AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 1
People could say what they liked about Welsh seaside towns, but in Mia Page’s opinion, there weren’t many better ways to start a June day than walking barefoot on the beach.
Shoes in hand, she wriggled her toes against the dry sand and stared out over the glistening waves, cheerfully ignoring the line of dead jellyfish left behind by the retreating tide. Even at eight thirty in the morning, the salt air was already filling with the familiar seaside scents of frying chips and a hint of sugary rock.
Mia turned slowly around, surveying her domain. The caves, just up the coast, where A to Z Jones’s smuggler gang were said to have hidden, back in the day. The lighthouse on the cliff above, and beside it the tumbledown lighthouse keeper’s cottage she’d dreamt of owning as a child. The Esplanade, with its dated hotels and faded guesthouses, spanning the length of the beach.
Her boss, attacking the postman on the Esplanade.
Mia gave her toes one last wriggle, put her shoes on and dashed up the stone steps from the beach to the town above. Ahead of her, Ditsy Levine, seventy-six and still spectacular, dressed in a shocking pink and green floral tea dress, had Jacques’ arm twisted up behind his back and was trying to prise a selection of envelopes from his hand. Jacques was not giving in easily.
“Ditsy, what on earth are you doing?” Mia grabbed the much older woman around the waist, more to steady her than stop her, since Ditsy looked about to topple over.
“Getting our post,” Ditsy said through gritted teeth, succeeding at last in peeling one of Jacques’ fingers out of the way.
Jacques, who’d arrived in Aberarian from France two months before Mia was born, twenty-eight years ago, and still complained about the weather, was not the world’s most efficient postman. But he did have a system. He started his deliveries on the outer streets of the small seaside town and spiraled his way in to the center until he reached the post office again. Ditsy’s A to Z shop, being next door to the post office-cum-newsagents on the main street, was his last stop. Quite often, the workday had effectively ended by the time he handed Mia her mail.
“If somebody would employ a sensible delivery system,” Ditsy carried on, separating another finger from the letters, “I wouldn’t have to resort to such actions.”
“Fine, fine!” Jacques finally released the post, and the sudden action caused Ditsy to jerk backward, pushing Mia against the railing separating the Esplanade from the rocks leading down to the sandy beach. By the time she collected herself, leaving Ditsy settling her skinny frame onto a nearby bench and sorting through her mail, Jacques was rooting around in his inside pocket and pulling out another envelope. Ditsy made a disgruntled noise from the bench, obviously personally offended he’d kept any mail hidden from her.
“Since we’re ignoring any sense of order today, you might as well have this too.” Jacques shoved the letter into her hands. “It was addressed to your mother’s old house, but I would have brought it over to you.” He sounded hurt at the accusations thrown at him for doing his job in an orderly manner, and for a moment Mia wondered if he was h
anging around for an apology from Ditsy, in which case she suspected everyone’s post would still be waiting to be delivered tomorrow.
Then she glanced down at the envelope. Written across the reverse flap was a return address: G E Page, 15 Cottle Way, Cottlethorpe, East Yorkshire. Well, at least she knew where dear old Dad had got to now. And it had only taken him fourteen years to write. Suddenly it was very clear why Jacques was still hanging around.
Mia pushed the letter into the corner of her handbag. She wasn’t giving Jacques, and by extension everyone on his post round, the satisfaction of knowing what her father had to say to her. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to know herself.
“Thank you.” She turned away and grabbed Ditsy’s arm, pulling her up from the bench. “But we’ve got a shop to open.” Ditsy followed, after returning to Jacques all the letters addressed to other people. They left him reordering it according to his spiraling system.
“You really shouldn’t attack people in broad daylight, you know,” Mia said, once Jacques was out of earshot and they were safely headed up Water Street. “It’s not going to make these people like us any more.”
Ditsy bristled. “They like me just fine, thank you very much. They just preferred my sister.”
“They think you’re ornery,” Mia corrected, peeking through the window of StarFish seafood restaurant to see if Charlie was at work yet. He wasn’t.
“I’m seventy-six. It’s my right.” Mia didn’t have an argument for that. As far as she was concerned, Ditsy had earned the right to do whatever the hell she liked. It was just a shame the rest of the town didn’t always agree.
Passing the crumbling Coliseum cinema, with its peeling yellow paintwork and faded movie posters three years out of date, Mia waved to Walt Hamilton, who was opening up for another day of classic movies and stale popcorn. Walt raised a hand to wave back, but lowered it when his wife, Susan, glared first at him then at Mia.
Susan thought Mia was more than ornery. Mia was pretty sure she thought she was a disgrace.
“So, who’s the letter from?” Ditsy went on, sounding like she didn’t care, as they turned onto Main Street and the tarnished brass sign above the A to Z shop came into view.
Mia rolled her eyes. “Don’t pretend Jacques didn’t tell you. I’m sure he’s told every single person on his rounds this morning. And I don’t for a second believe you were actually attacking him to get the phone bill and a Fish Festival flyer.”
“I just can’t believe he was hiding it in his pocket,” Ditsy grumbled, fumbling for her keys. “All that wasted energy. I’m going to need a nap today. You might not get your afternoon off, after all.”
Ditsy’s A to Z shop was an institution in Aberarian. It had been there all of Mia’s life, and before, and any visitor to the town always remembered it long after they’d forgotten the jellyfish and the boat trips. Usually because they’d spent twenty-five minutes searching for mustard before realizing every item in the shop was stored alphabetically on the twenty-six antique wooden shelves, each with a gilt letter resting atop them. It wasn’t practical, or particularly profitable, but it was certainly memorable.
“Speaking of the Fish Festival,” Ditsy said, pushing the door open, “they’re in trouble again.”
Ditsy struggled out of her camel hair jacket, revealing the full glory of the floral fantasia of fabric draped over her skinny body and tied with a pink and yellow beaded necklace for a belt around the waist. ‘The only person who ever cared what I looked like died a decade ago,’ Ditsy always said. ‘Besides, I like flowers.’ The camel hair coat found its way onto the usual peg behind the counter, next to Mia’s apron, and Ditsy dropped onto the stool by the till.
Mia pulled off her jacket to reveal her more sedate tea dress. As uniforms went, she supposed it wasn’t a bad one. Ditsy claimed they gave the shop a retro feel. Mia secretly believed the tea dress choice had more to do with Ditsy’s reluctance to go clothes shopping over the last few decades than any business motivation.
She pulled her attention back to the Fish Festival. “Again?”
Ditsy nodded. “Getting harder to pull it off every year, it seems.”
“Well, they’re really in for it this year, then.” Ditsy raised an eyebrow, and Mia explained, “With Mayor Fielding stepping down and all. It won’t be her problem by the autumn, so why should she care?”
“You’re far too cynical, my dear.” Ditsy reached over and patted her hand. “Now, time to get to work.”
They settled into their usual routine–Ditsy made the first cups of tea while Mia checked the till, set up the float from the safe in the back room, and straightened up the stock. When they were ready, she flipped the Closed sign over to Open, and they both sat down to wait for an influx of customers at nine o’clock.
Three hours, four customers–two tins of baked beans, a packet of chocolate hobnobs, and 500 grams of plain flour–and eight cups of tea later, Ditsy asked, “Now, what are you going to do with your free afternoon?”
“I can stay, if you like,” Mia offered. Ditsy did look tired after her morning’s exertions.
“Not at all. Not a word of it,” Ditsy said. “It’s your afternoon off. And it might be your last chance before the summer rush starts. So, tell me, what have you got planned?”
The summer rush, Mia feared, grew less rushlike by the year. Last summer had been more of an amble. She sighed. “Nothing much. Although I did have some ideas about a large bar of chocolate and an Agatha Christie.”
Ditsy looked scandalized. “An attractive young thing like yourself, with no plans for an afternoon off? Nobody whisking you off for a romantic walk on the beach? Or champagne cocktails at the Grand? What will become of you?”
“I’m meeting Charlie for a tasting and the cinema tonight, if that’s any better,” Mia tried.
“Charlie doesn’t count.” Ditsy’s expression turned suspicious. “Unless there’s something you haven’t been telling me. You haven’t finally persuaded that handsome young man to break his vow of celibacy?”
The excitement in Ditsy’s eyes at the prospect was profoundly disturbing. “He’s a chef, not a priest, Ditsy. And it’s not a vow, as such. It’s understandable he’s reluctant to get into another relationship after Becky.” She gave Ditsy a meaningful look, and the older woman looked suitably sheepish as she remembered exactly whose niece it was who had brought Charlie to town to start a new life then left him there alone with a restaurant, a fallen-down cottage and a broken heart. Not to mention the ways she’d made Mia’s life hell when they were teenagers.
“Besides, Charlie and I are just friends.” Mia quashed down the small part of her that sometimes–very occasionally, mind–wondered what would happen if that wasn’t the case.
“Which is my point!” Ditsy said, raising a finger in triumph. “When are you going to find someone who isn’t just a friend?”
“In Aberarian? Probably never.” Mia sighed. She loved her hometown and had fought hard to stay there despite the decline in business, the gossips and the jellyfish. But it wasn’t exactly bursting at the seams with eligible bachelors. Which was another thing. She didn’t want Charlie–or anyone else for that matter–to fall into a relationship with her through lack of alternative options. She was worth a little more than that, thank you.
Ditsy looked sympathetic. “Well, who knows? Maybe the summer crowd will have some lookers this year.”
“All married with small children on a family holiday at the seaside. Just what I’m searching for.” She wasn’t even really searching. Life was pretty good just how it was. She had her flat above the shop, her friends...and a letter from her father in her bag. Mia’s mood took a downward slump.
Rolling her eyes, Ditsy shuffled into the back room and Mia heard the click of the kettle switch again. “Well with that kind of attitude there’s no hope for you. Just let me make another cup of tea to keep me going and I’ll let you run free to do your laundry or whatever.”
Mia let herself smile, since
Ditsy couldn’t see her. “Own up, Ditsy, you just want to live vicariously through me.”
“Of course!” Ditsy stuck her head through the doorway. “I thought that much was obvious. It’s ten years since my Henry died. I’ve got to get my kicks somewhere, you know.”
“Ditsy, I really don’t want to know about your...” Mia trailed off as she realized Ditsy was paying her no attention whatsoever. The grin on the older woman’s face had spread even wider, and she pointed a sharp, bony finger toward the window.
“Now,” Ditsy said, her eyes bright. “What about him, then?”
It would have been less embarrassing, Mia thought, if the–admittedly very attractive–man on the other side of the glass hadn’t chosen that exact moment to look up and smile at them. Unfortunately, Mia’s world didn’t seem to believe in less embarrassing.
She groaned, sinking down onto her stool, bowing to the inevitable. The guy pushed open the door, ringing the antiquated shop bell above it. Mia tried for a polite customer service smile, but Ditsy had everything under control anyway.
“Good afternoon,” Ditsy said, her own smile manically bright. “And how can I help you this fine day, Mr...”
“Anthony Fisher. Call me Tony,” he said, unfazed by Ditsy’s really rather frightening grin. Mia was almost impressed. “And I’m looking for a guidebook to the town, if you have such a thing.”
“We most certainly do,” Ditsy said. Mia started to get up to collect the Aberarian guide from the G shelf, and the corresponding map from shelf M, but Ditsy flung out an arm to keep her in her seat. “But actually, you’re in luck. For one day only, I can offer you something much better.” Mia tried to break free, but the old woman’s arm was strong.
“Really?” Tony leaned his forearm on the counter and raised an eyebrow at Ditsy. “Lunch with you?”
