‘Oh yes. Sweet. Everything helps, mate.’ Jamie nodded vigorously and a boyish lock of dark hair flopped over his forehead.
‘This isn’t really Jamie’s thing, but he’s come along because he loves me. Haven’t you?’ Reaching up, Lucie plastered a sloppy kiss on his cheek. ‘Would you make me a willow cabin at my gate, or had you fallen asleep at that point?’ She passed him a pint of lager.
He grimaced. ‘Think I’d drifted off by then.’ He gestured to the castle. ‘This old place looks a treat though, doesn’t it?’
Lucie giggled. ‘Think Jamie is half hoping for a shout to come through so he can shoot off down to the station.’ At their bemused expressions she went on. ‘A shout is the RNLI crew’s term for when a distress call comes in.’ She elbowed her husband in the ribs. ‘Sadly, the sea’s been far too calm this summer for any drama. And you love a bit of drama, don’t you?’
‘I do but prefer mine on the telly box.’
‘Heathen,’ Lucie said good-naturedly. ‘You’ll have to make do with what’s on stage tonight.’
Observing their banter Callie thought Lucie seemed far too young to be married but she sensed the relationship, underneath the teasing, was strong and rooted. She watched as Jamie tweaked a curl of Lucie’s crimson hair. She’d like Frida to find someone like this. Hell,she’dlike a bit of what Lucie and Jamie had for herself.
Irritated at her introspection, she reflected that if this is what happened when she had time on her hands to think she’d welcome a return to work. She turned to the younger woman and said brightly, ‘I’m really enjoying it. Does anyone recognise the actor playing Malvolio? I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere.’
Jamie took a swig of lager and answered. ‘I’ve seen him somewhere before too.’ His good-looking face crinkled as he thought. Raising his pint glass in triumph he exclaimed, ‘I know! He was in Coronation Street last year.’ Elbowing Lucie back, he added, ‘See, this heathen has his uses. So, Callie, are you a Corrie fan too?’
‘I’m not but Frida, that’s my daughter, is glued to it. I wander past when she’s got it on and end up drawn in. Then I have to watch the next episode to find out what happens next. Talk about a time suck.’
He laughed. ‘It’s my guilty pleasure.’
‘And the only one you have time for, apart from me.’ Lucie slipped an arm around her husband’s waist. ‘He’s always so busy,’ she complained. ‘What did Frida think of you two building a sandcastle? Didn’t she want to join in?’
‘She would have loved it but she’s currently sunning herself in Ibiza,’ Callie answered, not challenging the assumption that she and Johnny were a couple and Frida belonged to them.
‘Lucky her.’ Lucie pulled Jamie closer. ‘What we wouldn’t do with two weeks in the sun, eh? No chance of that. We’re stoneybroke. I’ve just finished my second year at uni and did bar work to get me through.’ She blew out a breath. ‘Suppose I’ll have to grow up and get a proper job when I graduate. Bring some pennies in.’
‘You had a proper job.’ Jamie looked at her fondly. ‘So there’s every chance you’ll get another one.’ He turned to them. ‘Lucie was at the estate agent’s in town for years but it was too much with studying and everything.’
Callie’s admiration for the woman grew. She seemed so clued-up and vivacious. Much more so than Frida. She wondered where she’d gone wrong with her daughter. Why did she lack the energy and ambition that Lucie had in such abundance? Guilt, never far away, washed over her, then she jumped as a fire-eater announced the end of the interval with a roar of flame.
‘Look, we’re popping down to The Old Harbour for a last drink,’ Lucie said suddenly. ‘Join us. I’d really like to talk journalism with you, Johnny, if you’re still willing.’
‘No problem, if there’s time,’ Johnny answered.
‘There’ll be plenty of time, no chance of us missing last orders. Claud won’t turn us away, we’re regulars. Please say you’ll come?’
Johnny looked questioningly at Callie. ‘Fine by me,’ she nodded back.
The fire-eater roared again, accompanied by an actor playing a flute and insisting the interval was over. ‘Better get back to our seats.’ He smiled at Lucie. ‘See you later at the pub.’
Seventeen
Hokusai 1760–1849
Painter, print maker and portrait artist, especially of courtesans and actors. Discussion point: art beyond western Europe, thinking beyond cultural boundaries. There’s a big world out there to be celebrated!
(Taken from Calliope Thorne’s teaching notes.)
The pub was crowded and, as the evening was still warm, they took their drinks outside to sit by the water’s edge. The pub commanded the best position in town, being right by the harbour. As Callie squeezed onto the bench next to Jamie, she thought how wonderful it all was.
The lights festooned along the harbour building danced in the water. A slight breeze took the edge off the sultry heat and made the halyards on the yachts clink. And the sky merged, inky, into the calm sea beyond the harbour wall. Looking to the east, white lights led the eye along the prom to the shops inching up the steep main street in town.
She inhaled. Salt and a subtle salty, fishy odour. Worcester had a lot to offer and, up to now, she’d been happy there, but to live so close to the ever-changing shades of a coastal sea and sky would be inspiring. Her fingers ached for her paints; she longed to capture the velvety purple and indigo. ‘Lullbury Bay must be a fabulous place to live,’ she said to Jamie, Lucie being deep in discussion with Johnny on the opposite side of the bench.
‘It is. I’m born and bred, as they say. As is Lucie. We’re both from local families, although Lucie’s is far bigger than mine. You can’t throw a pebble without hitting a Wiscombe.’
‘And you obviously love living here.’
