‘Shush,’ Ray hissed at her, frowning.
‘This isn’t a library,’ she told him. ‘You don’t have to shush me every time I speak.’
Doug pushed back his chair, scurrying off into the small side room where the sound system gear was kept beside brooms, extra toilet paper and props for the kids’ dance classes. People murmured amongst themselves while we waited.
‘Sorry, everyone.’ Celia smiled tightly. ‘This was all supposed to have been set up before we started. It’s hard to get good help these days.’ She tittered with laughter to show she was joking, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
19
TAYLOR
I knew how much she hated looking foolish and, even though it was petty, I drew a small amount of satisfaction from that. I took the opportunity while we waited for Doug to look around the crowd. Anything to help me ignore the fact that Jack’s elbow kept bumping into mine. He was wearing a faded blue T-shirt, and his arms were tanned and muscled, with a light crop of fine blond hair on his forearms. Every time our arms bumped, and I looked at them, I remembered how it had felt to have them around me, and how much I’d like to feel it again.
There were a lot of familiar faces. Some of my old teachers, who somehow looked exactly the same as they had fourteen years ago. Business owners. Friends of my mother’s. The gray-haired old ducks who liked to sit in the park and feed the actual ducks. A flash of familiar auburn-colored hair caught my attention, and I craned forward, peering over the head of the man in front of me to get a better look. She turned to say something to the person beside her, and I caught a glimpse of her face. Megan Clark. She’d grown up a hell of a lot since I’d last seen her and apparently started using hair straighteners to get rid of the unruly curls I’d known and loved since we were seven years old, but it was unmistakably her. Seeing her brought both a pang of familiar warmth and a twist of guilt. She’d tried to keep in touch with me after Adam and I had left town, but I’d never replied.
Doug, looking suitably chastened, finished setting up the gear, plugging the box in and turning it all on, giving Celia a double thumbs up to indicate that they were all systems go.
‘Testing, testing,’ Celia spoke into the microphone, her lips far too close, and it squealed with feedback that reverberated around the room.
Ray winced. ‘I felt that right in my bones,’ he muttered.
I shushed him. He glared at me.
‘Right, let’s get straight down to business, seeing as we’ve already lost some time,’ Celia said. ‘As you are all aware, the Pine Harbor Summer Arts Festival will be held next week, from July 25th to 27th. A three-day festival, celebrating the fantastic range of creativity we have here in our wonderful little town.’
A murmur of patriotic pride rippled around the room.
‘Now, I know that choosing a theme for the festival every year is something the community likes to be involved in, but I’m happy to say that you didn’t have to worry about that this year, because the arts committee and I came up with a theme that we believe represents our town perfectly. I’ve had a few messages from disgruntled townsfolk that the decision was made without public consultation, but I think once you hear it, you’ll understand.’ She paused for dramatic effect. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you our festival for this year,Harbor and Harvest, The Heart of the Sea.’
She waited, clearly expecting wild applause or proclamations of her brilliance, or at the very leastsomekind of reaction. What she got instead was a sort of puzzled silence. People exchanged glances. Shoulders shrugged. Throats were cleared. A chair loudly scraped across the wooden floor, followed by a swift muffled apology.
‘What’d she say?’ Ray asked. ‘I missed it.’
Jack repeated it to him.
‘That’s the stupidest name for a festival that I’ve ever heard,’ Ray declared, loudly. Heads swiveled in our direction. Megan saw me, and her face lit up.
‘Oh my God,’ she mouthed. ‘You’re back!’
I gave her a nod and a small wave, conscious that the eyes of half the room, including Celia’s, were on us.
‘Do you have a better suggestion, Raymond?’ Celia asked in a clipped voice.
‘Anything’s got to be better than that,’ he replied. ‘It sounds like that annoying song from that horribly long movie, the one the radio stations played all day long for months on end. You know the one I mean.’
Eyes narrowed as people struggled to connect the dots. I got there first.
‘You mean theCeline Dionone? From theTitanicmovie? “My Heart Will Go On”.’
‘That’s the one,’ he said. ‘Nobody sing it. Bloody song gets stuck in your head, and you can’t get rid of it for days.’
‘Well, you’re entitled to your opinion, of course,’ Celia said. ‘But I’m sure others might have a more refined view.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘But I agree with Ray. It kind of bites.’
Beside me, Jack snorted with laughter, then quickly turned it into a cough in an effort to cover it up.
If looks could kill, Celia would have murdered me right then and there. But I was sick of kowtowing to the woman. Sick of fourteen years of keeping my mouth shut and listening, just to keep her happy. I had ‘trapped’ her son. Dragged him away from his hometown and the bosom of his family. Failed to provide her with grandchildren. Didn’t look the way a daughter-in-law of Celia Hamilton should look. My list of failings was long and detailed. But none of that mattered any more. I feel suddenly lighter, as if a weight had been lifted off me. There might be perks to my marriage breakup after all.
