Edie Browne's Cottage by the Sea Read online

Loella’s peeling off the shiny green paper. ‘We won’t tell if you don’t. They’re melting in the sun, careful you don’t mess up your bunny outfit, Edie.’

  Beth’s giggling. ‘You’ll have to excuse Lo, she has this horrible habit of talking to us all like we’re her three-year-olds.’

  Somehow I don’t mind at all. Being included in the ‘us’ gives me a warm glow in my middle. It’s so long since I did something as simple as standing with people, laughing in a patch of sunlight. Aunty Jo is lovely. But when I don’t go to work and don’t see my friends any more, even though I’m never actually on my own, there are times I do get very lonely. Having people around the barn yard will be great for that too.

  Loella jumps. ‘Watch out – Josie’s coming now.’ She’s looking at me expectantly.

  ‘I’ll tell her later when we’re back at the cottage so I can explain it properly.’ When she’s less uptight about having hordes of children careering around her barn yard. When she’s relaxing over her chicken with apricots, done in the slow cooker, looking forward to The Nutcracker or Dancers With No Talent.

  ‘Good plan.’ Beth gives my arm a little punch, then starts to smile again.

  Aunty Jo is coming towards us, taking tiny steps over the gravel in her coral pumps, still with her ears up. There are children running beside her, all tapping her legs, holding out their bags to get her attention. It’s only as she spins around we get the full benefit of the damage.

  ‘Look at that chocolate hand-print on her bottom. I’ll save that for later too.’ I wrinkle my nose.

  Beth’s smiling at Aunty Jo. ‘They’ve all had a wonderful time, Josie. Thank you so much, it’s been just like old times – only better.’

  Even though she’s not exactly smiling, Aunty Jo’s cheeks are as rosy as her velvet suit, and that has to be down to pleasure as much as her onesie overheating.

  I smile at her too. ‘Time to go home?’ There’s a catch in my voice as I say it, because I’m so happy to see her enjoying herself.

  She suddenly frowns and points at one tiny smear on my leg. ‘Oh my, you should have had a tan suit, Honeybunny, how did you get so much chocolate on you?’

  I have to bite my tongue to stop myself saying, You too. ‘I’m good with grey.’

  ‘Well, bear that in mind for next year.’

  I absolutely won’t and neither will she, for that matter, but I don’t say that either.

  Her tone is bright. ‘Anyway, we’re all going to Barney’s yard for more juice. And then …’ she stops for dramatic effect ‘… and then he’s going to show us his caravans. I can’t believe I’ve been here all this time and have never seen them.’

  Now I’ve heard it all.

  18

  Day 151: Sunday, 1st April

  At Barney’s barns

  Epic Achievement: Not being rude about shepherd’s huts (eye roll).

  It might sound harsh, but if Aunty Jo wasn’t interested in shepherd’s huts the first day, I’m not sure why she suddenly wants to see them all this time later. It’s highly unlikely anyone would suddenly develop a burning interest in anything on wheels, let alone huts. I’d think it’s one of those things a bit like short sight or a heart murmur; you either have it, or you don’t. It doesn’t just arrive late one morning, no matter how sunny the day is. It’s like the Easter eggs had fairy dust sprinkled on them.

  After all the excitement of the egg hunt and my brainwave for the barn yard, I’m past ready for some time out. I take in a breath and try to plunder my memory for the right persuasive words that will speed us back to the day room, two frothy hot chocolates, some real-life clothes and a lippy rescue. It’s funny, when you don’t give a damn the phrases come tumbling out. The minute you care, it’s like there’s chicken soup in your head and dry grass in your throat. I’m still racking my brain when there’s a tug on my sleeve.

  ‘Cam!’ I can see his hair is even spikier than usual. ‘Having a good time?’

  There are chocolate smears on his cheeks and Robert the dog is running alongside his ankles. ‘We’re going to our house now.’ He’s squinting in the bright light. ‘I’ve been doing pictures, I’ll show you if you like.’

  ‘Brill!’

  Loella winks at me as he runs off. ‘Looks like you can’t escape, but don’t worry, you’ll love Barney’s barns.’

  If they belonged to anyone else, I’m sure I would. At least with the crowds it’ll be easy to keep out of his way. Every time I see him I stuff up in some spectacular way. Throw in a onesie too, and it’s like I’m fighting him with my ankles tied together then adding in a blindfold.

  Loella puts Tally down, takes her hand and slides her other arm through mine. ‘This way, come on.’ As we watch Cam dodging ahead, she’s guiding me further along the lane, past the field behind Aunty Jo’s biggest barn and around the side of a bulky stone building with a high slate roof that’s shining in the sun. As we round the corner she slows down and grins at me. ‘There, so tell me what you think.’

  There are long tall buildings on two sides, with lots of glass and grey paint and wriggly metal, and beyond the central flagged area there’s a broad field with trees, their branches dark against the pearly blue of the sky, and neat wriggly tin shepherd’s huts with criss-cross windows and wooden steps up to their plank doors, dotted in the spaces between the boughs. And, as if that wasn’t already enough, there are drifts of daffodils nodding in the wind.

  ‘It’s nice …’ Okay, I give in. ‘Amazing, even.’ And so much slicker and tidier than Aunty Jo’s barn yard with its rubbish piles and wood stacks.

  Loella’s nodding. ‘I told you it was worth a visit. We used to come scrumping for apples in the orchard here when we were kids. It’ll be even nicer in a few weeks when the blossom comes out. Barney’s split the buildings into live-work units, and what about those shepherd’s huts?’

  ‘They look very rustic among the trees.’ Okay, I admit, they do look as if they belong there, but it’ll take more than a scene of rural idyll to convert me. If you were being mean you’d say they look a lot like the love child of Thomas Hardy and a Hoseasons holiday park. But as I can’t even say ‘excuse me, but let’s go home instead’ I probably haven’t got a hope in hell of unleashing a thought that complicated into the world today.

  And if I was expecting colours, I’m disappointed again. ‘They’re very, er … grey.’

  ‘That’s the undercoat – come and have a quick peep inside.’

  There’s no point declining because she’s already steered me across the grass and is climbing the plank steps to an open door. As I gaze in at the sea of ply and boarding, I’m struggling for something positive to say. ‘It’s … er … woody. I’m sure pretty curtains will transform it.’

  ‘He sells them unfinished, then people paint them once they take them home.’ She’s smiling at me. ‘I can tell you’re not convinced.’

  ‘It’s that obvious?’

  ‘It’s taken a lot of work for Barney to get this up and running, it’s nice to acknowledge how well it’s turning out.’ If we’re talking fan girls, she’s up there with Aunty Jo. We veer back towards the crowd and she points us towards a broad trestle table where all the dads are clustered. ‘Let’s get a drink, and then you can admire Cam’s artwork and make a run for it.’

  As I pick a cucumber slice out of my glass of fruit cup, with my rabbit hood still firmly up I’m feeling fabulously anonymous and standing slightly apart from the crowd. Whatever Loella says about rocking horses, I’m still listening out.

  There’s a nudge on my hip and I look down to see Cam, clutching a handful of paper.

  ‘I’ve been doing tractors with writing.’

  I smile and take the sheets he’s holding out, then sit down on a step to leaf through them. ‘Brill, that’s a great tractor, I love the wheels.’

  He laughs. ‘That’s not a tractor! Can’t you see, it’s Loella’s truck?’ He’s reading for me as I pore over each picture. ‘Driving my tractor … on Cam’s farm
… hurry hurry hurry … all the mud …’

  There’s a cough above our heads. ‘That one was my idea.’

  Attention-seeking, and trying to take the credit? ‘Barney, hi … Thanks for the … er … drink.’ I hold up my glass and stare at it as I flounder to find the right name.

  Cam cuts in and saves me. ‘It’s punch – we made it from apple juice and lemonade and it’s got cucumber and strawberries.’

  ‘It’s great.’ I beam and hope there’s at least some lippy left. Even if he’s smoking hot, and smart enough to make these super-stylish barns, there’s no need for me to feel completely inadequate. At least I can smile when he can’t. ‘I never had it with strawberries before.’

  Barney’s leaning one denim-clad shoulder against the wall of his barn. ‘Well, it’s firsts all round then. I never saw an Easter rabbit in sunglasses either.’

  Oh my. Not funny, and not that clever either. I have a feeling my face is flushing as red as Aunty Jo’s.

  ‘All these people – shouldn’t you be off working the crowd? There must be someone here in the market for a shepherd’s hut.’ It’s not brilliant, but it’s the best I can come up with at short notice. I make a mental note to gather more Barney comebacks. If I make them in advance, I’m more likely to get them out in an emergency.

  ‘Good thinking, thanks for refocusing me, Edie Browne …’ there’s the hint of a twist to his mouth ‘… or should that be “Honeybunny”? I’m sure I heard Aunty Jo calling you that before?’

  There are moments when you want to disappear into the air in a puff, like that pantomime with the person with the coach and horses, and the pumpkin and the missing shoe. And this is one of them.

  Now would be the perfect moment to say ‘love you, bye’ and dash, but for some reason my legs won’t push me up to standing.

  19

  Day 154: Wednesday, 4th April

  In the barn yard

  Epic Achievement: Avoiding an emergency call-out.

  The daytime classes at The Deck have stopped while the children are on Easter holiday. But Aunty Jo loves the idea of Loella and Beth finishing a stable unit each in return for using them for a while, so on Tuesday we head off to the builders’ merchant to get paint. Then, on Wednesday, Beth, Loella and so many people they could easily pass for rent-a-crowd all appear on the lane, armed with brushes and picnic baskets. From the amount of food in them it looks like they’re thinking this will be a long job. The plan is – and yes, we finally have one – that if Beth and Loella try them out and find the spaces are good, we’ll spread the word to more crafters.

  When I go down to the stables early on Wednesday afternoon, I pick my way through the crowd of paint-spattered children running across the yard, then wander through the first open door and see that most of the rubbish has already been cleared and there’s already whitewash on the walls.

  ‘My, Loella, if this was a Zinc Inc site I’d be questioning the ethics of child exploitation.’

  Loella steps back, paintbrush in hand. ‘It’s the best fun they’ve had in ages, but they were on a promise, weren’t they, Barney?’

  As she looks past me I turn and see him finding a comfortable place to lean his shoulder on the door frame.

  He looks across at me. ‘That’s if you’re up for taking them out, Edie?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘No water or competitive sport, dressing as a rabbit is optional, and we’ll only take in a mud run if you insist.’ He seems to pick up that I’m about to tell him to eff off because he stops and begins again. ‘It has to be you. Everyone else is busy …’

  Busy helping me with my quest. That’s the subtext. I’m not exactly happy, but I can’t argue. Which is why, not long later, I’m bouncing along in the front seat of Loella’s truck, looking across at Barney tapping those beautiful fingers of his on the very big steering wheel.

  ‘Shania Twain, very loud – is that the best you can do?’

  Barney shrugs. ‘The cassette’s jammed in the player. It’s a choice between “silent” and “burst your eardrums”, and Loella’s the only one who knows how to switch it on and off.’

  ‘So we’re stuck with it?’

  ‘Right answer.’

  At a rough estimate, half the school are in the back with us. They’re word perfect on every track, and all yelling at the top of their voices.

  I’m shaking my head. ‘Man! I Feel Like a Woman? Is that even suitable for seven-year-olds?’

  Barney shoots me a glance across the dash. ‘Who knows, but it’s indirectly your fault.’ He pulls down the corners of his mouth. ‘Loella only turns it on when she’s super happy, and that’s down to you.’

  ‘So it’s the opposite of a silver lining. What the hell is that called?’

  ‘Don’t ask me, I’m just the driver. Luckily we’re not going far.’ And with that he pulls off into a gravelled parking area. ‘Is this okay for you?’

  It’s only when I hear a cheer from the back I realise he’s not just talking to me. As the kids spill out of the truck I’m staring out across a very stony beach to a silver-streaked expanse of sea beyond and a sky that’s the kind of blue with fluffy clouds that you might find in a picture book. ‘I thought you said we weren’t going to the sea?’

  ‘We’re not, we’re going rock scrambling.’ He holds up his hand, and all the kids come running. ‘Okay, watch out for each other, stay close together and we’ll work our way along.’

  Mia’s holding Cam’s hand and jumping up and down. ‘Can we go all the way to the creek?’

  Barney locks the car and slings a rucksack on his back. ‘Sure, wait for us if you get there first.’

  Cam’s still serious. ‘What about the tree?’

  ‘We can do that too.’

  Mia’s smiling down at him. ‘But only if you’re feeling really brave.’

  Cam stands up straighter. ‘This time I will be.’

  And then they’re gone, hurling themselves down onto the path and along to the rocks.

  Where the bay at St Aidan is broad and soft and sandy, here the shore is gritty sand, dotted with black rocks and stones. Where the cliffs rise and run in and out along the beach edge the scattered rocks become boulder piles.

  ‘So what are we doing here?’ I’m picking my way across a shiny black rock shelf, slithering between the salt puddles, the wind battering my ears as I shout across to Barney.

  ‘Just making our way along, taking whichever route we fancy. The older ones go clambering over the bigger rocks, but if you’re not up for adventure we’ll stay down here where it’s flatter.’

  ‘On balance, I feel more secure on pavements.’ I catch the tail-end of an eye roll as he turns around.

  ‘You’re such a townie.’

  I’ve come a few steps and my legs are already aching. ‘Is Cam okay?’

  ‘We’ll soon hear about it if he’s not.’ Barney closes his eyes momentarily. ‘He’s usually the first one moaning, it’s nice for him there’s someone slower.’

  If that’s a jibe, I ignore it. ‘Does he get upset a lot?’

  Barney’s bouncing from stone to stone with long, easy strides. ‘He’s better than he was, but he loses it at school over the smallest things.’

  I know where he’s coming from on that. When I first found I couldn’t tie laces I felt like banging my head on the wall. ‘They probably seem big to him.’

  He lets out a sigh. ‘Yet at home we were living in a building site and it didn’t bother him at all.’

  I let out a groan. ‘The joys of going up ladders instead of stairs and crawling over rubble piles to get into bed.’

  ‘You’ve done it then?’

  Damn for letting that out. ‘A while ago, in Bristol, the house belonged to my partner.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’ However much I’m accidentally spilling, I’m not up for telling him how I met Marcus. Zinc Inc had a project in Clifton where we were gutting and extending a terrace house. Marcus was living in an
identical house further down the street, also ripe for restoration, and, needless to say, he talked/charmed/blagged his way in to see what we were doing. It was always my last call of the afternoon, and after lying in wait so he could ‘accidentally’ bump into me so many times we started to laugh about it. He suggested supper at the bistro round the corner, and we went from there.

  ‘It’s a long beach.’ Barney gives a shrug.

  ‘You know what it’s like … You spend every free hour for years knocking down walls, trawling reclamation yards …’ If I wasn’t leaping from rock to rock there’s no way I’d share, but somehow with every spring another secret’s spilling. ‘You pour in your whole heart … make the place fabulous … all on a shoestring … then you split up.’ Probably because I’d done so much of the physical work, when I moved out it felt like I left a big part of me there too.

  ‘That must have been tough.’ He’s tilting his head as he looks back at me. ‘So there was a Mr Browne then?’

  How did we get to this? ‘Only in that I did once live with my boyfriend, who’s now my ex.’ I need to turn this around. ‘So what about you?’

  ‘I had my share of rolls in the hay, then things got complicated.’

  As Cam’s waving at us from the top of a distant boulder, he could spare us that particular detail. ‘I was thinking more about your barn conversion.’

  He pulls a face. ‘We’re going to the creek, not all the way around Britain, so I’ll give you the short version.’

  I never knew slithering across rocks would be so tiring. Maybe it’s because I’ve got to keep up with a load of hyperactive kids and Superman’s giant strides, but by the time we get to where the kids have come to a halt in a cluster I’ve barely replied to Barney and I’m panting to get my breath back. I know Barney told them to stop at the creek, but they don’t have a choice because the river gushing across in front of us flows all the way across the shingle and down to the sea.

  Barney looks at a huge mound of rocks on the shore side. ‘Okay, let’s go up. Remember, little steps let you balance better, and don’t kick stones on the people behind you.’