‘Maybe we should just leave Marilyn here.’ Ellie led the way back up the pretty cobblestone pathway, which was surrounded by wildflowers. They re-joined the street, and turned back towards the cove, making their way to an ice-cream van Fee had spotted on her previous walk into the village. ‘Obviously, I have to get her repaired. Particularly if I want to sell her anyway. But we could… I dunno. Hire a car and carry on, and then come back for Marilyn at the end.’
They ordered ice creams from the cheery woman in the ice-cream van: Ellie chose raspberry ripple, and Fee chose chocolate.
They sat down on the edge of a wall to eat their ice creams, dangling their legs above the rocks below, where the beach started. A couple of cars sat parked on the road behind them; Ellie guessed they belonged to the dog walkers she could see on the beach.
‘I think I’ve put on at least ten pounds since the operation.’ Ellie savoured the rich creaminess of the ice cream on her tongue. ‘God knows how I’m going to get back into all my work clothes.’
‘Well, you look good. Better than before, if I’m honest,’ Fee answered, shading her face from the sun with her hand. ‘You were always so scrawny. Your cheeks have filled out. Do you good to get some meat on your bones.’
‘No thanks.’ Ellie made a face. Fee always looked lovely, she had to admit, and she was probably a size 16. Her friend had all the bombshell curves: the boobs, the bum and the little waist, wore dresses that showed off her lovely figure and wore her light auburn hair in a sharp bob. But Ellie knew, for herself, that she didn’t have the confidence to get any bigger than she was. It wasn’t that she thought being heavier was ugly. It was more that she had always felt the need to restrict herself. To stay small, narrow and under the radar.
Fee was sexy, partly because of the way she looked but partly also because she was confident about her body. She’d walk into a bar and get admiring looks from men and women. Ellie had never wanted that attention. She was afraid of it. She was afraid of being seen, because, in her mind, that made her exposed and vulnerable. So, she had always dieted and exercised and bound her physical self in tight, non-negotiable expectations of thinness.
Thinness was what her work expected, what her friends demanded, without actually saying it; what the designer dresses she bought asked for and what she, herself, wore as a camouflage.
‘Why not? Women are supposed to have curves. I mean, fair enough if you’re naturally athletic. But you and I both know that you hardly ever used to eat. I’ve seen you eat more in the past four days than I think I’ve seen you eat in the whole time I’ve known you.’ Fee licked her ice cream. ‘God, that’s good.’
‘I am enjoying the food, I have to admit.’ Ellie assessed the ice cream in her hand. ‘It feels as though… I don’t know. Having the lump, it’s been a bit of a wake-up call. And I’m just ravenous all the time. I could eat both of these and then some chips and not even think about it.’
‘Well, you should!’ Fee laughed. ‘Hey. D’you think Esther Christie’s one of them?’ She pointed to the sea, where a group of women in bathing suits, some with swimming caps, were wading out of the water. They made their way back to a heap of bags and started to towel themselves off, talking and joking. There were six of them in all, and watching them gave Ellie a sense of longing. They seemed to be enjoying themselves so much.
She wondered if she would ever be brave enough to get into a swimming costume again. The way she felt at the moment, she doubted it.
‘Come on. Let’s go and see if one of them’s Esther.’ Fee stood up and held out a hand to Ellie.
‘The man with the beard said she might not want a lodger,’ Ellie protested.
‘Well, then, we can still have a walk on the beach.’ Fee raised her eyebrow at her friend. ‘Come on.’
‘Fine,’ Ellie agreed. ‘But I still think we should hire a car.’
They walked down the beach to the group of women.
‘Hi there.’ Fee waved as they got closer. ‘Is one of you Esther Christie, by any chance?’
‘Afternoon.’ One of the women looked up. She had a blue towel knotted around her waist and long grey hair in a bun on her head. She wore a yellow T-shirt that read: I’VE BEEN TO THE SHIPWRECK AND SMUGGLING MUSEUM AT MAGPIE COVE. ‘I’m Esther. Can I ’elp you, my love?’
‘Ah. Hello, I’m Fiona, this is my friend, Ellie. Mark Gardner’s fixing our motorhome at the moment and he said you might know of somewhere we could stay while he does it. He says he thinks it’ll be a couple of weeks.’
‘Oh, I see. I’m afraid I can’t ’elp yer, though. I do usually ’ave a room for payin’ guests, but I’m in a bit of a tizz at the moment with decorators everywhere. ’Avin a new kitchen put in, an’ everythin’ done up.’
‘Not to worry,’ Ellie interrupted. ‘We were also thinking about hiring a car and heading off for a couple of weeks while the work gets done. Do any of you know where we could hire something?’
The women exchanged glances.
‘Well, you’d be able to hire something in St Ives, I expect.’ A woman about Ellie’s age with short black hair and a red bathing suit answered. ‘But we don’t have an official car hire here. Though, if you’ve found Mark, you could ask him.’ She gave Fee and Ellie a thoughtful look. ‘However, if you’re looking for somewhere to stay, I own the beach house there. It’s free at the moment, if you’re interested? I had a short let fall through.’
‘That place?’ Ellie pointed at the smart beach house on the cove. It was a good size, and featured a long, covered porch all along one side. Hanging baskets swayed gently in the light breeze coming off the sea and two rocking chairs sat outside. Ellie imagined herself sitting on one of them, looking out over the side of the beach where shingle gave way to white sand, watching the sun set. It was a nice image.
‘Four bedrooms, but I’ve got one set up as an office at the moment. All mod cons. Come and have a look now, if you want.’ The woman pulled on some tracksuit bottoms and zipped up a long-sleeved top. ‘I’m Mara, by the way.’
‘Well, only if it’s convenient.’ Ellie waved shyly to the rest of the group. ‘We wouldn’t want to interrupt anything.’
‘No interruption. Just our weekly swim.’ Mara grinned.
‘All right, then.’
The beach house was gorgeous, Ellie had to admit. It could easily have been featured in a home décor magazine, or on one of the endless aspirational holiday home programmes she’d been watching recently. The wide, white-painted wood front door opened onto a spacious living room with original stripped pine floorboards, where two white sofas sat on a Turkish-style woven rug in washed-out blue and brown tones. A log burner sat in the middle of one wall; Ellie could imagine how cosy it would be in there in the winter. She liked the blue-patterned tiles that coved the interior of the fireplace in which it stood.
