Harry’s commute home was all of five steps from the kitchen door to the wrought-iron staircase leading up to the first floor. He moved with care, noting the frost already beginning to form on the metal. The stairs were a lot less treacherous these days since his Uncle Ryan had fitted non-slip covers to the steps, but the safety rails were icy cold beneath his fingers.
He pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside the welcome warmth, taking care to toe off the hideous-but-practical Crocs he always wore in the kitchen before stepping off the mat. Bending over, he picked them up and placed them on the small shoe rack that sat beneath the coat hooks by the door.A place for everything, and everything in its place. That had been the motto of his ma and pa, his paternal grandparents, and they’d drummed it into Harry after he’d been sent to live with them. Being in their care had been the one bright spot in his life at the time. His twin brother, Ed, had suffered a serious fall and badly broken his leg. Though they’d deemed the older boys capable of looking after themselves in the hours between school and one or other of their parents getting home from work and/or the hospital, his parents had decidedHarry needed closer supervision. That’s what they’d told him at least, but Harry knew the real reason he’d been packed off up the road to Ma and Pa – Ed’s fall had been the culmination of months of trouble and they’d decided the pair of them needed to be separated. With Ed requiring round-the-clock supervision, Harry had been the one to move out. He also suspected it was meant to be a punishment, but it had been the opposite. Ma was full of kindness and cuddles, and while Pa was the quieter of the two, he let Harry hang around with him at his boat shed, which had been almost as much of a haven as the kitchen. It was Ma who’d finally figured out how bad Harry’s reading was when she realised he couldn’t follow even the simplest recipes in her cookbooks. She’d marched up to the school the next day, all five-feet-two of indignant fury, and scolded the head teacher for not spotting the reason behind so much of his disruptive behaviour. Without her, Harry wouldn’t have got some belated support and might have ended up permanently excluded. Going back had been awful, especially when he’d been put into a special support programme. He still couldn’t read or write for toffee, but at least he’d slowly come to understand the reason why.
He padded through the open-plan lounge area towards his bedroom, still not quite used to how quiet things were since Carmel had moved out. Though he was grateful he no longer had to hang around waiting for his turn in the bathroom, he missed the chaos and laughter she’d brought to the place. She’d finished her training a couple of months previously and headed off to London for a placement Russ had helped her secure with a good friend of his. They’d been sad to see her go, but there was pleasure in it too, watching another one of their kitchen brood gain the skills and confidence to spread their wings and fly off to pastures new. When Russ had first given Harry the opportunity to train under him, he’d been as determined as any other kid from the village to escape – probably more than most. He’dthought it would be best for everyone to get the hell out of Dodge as soon as he could, thought they’d be as glad to see the back of him as much as he’d be to get away.
Funny the way things turned out sometimes.
Showered and dressed in a pair of black jeans, a T-shirt and the bottle-green jumper his parents had given him for Christmas, Harry quickly laced his feet into the thick-soled black boots that were his only other choice of footwear, grabbed his padded black jacket and a matching woollen beanie and tugged them both on.
Harry let himself out the courtyard gate, making sure to lock it behind him, then followed the rear alley behind the empty building next door and out on to Harbour Road. The bright front windows of the restaurant were a sharp contrast to the dark, boarded-up shop. The Nicholsons had retired just before Christmas and put their former business on the market. Tucking his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill, Harry stared up at the large white For Sale sign jutting out over the rolled awning above the front windows. The Nicholsons had been a fixture on the seafront for as long as he could remember and he hoped whoever took over the property would be as kind and friendly a neighbour as they had been. He glanced between the restaurant and the darkened shop. The restaurant was one of the most popular in the county and was often booked up months in advance. If Russ wanted to expand there wouldn’t be a better opportunity.
If he didn’t…
Brain whirring, Harry crossed the road to perch on the seawall. The tide was out, the sea a distant dark smudge on the horizon. The wide expanse of beach had been turned silver-grey by the light of the low-hanging waxing moon. A few clouds hung overhead, but the majority of the sky was a twinkling blanket of stars as far as the eye could see. Harry’s breath clouded in frontof his face and he freed one hand from his pocket to tug up the collar on his coat to ward off the worst of the chill. Turning his attention away from the beach, he looked back across the road towards the restaurant, thinking about what Russ had said to him earlier about opening his own place. It would mean leaving the village, and Harry would’ve jumped at the chance a few years ago when living in Halfmoon Quay had felt like a straitjacket. In his youth, he’d hated the way everyone had their nose in each other’s business, but as he’d grown up he’d come to appreciate the care and consideration people had for each other. True, there were still a handful of folks who thrived on gossip like it was oxygen, but you got those types everywhere and he’d learned to shrug them off.
Halfmoon Quay was a popular spot with the tourists, but it couldn’t sustain two gourmet restaurants. In the very height of the season, maybe, but outside those six to eight weeks of high summer, it would be damn near impossible. Plus it wouldn’t matter how hard Harry tried, he’d always be compared to Russ and come off the worst in most cases. And Harry wasn’t even sure he wanted to open his own restaurant. He loved cooking, loved creating new flavour combinations, and on the occasions he’d come up with something Russ had deemed good enough to put on the menu, Harry had lived off the adrenaline high for weeks. The only thing he loved more than that was working with the juniors; seeing them grow in confidence and ability, instilling them with a sense of pride and achievement, was unlike anything else. If he could do that for the rest of his life, Harry would die a happy man. There were always more kids interested in training at the restaurant than Russ could take on; what if Harry could find a way to increase their capacity? A cookery school, affiliated to the restaurant, would be ideal, but how to make it sustainable?
Harry glanced along the seafront towards the Penrose House Hotel. His brother Liam had taken it over from their great-uncle and was in the process of upgrading it from a tired, slightly rundown place to a destination of choice. If Harry worked with him, maybe they could come up with some packages for the off season – a mid-week or weekend break at the hotel and cooking classes with Harry? If he sweet-talked Russ, maybe he’d be willing to put in a guest appearance too. There were so many ideas hitting at once, it was hard to keep up with his own thoughts. Harry pulled out his phone and opened his voice notes app and started blurting out things before he forgot them. He’d have to design and structure proper courses. Russ worked with the local college in Port Petroc to ensure their juniors got the right kind of certifications to support the practical training they received in the kitchen. Harry was crap at any kind of book work so he’d never bothered with it. Keeping on top of his household bills was hard enough. He’d have to make a timetable…
The thought made him shudder as a hoard of bad school memories tried to wash away his enthusiasm. ‘Rick will know about timetables,’ he said into his phone. ‘Ask him or Liam.’ Thinking about his brothers reminded him about the party and thinking about the party made him wonder how long he’d been sitting on the wall lost in thought. Too long, based on how cold and numb his arse was. He stood, phone still in hand, and began walking. ‘Ask Uncle Ryan about what it would take to convert the shop.’ His uncle and cousin ran a joinery business and always had a waiting list of clients. If they were too busy to help him they’d at least have the right contacts.
His long strides ate up the distance, carrying him past the curving harbour that gave the village its name and turning right into the maze of streets that would lead him to his parents’ house. He paused and recorded the one thought that might killoff this dream before it had even started. ‘How the fuck am I going to pay for any of this?’
Harry put his phone away. He’d have to worry about that tomorrow. Though it was tempting to rush back home and keep trying to figure things out, his parents were expecting him and he couldn’t let them down. There’d been too much of that in the past. He hurried his pace along the path, only pausing when he reached the top of the drive to find a solitary figure staring up at the house.
It was a woman by the size of her, but he couldn’t make anything else out about her, shrouded as she was in a thick hooded jacket. As he drew level, the woman turned and he recognised her at once. ‘Hello, Kitty, what are you doing out here in the cold?’
‘Oh, hi, Harry.’ The vague twitch of her lips couldn’t really be classed as a smile, which wasn’t like her at all.
‘What’s up? Not in the party mood?’
‘You could say that.’ She did at least muster half a laugh which was an improvement.
He’d always had a soft spot for Kat, ever since the teacher had made them sit next to each other in class. It hadn’t taken her long to notice him struggling and she had quietly helped him wherever she could, reading questions aloud and ‘discussing’ the answers with him. Harry knew she’d only been trying to help, but it had made him feel even more stupid than all the times Ed had covered for him and he knew that helping him had to be holding her back. In the end, embarrassment had led him to act out and the teacher had eventually moved him back beside Ed.
‘What can I do to cheer you up?’
‘Can you order a tactical nuclear strike and take out my parents’ house?’
He choked on a shocked laugh. Kat always seemed so sweet and mild; who knew she harboured a secret murderous streak?Harry did his best to keep his face straight as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. ‘Lucky for you, the Prime Minister owes me a favour. I’ll give him a call and see what he can sort out, shall I?’
She stared at him for a long moment then burst out laughing. The sound was joy with just a hint of wickedness. Harry wanted to pump his fists in victory. He raised a finger over his phone screen. ‘Want me to speak to him then?’
Kat tilted her head as though giving it serious thought. ‘What about Mr and Mrs Thomas next door?’
Harry winced. ‘Could be a problem.’
Kat heaved a sigh. ‘Then let’s leave it for now.’
‘Probably for the best.’ Harry tucked away his phone then offered her his arm. When she tucked her hand into his elbow, he smiled down at her. ‘If we’re not going to rain down fiery death and destruction on your parents, how about we go inside and have a drink instead?’
5
Goodness, he’s handsome when he smiles like that.
Kat shook the thought away before it was even fully formed. This was Harry bloody Penrose for God’s sake. They’d been friends almost since the day the teacher had plonked him down next to her. At first she’d found him intimidating – so big and loud and always one foot in trouble. Quiet and shy, Kat had found it a real struggle to make friends when her parents had upped and moved to Halfmoon Quay the summer before Kat went to secondary school. With an intake from several surrounding villages, as well as those who lived in Port Petroc itself, the new kids had all stuck to the friends they knew. With a late August birthday, Kat was one of the youngest in class and small to boot. Harry had seemed a giant in comparison and Kat had shrunk further into her shell.
She might have stayed in it too, if it hadn’t been for Chloe, Harry’s cousin. Confidence ran deep in the Penrose clan, but Chloe’s came with an enormous well of kindness too. It hadn’t taken her long to cotton on to Kat’s discomfort and she’d bounced up to Kat at break time and declared that they were going to be friends. She’d introduced her to Issy, who’d been acouple of years above them and on the bus home that afternoon the pair of them had squeezed up to make room for Kat beside them.
