ONE
FRIDAY 10TH APRIL
The afternoon had been the longest Florrie Appleton could remember, dragging into the evening like the tide creeping in. ‘Where the heck’s Lark got to?’ she said, chewing at her bottom lip and tapping her foot impatiently. Such was her agitation, the mouth-watering aroma of fish and chips and the familiar Friday night jaunty tunes courtesy of the local folk band barely registered with her. ‘It’s not like her to be this late.’ Her brown eyes went from the watch at her wrist – that told her it was seven forty-five – to sweeping the bar for the umpteenth time since she’d arrived at The Jolly Sailors pub twenty minutes earlier. She had something she needed to get off her chest, and she was struggling to contain the tension that had been building inside her since a worrying piece of information had reached her ears that afternoon. If Lark didn’t get a wriggle on, it was in danger of spilling out in a great tidal wave at any moment, which wouldn’t do; Florrie needed all of her best friends together for this. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have enough on her mind already. She turned to the door again. ‘I just wish she’d hurry up.’
‘I’m sure she won’t be much longer,’ said Stella, glass of Pinot Grigio in hand as she scrutinised Florrie fidgeting opposite her. They were sitting at their regular Friday night table together withMaggie and Jasmine, embers glowing in the hearth of the nearby inglenook fireplace. Stella was looking effortlessly stylish – as usual – her fitted designer jeans doing an excellent job of showcasing her endless legs and her beige and cream striped sweater in the softest cashmere, complementing her long blonde hair and fair skin perfectly. And for all she was tall, it never stopped Stella from wearing the highest of heels, to which this evening’s choice of ankle boots were testament. ‘You okay, Florrie? You’re looking a bit agitated there, it’s most unlike you.’
Florrie nudged her glasses up her nose. ‘I’m fine, just wondering where she is, that’s all.’ Even to her own ears Florrie was aware her faux casual tone failed to hide the snappy note in her voice. She pressed her mouth into an apologetic smile and tucked a stray lock of her chestnut bob behind her ear, conscious of the weight of three sets of eyes on her. She turned her attention to the cuff of her plum-coloured cardigan, feigning interest in an imaginary loose thread.Stop fidgeting, woman!
But the more she remonstrated with herself, the more het-up Florrie became. All the same, she needed tostressto her friends how strongly she felt about the situation before they got totally carried away and it was too late to do anything about it. A phone call or text message wouldn’t do; they needed to see from her expression that she meant it.Reallymeant it. That she wouldn’t budge on her decision, and that there’d be no wiggle room for even the slightest variation. And what’s more, she needed to get across that no part of her would find any of what she’d heard remotely funny – not now,definitelynot at the time, and not in the future. She had to be absolutely certain that they got the message.Oh jeez!Just thinking about it was making her worries escalate and her stomach churn even more furiously.
Calming breaths, Florrie. Calming breaths.
She inhaled slowly, releasing the breath steadily through her nose before repeating it, but was disappointed to find it did little good.
Though the rational part of her brain told her that her sourcemust’ve got it wrong, that there was clearly some mistake or misunderstanding – surely she could rest assured that her friends wouldn’t inflict something likethaton her? – it still hadn’t stopped the doubts sneaking in. And those doubts had mushroomed during the afternoon until they’d taken over every corner of her mind and now dominated her thoughts, which was surprising considering the other matter that was jostling for attention. Her anxiety levels were ready to shoot through the roof. Only when she was satisfied she’d got her point across would she be able to get on with enjoying her usual Friday night out with the lasses.
She glanced around the busy bar again, but there was still no sign of her friend. ‘Ugh! Come on, Lark! Get your backside here!’ She reached into her handbag that was beside her on the settle and pulled out her phone. ‘I’ll send her a text, see where she is.’
‘What’s the urgency, missus?’ Maggie, who was sitting to Florrie’s left, turned and gave her a full appraisal. ‘You’re getting your knickers into a right old knot there. I can actually feel the stress coming off you in waves.’ Maggie was a bold splash of colour in her lime green fluffy jumper dotted with multi-coloured pompoms, betraying her arty background. Out of the group, she was the friend Florrie was closest to, despite knowing her for the least amount of time. They’d met at university in York where they’d instantly hit it off, with Maggie joining Florrie at her parents’ home in Micklewick Bay most weekends. It was on such a weekend that Maggie had met her future husband, local man Bear Marsay, and had moved to the town to be with him once she’d finished her degree. They’d married not long after and had been loved up ever since.
‘Please tell me it’s nowt to do with Ed’s mother and her sudden appearance in town?’ said Jasmine, who’d not long since arrived herself and was still getting settled in her usual seat at the top of the table. Her freshly dyed red pixie crop glowed extra vibrant under the lights, complementing her Fair Isle jumper in shades of green, orangeand beige.
‘What?’ Stella’s head jerked in Jasmine’s direction. ‘Since when?’
‘What’sshedoing here?’ Maggie’s shocked expression matched Stella’s.
‘No, no, this is nothing to do with that.’ Florrie gave a quick shake of her head, the mention of Dawn Harte and her unexpected arrival that afternoon adding to the anxiety that was already swirling in her stomach.
‘What makes you think she’s in town, Jazz?’ asked Maggie.
‘I saw her heading – or should I say stomping – down Resolution Row.’ Jasmine’s expression darkened. ‘You can tell she’s a piece of work just by her walk, and don’t get me started on the filthy looks she gives out, like she thinks we’re all beneath her.’
‘Sounds about right.’ Stella’s glossy top lip curled disapprovingly.
Jasmine gave a derisory snort. Earlier that day, she’d texted Florrie, saying she’d seen Dawn in town, warning her friend to be on her guard. But by then, Florrie had already had the shock of coming face-to-face with her future mother-in-law. Dawn Harte had landed at The Happy Hartes Bookshop – which Florrie owned and ran along with her fiancé, Ed – just after lunchtime, which was a good hour before Jasmine’s text had arrived. She’d been armed with a bulging backpack and her domineering personality, announcing that she’d come to stay. Florrie had fired Jasmine a quick reply, thanking her for the warning and saying she’d fill her in with the details when they were all together at the Jolly.
Stella turned to Florrie, a troubled look on her face. ‘Have you seen her yet?’
‘And is Ed’s dad with her?’ asked Maggie, looking equally concerned.
‘Yes, she called at the bookshop – luckily Ed was there, too, so I didn’t have to face her on my own – and she’s come alone; Ed’s dad is still in London apparently.’
A loaded, ‘Oh,’ followed from Stella, Maggie and Jasmine.
‘I know, that’s what we thought, too,’ said Florrie.
‘I’ve been wondering what she’s up to ever since I saw her,’ said Jasmine. ‘Any contact from her or her husband can only mean one thing: trouble.’
Florrie couldn’t argue with that. Conscious of the worried expressions her friends were wearing, she hurriedly said, ‘I’ll tell you all more about it in a tick. What I want to talk about first has nothing to do with Ed’s parents, so you can put your fretting about that to one side for the minute. I just wish Lark would hurry up and get here.’ She didn’t want to head down the Dawn Harte route right now; she wanted to get the problem at hand fixed before she tackled that. She blinked an image of the woman away, unable to stop the shudder that ran through her.
‘Surely whatever it is you need Lark here for before you tell us, can’t be anywhere near as bad as the news that Dawn Harte’s in town,’ said Jasmine.
Right now, it was a close-run thing in Florrie’s mind. ‘It’s just something I have to?—’
‘So sorry I’m late, lasses.’ Florrie’s words were cut off by Lark’s familiar gentle tones as the group were enveloped in a fragrant cloud of essential oils. Her long, blonde waves tumbled over her shoulders and her colourful metal bracelets jangled as she started unbuttoning her patchwork jacket in rich jewel shades. ‘I’d nipped round to see my dad and Louisa after work and completely lost track of time.’
‘Thank goodness you’re here now.’ Stella flashed a loaded smile as she inched along the settle, making room for Lark to slip in alongside her.
