Page 84 of The Sunrise Sisterhood

Clare and Adam.

So that was Ivy’s father; what a hunk! No wonder Ivy was such a beautiful child, even accounting for Liz’s bias. With those looks, he could be an actor or a model, or the lead singer of a band. And it wasn’t just his face, it was his manner, so charming; he looked at you as if you were the most important person in the room. Liz put a hand to her face, aware that she was getting warm just thinking about him.

She wouldn’t interfere, no matter how much she wanted to. There could be any number of reasons why Clare hadn’t been honest with that lovely young man about Ivy’s existence. But her heart couldn’t help but skip a little; wouldn’t it be wonderful if the two of them got together, a lovely romantic ending to the summer … Liz gave herself a little shake. It wouldn’t do to get carried away, and hadn’t she just promised not to meddle?

And then there were the girls. Her god-daughters. That earlier conversation had had its awkward moments.

She was used to being caught between Mike and Jen, but this was the first time it had happened between Skye and Clare. She loved them both dearly, always had. But this last couple of weeks had brought her so much closer to Skye. She’d always thought of the younger of Mike’s daughters as being the shy one, the least likely to step up to the plate. But, boy, had she got that wrong! Skye had turned out to be such a support to her, and now to Clare too. And thank goodness at least one of them had an uncomplicated love life.

Liz hoped she had done the right thing, telling Clare that Mike had offered to buy her a new car. It felt like a betrayal to Jen’s memory to be telling her daughter things which Jen hadn’t wanted her to know, and she sent up a silent apology to her best friend. But she thought of Clare’s reaction on learning her father hadn’t treated her any differently and decided it was worth spilling the beans. It had been healing for Clare to know that she wasn’t thought of any less than Skye. There’d been a touch of defiant pride on her face too, to discover how far Jen was prepared to go to stick to her principles. Not only had her first car been perfectly adequate, but it had been a gift from both of her parents. Clare respected that.

And then there was Skye talking about having had a girlfriend. Liz didn’t care a jot what her sexuality was; she was a delightful girl and Liz hoped whoever she fell in love with was good enough for her. However, the fact that Mike had only ever mentioned boyfriends to Liz was disappointing. Supporting your children in their biggest decisions in life was what made you a good parent.

She turned left at the bottom of the hill, called into one of her favourite shops and bought both girls scented candles for their rooms. On the other side of the road, the display in the wine-shop window caught her eye. There was a special promotion on pink wine: three bottles of Provence rosé for the price of two. Two days ago, she’d have been straight in there, telling herself that she was supporting a local business by buying from them. Not to mention justifying treating herself to a couple of bottles because it was a bargain.

She turned away. And then turned back. It was a bargain. Also, she reasoned, it wasn’t as if she was planning on giving up wine forever, just long enough to retrain her drinking habits. She could get three bottles and keep them; it was always good to have some in, just in case.

Oh sod it; she couldn’t resist. Liz went inside, smiled at the shop assistant, who recognised her, and loaded three bottles into a basket. As she walked to the cash desk, adrenaline flooded her system, making her heart race. What was she doing in here? Why was she so weak and pathetic? How could she have gone back on her promises so soon?

‘Is everything all right?’ asked the concerned assistant.

‘Got to go,’ Liz mumbled, her face already breaking out into a sweat. ‘Sorry.’

She dumped the basket on the counter and fled.

It was a full five minutes until she could breathe properly. She felt wobbly and tearful, but underneath it all, there was a tiny spark of pride that she’d done the hard thing. The wine habit had been years in the making, starting right back in her student days. All she had to do was manage the cravings one day at a time, and that was what she’d done. She didn’t want to let the girls down, not after yesterday’s performance. There was Patrick too; he’d been so kind to her when she’d confessed to him, she didn’t want to disappoint him.

As she passed the pasty shop, the one solitary chicken and leek pasty in the window called to her and she stopped to buy it. Never underestimate the power of a flask of tea and a warm pasty, her dad used to say when they were out sailing and a storm took them unawares. There was no rain today, the air was crisp and cooler than it had been after yesterday’s clouds. But she still drew strength from her dad’s words.

She wandered up to Whitestrand again and stopped at an empty bench overlooking the water.

The pasty was delicious. Just the hit of carbs she needed, and as she waited for it to cool between bites, her thoughts meandered back to Jen and Mike.

Liz had sometimes found it hard to stand back and watch when Jen’s pride had stood in the way of accepting help from her ex-husband. Jen had acted that way to snub him, but more often than not, it had been Clare who’d suffered. Was it any wonder their daughter had an independent streak as wide as the Salcombe estuary? Liz had stepped in this time and opened up about the car, because she couldn’t bear there to be any resentment between Clare and Skye. Especially when it wasn’t based on the facts. For all his faults, Mike had tried to treat them fairly when he could.

And from her position as their godmother, she’d had a bird’s-eye view of the extended family. Like an umpire at Wimbledon, perched on her high stool, overlooking the whole picture: Mike on one side of the net, Jen on the other, with Clare bouncing backwards and forwards between them.

Liz had been the obvious choice for godmother to Clare. It had been a role she’d assumed would be hers but, nonetheless, had been delighted to be asked. With Skye it had been a different matter entirely and Liz could never recall her acceptance of the job without a flush of shame.

She cast her mind back to a day not long after Skye was born. She and Jen had been catching up over a glass of wine one night after Clare had gone to bed.

‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ Liz had said, topping up Jen’s glass.

Jen’s eyes had sparkled expectantly. ‘Please let it be something good.’

‘Mike has asked me to be the baby’s godmother.’ She’d held her breath, knowing how hard it was for Jen to hear about Mike and his new family. He’d sent Liz a photo of Frankie and the new baby, taken while they were still in the delivery suite. Frankie was a beautiful young woman and even just after giving birth she’d glowed, her smile dazzling. How she was going to take to motherhood was anyone’s guess – on the few occasions Liz had met her, Frankie had seemed rather self-absorbed.

‘Course he bloody has,’ Jen had muttered bitterly.

Liz had pulled her friend into a hug as tears leaked from her eyes.

When Mike had first left Jen, Liz had hated him so much, she couldn’t bear to think about him, let alone see or speak to him. What he’d done to her best friend was unforgivable. To cheat on Jen, to get another woman pregnant when at home he had what thousands – no, millions – of men would have given their right arm for. Jen was funny, intelligent, kind, loyal … And Clare – how could he walk away from his delightful little girl?

The Marriott family had been an extension of Liz’s own. Now that their little unit had been torn apart, Liz had felt the loss of it deeply. Mike’s defection had meant the end of so many things; making up a foursome with the Marriotts was something she and whomever she’d been seeing at the time had done ever since her best friend and former crush had got together. Mike walking away had altered that dynamic forever.

But – and Liz would never admit this to anyone – Mike being no longer in her orbit had done her a favour. Her feelings for him should have gone by now. They were still close as friends, still got on well, but he’d never shown any interest in her since that one celebratory kiss at uni when they’d got top marks for their joint project. He’d dated her friend, married her friend, had a baby … if she’d needed a sign that her love for Mike would be forever unrequited, the universe had answered repeatedly. And yet …

‘And?’ Jen had said, after blowing her nose.