea how that got in there. I’m sure I left it in the front of the Land Rover.’
‘Didn’t you pick it up then?’
‘He gave it to me. The chap who runs the place.’
‘Lance. He’s a sweetie, isn’t he?’
‘A bit pushy.’
‘He worked really hard to get the business back on an even keel after his wife died. He had to close it for a few months and then Covid struck and now people are being really careful how they spend their money. He’s not exactly had an easy time.’
Jules took her tea out into the garden and sat on the bench at the back of the house. She gazed across the lawn towards the sea, a silver ribbon in the distance. Sunshine, tea, friendship. It was amazing how such things could make life seem a tiny bit more bearable.
‘The pottery seemed to be doing well enough today,’ she said as Carrie sat beside her. ‘Must have been twenty kids on that course.’
‘That’s good. How was Tasha?’
‘She warmed up.’
‘She can be introverted. It’s good that she’s got Erin. She makes sure Tasha doesn’t wallow too much.’
‘Is there just the one child?’
‘No, there’s Fitz. He’s a bit younger and a bit of a handful, I gather. I’ve only met him a couple of times. Sarah, Lance’s wife, was pregnant with Fitz when she discovered she’d got cancer. She delayed treatment until after he was born. They thought it had been successful, but less than a year later it came back.’
‘That’s tough. How old was she?’
