‘Thanks, Dave. It still hasn’t sunk in. Quite a lot’s happened since then.’
‘And thought I’d check you’re all right after all that palaver last night. How’s Frida?’
‘We’re both fine. Frida’s leg was cut quite badly but it’s been dressed and we’re home after not too long a stint in A&E. I’ve just got a few bruises.’ Callie shuddered. ‘It could have been so much worse.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Dave said warmly. ‘Have you been down to the front to see the damage?’
‘I haven’t.’
‘It’s a right old mess. Tons of soil and rubble came down at the far end of the prom. They’re taking what’s left of the huts away today.’
‘It’s very sad. I haven’t had a chance to tell Austin how sorry we are we couldn’t get his stuff out. There must be so many precious things lost.’
‘Oh, he’s fine and dandy. Saw him this morning down at the front. When he saw what was left of the wall he understood. Besides, it’s stuff that’s lost, not memories and most gear people keep in a beach hut is fairly disposable. Couldn’t understand why folk rushed down there, to be honest. He said to ask after “young Frida”. Still, it’s been a rare old shock. Town’ll rally round though. We’ve got a great community here. Now, my friend, I want to ask you something.’
‘What’s that, Dave?’
‘I want you to consider, very seriously, this job offer. I wasn’t joking when I mentioned it, you know. I could do with someone like you to take the Art School teaching of fine art forward. If you don’t wanna do full time that’s cool with me. We can discuss terms and stuff and all the nitty-gritty nonsense. Happy to be flexible with what you want. The one thing I can’t be flexible on is starting time. Would have to be January next year.’
‘Oh, Dave. I don’t know what to tell you. I think I’ve almost certainly decided to go home and back to my teaching there. Whatever happens I have to give at least a term’s notice.’
Dave was silent for a moment. ‘Perhaps I figured this out wrong, then. Seems to me you were making friends down here, settling into the town.’
‘I have and I was but…’ She paused. ‘My home and Frida’s home is in Worcester. It’s where I’m settled.’
‘I hear you. Not that I’m not disappointed, mind. But home is important. You wouldn’t find me living anywhere else apart from Lullbury Bay – but then I’m from a local family and there are hundreds of us buggers here. Can’t shake a stick in the Bay and not hit a Wiscombe.’
You wouldn’t find me living anywhere else.How many times had she heard that since coming here, to this little seaside town? She looked around at the beautiful garden, heard the sea crash and roar in the distance, smelled the saline slick in the breeze. She sighed.
‘I heard that, babe. Are you tempted?’
‘Of course I’m tempted but there’s so much to think about.’
‘And, seeing as you’ll be off up to that there London to visit Adya in her gallery, I correct myself,yourgallery, it’s worth a mention we have a direct train line to Waterloo. Runs from Axminster and that ain’t that far away.’
Callie smiled. ‘It’s been mentioned. I have a direct line from Worcester too, Dave.’
‘Yeah well. It was worth a try. Might just be me being idle. This whole malarkey of interviewing and vetting candidates gets me right down. And then, half the time, you end up with someone who either doesn’t fit in or thinks running off to the seaside will solve all their problems and leaves after half a minute. You strike me as being someone who would fit in round here. And, didn’t you say young Frida is off to South West in Exeter?’
‘She’s thinking about it.’
‘Be nice to have her mum nearby.’
Callie laughed. ‘Dave. Stop it. I’m heading back to Worcester. Might go back early in fact. I’m waiting for Frida to wake up to see how she feels.’
‘Okay, my friend. Give her my best. And, whatever happens, keep in touch, you hear?’
‘Will do.’ Callie clicked off the call and gazed at the palm tree, its leaves outlined sharply against the sky. She knew someone like Johnny or Jessica would jump at this opportunity, at changing their lives.
A seagull wheeled overhead and glided out to sea against a sky so vividly blue it hurt the eyes. This could be her home if Grace had been serious about her renting it. She could have a part-time dog if she agreed to look after Vinny or even have one of her own. She’d have this garden to relax in, the superb views from the bedroom to enjoy through the changing seasons.
How she’d love to paint that view at different times throughout the year. Her painter’s fingers flexed at the very thought. She’d be near Frida if she got in at South West.
Her thoughts meandered. Would it be possible to rent somewhere cheap for weekends, live in Worcester but visit Lullbury Bay more often? She immediately dismissed the idea as impractical. The weekends were for catching up on sleep and planning the following week. The thought of Friday evening trips down the M5 after a heavy week at school made her wince.
With a sigh, she accepted she wasn’t a Johnny or a Jessica. She hadn’t been endowed with middle-class confidence and a moneyed background. She was just Calliope Thorne, a middle-aged schoolteacher with the remainder of a mortgage to pay, a daughter to support and a demanding and increasingly stressful job to return to.
With a grim smile she recognised her mother’s genes lying heavily in her. Her mother had never left the city in which she’d been born, had lived in the same house bought as a newlywed. Had rejected change as a deliberate and forceful habit. Callie feared that reigniting a relationship with her parents would see her content to live as quietly and unadventurously as they did.
