Authors: Raffaella Barker
‘Hi,’ she whispered. The little whippet was curled up on a cushion. The fluffy pink dog bed was nowhere to be seen. As well as Luca, who was making coffee, and the girl, there was a huge vase of sunflowers on the table and a pile of Sunday newspapers. The girl occupied the only chair in the room. Kit wondered how long it would be before Luca found her as irritating as he did.
‘I’m Shrimp’ she said and stretched a tiny pale hand towards him.
It reminded Kit of a pipe cleaner. She reminded him of a pipe-cleaner doll, he decided. His focus alighted on the puppy. ‘Has she spent the night there?’ he asked.
‘No, Dora brought you that cushion. She’s outside, getting chairs.’ Luca passed Kit the cup of coffee he had made.
‘Dora? What’s she doing here?’ Kit strode to the door, the sun was suspiciously high. ‘Jesus, what time is it?’
‘It’s almost midday. You’ve slept all morning,’ piped Shrimp. ‘I’m about to go, but thank you, it was such a cool party. I love your place here, you’re so lucky, you know.’
‘So I’m told,’ said Kit politely.
Scooping up the puppy, Shrimp beckoned Luca, and they began assembling her scattered bangles and scarves. Kit was delighted she was leaving. Then he felt mean. She wasn’t bad, she was polite, and pretty, and neither of those was a thing to hold against a girl. He stepped into the hall, and trod in something soft.
‘Urgh! Shit! That sodding puppy! Christ,’ he yelled, and hopped outside, cursing Shrimp under his breath. His phone beeped.
A message from Luisa.
Swell party Kit, and BTW thanxxxxx for chat, I am really excited, and you’ve made such a difference.
The damp grass and lazy pigeons, the hiss of the sea and the light dancing high above him flowed through Kit like oxygen. He sighed, cleaned his foot, and wandered right round the Lighthouse.
Pleasure, all a pleasure
, he wrote, and pocketed the phone again. He must remember to give her details to Hannah. What were PAs for if not to help his friends?
An unexpected and blissful sight greeted him where the party had been. Dora and Maddie had cleared the tables, and several black dustbin bags bulged in a heap near the Hopkins’ red truck, which had the look, impossible to pin down but unmistakable, of a car abandoned the night before. The tables were empty, and Dora had just shaken the last of the dust-sheet tablecloths. Maddie sat nearby, wrapped in a pink fluffy dog bed.
‘Dora, what a saint you are.’ Kit realised as he stretched his arms to hug her, how truly fond he had become of his new friends. He was blessed. Especially now he didn’t have to clear up.
‘Oh Kit, we thought we might miss you. We’re going in a minute to have lunch with Luisa, but we brought you a present.’
Kit shook his head. ‘You don’t need to do that,’ he said. ‘You all made the party a success, I just provided the Lighthouse.’
‘But that’s the best part!’ said Maddie.
Dora nodded, patting his arm. Kit noticed how fragile her wrists, her forearms, her collarbones were. Her touch was feather light. ‘You made time for all of us,’ she said. ‘Thank you, what you said was so thoughtful.’
‘What did he say, Mummy?’ Maddie tugged at her waist.
Dora hesitated. ‘He was kind, that’s all,’ she said lightly. ‘But mainly, Kit, we had so much fun, and Maddie was up early, so we thought we’d come and clear up to say a big thank you.’
She was like a hind, or a doe, he never knew the difference. Maddie, with her big eyes and bouncing personality was a real-life Bambi. He saw Dora, like his mother, bringing her child up alone. Tragic that Aaron had come along and then gone like that. But at least she had loved him. What had Luisa told him? Maddie’s father had remarried and lived in the Midlands, he visited occasionally, and had just taken her camping for the first time. Dora had all the responsibility of moulding a child’s life without a partner to share the anxieties and the triumphs. He had only been small, probably younger than Maddie, when his mother met his stepfather but, even so, he had always been aware that Joseph, with his pipe, his beard and slow speech, had saved her, and therefore him.
Maddie pulled Kit’s arm, excited. ‘And I said Mummy could give you the cushion after all.’
Dora raised her eyebrows. ‘We agreed it, Maddie. Remember, we’ve talked about it a few times, and because it belongs to both of us, we had to agree, didn’t we?’
Maddie was dancing on tip-toe. ‘And we always had to agree if it was washed,’ she told Kit, ‘because it’s an Air Room, isn’t it Mummy?’.
‘Heirloom, Mads,’ said Dora. ‘But we thought we’d just give it to Kit because it belongs here, in the Lighthouse, doesn’t it, darling?’
Maddie nodded at her mother. ‘Yup. Kit’s got a picture too. Let’s hang it near the cushion.’
‘What picture?’ Dora followed Maddie into the hallway.
‘Look!’
Dora looked, and laughed. ‘Oh that’s like those old ones of Dad’s. I think his generation were always out in the landscape, it’s sweet. See if anyone signed it, Mads darling.’
Kit’s voice boomed for a syllable then subsided to a groan. ‘Dora, where have you got to? And what cushion are you talking about? Christ, I’ve got a headache.’ He wanted to sit down. His hangover was lurking behind every blink of his eyes, or so it seemed. A proper breakfast in a house with straight walls was what he wanted. A vision of Luisa leaning over a table wreathed in the aroma of coffee and bacon floated before him. He was beginning to miss his solitary life in Cornwall.
Maddie appeared beside him. ‘Come and see. It’s in the kitchen. I put that puppy on it. She looked so sweet.’ She led the way, skipping ahead. The cushion was still in the middle of the kitchen floor. Maddie pounced on it and brought it over.
‘It’s for you.’ She thrust it towards him.
Kit laughed. ‘I like your delivery methods,’ he said.
‘Our housewarming present.’ Dora and Maddie exchanged a look brimming with excitement.
‘What’s this?’ Kit got the message that this was a big deal for them, and had removed his sunglasses to examine the embroidered picture. He looked sharply at Dora, then back at the cushion and whistled a long slow note.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘Well I never.’ A blue background, a red striped tower, cliffs foaming with the crests of waves. It all belonged to the Kings Sloley Lighthouse. The stitching, the looping signature, the colours and the patterns, however, belonged somewhere quite different.
His mind whirled, he opened his mouth to thank them. ‘How thoughtful. It’s beautiful, Dora. It’s old, I think, where did you find it?’
Maddie brushed her hand over the picture, and a frown puckered on her forehead.
‘On the sofa at home. Don’t you want it? We thought you would be so pleased.’
Dora was eager to show the detail to him. ‘We thought that with your fabric business and everything you’d love it. I know it’s a funny present to give to a man, really, but it captures the Lighthouse so brilliantly, don’t you think?’
Kit had not moved. He held the cushion on his hands, absorbing everything about it. It was as if a lid had been taken off a box and the memories fluttered around him. The Lighthouse had been embroidered in silk, using tiny stitches, and followed through to the finest details. Nothing had been left to chance, nothing forgotten. There was a red bucket on the doorstep. Kit could make out a scatter of different small flowers by the gate, poppies a tone or two darker than the stripe of the walls, blue cornflower stars, and a pair of seagulls floating in the sky. On the sea, an angular grey ship lay beneath the horizon, turrets and a sliver of mast hinting at its past. The Lighthouse itself commanded centre stage and, even allowing for the fade of colour over time, was still as bold and beautiful as a jewel. Kit was caught by something he saw at a window just below the light. A snippet of curtain had been embroidered. A flash from within, skilfully suggesting depth. A tiny pattern of peacocks exquisitely drawn on the detail of the tapestry.
He sighed, tearing his eyes from the design. ‘Of course I want it!’ he said. ‘And yes! I’m very pleased. It’s beautiful, it’s beautiful,’ he repeated. ‘And you’re right, this is where it belongs.’
He rubbed his hand across his face. ‘Where did you say it came from?’
Luisa was beating batter to make pancakes. Lunch had changed to brunch because no one was up so there hadn’t been any breakfast yet, and no one would want orange and watercress salad and frozen pepper gazpacho. Hangovers required bacon and pancakes. Ladling batter from the bowl to the pan, she trailed a puddle across the hotplate and watched it blacken and burn. Her mind was full of snatches of the evening before, and she hummed, dumping a pile of forks on the table beside the stacked plates. She wasn’t in the mood to lay the table, she didn’t want to create an occasion. Ever since she’d got up she’d been edgy.
‘Hungover, are we?’ She spun round, startled. Tom’s gaze held a challenge. ‘Here, you need a bit of zest,’ he added, and threw a lemon.
‘No! I can’t,’ she wailed, ducking. ‘I can’t catch it.’ The lemon hit the wall behind her, ‘See?’
‘You should have more faith,’ said Tom. ‘Here, have another go.’
‘Tom!’ she shrieked. ‘Don’t. You know I’m useless at this.’ He lobbed another, Luisa stuck out her hand, more in self-defence than with any hope of catching the lemon mid-air.
‘My God!’ she laughed. ‘I caught it!’
Tom’s nod was curt. ‘More faith in me,’ he muttered, dusting his hands on his trousers and pouring himself coffee.
‘It was fun, wasn’t it?’ Luisa pushed her hair back with her forearm. ‘Such a great evening, I thought.’
Tom yawned and stretched. ‘Great place. Never thought anything could be done with those old lighthouses, but Kit’s really turned it around. Luca’d like to move in there I think. And Mae.’
Luisa returned to the pancakes. ‘I know. Even Jay Hopkins was full of compliments. I didn’t know he was into interior decor, but he said he thought Kit should be on one of those prime location shows on TV.’
Tom poured more coffee and gave a cup to Luisa. ‘You’d be better on a dance show,’ he said, his face deadpan. ‘You know,
Strictly
what ever. You danced for hours.’
‘I love dancing.’ Luisa waved her wooden spoon, turning towards the radio which was on in the background. ‘I could dance now, I just need a partner. Breakfast’s ready, by the way.’ She glanced at the triple clocks. ‘Or should I say lunch, it’s almost one. Where are the kids? And Dora’s supposed to be here. Let’s ring her.’ She looked round, but Tom had gone, his voice floated back from the hall.
‘I’ll be back, I’ll call the kids. Are they even here?’
Luisa smiled to herself and, humming, turned up the volume on the radio.
Last night had been like a wonderful spell. Excitement winged through the air, cinders crackling and leaping, through the music and the alcohol and the uncharacteristic warmth of the night. Kit might have been new, but he had a knack for making people feel welcome, and the Lighthouse was thrown open, every room lit with candles, sparse furniture and the odd dash of colour.
‘Where did he get all that stuff? It’s great.’ Dora, usually quick to see room for improvement, was enchanted. ‘This place is heaven,’ she said. ‘Kit’s somehow found his way to that junk shop I love, Luisa, and he’s plundered her textiles. Look at this patchwork.’
‘Isn’t it beautiful.’ Luisa opened her mouth to tell Dora she’d sent Kit to the junk shop, then she shut it again. Kit had come over and asked her to dance, and the moment passed.
‘Ow,’ she was holding her hand under the kitchen tap, waiting to feel hot water, and had forgotten about it, her mind full of the joy of dancing under the stars, dancing anywhere. It was so much fun. Luisa shook the colander of rinsed strawberries and tipped them into a bowl. They shone, water droplets like beads quivering on the red flesh. Last night she had danced until her knees actually shook. Where the energy came from, she didn’t know. She bit the end off a strawberry and shut her eyes.
Euphoria, that’s what it was. Kit had set her off laughing, and the laughter was like rocket fuel for dancing, especially with all that alcohol. She was euphoric. Though Dora had been cross and said she knew another word for it. They were in the doorway as the party vibrated around them. Beyond them embers flew like dragonflies, and the moon raced creamy and voluptuous above the sea. ‘Look at the night, Dora, this is heaven, don’t be cross, please.’
‘Well, stop behaving like a crazy teenager.’
‘I’m not!’ Luisa wailed. ‘Why can’t I have fun?’
‘You can,’ hissed Dora, ‘but just try to tone yourself down a bit. That dress is too tight for a start.’
‘Oh shut up,’ Luisa had flounced away. She wanted to dance more. Tom had gone off to help someone pull their car out of the field. Secretly, she had to admit, she quite liked the feeling of being a naughty teenager. Suddenly she understood the power of sulking, as displayed so often by Mae. Where was Mae, come to think of it? She would find her and persuade her to dance. She had spun round to find Kit right behind her. Churlish not to dance with him again, especially as he caught her hand, held it high, looked at her and said, ‘You look incredible.’
That was probably the moment she’d felt most electric all evening. And she had to make sure her back was very straight and that she stood tall because the dress was tight. So tight she’d had to use the hook of a coat hanger to do up the zip, but who needed to be told that? No one. Mind you, it was pretty obvious, as she noticed when she’d turned sideways in front of her bedroom mirror, and saw a poured-in silhouette, all curves and cleavage that she couldn’t possibly pretend was appropriate for a barbecue where she was actually cooking, but never mind.