My Summer of Magic Moments: Uplifting and romantic - the perfect, feel good holiday read!. Caroline Roberts
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coffee, ‘Yep, it’s a plan. My treat.’
The two sisters sat on the stone harbour wall, each with a plastic carton resting on their knees. The nostalgic days of wrapping the fish and chips in recycled newspaper were no more. Still, the smell was delicious, and the taste was damn good. They’d put plenty of salt and vinegar on. How come fish-shop salt and vinegar always tasted better than that at home? They dived in with their little wooden forks, breaking off bits of crispy batter and chunks of juicy cod. It was one of the best meals Claire had had in ages.
‘So, how are you doing really, sis? Enjoying the break?’
‘Yeah, it’s been a nice week. And I’m okay,’ Claire replied, chip poised in mid-air.
‘Good to hear it. It’s been a pretty tough time for you.’
‘Suppose so.’ Claire was swinging her legs against the harbour wall like she used to as a kid.
‘Listen to you, making light of it. You’ve been amazing, you know. Dealing with everything you’ve had to. Getting through that shitty cancer. All the treatment.’
‘Well I didn’t have a lot of choice in it all, did I? But I’m feeling much better than I have in ages. Getting back to fitness too.’
‘Good for you … Look, Claire, I’m not very good at this stuff, and I never said it at the time, but I really wanted to say … I’m proud of you.’
Sal never came out with soppy stuff like this. She was a ‘pull your socks up and get on with it’ kind of girl. Claire found herself getting all emotional. The next chip got jammed in her throat. She gulped. Sniffed. Looked up at the skyline, then across at the boats bobbing in the harbour.
‘Wonder if there are any dishy fishermen around?’ Sal broke the tension.
‘Hmm, a nice lifeboat man might do. All hunky and heroic,’ Claire rejoined.
‘Yeah, and he wouldn’t stink of fish all day. Good thinking.’
They laughed, tucking back into the last of their chips, Claire scraping up all the crispy fragments at the bottom.
‘Thanks,’ said Claire. For the fish and chips. For being a great sister. For everything.
‘You are so welcome. Come on, let’s head back. We’ll stop off for a bottle or two of wine to take back on the way.’
They were about to turn right to cross into the cottage’s driveway from the main road when a black 4x4 made the turn in front of them from the left. Claire recognized the sandy-blond hair of her neighbour. Her stomach gave a weird flutter.
They had to drive past his vehicle to get to their parking bay outside Farne View. He got out of the car at the same time as them. He still wasn’t smiling. He was dressed in dark jeans and a blue checked shirt, open at the neck. Claire had forgotten just how tall and broad-shouldered he was. She looked across to say a brief ‘Hello’, just as Sally was giving her an intrigued raised-eyebrow, mouthing, ‘Who is that?’
‘Neighbour,’ Claire mouthed back. Her sister wouldn’t be so excited had she actually spoken to him.
Mr Grumpy did actually manage a ‘Hello’ and a curt nod back, but Claire caught that hint of annoyance lingering across his brow. It felt very much like they were invading his space.
As soon as they got through the door, Sal blurted out, ‘Who the hell is that hunk next door? You didn’t mention any dishy neighbours on the phone. No wonder you were hesitant about me coming down. Wanted to keep him all to yourself, hey? No need for any lifeboat men now.’ She winked exaggeratedly. ‘Of course, being a married woman and all that, I’d stand back graciously. He’d be all yours.’
‘Hah, he’s a right misery, to be honest. Met him last weekend. Looks can be deceiving, I tell you. I had to get some help with changing a gas bottle – you’d have thought I’d asked him to lick the toilets out.’
Sal had a weird look on her face. ‘Hmm, I’m just picturing him licking …’
‘Enough! Stop it, you crazy woman.’ Even with No. 8 The Cocktail Zone on her list, the reality of sex seemed so far out of Claire’s world right now, she felt uncomfortable just thinking about it. She might as well declare her body a sex-free zone and be done with it. It would be one less thing to worry about.
Sally ventured up to the spare room to drop her case, which she’d left in the hall earlier. Claire waited nervously, then heard the squeal. Her sister shouted down the staircase.
‘Have you seen that bed … and the mattress? What the hell kind of place is this? Ugh! I wouldn’t be surprised if it has bed bugs or lice or something. Thank God I had the sense to bring my own mattress protector and fresh linen –’ She appeared at the kitchen door. ‘How the hell do you sleep here at night, Clairebo? It’s pretty run-down, isn’t it? Not what I was expecting at all.’
‘It’s a bit basic, yeah.’
‘Basic? That’s complimentary. It’s a bloody shack. I daren’t tell Mum – she’d be here in a shot, turfing you out and booking you into the nearest four-star hotel.’
‘Don’t you mention a thing.’ Claire shot her sister a sharp look. ‘I like it here. It’s quirky.’
‘Hah, you can say that again.’
‘Well, while it’s dry, let’s get out and stretch our legs,’ Claire soothed. ‘The beach here is amazing.’ A walk would de-stress Sally, hopefully, and get them both out of the cottage for a while. And later, with all the food and wine she’d kindly bought, and wouldn’t take a penny for, at the Co-op back in Seahouses, her sister would be nice and snoozy by the time bedtime arrived and would have forgotten the stains on the mattress. She could hope for a miracle.
As they passed next door’s garden, Claire was sure she could hear what sounded like a large dog barking from the house. Hmm, she hadn’t heard or seen a dog there last weekend. She put the thought to the back of her mind as she and her sister strolled along the shoreline, soon taking off their shoes and paddling in the shallows. Claire couldn’t resist a splashing session – taking the two of them right back to the days of sibling fun-fighting. Both ended up laughing and rather damp from the waist down. No matter – the sun was warm and they’d dry in no time.
‘It’s nice to see you smiling again.’ Sally touched her arm.
‘Nice to be smiling again. See, told you – I’m fine. And even if the house is a bit ramshackle, it seems to be doing me some good.’
‘Maybe it is,’ Sal had to concede.
At the end of the day, supper eaten and cleared away, they sat out on the balcony taking in the evening sun with the last of the red wine. Claire had produced a supper of local cheese and her third attempt at homemade bread – a white bloomer with a rosemary and sea-salt crust, cold meats, juicy tomatoes, olives (a bit of an Italian theme going on), with a bottle of Chianti. Now the pair of them sat chatting easily. Claire’s concerns about her sister’s intrusion on her hideaway time had eased. It was actually really nice. They were beginning to rediscover that close sisterly bond they’d had as teenagers, which had somehow slipped into the middle distance when husbands and children and other diversions were around. She’d forgotten quite how well they did get on when it was just the two of them.
Halfway down the second bottle of red now, Sal having had the bulk of it, they were sat out on the balcony wrapped in duvets they’d brought out from their bedrooms. ‘I know it’s hurt like hell, Clairebo, but I think that prick of a husband of yours leaving isn’t such a bad thing. Not in the long run.’
Well that was pretty blunt. Claire stared at her. Sal had never warmed to her husband Paul from the start (correction: ex-husband, as of eight weeks) – there had always been a frostiness between them. Not that they’d ever had an argument, or that anything in particular had happened; it was just that they were almost too polite when they had to meet –