It was at least a few weeks since she’d last been to visit Lowen. She felt a pang of guilt that she didn’t visit him more often. He wasn’t the easiest person to be around though, and to be fair she saw him more often than some members of the family. Noah and Kit didn’t go over to Bryher often at all. Her stomach knotted to a ball of tension as she thought about how close the Treneary brothers had been a few years back. The falling out between Lowen and Mirren had caused a ripple of tension, and Seren wasn’t sure they’d ever get past it.
She wasn’t surprised to find the pottery shop empty. It was too isolated to attract much in the way of passing trade – which was only part of the problem. Lowen also didn’t make much effort to attract customers. He didn’t advertise the presence of his shop, and the place wasn’t exactly welcoming. From the outside it was hard to know it was even open. There was no bell over the door to alert Lowen of her arrival. If she were a legitimate customer, she’d be left wondering if it was okay to come in at all. As it was, she had a quick browse of the shelves, taking in the beautiful mugs, plates, bowls and vases. They deserved to be displayed in a more artful fashion.
“Hi,” she said when she walked through the open archway at the end of the room, following the whir of the pottery wheel.
Lowen switched the wheel off and wiped his clay-covered hands on a towel draped over his shoulder. “Hi. How are you?”
“Fine, thanks. How are you?”
“Same old. Busy.” He glanced pointedly around at the various pottery projects on individual wooden boards.
“Don’t let me stop you.”
She stroked the ginger cat curled up by Lowen’s feet, then hopped up onto the sideboard across from him. It was her usual spot to sit and witter away while he worked. The one-sided conversations used to bother her, until she found that it could be therapeutic to chatter away as though no one was listening. Most of the time she was sure hewasn’tlistening. With the look of concentration on his face as he worked the clay, she was certain he wasn’t thinking of anything else.
After pressing the foot pedal to turn the wheel on again, Lowen dipped his hands in water before getting back to work. Seren studied his profile, remembering a time when he’d taken pride in his appearance. Now, his dark blonde hair was in dire need of a cut and his jaw was covered in an unkempt beard with flecks of grey, which she’d never noticed before. He’d lost weight in the last couple of years, but he didn’t look well for it. Seren’s gaze shifted to his hands, mesmerised by the way they moved so instinctively over the clay.
“What’s going on with you?” he asked, as though the silence bothered him.
“Not a lot.” She started by telling him the mundane stuff – the regulars at work, the number of holidaymakers, the weather. She went on to tell him how her dad and Naomi and Charlie were, even though he hadn’t asked.
“I was in London a couple of weeks ago,” she told him eventually. “Kit and I went to stay with Trystan for the weekend.”
“How is he?”
“Not great. Jenny broke up with him.”
“So I heard. I presumed they’d have sorted things out again by now.”
She swung her legs back and forth like a small child. “Jenny wants him to buy her out of the flat, so it’s definitely over.”
“Seriously?” He stopped the wheel to look up at her and she nodded in reply. “How’s Trystan taken it?”
“He was a bit upset when we were there. But you know Trystan – he puts on a brave face. He doesn’t talk about it much.” She searched his features, surprised at how Lowen didn’t bother to hide his concern. “You should call him. If he’d talk to anyone, it’d be you.”
He ran a finger over the clay in front of him, making some tiny adjustment. “Are you hungry? We could go up to the hotel for lunch.”
“Sure. If you’re paying. I’m skint.”
“I’m paying,” he said, amusement in his voice. He plucked a hoody from a rickety wooden chair in the corner.
“Aren’t you getting changed?” she asked, looking him up and down. His jeans and T-shirt were covered in smears of clay.
“Wasn’t planning on it.” He treated her to a small smile. “You embarrassed to be seen with me or something?”
“Nope. Just wasn’t sure they’d let you in the place like that.”
“They’re quite used to me and my casual attire.”
“Casual?” she said amid a burst of laughter. “What I’m wearing is casual. What you’re wearing is scruffy.”
“I might change my mind about buying you lunch in a minute.”
“Let’s go quick then.”
They didn’t speak as they ambled along the beach with the warm wind blasting their faces. There wasn’t another soul to be seen, and Seren was reminded of how much more remote Bryher felt than St Mary’s.
On the restaurant’s terrace, Seren turned her chair to face the sun. She asked Lowen about work, managing to get him chatting about the projects he’d been working on and some new techniques he’d been trying out with glazes. He could be quite chatty if you steered the conversation in the right direction. Unfortunately, it took a fair amount of patience. Most of the time he was unapologetically monosyllabic.