Patrick sloped off to the Piggery, saying he wanted to catch up with some mates on Skype, leaving Maisie no choice but to face Ray and Hazel. At any moment, Maisie expected them to confront her about Patrick but nothing was said. In fact, they acted as if nothing had happened, but Maisie spent the whole of Christmas evening on edge, waiting for the moment when one of them mentioned ‘it’. She loved them dearly but for the first time since she’d come home, sitting in front of the festive edition of Strictly, EastEnders and the premiere of a Bond film, she wished she didn’t live at the Driftwood with her parents.
When Patrick went home to Oz, she would have to think about renting a cottage elsewhere on the island, to give herself space. Yet she could hardly afford to do that; she was living rent free at the Driftwood. Maybe if she moved into Patrick’s studio after he was gone, that would be better than nothing, though they would need the Piggery over the summer for the seasonal staff.
Boxing Day came and went and still no one said a word, but she had the feeling that the pressure was building hour by hour and Ray and Hazel were only waiting for her to tell them about Patrick before they broached the subject. As the hours ticked by, she wondered if her father hadn’t actually seen them and wasn’t even sure what he’d interrupted. He may have assumed that she and Patrick were just chatting, or more realistically, that they’d got together for a quick Christmas snog after Maisie had had too much to drink.
Days went by and the clock ran down towards ‘The Birthday’, and Maisie decided to leave well alone. If Jess, Patrick or her parents were planning any kind of ‘celebration’ during the day, she definitely hadn’t got wind of it, and anyway, they knew she was working at the Driftwood so that ruled out a surprise party.
Work recommenced at Hell Cove while people were on holiday and glad of an excuse to escape the enforced jollity and socialising for a few hours. She and Patrick spent their days at the site and evenings when the Driftwood was closed visiting Jess and Will, Javid and Katya and the rugby crowd in various pubs around the islands while Hazel and Ray caught up with old friends and neighbours.
Then, before she knew it, Maisie found herself waking up on her fortieth birthday. More presents were exchanged and she joined Jess for lunch in their favourite restaurant on St Mary’s. Jess had arranged for one of the boatmen to collect her in one of the few high-speed ‘jet’ boats that transported visitors between the islands and it was waiting to greet Maisie at the Gull Island jetty. ‘Way to go,’ said Jess, applauding as Maisie waved goodbye to the skipper at St Mary’s harbour.
She hugged her friend. ‘You are so naughty, arranging such a treat.’
‘I was worried that if the weather had turned, you wouldn’t have got here at all. Can’t have you going home drunk in charge of the Puffin, can we?’
‘It was a lovely surprise. Thank you.’
Jess linked arms with Maisie. ‘Now we can celebrate properly. Come on, I’ve booked our favourite table.’
The favourite table turned out to be the best one in the house, in a bay window overlooking the whole of the Eastern Isles of Scilly. The sun had put in an appearance and although it was cool, the skies were clear. Cocktails were produced, along with a beautiful bouquet of flowers from Will and Anna Godrevy.
‘Mum chose and hand tied them herself,’ said Jess. ‘Happy birthday, bestie.’
Maisie was already in an emotional state, and the flowers tipped her over the edge. Jess had gone to such an effort when Maisie knew she was still hurting over Adam.
‘And lunch is on Will,’ she said. ‘So enjoy it!’
She laughed away her tears and they enjoyed the delicious meal, reminiscing about happy times, sharing gossip about Will and his latest ‘fans’, and just having a laugh. This wasn’t the day to talk about her misgivings about Patrick or Jess’s troubles with Adam. It was a cosy, girly lunch. At the end of the meal, the staff appeared with a beautiful chocolate cake topped with a sparkler and a glass of Champagne.
‘Did you arrange this too?’ Maisie asked Jess after the waiting staff had sung ‘Happy Birthday’.
‘No. It’s as much of a surprise to me as you. By the way, you haven’t asked where your present is.’
‘I have a present too? The flowers and lunch are more than enough.’
‘Rubbish. Here you go.’
Jess pulled a gift from her bag. It was an exquisite little silver trinket box from the Starfish Studio, with a silver cowrie shell embedded on the top. Inside the lid was engraved:
To my best mate, love, J xx
Maisie could hold it in no longer. She hugged Jess and let the tears flow.
‘Has my mascara run?’ she asked, dabbing at her wet cheeks.
Jess shook her head. ‘No. You only look a little bit like a panda.’
After a trip to the ladies to redo her make-up, Maisie let the jet boat take her and Jess home again before it was dark. She was slightly squiffy and still in an emotional state as she stepped onto the quay with her arms full of flowers and gifts and the rest of the cake, but there was work to be done.
She started to prep the buffet ready for the New Year’s Eve party and check that the empty staff studios were ready for the folk band who’d been hired in. Hazel’s sister and brother-in-law were also supposed to be arriving that afternoon and were staying the night in the other one.
She flicked on the lights. She’d cleaned the studios a couple of days before but she switched on the heaters and took in some fresh towels and toiletries to the unit that her aunt and uncle were going to occupy. She looked around the little rooms. They were modest, like everything about the Driftwood, but they were part of her home and heritage. She might have passed a landmark birthday, but she had plenty to be happy about. She might be fighting to keep her livelihood out of Hugo’s hands but he couldn’t touch the Driftwood if she and her parents refused. And she was with Patrick … for now. Life definitely gave with one hand and took away with the other but she still felt happier than she had since the Christmas Day bombshell of the previous year.
It was dark outside and she folded the towels and laid them on the bed. The sound of the door opening made her jump then smile as Patrick said, ‘Hello, gorgeous,’ in his deep Aussie tones.
He stepped inside and closed the door.
‘Thank God I’ve finally got you on your own,’ he said hugging her. ‘I never thought I’d have a chance to give you your birthday present.’
‘A birthday present? I didn’t expect one.’
Perhaps that wasn’t quite true, she admitted to herself.
Patrick smiled. ‘Can’t have a milestone like this pass by without recognition. Here you are.’
He pulled another small parcel from inside his coat. It was similarly wrapped to her Christmas gift, and Maisie wondered if he’d ordered both at the same time.
She carefully unwrapped the tissue paper and took the lid off a small flat box. Nestled inside was a white gold bangle with an opal as its centrepiece. She gasped in delighted horror. ‘Patrick. You are terrible. You can’t give me this. It’s gold, isn’t it?’
‘Plated maybe. I don’t know. Does it matter? Do you like it?’
‘I love it. It’s just so delicate.’
‘Put it on, then.’
Her fingers weren’t quite steady as she slipped it over her wrist. ‘It’s gorgeous. Absolutely amazing. Thank you, even though you are a very bad person for spending so much.’
She grabbed him and gave him a long, deep kiss.
‘Wear it tonight, then, and by the way, happy birthday,’ he said when they pulled apart before dragging her back into his arms for another kiss.
She gave herself over to the moment with him, wishing it could go on forever but the sound of voices outside brought her back to reality. ‘I should go. There’s work to do and the band and guests will be here any minute.’
Patrick started to unbutton her top. ‘They can wait.’
‘Not really …’
He stopped the protests by locking the door, picking her up and dumping her on the bed.
Half an hour later, Maisie hurried back to the pub, running her fingers through her tousled hair on the way. It was past six o’clock and she could hear a few familiar voices in the bar. The band members were walking around the side of the pub with instrument cases and sports bags. Ray must have already met them at the quay in the Land Rover but she’d no idea how they’d got across from the main island because the ferry wasn’t running this late. Ray must have fetched them in the Puffin.
‘Were d’you want us, love?’ the leader asked.
‘Um. In the studios, if you don’t mind. This way.’ Still feeling flushed, Maisie showed them into their quarters for the night while Patrick went back to the pub to stock the bar. There was no sign of her uncle and auntie yet.
After settling them in, she hurried back into the pub kitchen. It was deserted apart from Patrick who was filling a bucket with ice cubes from bags in the freezer. She heard familiar voices and giggles from the bar.
‘Oh, Jess and Will are here early,’ she told Patrick. ‘They said they’d try to make it in time to help us set up. Have we been missed?’
Patrick put the lid on the ice bucket. ‘I don’t think so, but Jess’s dying to see you again.’
‘I’ll pop into the bar and say hello before I get changed.’
Maisie pushed open the door to the bar and almost had a heart attack. Lights blinded her and a collective shout rang out.
‘Surprise!’
The place was as packed as sardines in a tin. Jess, Will, her parents, Archie, Fen, Javid, Katya, the Bartons, the Jenkins, rugby club mates and helpers from the building work. A huge homemade banner with ‘Happy 40th Birthday, Maisie’ painted on it in Archie’s hand had been hung on one wall, covering his pictures.
‘Oh my God,’ she squeaked, taking her hand from her mouth. ‘I knew you were up to something, Jess Godrevy!’
Everyone laughed as Jess ran forward and hugged her. ‘And you’re not angry?’
‘Angry? I’m bloody furious.’ Then she burst out laughing and kissed Jess on the cheek. ‘Of course not, but you are naughty! Was this all your idea?’
Jess heaved a sigh of relief. ‘And Will’s. Your mum and dad said you’d moan for about a minute then be secretly delighted. We helped them decorate the bar while you were cleaning. After all you’re not forty every day, are you? You have to make hay while the sun shines, now you’re on the slippery slope to old age.’
‘Oh, just you wait until it’s your turn,’ Maisie said, still reeling from the shock and yet secretly delighted to have all her friends around her to mark the occasion, now that it had finally come. After all, she thought, the alternative wouldn’t have been much fun.
Jess laughed. ‘Not yet.’
Adam was notable by his absence. He’d stayed away but Jess seemed happy enough. She was probably putting on a brave face for Maisie but Maisie wasn’t going to probe. This was a happy occasion for everyone who’d organised it, even more than herself. And for once why not do as Jess suggested? Relax and have a few drinks. Be the customer. With the amount of people wanting to talk to her and buy her drinks, she didn’t think she’d have a choice. Patrick grinned from behind the bar, where he and Will were rushed off their feet. Realising she was still in her scruffy jeans and cleaning top, she managed to slip upstairs and change into something a little more glamorous. Then it was back to the bar.
Someone handed her a glass of Prosecco, the band started up with ‘Happy Birthday’ and another cake covered in candles was brought out, made by Davina from the Fudge Pantry.
‘No need for the lighthouse tonight, eh, Maisie? That cake will keep every ship within fifty miles away from those rocks,’ Archie quipped as Maisie prepared to blow them out.
‘Thank you, Archie. You’re barred!’ Maisie shouted back then took a huge breath. It took three goes but she did it and the bar rang with cheers and applause.
The night was clear and cool as Patrick held Maisie in his arms on a quiet patch of beach in front of the Driftwood. Some early fireworks still flickered in the night sky above Petroc and St Mary’s but the thunder and hiss of rockets was muted. Ray and Will were going to set off their own display after Big Ben’s chimes. Bass thumped from the Driftwood along with chatter and singing. It had been a wonderful evening full of laughter, partying and dancing but she was glad to have Patrick to herself for a few minutes at least.
The stars pricked the skies above them and the rest of the world seemed miles away. Even with the muted sound of revelry and music drifting across the sand, she and Patrick might have been the only people on Gull. Huddled in his arms, her heart was soaring but breaking too.
She loved Patrick; no point in denying it to herself even though she could never tell him.
The voices grew louder and the music stopped to be replaced by the sound of the radio coming live from London and blaring out from the bar.
‘We’d better not miss this, much as I’d love to stay here all night,’ said Patrick.
People spilled out and he and Maisie walked back to the terrace. Voices hushed as the first chimes of Big Ben rang out. One, two … five, six … eleven, twelve. A huge cheer rang out and everyone started wishing each other a happy New Year and kissing loved ones, friends and neighbours.
The hiss of a rocket and deafening bangs made Maisie jump. She looked into the night sky to see starbursts of purple, dazzling white and red explode behind the Driftwood. ‘Oohs’ and ‘ahs’ echoed through the night air as rockets whizzed high into the sky. Some people began to sing ‘Auld Lang Syne’, but Maisie only had eyes for Patrick. The shaky, wobbly music and even the pop of the fireworks faded as Patrick took her into his arms and lifted her off her feet. He held her up by her bottom and she wrapped her legs around his waist as they kissed, long and deep while the cacophony carried on around them.
If people were watching, she no longer cared, she thought. They were out and proud. Patrick led her away from the terrace and onto the sand. They picked their way by the lights from the terrace and the fireworks illuminating the sky.
‘Everyone knows about us now. There’s no way to put the genie back in the bottle,’ said Maisie.
Patrick lifted a strand of hair off her face. ‘What if the genie didn’t want to go back anyway?’
‘What are you trying to say?’
‘I’m not trying to say anything. I am saying it. I don’t have to go back to Oz. I don’t want to go back.’
Maisie’s legs wobbled. ‘You don’t really mean that. You can’t stay here on this little scrap of earth. You’d go mad, and within a week, you’d be longing for the big wide world.’
‘I’ve seen it. I like this scrap of earth. I like sharing it with you.’
She pushed him away and laughed. ‘Oh, Patrick. I’d love to believe you.’
He took her arm and spun her round. She half stumbled in the sand.
‘Then believe me. I have fallen for you, and I want to stay here at the Driftwood with you.’
She groaned. The glimpse of a future with him was so tempting, it was agonising to contemplate. ‘I’d braced myself for you leaving. I was ready for it. Don’t lob a great big rock in the pool now.’
‘Why not? I’m selfish. I have thrown the rock and you can tell me to piss off, and I will, but it won’t be because I chose to go; it’ll be because you made me leave.’
‘I don’t want you to leave!’ she shouted to the velvet sky and dark sea. ‘I want you to stay, but I’m scared.’
‘I know. Me too. Both of us have had to lose too much in a short space of time. Both of us have every reason to protect ourselves and keep the world at bay, but I’m willing to risk it. Question is: are you?’
She didn’t think she could live with herself if he let her down now. He might do that. One day in the future. Who could predict when or where or how?
She held on to him, laughing but wanting to cry at the same time. ‘Damn you for doing this. For walking into my pub and my life and doing this to me. I hate you, McKinnon. I hate you and I know I’ll regret this one day and I’m an even bigger fool than I thought I was but, yes. Yes, I’m willing to risk it.’
A huge bang made Maisie almost fall on top of Patrick.
‘Jesus, are your dad and his brother-in-law trying to blow up the bloody pub?’ he asked, laughing.
‘I don’t know but we’d better go and find out.’ She held out her hand. ‘Come on, then, let’s get this over with, although after that snog I don’t think anyone will be surprised.’
Patrick’s arm was firm around her waist as they made their way into the pub. The pyrotechnics were over but the band was still playing and people were filtering back into the bar. For the first time, Maisie noticed Hugo was standing in the corner by Archie. Basil was poking around as usual, like a furry Hoover. Heads turned and people raised eyebrows, smiled knowing smiles or simply gawked. Javid raised a glass to them, but Maisie’s attention was mostly for her parents.
Hazel didn’t look happy. Ray smiled but Maisie felt his concern. Time would tell and maybe prove them wrong: prove her wrong too. Who knew? She and Patrick might grow old together on Gull Island and maybe even bring up a new generation of Samsons – or McKinnons – it wasn’t too late. She smiled. Hugo looked like he’d swallowed the lemon in his gin and tonic. He really had fancied her, then. Tough.
He’d get over it. He had plenty of admirers, eager to further the Scorrier dynasty. The Driftwood’s troubles would still be there tomorrow. She wouldn’t think of that now, only of the joy she felt to have this man’s arm around her and to have his big warm body in her bed. Why not enjoy that for the rest of tonight? In fact, they’d spend the night together in Patrick’s quarters. A single bed between the two of them. Now, that was going to be fun and she was only forty once, so damn it …