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Her fellow glamping site friends – Elspeth, Jules, Skye, Opal, and Quinn – had no issue with her propensity to surround herself with a kaleidoscope of random items she had amassed since arriving with only the clothes on her back. But, after their first visit, the friends she’d made since taking on the lease of her beach hut studio in Blossomwood Bay had not returned…
‘It’s okay if—’
‘It’s just that, there are four of us and three dogs. It might be… well, a bit of a squeeze,’ said Rachel, trying to justify her obvious reticence. ‘Why don’t we head to the bistro, and we can sample some of Poppy’s delicious orange and walnut cookies?’
‘Actually, I’d love a cup of tea before I head back to the pub,’ said Holly, her blue eyes filled with compassion, which only made Suzie feel worse. ‘And Ariel and Max could really do with a drink of water, too.’
With no other alternative, Suzie strode towards the entrance of her tepee and invited her friends inside, keeping her back to them as she filled a large silver bowl with fresh water so that she didn’t have to see the shock on their faces. She placed the bowl outside on the decking before returning to set the kettle to boil, and when she finally turned round, she saw that Holly and Beckie had made themselves comfortable on a couple of patchwork bean bags while Rachel was sitting cross-legged on a rug Suzie had found in a local skip. She scanned the room, and for the first time saw what her friends must see.
An emporium of clutter.
Every inch of available space was taken up with collections of woven blankets, hand-knotted rugs, tie-dyed cushions, and over-stuffed bean bags that she had picked up at charity shops and car boot sales, which, by themselves, would have made the tepee a cosy space to spend time in.
But she hadn’t stopped there.
She had added dreamcatchers, lampshades, crystal chandeliers, brass candlesticks, and scarred wooden shelving units on which she had crammed books, ornaments, vases, photo frames, and a collection of mismatched crockery and glassware. When Archie had come to live with her – after being cruelly abandoned at Blossomwood Kennels by his owners – she had struggled to find a place for his bed and had ended up offering him one of her bean bags; the one Beckie was currently sitting on.
She realised that, to others, her home looked like a junk shop, butto herthe things she had surrounded herself with were her comfort blanket. The more she had, the thicker the fabric, and the better the insulation from the trauma of the outside world. She knew what had caused her struggle with the clutter demons, but the battle to overcome them had intensified since her flight from London, followed only a year later by the Blossomwood Bay fire that had destroyed her jewellery design business, and she had nothing left in the tank to fight them with.
There was hope, though; her mum had suffered the same affliction when they’d lost her dad – worse even, as they’d lived in a three-bedroomed house – but she had conquered her obsession and was now living happily in a small hillside village in Bali where she taught English to teenagers wanting to work in the tourist trade. Suzie’s sister, Amber, on the other hand, had always been a self-professed neat freak.
She splashed boiling water into an ancient china teapot, added four mismatched mugs to a tray, and set it down on the floor in front of Rachel, squeezing into the space between Holly and Beckie before pouring their tea. Archie returned from his sojourn with Ariel and Max, gave Beckie a look of disgust when he saw she had commandeered his bed, and settled instead on a folded mohair blanket on top of an urn-shaped linen basket.
‘This tea is absolutely delicious, Suzie,’ said Holly, running the tip of her tongue along her lower lip.
‘It’s even better with a dribble of Jules’ honey. Help yourself.’
‘I’ve been meaning to ask you, Beckie,’ said Rachel, adding a spoonful of golden honey to her mug. ‘Has your Aunt Kath heard anything from Dexter? Wasn’t his business manager, Andrew, supposed to be flying over to Los Angeles last week? I don’t know about you, but funds are extremely tight at the moment, and the sooner he finds his errant rockstar client, the better. It’s disgraceful that we’ve had to wait for so long for the insurance on the beach huts to be sorted out.’
Beckie nodded. ‘Actually, she spoke to Andrew yesterday.’
‘And?’
‘Well, he’s arrived in LA.’
‘I sense a “but”.’
‘He told her he had some important business he needed to attend to before heading out to the Pacific Crest Trail to locate Dexter like he promised. I checked his Instagram account last night, and it seems the “business” he was talking about involves dining at a Michelin-starred restaurant, attending a swanky party in Beverley Hills, and scoring front-row seat seats at an awards ceremony.’
‘So he hasn’t even set off for the trail yet?’
‘No.’ Beckie sighed. ‘You know Aunt Kath, Rach, sheneverraises her voice for anything and she’s the calmest, most easy-going person I know. But yesterday she couldn’t stop herself from explaining a few home truths to him.’
‘I suppose it’s not his fault that Dexter needs to escape from the razzmatazz of showbiz life,’ said Suzie, her heart giving a nip of empathy, followed by an uncomfortable shiver down her spine. ‘It must be so stressful to have to keep looking over your shoulder all the time in case someone is hiding in the bushes with a long-lens camera pointed in your direction, ready to snap a photo of you at your most vulnerable, before splashing the image across the tabloid press.’
Suzie saw Holly flash her a sympathetic glance and heat whooshed into her cheeks.
‘Okay, thanks for the tea, Suzie,’ said Rachel, unfurling her legs and pushing herself up to standing. ‘I’d better get going, I’ve got another class in an hour; this time it’s a hen do.’
‘Who books a yoga session for ahen do?’ asked Holly, horrified.
‘Lots of people, thankfully.’ Rachel laughed. ‘Then I’ve got a baby shower.’
‘Oh my God, don’t tell me they’re doing a yoga, too?’
‘No, it’s just a party – mythirdthis month. It seems as though every one of my friends is either getting engaged, planning a wedding, or having baby showers at the moment.’ The pain in Rachel’s eyes was plain for all to see.
Beckie scrambled up from her bean bag, pulling down on the hem of her Boathouse Bistro logo-ed tee-shirt to cover her curves. ‘I’d better head off too. The lunch rush usually starts at eleven o’clock on a Friday. I wouldn’t mind a lift if you’re going back to the pub, Holls?’
