Buch lesen: «Spring at Lavender Bay»

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Also by Sarah Bennett

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Acknowledgements

Extract

Dear Reader …

Keep Reading …

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

‘Sort this for me, Beth.’ A green project folder thumped down on the side of Beth Reynold’s desk, sending her mouse arrow skittering across the screen and scattering the calculation in her head. Startled, she glanced up to see a wide expanse of pink-shirted back already retreating from her corner desk pod. Darren Green was her team leader, and the laziest person to grace the twelfth floor of Buckland Sheridan in the three years she’d been working there. She eyed the folder with a growing sense of trepidation. Whatever he’d dumped on her—she glanced at the clock—at quarter to four on a Friday afternoon was unlikely to be good news. Well, it would just have to wait. Sick and tired of Darren expecting her to drop everything, she ground her teeth and forced herself to ignore the file and focus on the spreadsheet in front of her.

Fifteen minutes later, with the workbook updated, saved and an extract emailed to the client, Beth straightened up from her screen. Her right ankle ached from where she’d hooked her foot behind one of the chair legs and there was a distinct grumble from the base of her spine. Shuffling her bottom back from where she’d perched on the edge of the cushioned seat, she gave herself a mental telling off. There was no point in the company spending money on a half-decent orthopaedic chair when she managed to contort herself into the worst possible sitting positions.

Her eyes strayed to the left where the file lurked like a malevolent toad. If she turned just so, she could accidentally catch it with her elbow and knock it into the wastepaper basket sitting beside her desk. Brushing off the tempting idea, she grabbed her mug and stood up. Her eyes met Ravi’s over the ugly blue partition dividing their desks and she waggled her cup at him. ‘Fancy a brew?’

He glanced at his watch, then laughed, showing a set of gorgeous white teeth. ‘Why am I even checking the time; it’s not like I’m going to refuse a coffee, is it?’

Everything about Ravi was gorgeous, she mused on the way to the kitchenette which served their half of the huge open-plan office. From his thick black hair and matching dark eyes, to the hint of muscle beneath his close-fitting white shirt—the only thing more gorgeous than Ravi was his boyfriend, Callum.

Though she’d never admit it to anyone other than Eliza and Libby, she had a huge crush on her co-worker. Not that she would, or could, ever do anything about it, but that wasn’t the point. Ravi being unobtainable and entirely uninterested in her as anything other than a friend and co-worker made him perfectly safe. And it gave her a good excuse for not being interested in anyone else. An excuse to avoid dipping her badly scorched toes back into the dating pool. Once had been more than enough.

Until she recovered from the unrequited attraction, there wasn’t room in her heart for anyone else. She could marvel at the length of the black lashes framing his eyes and go home alone, entirely content to do so. He was the best non-boyfriend she’d had since Mr Lassiter, her Year Ten history teacher. He also provided a foil on those rare occasions she spoke to her mother these days. Lying to her didn’t sit well with Beth, but it was better than the alternative—being nagged to ‘get back on the horse’, to ‘put herself out there’, to ‘settle down’.

Eliza and Libby knew all about both the hopeless crush and her using a fake relationship with Ravi as a shield against her mother’s interference. And if they didn’t entirely support the white lie, they at least understood the reasons behind it. Just like they’d known everything about her since the first day they’d started at primary school together. They knew what her mum was like, and they understood why Beth preferred the harmless pretence of an unrequited crush. She’d never been one for boyfriends growing up, and the more her mum had pushed her, the more she’d dug her heels in.

Beth had been eight years old when her dad had walked out with not so much as a backward glance. Her mum had spent the rest of Beth’s formative years obsessed with finding a replacement for him—only one who could provide the financial security she craved. Before he’d left, there’d been too many times her mum had gone to pay a bill only to find the meagre contents of their account missing. If Allan Reynolds hadn’t frittered it away in the bookies, he’d blown it on his next get-rich-quick scheme. Given the uncertainty of those early years, she had some sympathy for her mum’s position. If only she’d been less mercenary about it. A flush of embarrassed heat caught Beth off guard as she remembered the not-so whispered comments about Linda Reynolds’ shameless campaign to catch the eye—and the wallet—of newly widowed Reg Walters, her now husband.

Determined not to emulate Linda, Beth had clung fiercely to the idea of true love. She had even thought she’d found it for a while, only to have her heart broken in the most clinical fashion the previous summer. Trying to talk to her mother about it had been an exercise in futility. Linda had no time for broken hearts. Move on, there’s plenty more fish in the sea. She’d even gone so far as to encourage Beth to flirt with her useless lump of a boss, for God’s sake. Beth shuddered at the very idea. In the end, she’d resorted to making up a romance with Ravi just to keep Linda off her back.

Beth clattered the teaspoon hard against Ravi’s coffee cup, scattering her wandering thoughts. Balancing the tea and coffee mugs in hand, she returned to her coveted corner of the office. People had offered her bribes for her spot, but she’d always refused, even if sitting under the air-conditioning tract meant she spent half the summer in a thick cardigan. Her cubicle with a view over the grimy rooftops of London was worth its weight in gold. When her work threatened to overwhelm her, she needed only to swivel on her chair and glance out at the world beyond to remind herself how much she’d achieved. The ant-sized people on the pavement scurried around, travelling through the arteries and veins of the city, pumping lifeblood into the heart of the capital.

Moving to London had been another sop to Linda. Based on her mother’s opinion, a stranger would believe Lavender Bay, the place where Beth had been born and raised, was akin to hell on earth. A shabby little seaside town where nothing happened. She’d moved there after marrying Beth’s father and being stuck on the edge of the country had chafed her raw, leaving her feeling like the world was passing her by. When her new husband, Reg, had whisked her off to an apartment in Florida, weeks before Beth’s fourteenth birthday, all of Linda’s dreams had come true. She’d never stopped to consider her daughter’s dreams in the process.

Though she’d never been foolish enough to offer a contradictory opinion, Beth had always loved Lavender Bay. The fresh scent of the sea blowing in through her bedroom window; the sweeter, stickier smells of candy floss and popcorn during high season. Running free on the beach, or exploring the woods and rolling fields which provided a backdrop to their little town. And, of course, there was Eleanor.

The older woman had taken Beth under her wing and given her a Saturday morning job at the quirky seaside emporium she owned. The emporium had always been a place of wonder to Beth, with new secrets to be discovered on the crowded shelves. Hiding out in there had also given her a haven from Linda’s never-ending parade of boyfriends. Beth suspected she’d been offered the few hours work more to provide Eleanor with some companionship than any real requirement for help.

When it had looked like Beth would have to quit school because of Linda and Reg’s relocation plans, Eleanor had intervened and offered to take her in. Linda had bitten her hand off, not wanting the third wheel of an awkward teenage daughter to interrupt her plans. It hadn’t mattered a jot that a single woman nearing seventy might not be the ideal person to raise a shy fourteen-year-old. Thankfully, Eleanor had been young at heart and delighted to have Beth live with her. She’d treated her as the daughter she’d never had, and Beth had soaked up the love she offered like a sponge.

Under Eleanor’s steady, gentle discipline Beth had finally started to come into her own, Desperate not to disappoint her mum in the way everyone else had seemed to do, Beth worked hard to get first the GCSEs and then A levels she’d needed in order to go to university. With no real career prospects in Lavender Bay, she’d headed for the capital, much to Linda’s delight. Her mother’s influence had been too pervasive and those early lessons in needing a man to complete her had stuck fast. When Charlie had approached her one night in a club, Beth had been primed and ready to fall in love.

For the first couple of years working at the prestigious project management company of Buckland Sheridan, she’d convinced herself that these were her own dreams she was following, and that her hard work and diligence would pay off. Lately she’d come to the realisation she was being used whilst others reaped the rewards. Demotivated and demoralised, she was well and truly stuck in a cubicle-shaped rut.

Raising the mug of tea to her lips, Beth watched as the street lights flickered on below, highlighting the lucky workers spilling out of the surrounding office blocks. Some rushing towards the tube station at the end of the road, others moving with equal enthusiasm in the opposite direction towards the pubs and restaurants, rubbing their hands together at the thought of twofers and happy hour. Good luck to them. Those heady nights in crowded bars with Charlie and his friends had never really suited her.

Checking the calendar, Beth bit back a sigh. She was overdue a weekend visit to the bay, not that Eleanor would ever scold or complain about how much time it had been since she’d last seen her. She’d tuck Beth onto the sofa with a cup of tea and listen avidly to all the goings on in her life. Not that there’d been much of anything to report other than work lately. Unless she counted the disastrous Christmas visit to see her mum and Reg in Florida, and Beth had spent the entire month of January trying to forget it.

Even surrounded by Charlie’s upper-class pals she’d never felt more like a fish out of water than she had during that week of perma-tanned brunches and barbecues. She would much rather have gone back to Lavender Bay and Eleanor’s loving warmth, but Linda had organised a huge party to celebrate her tenth wedding anniversary to Reg, and insisted she needed Beth by her side. Having people believe she had the perfect family had always mattered more to Linda than making it a reality.

With a silent promise to call Eleanor for a long chat on Sunday, Beth drained her tea and turned back to her work. The dreaded contents of the file Darren had dumped on her had to be better than thinking about than the surprise date her mum had set her up with on New Year’s Eve. She glanced across the partition between their desks. Ravi might be gay, but at least he had all his own teeth and didn’t dye his hair an alarming shade Beth had only been able to describe to a hysterical Eliza and Libby as ‘marmalade’.

Ravi caught her eye and smiled. ‘Hey, Beth?’ He pointed to the phone tucked against his ear. ‘Callum wants to know if you’re busy on Sunday. We’re having a few friends around for a bite to eat. Nothing fancy.’ They exchanged a grin. Nothing fancy in Callum’s terms would be four courses followed by a selection of desserts.

‘Sounds great. Can I let you guys know tomorrow?’ It wasn’t like she had anything else planned, but going on Darren’s past record, whatever was hiding in the file he’d dumped on her would likely mean she’d be working most of the weekend.

Ravi nodded and conveyed her reply into the handset. He rolled his eyes at something Callum said in reply and Beth propped her hands on her hips. ‘If he’s telling you about this great guy he knows who’d be just perfect for me then I’m not coming. Not even for a double helping of dessert.’ The only person more disastrous at matchmaking than her mother was Callum.

Her friend laughed. ‘You’re busted!’ he said into the phone then tilted it away from his mouth to say to Beth in a teasing, sing-song voice, ‘He’s a very fine man with good prospects. All his own teeth!’ She closed her eyes, regretting confessing all about the New Year’s date to Ravi on their first day back after the Christmas break. He’d never let her live it down.

She shook her head. ‘Aren’t they all? I’ll message you tomorrow.’ Which was as good as accepting the invitation. There was always a good mix at their parties and the atmosphere would be relaxed. Leaving Ravi to finish off his conversation, she turned her attention to the dreaded file.

Three hours and several coins added to the swear jar on her desk later, she decided she had enough information together to be able to complete the required draft report and presentation at home. Darren had left the office on the dot of five, laughing with his usual pack of cronies as they made their way towards the lifts. He’d not even bothered to check in with her on his way out, assuming she would do whatever was necessary to ensure their department was ready for the client meeting on Tuesday. The project had been passed to him by one of the directors a fortnight previously, but either through incompetence or arrogance he’d chosen to do absolutely nothing with it.

Stuffing the file, a stack of printouts, and her phone into the backpack she used in lieu of a handbag, Beth swapped her heels for the comfy trainers under her desk and disconnected her laptop from the desk terminal. Coat on and scarf tucked around the lower half of her face, she waved goodnight to Sandie, the cleaner, and trudged out of the office.

The worst of the commuting crowd had thinned so at least she had a seat on the train as it hurtled through the dank Victorian tunnels of the Underground. The heating had been turned up full blast against the February chill but, like most of the hardened travellers around her, Beth ignored the sweat pooling at the base of her spine and kept her eyes glued on the screen of her phone. Music filled her ears from the buds she’d tucked in the moment she’d stepped on board, drowning out the scritch-scritch of a dozen other people doing exactly the same thing.

She never felt further from home than when crammed in with a load of strangers who made ignoring each other into an artform. In Lavender Bay everyone waved, nodded or smiled at each other, and passing someone you knew without stopping for a ten-minute chat was unthinkable. After three years in London, there were people she recognised on her regular commute, but they’d never acknowledged each other. Nothing would point a person out as not belonging faster than being so gauche as to strike up a conversation on public transport.

The anonymity had appealed at first, a sign of the sophistication of London where people were too busy doing important stuff to waste their precious time with inane conversations. Not knowing the daily minutiae of her friends and neighbours, the who’d said what to whom, was something she’d never expected to miss quite so much. Having everyone in her business had seemed unbearable throughout her teenage years, especially with a mother like Linda. But on nights like this, knowing even the people who shared the sprawling semi in the leafy suburbs where she rented a room for an eyewatering amount wouldn’t be interested in anything other than whether she’d helped herself to their milk, loneliness rode her hard.

Cancelling the impending pity party, Beth swayed with the motion of the train as she made her way towards the doors when they approached her station. A quick text to Eliza and Libby would chase the blues away. The odds of either of them having Friday night plans were as slim as her own so a Skype chat could probably be arranged. Smiling at the thought, she stepped out of the shelter of the station and into the freezing January evening air.

Clad in a pair of her cosiest pyjamas, Beth settled cross-legged in the centre of her bed as she waited for her laptop to connect to the app. The piles of papers she’d been working from for the past hour had been replaced by the reheated takeaway she’d picked up on her way home, and a large bottle of ice-cold Sauvignon Blanc. With perfect timing, Eliza’s sweetly-beaming face popped up in one corner of her screen just as Beth shovelled a forkful of chow mien into her mouth. ‘Mmmpf.’ Not the most elegant of greetings, but it served to spread that smile into an outright laugh.

‘Hello, Beth, darling!’ Eliza glanced back over her shoulder as though checking no one was behind her then leaned in towards the camera to whisper. ‘I’m so glad you texted. Martin’s obsessed with this latest bloody game of his, so you’ve saved me from an evening of pretending to be interested in battle spells and troll hammers.’ She rolled her eyes then took a swig from an impressively large glass of rosé to emphasise her point.

Fighting her natural instinct to say something derogatory about her best friend’s husband, Beth contented herself with a mouthful of her own wine. It wasn’t that she disliked Martin, per se. It was almost impossible to dislike someone so utterly inoffensive, she just wished her friend didn’t seem so unhappy. The two of them had made a sweet couple at school, but Beth had always assumed the attraction would wear off once Eliza gained a bit more confidence and expanded her horizons beyond the delicate wash of purple fields encircling their home town.

When Martin had chosen the same university as them both though, her friend had declared herself delighted so Beth had swallowed her misgivings and watched as they progressed to an engagement and then marriage. They’d moved north for Martin’s job and fallen into a kind of domestic routine more suited to a middle-aged couple. Eliza never said a word against him, other than the odd jokey comment about his obsession with computer games, but there was no hiding the flatness in her eyes. Beth suspected she was unhappy, but after her own spectacular crash-and-burn romance, she was in no position to pass judgment on anyone else’s relationship.

Opting yet again for discretion over valour, Beth raised her glass to toast her friend. ‘Bad luck for you, but great for me. I miss you guys so much and after the day I’ve had I need my girls for a moan.’

A sympathetic frown shadowed Eliza’s green eyes. ‘What’s that horrible boss of yours done this time?’ She held up a hand almost immediately. ‘No, wait, don’t tell me yet, let’s wait for Libs. She’ll be along any minute, I’m sure.’

Beth checked her watch before forking up another mouthful of noodles. It was just after half past nine. The fish and chip shop Libby helped her father to run on the seafront at Lavender Bay closed at 9 p.m. out of season. With any luck she’d be finished with the clean up right about now …

The app chirped to signal an incoming connection and a pale and harassed-looking Libby peered out from a box on the screen. ‘Hello, hello! Sorry I’m late. Mac Murdoch decided to try and charm his wife with a saveloy and extra chips to make up for staying two pints over in The Siren.’

Beth’s snort of laughter was echoed by Eliza as she pictured the expression on Betty Murdoch’s face when her husband rolled in waving the greasy peace offering. Considering she looked like a bulldog chewing a wasp on the best of days, Beth didn’t fancy Mac’s chances.

Eliza waggled her eyebrows. ‘She won’t be sharing his sausage anytime soon.’

‘Oh, God! Eliza!’ Libby clapped her hands over her eyes, shaking her head at the same time. ‘That’s an image I never wanted in my poor innocent brain!’ The three of them burst into howls of laughter.

Gasping for breath, Beth waved a hand at her screen. ‘Stop, stop! You’ll make me spill my bloody wine.’ Which was a horrifying enough thought to quell them all into silence as they paused to take a reverent drink from their glasses.

Libby lifted a hank of her hair, dyed some shade of blue that Beth had no name for, and gave it a rueful sniff. ‘So, I get why I’m all alone apart from the smell of fried fish, but what’s up with you two that we’re hanging out on this fine Friday night?’

‘Work,’ Beth muttered, digging into her takeaway.

‘Age of Myths and bloody Legends.’ Eliza said.

‘Ah.’ Libby nodded in quiet sympathy. She knew enough about them both that nothing else was needed. People who didn’t know them well found their continuing friendship odd. Those bonds formed in the classroom through proximity and necessity often stretched to breaking point once they moved beyond the daily routine. Beth and Eliza had left their home town of Lavender Bay, whilst Libby stayed at home to help her father after the untimely death of her mum to cancer when Libby had been just fourteen.

They made a good trio—studious Beth, keeping her head down and out of trouble; warm, steady Eliza who preferred a book or working on a craft project to almost anything else; and snarky Libby with her black-painted nails and penchant for depressing music. She’d taken immense pride in being Lavender Bay’s only goth, but both Beth and Eliza had seen beyond the shield of baggy jumpers and too-much eyeliner to the generous heart beneath it. Though it might be difficult to tell from the hard face she turned to the world, Libby was the most sensitive of them all.

A sound off-screen made Libby turn around. She glanced back quickly at the screen. ‘Hold on, Dad wants something.’ Beth took the opportunity to finish off her takeaway whilst they waited for her.

Pushing the heavy purple-shaded fringe out of her red-rimmed eyes, Libby stared into the camera in a way that it made it feel like she was looking directly at Beth. ‘Oh, Beth love. I’ve got some bad news, I’m afraid.’

A sense of dread sent a shiver up her spine and Beth took another quick mouthful of wine. ‘What’s up, not your dad?’

Her friend shook her head. ‘No. He’s fine. Miserable as ever, grumpy old git.’ There was no hiding the affection in her voice. Mick Stone was a gruff, some would say sullen, bear of a man, but he loved his girl with a fierce, protective heart. ‘It’s about Eleanor. She had a funny turn this evening as she was closing up the emporium, and by the time the ambulance arrived she’d gone. Massive heart attack according to what Dad’s just been told. I’m so sorry, Beth.’ Streaks of black eyeliner tracked down Libby’s cheeks as the tears started to flow.

The glass slipped from Beth’s limp fingers, spilling the last third of her wine across her knees and onto the quilt. ‘But … I only spoke to her last week and she sounded fine. Said she was a bit tired, but had been onto the school about getting a new Saturday girl in to help her. It can’t be …

‘Oh, Beth.’ If Eliza said any more, Beth didn’t hear it as she closed her eyes against the physical pain of realisation. Eleanor Bishop had been a fixture in her life for so long, Beth had believed her invincible. From the first wonder-filled visits she’d made as a little girl to the sprawling shop Eleanor ran on the promenade, to the firm and abiding friendship when she’d taken Beth on as her Saturday girl. The bright-eyed spinster had come to mean the world to her. All those years of acting as a sounding board when Beth was having problems at home, dispensing advice without judgement, encouraging her to spread her wings and fly, letting Beth know she always had a place to return to it. A home.

If she’d only known, if she’d only had some kind of warning, she would have made sure Eleanor understood how much she meant to her, how grateful she was for her love and friendship. Now though, it was too late. She’d never hear Eleanor’s raucous, inelegant laugh ringing around the emporium as she made a joke to one of her customers or passed comment on the latest shenanigans of the band of busybodies who made up the Lavender Bay Improvement Society.

The unpleasant dampness of her pyjama trouser leg finally registered, and Beth righted the glass with trembling fingers. Through the haze of tears obscuring her vision, she saw the worried, tear-stained faces of her friends staring back at her from the computer screen. ‘I’m all right,’ she whispered, knowing they would hear the lie in her voice if she spoke any louder. ‘Poor Eleanor.’

Libby scrubbed the cuff of her shirt beneath one of her eyes. ‘I don’t think she suffered, at least. Dad reckoned she was gone before she would have known anything about it. At least there’s that.’ Her voice trailed off and then she shook her head angrily. ‘What a load of bollocks. Why do we say such stupid things at times like this?’ Noisy sobs followed her outburst and Beth ached at the distance between them.

Eliza pressed her fingers to the screen, as though she could somehow reach through and offer comfort. ‘Don’t cry, darling, I can’t bear it.’ She addressed her next words to Beth. ‘What are you going to do about the arrangements? I’m sure Mum and Dad will be happy to host the wake. Eleanor doesn’t have any other family, does she?’

Eliza was right. Eleanor had been an only child, never married and apart from some distant cousins she’d mentioned whose parents had emigrated to Australia somewhere under the old Ten Pound Poms scheme, there was no one. Which meant one thing—it would be up to Beth to make sure her beloved friend had a decent send-off. She sucked in a breath as she shoved her sorrow down as deep as she could manage. There would be time to deal with that later. ‘I’ll sort it out. I don’t think it can be Monday as I’ll have to straighten up a few things at work, but I’ll be down on the first train on Tuesday morning. Can you let your dad know, Libs? See if he’ll have a word with Mr Bradshaw for me.’ There was only one funeral director in town so they were bound to be dealing with the arrangements.

Libby sniffled then nodded as she too straightened her shoulders. ‘I’ll give Doc Williams a call as well and then we’ll track down whoever’s got the keys for the emporium. Make sure it’s properly locked up until you get here. You won’t be doing this alone, Beth. We’ll sort it out together.’

‘Yes, we will,’ Eliza added. ‘I’ve got some leave accrued at work and Martin can look after himself for a few days. I’ll call Mum and ask her to get my room ready. If there’s not a spare available at the pub, you can bunk in with me for a couple of days.’ The Siren had guest rooms as well as accommodation for the family, and although the bay would be quiet this time of year, they were one of the few places to offer rooms year-round so they got some passing trade from visiting businessmen and families of local people who didn’t have room to accommodate their own guests. Eliza paused, then added softly. ‘If you’d rather stay at the emporium, I’ll sleep over with you.’