Cowering under the duvet, my mind flitted between the day I’d found Uncle Alan and my current predicament with Jason.
When the storm finally subsided at dawn, I’d only reached one conclusion: I didn’t want to be alone all weekend. The only close friend I had in London was Clare and she was away at a work event in Birmingham, which meant that home – the seaside town of Whitsborough Bay in North Yorkshire – was the place to run. Unfortunately, I’d picked up a voicemail from Mum to say that Dad had whisked her to Paris for the weekend and she hoped Jason had planned an equally romantic weekend for my birthday (oh, the irony). I couldn’t therefore stay with my parents. I could turn toMum’s sister, my Auntie Kay, though. There was no need to ring ahead because I knew exactly where she’d be. She was practically married to her business and never, ever took time off.
After throwing some clothes into a small case, I travelled the underground then caught the first train out of King’s Cross.
3
I took one final deep gulp of fresh seaside air, then pushed open the door to Seaside Blooms – a florist’s that Auntie Kay had opened twenty-five years earlier. The little bell tinkled joyously. I’ve always loved that sound, so welcoming and so intrinsically associated with home.
‘Sarah! What are you doing here?’ Auntie Kay gently put down the bridal bouquet she was arranging. She wiped her hands on her apron as she rushed out from behind the counter.
‘Surprise!’
She launched herself at me. ‘I was going to ring you tonight so it’s perfect you’re here.’
As I hugged her tightly, the floodgates, which had surprisingly stayed closed the night before, burst open.
‘Sweetheart, what is it? What’s happened?’
‘Jason,’ I whispered.
‘Is he okay?’
‘It’s over.’
‘Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry.’
The shop bell tinkled. Keeping my back to the door in case it was anyone I knew, I released Auntie Kay and rummaged in my bag for a tissue.
‘Morning, Mrs Bates,’ she said. ‘Cathy will be with you in a moment. Cathy?’
Cathy appeared through the arch from the back of the shop, smoothing down her apron over her ample curves. She beamed when she saw me. ‘Sarah! Kay didn’t say?—’
‘Sarah’s paid us a surprise visit,’ Auntie Kay interrupted. ‘But we just need a chat in The Outback. Can you see to Mrs Bates?’
‘Of course.’ Cathy, who’d obviously spotted the tears, gave me a sympathetic look and lightly patted my arm as she bustled past.
Auntie Kay bundled me into The Outback – the name Ben and I had given to the office/storage/kitchen area behind the shop after Auntie Kay’s fondness for saying, ‘I’m just going out back to make a cuppa’ – and sat me down on her battered leather desk chair. She perched on the desk and waited while I composed myself.
‘Sorry about that,’ I said. ‘I thought I was fine but maybe saying it aloud made me realise it was real.’And that I’m alone. Again. Like Uncle Alan.
‘Who ended it?’
‘Me.’
‘Can I ask why?’
‘You can, but maybe later. Is it okay to stay at Seashell Cottage tonight?’ I had a key for Mum and Dad’s but would far rather stay at Auntie Kay’s cottage in the Old Town than be alone.
‘Of course it is. There’s always a bed for you there.’
Feeling much calmer, I gave my eyes another wipe and pushed some stray curls behind my ears. ‘You’ve got a wedding today?’
‘It can wait. You know I’ve always got time for my favourite niece.’
‘I’m your only niece.’
‘I’m sure you’d still be my favourite even if there were a dozen.’
