‘Just don’t ask him anything about Keats,’ Callie put in, unable to resist, receiving a poke from Johnny’s elbow.
‘Okaaay,’ Lucie said, looking bemused. ‘It’s a date, then,’ she added, more cheerfully. ‘And I take it you’ll both be at the Shakespeare up at the castle?’
‘Oh yes. Wouldn’t miss it,’ Johnny said.
‘See you there too then. And can I just say again how brilliant it is that you’ve entered the sandcastle comp. I’ve just about had enough today, of precocious Fenellas and Tarquins and their helicopter mummies doing all the work for them. Oof, better go, duty calls.’ Lucie looked over to where Eli was trying to deal witha queue. ‘Need to rescue Eli. Don’t forget to take a pic of your masterpiece.’
‘Already done.’ Callie waggled her phone. ‘But thanks for the reminder. My daughter would never forgive me if she thought she’d missed out on this.’
Lucie giggled. ‘Here, hand me your buckets and spades, I’ll take them back for you and then you can escape.’ She began to jog over to the tent and put up a hand as she went. ‘See you sometime then.’
As they meandered through the sandcastles, Callie said, ‘You were very kind to Lucie.’
Johnny frowned. ‘Was I? I didn’t think I did much. When I started out, I had a fantastic mentor. I like opportunities to pay it forward. And I like talking to young people.’
‘Have you any children of your own?’
He shook his head. ‘None that I know of.’
‘Would you like some?’
‘Think I’m happy being an uncle. All the fun and none of the responsibility.’
‘True.’ Callie looked about her happily, neatly dodging a beach ball. She stooped and threw it back to the owner. ‘You know, I don’t think I’ve been anywhere so friendly. Almost straight away I met an eccentric but charming old man called Austin, then there’s Tracey in the Sea Spray Café and another woman I met in there called Avril. She was lovely. Hadn’t moved here all that long ago herself.’
Clambering up the steep sandy steps to the promenade, they strolled westwards, the sun in their eyes. Callie sucked in a deep breath of briny sea air, inhaling scents of vinegary chips and sweet cloying candyfloss. ‘I mean, I know it’s a cliché, running away to the seaside but I could almost see myself living here.’
Johnny raised his brows. ‘Big change.’
‘And a pipe dream. Mortgage to pay. Life and friends in Worcester.’
He shrugged, putting a companionable arm through hers. ‘Mortgages can be covered by renting property out. It’s only a jaunt up the M5 back to see your friends.’ He spread an arm to the busy seaside-y scene. ‘And, living here, you’d be popular with visitors.’
‘Oh yes, a really quick jaunt up the M5. On all days except an August Saturday.’ Callie lifted her face to the sun. ‘You’ve moved all over the world. Moving somewhere new isn’t a big thing for you. I haven’t. I’ve lived in the same city all my life.’If only I could relocate here.The treacherous thought nagged. She shoved it away. It was nothing more than a dream.
Fourteen
George Stubbs 1724–1806
English painter. Best known for his paintings of horses but he also painted dog portraits, especially working breeds and gun dogs.
(Taken from Calliope Thorne’s teaching notes.)
Halfway up God Almighty Hill they paused to catch their breath.
Callie rested against the wall of the striking Victorian house called Christmas Tree Cottage. She remembered this was where Avril said she lived. It was a pretty house and the view of the harbour was impressive even from this low down the hill. Amused, she watched as a gull flew overhead, its beak full of stolen booty. Johnny had been in a great mood today, so easy to get along with. It was in direct contrast to how he’d been after returning from the party. Granted her recall was hazy but she could remember his tight lips and closed face. He’d said it wasn’t her being drunk, so what had been the cause? ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking you something–’ she let the sentencetrail, wondering if she was going to spoil what had been a happy morning.
Johnny turned to her, leaned his elbow on the wall beside her and lifted up his sunglasses. ‘Ask away.’
‘You seemed a bit out of sorts after the party. And you said it wasn’t because I was completely hammered.’
‘It really wasn’t you. As I’ve said, you make a very sweet drunk.’ He looked down and scuffed sand off his deck shoes. ‘My family has that effect on me although I try not to let them get to me. After hearing all aboutyourparents, I really should stop being quite so self-indulgent and man up. Remember your advice about seeing my family as people in their own right.’
‘Easier said than done when you’re trying to break the habit of a lifetime.’ Callie winced. ‘And I hate that phrase, “man up”. I’m all for getting emotions out there and dealing with them,especiallyif you’re a man.’
‘Well, rest assured, it really was my family that made me moody – for which I apologise.’ He gave an enigmatic smile. ‘It wasn’t you, or at least not in the way you think. Shall we?’ Offering her an arm, they resumed the ascent.
Callie, frustrated by his answer, concentrated on breathing, intent on probing further when back at the house. What had he meant? However, when they got to Sea Haven House’s pretty front garden, an older woman and a black spaniel stood waiting for them. Dressed in a pink flowered shift with a turquoise scarf holding her long silver hair back, the woman’s face bore an anxious expression.
