Page 35 of Second Chance Summer
‘She’s a talented kid,’ said Lily, thinking of the contrast between Morven and Tyrone, who’d virtually copied thestyle of a best-selling designer rather than trying to create something original.
‘She is that.’ Sam’s eyes lit up with pride. Lily couldn’t help thinking that Nate should be here to feel and show that pride. ‘Unfortunately, that’s another source of conflict. She can’t decide what to do next. She’d have to go to the mainland to study Fine Art – at Falmouth University – but she hasn’t applied for a course, so that’s off for this year. Now she’ll have to stay on the islands until she can reapply. It’s why she’s working for me here. Reluctantly.’
‘She must be so hurt and confused. I felt the same way at that age, but for different reasons. I didn’t fit in with the crowd at school, that’s for sure. I loved making things but some people thought it was weird I had a market stall. Even then, I suppose I was focused on being an entrepreneur rather than on pop stars and boyfriends!’
And had never really given time to romantic relationships ever since, she thought.
Sam smiled and then said: ‘So you’ve been running at a hundred miles an hour since your late teens?’
‘In one way, probably, and lately, this big business opportunity has come up and it needs all my focus.’ She didn’t elaborate on the details of the supermarket offer, mindful she was supposed to be taking a break – and because she sensed an opportunity to find out more about Sam while she could. She only had tonight.
‘Coming on top of your loss, it’s no wonder you’re shattered,’ he said. ‘A series of blows saps your resilience until one day, all the stress catches up with you and floors you.’
‘Literally, in my case,’ Lily said, gently shaking her head. ‘You sound as if you understand?’
He answered quickly, as if keen to skate over his comment. ‘I spent every hour renovating this place and had to hand over the reins of my building business to a friend. Then Nate decided to leave Morven at my door as if she was an item of left luggage – with no indication of when he’d collect her again. I feel I’m failing at all of it: the business, the retreat, being a surrogate parent.’
‘I don’t think I could have juggled all of that stuff at once, especially the parent bit.’
‘I had no choice,’ he said bluntly. ‘I love Morven and want the best for her, but she’s not my daughter and I’m too old to be her friend. To be honest, I feel as if I’m failing her on all counts.’
Lily hesitated before replying. ‘I love my nieces too, and I understand the feeling of not being able to replace their mum, but I’ve no experience of teenagers. Does Elspeth help you much?’
He gave a wry smile. ‘My aunt is a wonderful woman. I couldn’t have managed without her, but she has the café to manage. She’s even further removed from Morven’s generation than I am, though sometimes they seem closer together than I am with either of them.’
Lily thought back to the conversation on the quay. ‘Does Morven believe in all the myths and legends about Stark? It sounded as if they have something in common there.’
‘When it suits her and when she wants to gang up on mewith Elspeth. They are alike in many ways. Independent, artistic, they say what they feel without a filter.’
‘I’ve experienced that. I know I’m the last person to give advice but you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve so much on your plate and Nate’s left you in the lurch. Maybe you need a retreat too? From Stark, I mean.’
‘Like you, I don’t have the time. I’m here to stay,’ he said, gathering up their plates. ‘I’ll go and work my magic on the tortilla.’
Lily was back at her cottage by ten. Sam had said she should be up and packed by seven a.m., so he could catch the tide to take her straight by boat and buggy to Tresco heliport where she could be on standby for the first possible flight.
She knew she should get some rest after what had been an emotionally and physically exhausting day, yet it was impossible. The endorphins still pulsed through her despite two large glasses of wine.
She threw open the doors of the cottage and stood on the terrace. Overhead the stars were just coming out. They twinkled in a vast sky, casting a silvery light over the sand flats that separated her from Bryher and the other islands. In the distance, the lighthouse on Round Island winked with soothing regularity.
This was the last daylight in the whole of Britain, the far western edge of her homeland, and she and Sam were the only two people on the planet to enjoy it.
An electric thrill shot through her, the kind that she used to experience when she’d painted or sewn something as achild. Knowing she couldn’t sleep, she went back into the cottage, made hot chocolate and brought it outside, along with pencils, watercolours and paper.
She had to capture the scene and started to sketch a faint outline of beach, sand flats and the low hills of Bryher surrounded by islets floating in a silvery sea.
Working quickly, she fought against the urge to criticise her work, or rip it up, knowing that she would never be able to do the scene justice, but the vital thing was to carry on. As her eyes adjusted, little details came into focus: white-walled cottages gleaming in the twilight; the jetty where she’d arrived and been so sharp with Sam.
Dipping her brush in a deep ultramarine, she cringed. Now she knew him better, she regretted her impatience and rudeness.
So much of what he’d shared with her had struck a chord. He’d had to step into his brother’s shoes to care for Morven. He’d said he had no choice, but Lily didn’t buy that. He’d taken her into his home and life because he cared and was now doing his best to juggle starting his business with looking after a troubled teenage girl.
Whereas Lily had been so busy working that she’d literally forgotten her two nieces existed.
She laid down the watery painting as lightly as she could. She was as rusty as the old mooring post on the Stark quay: it was an age since she’d used her creative skills for pleasure. She felt envious of the makers whose work she marketed … it was a feeling she’d suppressed while running the business, yet now it surfaced. The wild seascape ofStark had certainly rekindled that creative flame, even if it had almost finished her off too.
How could she make more time for her own creative passions again? Even if her drawings and paintings weren’t good enough to sell, they were still valid. How could she make more time for the stuff that mattered the most – her nieces and her family – as Sam had done?
How could she make enough money to do all the things she wanted and carve some space in her life forher? Slowly but surely, she’d allowed work to hem her into a corner until she was left with only the tiniest patch of dry land to stand on and no room to move.
