I shake my head. ‘They were never going to let a fancy-dress Valentine’s pub crawl pass quietly.’
Poppy calls to them as they wriggle into our space on the cobbles. ‘Hello, you two, you’re the only men I know who can wear so little red lamé and make it work.’
The smaller, portlier one fans his fingers in front of his face. ‘Thanks, Poppy, you’re a sweetheart, as ever.’ He turns to me and flutters eyelashes so long they have to be fake. ‘You’re from Brides Go West, aren’t you? We saw you getting out of your van earlier.’
‘Also known as Milla Fenton.’ This is where I have to admit I’ve half borrowed/half absconded with the works vehicle, although it was actually mine to start with. As it’s got two-foot-high light-up letters on the top, it’s not exactly subtle.
‘Lovely to meet you, Milla, there’s a lot of vintage camper envy going on here. We’ve always wanted pink paintwork and our names in lights, haven’t we, Ken?’ He turns to Poppy. ‘So, do tell, is this another of Jess’s protégés coming to sprinkle her fairy dust on Brides by the Sea?’
As if he hasn’t got enough of my attention already with his all-over sequined T-shirt and matching wings, Ken grabs my arm. ‘It’s the most wonderful shop Jess has created here, four floors of bridal gorgeousness overlooking the sea!’
I’m about to tell him the shop’s a big favourite of our Brides Go West blog followers too, but Gary carries on seamlessly. ‘Poppy’s the cake maker there. The five-tier confection she made for us was Cornwall’s first EVER naked wedding cake. But you probably know that?’
Ken and Gary seem to ask non-stop questions with no space for answers, but Poppy finally dives in. ‘Milla’s here for a couple of weeks to help with social media and to set up some special wedding fairs for the Brides by the Sea anniversary.’
Gary’s eyes are popping. ‘Fabulous and even more fabulous! Ten years since Jess took over the whole building, how amazing is that?’
Ken’s carrying on. ‘And a whole year of birthday celebrations starting with tonight’s fireworks … did you know they’re actually Jess’s Valentine’s present from her fiancé Bart?’
Gary gives a sigh. ‘He’s our favourite pirate – handsome and loaded, she can’t go wrong there. We wouldn’t have thrown him out of our bed would we, Ken?’
Ken gives a shudder. ‘Speak for yourself, Gaz, he’s years too old for me. But who’d have thought? He offers her diamonds, and she asks for fireworks instead …’
As if on cue, a huge boom echoes across the bay, and a cascade of multi-coloured stars arches up, then shimmers down the sky and falls into the sea.
Poppy’s murmuring in my ear. ‘They’re letting them off from pontoons anchored out beyond the harbour. Watch out for the Valentine-themed ones too.’ Her smile widens. ‘Jess and Bart are down the front, if she chose this over a Tiffany necklace, we should be in for a spectacular display.’
As the explosions rock through my body and the wind splits the coloured reflections on the water into a thousand mirrored fragments, the people around me huddling deep into their padded jackets are letting out gasps and wows. Again and again the starbursts rip through the blue velvet sky above the bay. And as I listen to the swish of the waves rushing up the beach underneath the fireworks’ bangs, I’m remembering how final it felt as I pushed the keys of our flat through the estate agent’s letterbox earlier this morning. It’s as if I’m watching my old life disintegrating into pieces high above me. I couldn’t cry then, but now, in the dark, my tears are flowing too fast to wipe them away.
As I take a moment to dip in my bag for a dry hanky and look back at the boats on the harbour, there’s a lone figure leaning against a mast. So maybe I’m not the only person in the world on their own tonight. It just feels that way.
Poppy nudges me. ‘We must be close to the end, don’t miss the best bit.’
As I look back up at the sky, there’s a volley of booms above the waves and the heavens fill with red heart-shaped outlines that sparkle and crackle. Then there’s a final rattle of explosions and they all drift downwards. As they sink behind the line where the sky meets the water and everyone starts to cheer, it feels a lot more bitter than sweet for me.
My phone beeps and this time Poppy’s watching me. ‘More news?’
I nod. Then, as I read, my saliva turns sour again. ‘Hunter Benedict, 2.8kg.’
Poppy’s brow furrows. ‘If it’s upsetting you, why not switch it off?’
I push my phone away and pull out another tissue. Ugly nose-blowing is one of Phoebe’s worst hates but right now I’m past caring. I can’t help my wail either. ‘Hunter was my name, I bagged it first. I know I found it on her wellies, but it still feels like she’s stolen it.’ Baby names are a whole minefield of rules I’ve only dipped my toe into since I turned thirty and it seems like our entire friendship group apart from me suddenly got pregnant. You can’t call a baby the same name as any other child you’ve ever heard of, but at least for people like me where children are lightyears away, it’s still possible to stake an advance claim. Or it should be if your friends aren’t completely disrespectful. This feels like Phoebe’s final wave of the finger.
Poppy’s hugging me again. ‘Pinching your name is outrageous.’
‘It bloody is.’ I’m staring at the black smudges on the hanky, knowing there’s worse on my face. ‘I might go back to the van for a moment.’
Poppy links arms with me. ‘Don’t worry, we’ve got a few minutes before we need to be back at the shop. I’m in charge of cocktails so the bar will open when we get there.’ We break away from the crowd and hurry to where the van is tucked away beyond a line of fishermen’s cottages at the end of the quay.
‘Okay, time for repairs.’ I open the door and heave myself into the driver’s seat, and peer into the rearview mirror.
As Poppy joins me from the passenger side, she’s staring around the inside of the van. ‘Even though it’s dark, how cool is this interior?’
As I scrub away my panda eyes and dab at the blotches on my cheeks, I’m already feeling calmer. ‘I still love the pink-and-white-checked seats.’
Poppy passes me a lippy from her pocket. ‘Here, try this – fuchsia gives you a lift every time.’ She’s biting her lip as she watches me put it on. ‘I know today’s been the crappest, with handing in your keys and the baby coming. But at least that’s the worst over.’
I look sideways at her in the half light. ‘You’re going to tell me it’s time for a new start?’
