‘We couldn’t work out if you were shy or grumpy or just hated us or what. But I figured it out the other day at Winter Wonderland. You’rescared.’
Ivy glanced at the cup in Erin’s hand. ‘How much of that cider have you had?’
‘You’re scared of all of it,’ said Erin, waving her cup expansively, sloshing some cider on to the sand. ‘Life. People. Romance. The future. You keep this little buffer of sarcasm and cynicism around you like bubble wrap, and I have to say, it’s very effective. Because no one dares get close.’
Ivy opened her mouth to protest, but Erin cut her off by holding up a mittened hand.
‘I’m not judging you. I get it. It’s easier to assume everything’s going to disappoint you than risk opening up, being wrong and getting hurt. But, I don’t know … it must be kind of lonely, right? Shutting people out.’
Ivy stared into her own cup, momentarily lost for words. There it was again. That word people kept using about her.Lonely. She took a sip of her drink. The juice had gone cold.
‘I don’t shut people out,’ she said at last, in a small voice.
‘You shutusout,’ Erin said. ‘At school, I mean. Me and Mei and Callum.’
‘I …’ Ivy’s voice trailed off. ‘All those times you asked me to do stuff, I thought you were just doing the right thing. I didn’t think you reallywantedme there,’ she finished lamely.
‘Why wouldn’t we?’ Erin said softly. ‘You’re cool. We like you.’
Ivy thought back over the last few years of school. All thattime saying no. Her and Raye hiding out in the art room, making fun of the cool kids with the great hair and their denim shorts, their bowling parties and cinema trips. She had been so sure they were only tolerating her, when actually …
‘You mean you properly wanted to be friends?’ she asked. ‘All this time?’
Erin slapped her forehead dramatically. ‘Yes, Ivy. We properly wanted to be friends. All this time.’ She sighed and downed her cider. ‘Listen, I’m going to dance now, because sometimes people like to do that at parties. But think about it, Ivy. If you keep shutting people out, insisting they’re acquaintances rather than friends, you’ll end up with a pretty small world. And you know whoelseyou’ve shut out, right?’ She nodded meaningfully to the cluster of kids by the fire, where Trip was standing, head thrown back, laughing at something the others had said. Erin squeezed Ivy’s arm. ‘Come over and join us any time. And the pagan-crown look suits you, by the way.’
Erin headed over to the fire, slipping an arm round Mei’s waist. As the music swelled and more people joined the dancing, Ivy felt herself drifting at the edge of it all – full of confused thoughts, too tired and sad to figure them out. She told her mum she had a headache and left before the final song, boots crunching over the frosty path as she made her way back through the dark.
From the beach, she thought she heard someone call her name, but she didn’t turn back. She just needed to be home.
For the next couple of days, Ivy buried herself in work and the show. She put in long shifts at the shop, then headed to the school art room where she busied herself setting up displays and crafting props like her life depended on it. She finished a papier-mâché boat, finessed her hand-painted Arthurian castle and gave herself a migraine gluing feathers to angel wings for the carol section. Anything to stay busy. Anything to stay out of Trip’s way. The hurt look in his eyes as he stood in the doorway of Wildest Dreams kept replaying itself in Ivy’s head as she lay in bed at night. But so did the image of his arm round Madison.
Her desire to avoid him seemed to be mutual. Aside from two polite ‘good mornings’ and a ‘good luck at rehearsal’, she and Trip barely spoke. Not properly. She hardly evensawhim, just a glimpse here and there – deep in conversation with Callum about the sound cues, a distant laugh in the rehearsal hall, chatting to the piano tuner, bussed in from Truro to try and persuade the piano into something approximating the right key. As the days passed, Ivy was no longer sure who was avoiding who. She learned to listen for footsteps on the old staircase, soshe could vanish behind a stack of hardbacks or slip out to the stockroom the second she sensed his presence.
And yet, she couldn’t really escape Trip because, everywhere she went, someone was talking about him. It was like the residents of Fox Bay were his biggest fan club.
‘After seeing him sail, I’d trust him with my own boat,’ Old Bill told her seriously, clapping a hand to the faded wood as Ivy went for a brisk walk along the beach one morning to clear her head. ‘And look at this.’ He held out his arm, sleeve rolled up, to display a nicotine patch. ‘I’ve gone four days without my pipe,’ he said proudly. ‘The hypnosis podcast Trip sent me really works.’
‘Can you tell Trip we need numbers for the food for the after-party?’ Lou said, thrusting a piece of paper into Ivy’s hand as she stopped by the Mariner’s Arms to collect some old cardboard boxes to use as props. ‘He can choose anything on here and I’ll do him a special on the pizza.’
‘He’s such a sweet boy,’ her own mum said outside the Co-op, fondly looking after Trip as he disappeared round the corner, whistling loudly. ‘You should see him with the kids at rehearsals, Ivy. Livvie adores him and you know she’s a tough nut to crack.’
Outside the corner grocer, Ivy nearly collided with Melissa, the town librarian, who was balancing two canvas bags full of what looked like books and packets of biscuits.
‘Oh! Ivy. It’s you,’ Melissa said, slightly breathless. She hada bobble hat pulled down against the fierce wind over her crew cut. ‘I was just thinking about you.’
‘You were?’
‘Well, notjustyou,’ Melissa said, hoisting the bag higher. ‘The whole lot of you. Mr Hargreaves, all of you wonderful young people, the children putting on the show. I can’t thank you enough. Things have been pretty tight at the library. I can’t do it all by myself, you know – it would mean the world to hire an assistant. But there’s some good news – Trip helped me put in an extra funding grant application for additional staff. He made a very impassioned case about literacy funding. He said the show will only get us so far.’
‘Oh,’ said Ivy. ‘Well, he’s right about that.’
Melissa beamed. ‘He’s a good person. I work with books. I’mexcellentat reading people.’
Ivy smiled and nodded, but her insides twisted every time someone said how kind or funny or sweet or helpful Trip was. She wasn’t proud of what she’d said about him the other day and even less proud that she had accidentally said it all to his face. She hadn’t even meant it, not really. She had just been lashing out because she’d felt foolish and exposed and humiliated. Like she had put herself out there for a change, allowed herself to believe in some good luck, and it had backfired.
All the same, she thought, he’d had no reason to look so hurt.Hehad been the one to stop textingher. Leftherhanging.And then he’d been all over Instagram, grinning like he was inPeoplemagazine, with that shiny-haired, beautiful girl. Madison. So how dare he look like a wounded puppy?
So why did she still feel so guilty?
