My Summer of Magic Moments: Uplifting and romantic - the perfect, feel good holiday read!. Caroline Roberts
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said about him the better,’ she muttered. How did you just forget six years of marriage? All those good times as well as the bad. She went quiet for a while.
‘You’re probably right,’ she conceded after a pause.
She remembered how it had happened. She’d been given the good news from the oncologist after a follow-up scan, that there was no further evidence of cancer, and was so relieved. It was the week afterwards, that was all, when she was back at home looking forward to the future, their future. He’d just come out with it. Told her that he’d been seeing someone else, that it had started before her diagnosis. He couldn’t have left her like that. So all the while, all through the op, the chemo, the radiotherapy, the first months of recovery, they’d been living a lie. His staunch, loving support had been merely duty, a cover for his guilt. She’d found the energy, from sheer rage probably, to throw a suitcase at him and told him to get out. He had, swiftly, with a couple of overnight bags and his ticket to a new life and new lover.
Claire stayed quiet.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, Claire … but I just want you to be happy. You can be happy again.’
‘I know. I’m not rushing into anything, though. I mean man-wise. I wouldn’t say no to a bit of happiness.’ Claire laughed, a little too loudly. ‘It’s okay, Sal. It’s probably best out in the open. And thanks for coming up, sis. It’s nice that you’re here.’
‘Hey, no worries. It’s great to see you, and in fact it’s been lovely just to have a night away from the madhouse of my family. A bit of head space, you know. I love ’em to bits, don’t get me wrong, but every now and then you just need a bit of time out from the demands of “Mummy, I need a poo, Mummy, I’m hungry, Mummy, I’m thirsty, Mummy, where’s my football kit?”’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘And the best? “Sal, if you’re tired, can I at least have a hand job?”’ The red wine was obviously loosening her reserve.
Claire laughed. ‘I wonder how he’s coping?’
‘What, Mark? He’ll be fine. He’s got hands of his own, you know.’ Sally giggled.
‘I mean with the boys.’
‘Ah, he’ll be okay. He’s pretty good with them, and it’ll do him good to spend some more time with them. And he’ll appreciate me even more when I come back, hopefully. They were heading off to the cinema this evening, latest Disney movie and a pizza supper. I’ll give them a call in the morning. It’s a bit late now.’
‘You’ll be lucky to get any signal anyhow.’
‘Ah, I see.’
Claire had never had that – a family of her own. Even with all the stresses of family life, Sally was happy – her children were her everything. You could see it written all over her face. Paul had never wanted children. That had seemed okay at first, when she was young and idolized him – they were fine as a couple. He had his engineering business, his busy life, the foreign holidays together; children would just get in the way. But she’d always wondered in a little hide-and-seek corner of her thoughts whether he might change his mind one day. A part of her had hoped he would.
‘Hey, do you realize it’s nearly midnight, Bo? Time for bed, methinks. Oh Jeez, have I really got to get into that fleapit now?’
‘It’s either that or a lumpy sofa.’
‘Christ, the things I do for you, sis. If I’m itching in the morning, you’re in for it, I can tell you.’ She half grinned, half shrugged, resigned to her fate. ‘If I ever need a getaway break, I won’t be coming here, that’s for sure. It’s going to be five stars in the Maldives.’
‘Great. If you need some company …’ Claire grinned.
‘Come on, then, let’s do this thing.’ Sal stood up.
The pair of them waddled in from the balcony in their duvets, looking an odd sight. They brushed their teeth, sharing the little floorboard-creaking bathroom. Then Sal headed off to her room. ‘Here goes.’
‘Night, Sal. Thanks again for coming.’
‘My pleasure, hun.’ There was a slight pause. ‘Except for the grotty bed.’
Claire heard a creaking as her sister ventured in. Heard the click of the light switch, the blink into darkness. She lay down in her own bed, settling onto her pillow with a sigh and a warm feeling of love for her sibling. Then, unable to resist pulling out an old saying of their gran’s, she perched up on one elbow and shouted across the landing, ‘Night, night, sleep tight. Hope the bed bugs don’t bite.’
‘Bitch,’ was launched back. But she knew Sal was grinning too.
It was the best night’s sleep she’d had in ages. Claire squinted her eyes to try and gauge the time. Gone ten o’clock! She could hear someone shuffling about downstairs, the sound of a kettle bubbling to a boil. Ah, a cup of tea, that would be good. She tried to sit up and felt like she’d been hammered all over during the night. Hammered was certainly something to do with it, she winced, trying to pull a leg out of bed. Oh, good God, she hadn’t had a hangover in years. Through all the cancer treatment she’d steered clear of alcohol, thinking her body had enough to deal with. Obviously her tolerance levels had plummeted – she hadn’t had much more than two glasses. Okay, so maybe they were large glasses. Now she realized she’d probably been a bit stupid, but she’d been enjoying herself, had lost track.
She summoned the energy to creep downstairs, to find Sal in the kitchen popping teabags into mugs.
‘Hey, you – I was going to bring one up to you.’ Her sister looked amazingly bright-eyed and breezy.
Claire slumped onto a kitchen chair, leant her arms on the table and placed her head in her hands.
‘Paracetamol, hun?’
‘Yes please.’
‘No worries, always keep some in my handbag.’
Thank God her sister was so organized. ‘Ta.’ She raised her head a little, trying to avoid any sudden movements as things seemed to be slamming around in her brain.
Sally passed her a large glass of water and placed two painkillers in her palm. Her tongue seemed to seize up as she popped them in and tried to swallow, her throat constricting around them. She gulped down a couple of glugs of water to shift them. Now she remembered why she didn’t normally drink much.
‘Been up long?’ she rallied, trying to make conversation. She didn’t want to waste the limited time she had with her sister.
‘Since about three a.m., itching.’
‘Nooo!’
‘Just kidding, Clairebo! Had you there, though. No, I’ve only been up about half an hour myself. Been sitting looking at the view. Not a bad spot you’ve got here. I can just picture it all done up, a nice white-and-blue beach theme going on. All distressed furniture and shabby chic instead of just shabby.’ Sal passed her a steaming mug of tea.
‘Hmm.’ Yes, she could picture that too, like something out of Homes & Gardens, all beachside chic. Her sister had always had an eye for design – her own house was gorgeously furnished and decorated.
Claire then wondered what, or more precisely who her sister had been watching out on the beach. It would hopefully have been too late for Grumpy-Gorgeous’s early-morning swim. That was a little gem she liked to think she could keep to herself.
‘That guy next door was out jogging with his dog.’
Was she some kind of mind-reader?
‘Oh, right.’ She tried to sound cool. ‘What kind of dog has he got?’
‘Labrador. Black one.’ Pause. ‘He’s quite dishy, isn’t he?’
‘What, the dog?’
‘Hah,