The curly writing in everlasting-white marker saying ‘Welcome to the LCK, FlorenceMay@TheHideaway’ seals this in a way that’s so permanent my stomach seems to leave my body. ‘Wow! My own signage,so fast!’
Plum’s smiling. ‘One I made this morning. Clemmie insisted we got straight onto it.’
Nell’s nodding. ‘Your car’s fully corporate too! We went a bit overboard, but those customised branding magnets are easy and instant, and Clemmie had lots to spare.’ My stomach is dropping lower with every new revelation.
Plum props the blackboard next to the steps. ‘There’s no hiding now! The Little Cornish Kitchen has officially arrived at the Beach Hut.’
Nell’s unrolling some PVC fabric. ‘All that’s left now is the hanging sign!’
My throat is constricting in panic. ‘Won’t that attract unwanted attention?’
Plum smiles. ‘It’s important it feels genuine. Clemmie used this on her stall at the Christmas market.’ She takes the end of the string from Nell and jumps up on a chair. ‘We’ll hang it between the posts supporting the veranda roof, nice and high. How’s that, Floss?’
I’m blinking up at the sign. As it swings in the breeze against the deep blue sky beyond, it couldn’t be any more conspicuous. ‘That’s fabulous. Absolutely brill! Thanks for all your help with this!’ Every part of that is true. I just wish this feeling of misgiving wasn’t weighing like a stone in my gut.
Nell’s punching the air. ‘Great job, Plum, it really is the dog’s bollocks!’
I send Shadow an apologetic glance for that, and slide onto a chair because as the full effect sinks in my legs don’t feel as if they can hold me.
Plum’s frowning at me. ‘Everything okay there, Flora-Dora?’ Her hand is on my shoulder again. ‘Don’t worry about Sophie and her older-sister green-eyed monster, she always deals with it eventually.’
In the thirty-three years I’ve spent tiptoeing in the shadow of my go-getting sibling I’ve never considered myself worthy of jealousy before. ‘Apart from The Hideaway, what have I ever had that she’d have wanted?’
‘You name it…’ Nell laughs.
‘Pretty much everything.’ Plum’s counting off on her fingers. ‘Your name, your beach party Polly Pocket, the way your dark hair was right down your back and shone when hers didn’t, your entire life in London – especially the last flat – your long legs, big boobs and tiny waist…’
I sigh. I’ve been so unaware. ‘At least the flat, the long hair and my tiny waist are out of the equation now.’ I try never to blame things on the cancer, but realistically, without it I’d probably still have all three.
Nell blows out her cheeks. ‘You’ve always got on better with your mum, so maybe that’s a part of it too.’
Our dad left home when we were young, but Sophie was a daddy’s girl, so she always took it harder than me. I was closer to our mum, and that’s how it stayed, but I can’t believe how much me getting this place has stirred it all up. I can’t believe I assumed coming here was going to be an easy answer when it sounds like Sophie’s waging full-out war!
‘It isn’t actually Sophie I’m worried about.’ With so many home truths flying around, I may as well come clean myself. ‘I’msograteful for all you’ve done, but I’m not sure this is the long-term answer. Even with the stage set and my hygiene training from my days at The Circus, I’ll struggle if the council come to check me out.’ I hesitate, and finally get to the real truth. ‘When I’m here to get away from it all, with a bag of nerves for a dog, I’d rather not have Joe Public tramping onto my deck.’
I should know by now that Nell always grabs the proverbial bull by the horns.
‘So what were you thinking instead?’
I’m floundering, then another glance at the tables strengthens my resolve. ‘Those mice made out of stuck-together shells?’
Plum’s joining in. ‘St Aidan’s already drowning under the weight of shell animals, but if you can sew you could do beach bags?’
Damn. They must have forgotten my second claim to fame at school was machining my oven glove project to my school skirt. ‘Scrap that idea – I can’t.’ I look along at the other larger huts nestling in their plots along the dunes, and the line of smaller huts beyond them. ‘What else do people do along here?’
Plum frowns. ‘There’s a digital pet portrait artist, someone paints words on stones and sells them on Etsy, there’s a stylist, and a couple of guys customising paddle boards.’
Nell’s leaning her shoulder against the door frame. ‘Sophie wasn’t being mean about the beach being quiet here. No one’s been past in the last hour. In the unlikely event a customer finds their way to the deck, will it be so hard to bung them a brownie to take away?’
Plum’s nodding. ‘If you did want to raise your profile, the kitchen here’s not huge but it’s got everything you’d need.’ She takes in my appalled grimace, and carries on anyway. ‘You always served up amazing meals when we came to stay in London.’
We’re on very shaky ground here talking about the past, but we’ve got to yet another crux. ‘Serving I can do. The food was mostly down to Dillon.’
Nell lets out a guffaw. ‘Well, stone the crows, you both kept that secret!’
It’s just one of those rules of my life, and it was always the same with Dillon as it was with Sophie – wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, there’s always someone who can do it better. Except for being a goth, obviously. And persuading people to buy mahoosive rounds of cocktails. Those weremysuperpowers. And I might have got good at the audio-books too if it hadn’t been for that last operation scuppering my chances. But for the rest, I’m completely reconciled to being bottom of the class and stepping back to let the superstars get on with it.
Plum looks at the sky, then carries on. ‘It’s a big mistake to let Sophie’s success undermine you, Floss. You’re sparky and creative, you put in the effort, and if you everdodecide to have a new-style Little Cornish Kitchen, you’remorethan capable.’
