Chapter Fourteen
Aggie
Why is it that trouble never shows up in single doses? First Seth Lannaker, now Kieran Macklin. If I believed in karma I’d think I’d stepped on someone’s toes a while ago and now I’m being punished. But I’ve done nothing wrong. So why did one of my best friends just take a pop at me?
I don’t even know how it started. One minute we were pratting around with the lanterns, the next he was storming off in a rage. When I followed him outside, he yelled at me. Proper, scraping-the-lining-off-his-throat yelling. What did I do to upset him?
It’s been too much this week: temptations and thoughts I shouldn’t entertain, vile-tempered customers who just keep swarming into the hut like storm flies, and now this. I need to work this out.
I need Seren MacArthur.
She doesn’t even question my sudden appearance at her dad’s gallery – just sits me down and makes tea. It’s long been a joke with us that while I always resort to coffee, Seren MacArthur’s answer to pretty much any situation in life is tea. As I’m drinking yet another splendid brew it occurs to me how lucky I am to have her in my life. Friends like Seren don’t come around very often. I love the others in our gang, but I’d be lost without this one.
‘What’s up, Ag?’
‘Did you hear Kieran and me yelling last night? At Fred’s farm?’
‘No.’ She’s lying, but I know why.
‘Well I don’t know how you missed it. Half the cows from here to the Lizard heard us, I reckon.’
She gives a wry smile. ‘I might have heard something.’
‘Have you talked to Kieran about it?’
‘No. Have you?’
She always does that: turns a question on its head and slings it back at you. She could give that Paxman a run for his money. ‘Seeing as the last thing he shouted at me was, “I can’t be anywhere near you right now”, what do you think?’
‘Oh, Ag. What was the row over?’
‘That’s just it, I have no idea. One minute he was being a dick about that mistletoe-shaped lantern we were supposed to make; then the next he’s stormin’ out and we’re in a full-blown screamin’ match. He’s been off for the last couple of days, not himself at all. I just don’t know what’s got into him.’
Seren’s dad pokes his head out of the storeroom. ‘He’s a bloke, Aggie. He doesn’t need a reason to be daft.’
‘Cheers for that, Mark.’
Mark MacArthur has the cheekiest grin in the whole of St Ives. I’m surprised he hasn’t caused those stars he loves watching to tumble from heaven yet. He could charm them down easily. ‘You’re welcome. Kieran’s a hothead, just like his dad. I’ve dragged Joe Macklin out of more pub brawls than I care to remember. Seren, I’m just going to pop to the bakery to get us some lunch. Want anything, Aggie?’
‘I’m good, thanks, Mark.’
‘All right, then. I’ll leave you ladies in peace.’ He pulls on his coat and a crazy-striped knitted beanie hat that could only have come from Sharon, our friend who owns the candle shop in Fore Street. She is always knitting behind the counter at her shop and all of the tradespeople on Fore Street have received one of her woollen creations for Christmas or birthdays over the years. Mark calls her the Official Headwarmer of St Ives – a title that always makes her giggle and blush.
At the door, Mark turns. ‘Kieran’s a good lad, Aggie. He’ll sort his head out eventually. Blokes are idiots sometimes. Just ignore him.’
‘My dad, the counsellor,’ Seren chuckles when he’s gone. ‘He’ll bill you later.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’ My attention drifts to the display window and for a moment I forget my anger. It’s magical. Seren had mentioned using seaglass, but I never thought she could make something like this. Tiny shards of glass are sparkling and spinning from clear thread, so that from a distance you’d think they were dancing in thin air. Silver skeleton leaves shiver alongside them, delicate as spider silk, and five baubles made of hand-blown glass take centre-stage. The windowsill is filled with a blanket of white, soap-bubble-shiny snowflake sequins, while the smallest white lights wind up and through the display like twinkling stars. It’s like a scene from a dream.
‘Wow . . .’
‘You like it?’
‘Like it? You’re a bleddy genius! I hope Lou’s seen this and eaten his hat after accusin’ you of being a slacker?’
‘He didn’t speak for a full five minutes. Dad was quite concerned about him.’
I love that. Serves him right for ever doubting my friend and her dad. ‘Honestly, that is the best window in St Ives. If you don’t win the prize this year it’ll be a crime.’
‘I don’t know about that.’ Seren beams anyway. ‘Um, actually, Ag, I’m glad I’ve seen you today. I need to tell you something.’
My heart sinks.
So it all comes out: the chap who turned up at Fred’s barn; the real reason he volunteered to help us make lanterns; and the job offer. It’s only when she mentions the job that alarm bells ring for me. I’ve seen that look on her face before – five years ago, when she came to my house to tell me she was moving to Falmouth.
‘Oh my life, Ser, you’re seriously thinkin’ of doing this, aren’t you?’
Of course she is. She’s been like a wandering cloud since she came back to St Ives. Working in her dad’s gallery wasn’t ever going to be enough for her, was it? Look at that window: it’s like all of her hopes and dreams crammed beautifully into one perfect space.
‘Oh, Aggie, don’t cry,’ she says, her voice trembling too as she wraps her arms around me. I’m ashamed of my tears, but my life is a mess right now and I need her. I’m ashamed of being so selfish, but I can’t stop crying.
‘I’m happy for you,’ I lie, hoping she falls for it.
‘I won’t be going till the New Year. And I might just commute, you know, if the accommodation thing with Alastair gets weird. We have Christmas before then – me and you. And Cerrie. Kieran as well, when he calms down. Singletons for Christmas, remember?’
But in her mind, she’s already packed her bags and is waving me goodbye. I can see it. Falmouth isn’t the other side of the world, but it’s far enough away to steal my friend for weeks at a time.
I want her to be happy – she deserves it. But I don’t know what I’m going to do without her on my doorstep. Trouble never arrives alone. I just never expected it to steal my best friend the third time it hit me . . .