‘That’s right. I’ve just…’ She hesitated, having no desire to tell this man, however nice, her whole life story up until now. ‘Come home,’ she said simply.
She spent the next week in a flurry of activity, pruning the hedges at the front of the house and cleaning out all the cupboards inside. The garden at the back needed very little attention—thanks, she realised, with an odd little beat of her heart, to Drew. She stared out of the window at the Michaelmas daisies which were the exact colour of the curtains of the Lilac suite, and sighed.
She was persuaded by Jennie to go down to the boatyard at Milmouth Waters to see Jamie hard at work. And to see the boat which he was desperate to buy.
Shelley had grown up by the sea, and recognised a beauty of a vessel when she saw one. Inside the cavernous interior of the boatyard, the Misty Morn was strong and hunky and yet elegant, too. True, she had been allowed to run down into a state of disrepair, but there was nothing that lots of hard work and love wouldn’t cure.
She spotted Gerald O’Rourke straightening some rigging, the unlit butt of a cigarette clamped between his lips. He had been working round boats at Milmouth since the beginning of time—or so it seemed.
Shelley waited until Jennie had gone to chat to Jamie and give him a pack of sandwiches before she wandered over to speak to Gerald.
‘Jamie seems to like boats,’ she observed.
Gerald shot her a shrewd look. ‘You an investor these days, then?’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘No. Why d’you ask?’
He squinted his rheumy old eyes. ‘He needs one, that’s why. Wants to buy the Misty Morn, and she won’t wait for ever.’
‘But is he any good?’ Shelley found herself asking.
‘Hardest-working lad I’ve ever known,’ said Gerald, shrugging.
So Drew was simply being stubborn about the money, was he? Shelley screwed up her nose in disgust, before reminding herself that it was none of her business. None.
She took the car to the large cathedral town of Southchester further up the coast, and bought tins of bright paints and brushes with a definite air of excitement. Giving the house a brand-new look would not only cheer her up in the short term, it should prove useful if she did decide to sell up.
She came back loaded with bags of shopping, including a pair of regular blue denims and a few cotton slouch sweaters which she’d actually bought in colours, having decided that maybe it was the time to stop wearing only neutrals. Here, against the sea-fresh atmosphere of Milmouth, the greys and blacks she had worn in Italy now seemed dull and self-limiting! And she had forgotten just how much she loved wearing blue!
She was out in her front garden planting spring bulbs in a large terracotta tub one morning, when Jennie came out of her front door and leaned over the fence.
‘I haven’t seen you all week!’ she accused.
‘Well, I’ve been here.’
‘Why didn’t you pop in?’
Shelley shook her head, and pulled a face. ‘I’d hate you to think that I was the neighbour from hell—looming up on the doorstep every time you wanted a quiet five minutes!’
‘Oh, come on! You know very well I wouldn’t mind.’ Jennie gave her a searching look. ‘Is it because of Drew?’
Shelley’s heart blipped. ‘Is what because of Drew?’
‘Is that why you won’t come round? Because the two of you can’t seem to make your minds up whether you want to kill one another or kiss one another.’
‘But Drew doesn’t live there, does he?’ Shelley brushed some compost off her nose with the tip of her thumb.
‘No, he doesn’t! And please don’t forget that!’ Jennie seemed about to say something else, but looked down at the bulbs instead. ‘They’ll look lovely in spring.’
‘I hope so.’ She wondered whether she would be here to see them flower, or whether the reality of seeing Drew living his life without her would be too much to tolerate. ‘My mother loved these tiny daffodils.’
Jennie nodded. ‘I know she did. Um, Shelley—’
‘Mmm?’
‘You know you said you’d babysit for me some time?’
Shelley smiled. ‘When do you want me?’
‘Is tonight too short notice?’
‘I’ve not exactly been snowed under with offers of dates! I’d be happy to. Where are you going—somewhere special?’
Jennie ran her hand through untidy hair which was badly in need of a wash. ‘Jamie wants to take me out dancing—and we haven’t done that since the baby was born!’
‘Mmm! Sounds promising. What time?’
‘He’s coming round about eight.’