‘What a beautiful morning,’ Ed said, his breath hanging in a plume of condensation as they headed down the short path of Samphire Cottage, a clear blue sky above, the air crisp and fresh. The pavements and hedges sparkled in the bright spring sunshine.
‘It is.’ Florrie closed the gate behind them, slipping her glovedhand into his. She inhaled a lungful of cool, salty air. ‘And I was right about the frost, but I love days like these, they make you feel invigorated,’ she said brightly. ‘Especially when there are signs of the gardens springing back to life everywhere.’ Spring always arrived late in North Yorkshire and this year’s in particular appeared reluctant to release its chilly grip.
Soon, they turned the corner onto the top prom, Gerty trotting along on the end of her lead, setting a jaunty pace, the cries of seagulls filling the air as they wheeled overhead. ‘Looking forward to this evening with the lasses?’ Ed turned, glancing down at her, his eyes warm.
‘I am, actually.’ She beamed up at him, her heart lilting at his smile. ‘Still haven’t a clue what I’ll be doing, but I don’t think it can be too far away if I’m being picked up just after half five for a six o’clock start. I’m not sure what time I’ll be back, though, so you might need to eat alone tonight.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ve been filled in on all the details.’
‘Care to share any of them?’
‘Nope.’
‘Please.’ She fluttered her eyelashes at him, making him hoot with laughter.
‘Nope.’
‘Oh, well, it’s always worth a try,’ she said, feigning disappointment. ‘So are you looking forward to your stag night with the lads on Saturday? I assume everything’s organised?’
‘Sure am. And, yep, Bear’s got it all in hand; organised the minibus, booked us a table. You can’t beat a bloomin’ good curry and a few beers with your mates.’
‘I reckon you’ve got off lightly, unlike me with all the torture of strippagram and pig herding teasing. Not so sure why I deserved it,’ she said with a smile.
‘It’s cos the five of you go back a long way, you know how to wind each other up. I haven’t known the fellas all that long, and Max is new to the group. We didn’t want toscare him off.’
‘Doubt you’d do that – have you seen the way he looks at Jazz? Besotted doesn’t come into it.’
‘Yeah, I guess you have a point.’
Florrie heaved a happy sigh. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Jazz. It was so good to see everything working out for her friend, especially after the tough few years she’d had since the kids’ father had died. She’d had to become both mum and dad overnight, working all hours to make sure they didn’t go without. But now, she was radiating happiness and thriving in her relationship with Max Grainger who, it was clear to everyone, loved her deeply.
Before they knew it, they’d arrived at Mr and Mrs H’s bench. Sitting down, Ed threw his arm around Florrie’s shoulders, delivering a kiss to her cheek. She snuggled in closer to him, delighting in his warmth as she gazed out to sea. She loved this man with a passion she hadn’t thought she was capable of. He was kind and considerate, and he had the biggest heart with so much love to give. It was something Florrie struggled to understand after the cold childhood he’d experienced with very little parental affection thrown his way. It made her wonder how his parents could be so frosty to the loving little boy he must’ve been. They sat in silent contemplation, Florrie’s thoughts wandering to Ed’s grandparents, wishing they were still here to see them getting married. Her own grandparents having died before she was born, Bernard and Dinah Harte had stepped in and filled that role, and there wasn’t a day that went by when she didn’t miss them. From the sigh that emanated from Ed, she wondered if his thoughts were heading down a similar track.
‘You know, I’ve been thinking about giving surfing a try.’
‘You have?’ Evidently his thoughts were on a very different path altogether!
‘Yeah, I was talking to Jeff Palmer when I met Bear down at the Jolly a couple of weeks back. As you know, he’s an avid surfer, said he’d show me the ropes if I fancied.’
Florrie turned her attention to the sea, trying to imagine running into the waves in a wetsuit. Though the sun was shining,the water, with its ripples of frothy white horses, still looked bitterly cold. ‘Rather you than me,’ she said with a shiver.
‘Fair enough,’ he said, laughing. ‘Right, time to move, my backside’s in danger of freezing to this bench.’ Ed removed his arm from Florrie’s shoulders and pushed himself up, offering her his hand.
‘Not so sure your grandparents would be too keen on that,’ Florrie chuckled, letting him pull her up.
They walked along, heading towards Skitey Bank that twisted and turned its way down to the bottom prom and the road that led to Old Micklewick. To the right, the grand Victorian houses loomed over them, a legacy of when the town was in its heyday and families made wealthy from local industry further up the coast holidayed there. It regularly boggled Florrie’s mind that these five-storey houses were actually built as holiday homes, with their panoramic views of the sea dominated by the brooding mass of Thorncliffe. The properties even included servants’ quarters, and though they’d long since been converted into apartments, they clung onto a haughty air like an old dowager from times gone by.
As they took the turn onto Endeavour Road that led to Victoria Square, it gladdened her heart to see the refurbishment of The Micklewick Majestic was well underway. The once exclusive hotel had been a major attraction for the town until its owner had fallen on hard times and the building had been left to fall into disrepair. But its fortunes had changed when it was bought by Jasmine’s partner and property tycoon, Max, who had ambitious plans for its renovation.
Florrie looked up from the counter where she was checking stock levels of Jenna’s latest book in readiness for tomorrow’s author event as the bell above the door chimed and Lark appeared. Her friend was a blast of colour in her patchwork coat and purple flared velvet trousers. ‘Hi, Lark. How’s things?’ Gerty made a beeline for her, wagging her tail as she went.
‘All fine and dandy, thanks, flower. How about you? Andhow’s this gorgeous girl?’ She bent and made a fuss of the Labrador which was met with much tail wagging.
With Gerty satisfied that Lark didn’t have a stash of dog treats secreted in her coat pockets, she plodded back to her bed and flumped down, resting her head on her paws. Florrie gestured to the window, signalling to Lark that Ed was working behind the curtain; she didn’t want her friend to mention his mum and risk making him feel uncomfortable. Lark nodded, indicating she understood, then mouthed, ‘Where’s Dawn?’
Florrie gave an exaggerated shrug, raising her palms, mouthing back, ‘No idea,’ to which Lark nodded in acknowledgement. ‘All’s good here,’ Florrie continued. ‘I’m looking forward to whatever you’ve got planned this evening.’
Lark beamed. ‘Ah, I’m happy to hear that, and I say with confidence that you’re going to love it.’ Arriving at the counter, she unhooked her patchwork tote bag from her shoulder and fished around inside. Lowering her voice, she said, ‘I gather you’ve been having a bit of a rough time of it so I thought you might need some more supplies.’ She set out a lavender and rose geranium room spray along with a stout bottle of bubble bath infused with lavender and chamomile essential oils. It was from her homemade aromatherapy brand that she sold in Lark’s Vintage Bazaar.
