Realising he was from the same pod as his uncle, both in type and demeanour, Star relaxed. His blatant honesty was refreshing. She didn’t condone petty crime, but it didn’t shock her. Having her whole life been party to her mother selling home-grown weed had put paid to that. This sideline had introduced the girl to an array of dubious characters, one of whom, according to her mother, had been Star’s own father.
‘Poor you,’ she said now. ‘That must have been so worrying.’
‘Yes, and expensive. Every scrap of my savings went to pay for a lawyer. My Da and Frank had to chip in too. Thank God justice prevailed.’
‘At least you had some savings. So, what do you do for a job?’
‘I did a business degree but ended up running a small landscape gardening firm. I soon realised that being stuck in an office wasn’t for me.’ Conor scratched his head, making his curly hair even more untidy. ‘Unfortunately, that’s all gone now,’ he said. ‘To raise money I even had to sell my van and my tools.’
‘So why run away from it all?’
‘I needed to clear my head. Get away from toxic people, from obsessive thoughts of revenge. Frank and Monique are great and I feel safe down here.’ He took a big drink from his pint glass. ‘So, that’s me and my story: at thirty-six years old I’ve come to a picturesque estuary town with a bag full of hope, empty pockets, and a heart open to anything.’
Star put a hand to her chest. ‘Aw. That’s tough stuff. I’m sure I can find some people who may want their garden landscaped, their lawns mown, their bushes trimmed even.’ Steren Bligh shocked herself at this subliminal flirtation.
‘You’re sweet.’ Conor suddenly looked slightly sad. ‘Talking about it has brought the enormity of it home. In fact, it’s made me question where home has ever been really.’
‘Well, I know it may sound cheesy, but Hartmouth is a place full of kindness. People look out for you here and the few who might not aren’t worth your time anyway. If they know you are related to Big Frank too – well, you’ll be more than fine.’
‘That is good to hear, thank you, and from what I’ve seen and who I’ve met so far, I’d agree with you.’ He lifted his empty glass at Star. ‘Another drink?’
‘It’s my turn.’
Conor ignored her and made his way to the bar, coming back to put her wine down in front of her and ask, ‘Talking of bushes that need a trim, how’s yours shaping up at the moment?’ The Irishman’s face remained straight.
‘I’d rather talk about dolphins if you don’t mind.’ Star appeared outwardly calm but couldn’t deny that if this man did ask her if she wanted to go back to his, she would most certainly be showing him her very unkempt lady garden. What was happening to her? It was as if she had suddenly been put under the kind of love spell that her mother would cast whenever there was a full moon and Estelle was in search of an intimate connection. Which was quite often.
‘I also have an interesting fact about dolphins,’ Star said. ‘Hang on, I just need to google it so I get it right.’ She read from the screen. ‘“Dolphins are one of the most spiritual animals in human culture … their instinct surpasses that of all other mammals so they only bestow guidance and protection to the chosen few.”’
Conor cautiously took a drink of his fresh pint of cider, then looking right into Star’s eyes, he said with no hint of a smile: ‘I knew I came here for a porpoise.’
Mid-sip, Star nearly choked. Her head went back, and she shook with laughter. Every time she tried to contain herself, she started laughing again. Tears ran down her cheeks, taking her mascara with it. When she was able to talk, she wiped her eyes with a tissue from her pocket. ‘I really must stop drinking,’ she giggled. ‘I’d forgotten how good it was to laugh!’
‘And there’s me thinking it was just my wit causing such mirth. Your eyes look even bluer when they have tears running through them, you know. You are a stunning girl, Star Bligh.’
‘Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that before. Beauty is just skin deep, Conor Brady.’ She over-pronounced his name.
‘Well, if it makes you feel better, you don’t fool me one little bit. I can tell that under that perfect exterior you are a complete and utter bitch.’ The Irishman smirked.
Star let out another tinkly laugh. ‘At last I’ve been rumbled.’
‘Seriously though, why hasn’t someone as gorgeous as you been snapped up already?’
‘That question! I have a daughter, she’s seventeen. I guess I’ve put her first.’
‘Ah, OK. I think I saw her earlier, she is the spit of you. On the flower stall, right?’
‘Yes, that’s my Skye.’
‘Cool name too.’
‘So, call me a freak, but I haven’t had a serious relationship since she’s been around really. You?’
‘Not a freak, just protective.’ Conor sounded knowing.
‘My mum, Estelle – which yes, also means star in French – wasn’t and isn’t much help. I was always the adult where she was concerned. But I don’t want to talk about her, or me, for that matter.’
‘There’s a whole planetary vibe going on there. What’s your granny’s name – is it Cloud?’
