I die a little inside but offer her one of my cordial smiles.
***
The week slips by faster than I can bear, the days swallowed by work, the nights too quiet in her absence while she’s at rehearsals with Jack.
I think of her more and more lately. Like in the dark early mornings, waist-deep in cold water as I fix mesh by headlight and haul oysters from the bay. Her face, her laughter, her warmth keeps finding its way into my thoughts.
On Thursday evening, I walk to Sean’s.
He opens the door with a scowl. “You know, it’s bad enough you badger me at work. Do you have to take up my free time as well?”
“I wouldn’t impose if it weren’t important.”
“Yeah, yeah, Romeo and bloody Juliet—that’s if she doesn’t die of old age waiting for you to climb her balcony.” He eyes the ziplock bag in my hand. “Is that the loot?”
I pass him the bag of sea glass. He holds it up to the light, assessing it with an artisan’s squint.
“Do you think we’ll be able to drill holes through them?” I ask.
“Aye, my Dremel should do the trick. We’ll need water, though, or they’ll crack.” He gives me an approving look. “Glad you’ve finally manned up.” He waves me inside. “Come on. I’ve got Ma’s jewellery kit out—and she’s made her amber pie.”
***
It’s nine o’clock on Friday morning when I leave Sean’s house, the sea-glass bracelet resting in my pocket, the early sunlight warming my skin.
It took the three of us all night to make—Sean, his mother Molly, and me. Though, truthfully, it was Molly who carried the thing into existence, her clever hands weaving tiny silver beads between the pieces of glass.
She remembered who I was today, her mind sharp, her affectionate barbs landing true. Sean stood a little apart, his voice gone quiet, as though he was afraid to break the spell—soaking in this rare, fleeting version of Molly while it was here, storing it up for the days when she won’t know him at all.
She asked me about Lily-Anne, prying information to her satisfaction before adding a delicate treble-clef pendant to the bracelet.
“She’s a lucky girl, Brandon,” she said, fastening the clasp.
I had no answer for that. Sean claimed I went red, though I maintain the fireplace made the room far too hot.
At the door, Sean claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t be late to that castle thing.”
“Are you sure you can’t come? Ellenor will be there.”
He huffs a laugh. “Aye, and I’ll be at the pub, up to my elbows in fryer grease, ’cause the new lad’s gone flaky already.” To my surprise, he adds, “I’ll be sad to miss it. The barbecue too.”
I raise a hand in goodbye and start for home, quietly marvelling at Sean and Ellenor. The two of them have been seeing each other right under our noses, without fuss or fanfare. Neither seems remotely troubled by the age gap—her twenty-nine to his forty-five—and I admire how frankly Sean confided he likes her.
However, it seems even they have their complications. Whatever is happening between him and Ellenor, she hasn’t told Lily-Anne. Perhaps she’s afraid to jinx it. Sean insists they aren’t dating, and for once, I was the one to call bullshit.
It’s not my place to interfere, or to question how fiercely Ellenor tries to hold herself together in front of her sister.
I check my pocket to ensure the bracelet is still there. The silk bag Molly gave me was a nice touch. It’s not a glamorous gift, but I’m sure Lily-Anne will like it. It seems only proper that she should take a piece of Whitstable with her when she leaves. For that reason, I hope she’ll accept it as a gift of friendship.
My other gift, however, will be of a decidedly romantic nature—along with my declaration.
I won’t stand in the way of her trip with Ellenor, but I also won’t let her go without telling her how I feel.
On the way home, I stop at a florist near the market.
The shop is a riot of colour and scents, and I’m overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices. I gravitate towards cheerful tulips, lilies, and gerberas. Any of them would suit Lily-Anne’s spirit.
But in the end, I choose red roses. The traditional, timeless emblem of romance, rendering my intentions unmistakable.
