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‘It’s a very small town, which isn’t always a good thing.’ The incriminating postcard flashed into her mind again and she took a sip of her drink to chase it away. ‘Though it can be. We do all stick together when the going gets tough.’
‘When the tourists start playing up?’
‘Not so much that. The tourists are our bread and butter.’ She hesitated. ‘You know about the lifeboat disaster, right?’
He nodded. ‘Twenty years ago, wasn’t it?’
‘Twenty years this August. I lost my father.’ Like him, she felt the need to get the tragedy out in the open.
‘Oh God.’ His face looked anguished.
‘And my sister Jess’s husband.’ She had to force herself to say his name. ‘Rik.’
‘That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.’
‘It was a pretty tough time.’ Nikki managed a smile. ‘But we stuck together. And the town’s got big plans to commemorate the anniversary this summer. I’m on the committee, for my sins.’
‘It’s important, isn’t it? Not to forget. I’ve been to the museum. It was very moving.’
There was a tiny museum on the harbour front. For the tenth anniversary, a special exhibition had been unveiled. Lifesize photos of all of the men who’d been lost – five from the lifeboat and two from the fishing vessel they were trying to save – with their biographies, and testimonials from their loved ones, so they would never be forgotten.
‘My mum was instrumental in organising that. I think it helped her.’
‘I guess you never really get over it.’
Nikki shrugged. ‘You just have to carry on.’ Even today she wasn’t sure how she’d managed to. But she’d had to, for her mum and Graham. And Jess. Especially Jess.
‘Yes,’ he said quietly, ‘you do.’
There was silence for a moment while they contemplated their respective losses. Nikki stared at a painting of a stormy sea propped up against the wall. There were three of them, presumably waiting to be hung. Nikki pointed her glass at them.
‘Those are wonderful.’
They were large, with bold brushstrokes, showing the same view of the sea at three different times of day: one dark navy, one pearl grey and one blushing with pinks and purples.
‘Jill painted them. The last time we were down together. I thought they’d look good in here.’
‘They’re spectacular. She’s captured the view perfectly.’
‘I need to find someone to hang them.’ He looked embarrassed. ‘I’m an absolute klutz when it comes to DIY.’
‘I can do it for you.’
‘Honestly?’
‘I’m the DIY queen.’ She grinned. ‘I can go and get my drill, if you want.’ She put her glass on the coffee table. ‘I’d better not have any more of that, though, or they won’t be straight.’
‘That would be amazing. You put me to shame.’
‘I was born with a spirit level in my hand.’
‘The perfect neighbour. I’m afraid I’m useless at anything practical. Though I can cook.’
She spread her hands. ‘Well, I can’t. I can eat though.’
‘Looks like we’re well-matched, then.’
‘Give me five minutes.’
