‘Why didn’t you clean it?’
‘I did.’
Then Malcolm had a go, with bleach, and then I tried again.
‘Here.’ Malcolm had paused so that I could catch up, then he reached across with a plastic bag. ‘It won’t stop the bike stinking, but hopefully means it won’t get absorbed by your dress.’
‘It might be too late for that.’
‘Ah, well. We can always sit you upwind.’
18
Lily had said that the weekly beach afternoons were generally family only. I realised, making my way down the last set of steps to the sand, the rental bike left well out of smelling distance, that ‘family’ had a loose definition on Siskin. As well as various Hawkinses, plus Hugh, all busy setting up cricket stumps, seating and other activities, I spied Hugh’s parents, who I’d met at the party, Barnie and another young man who must have been his identical twin. A gaggle of children who didn’t seem to belong to anyone were running in and out of the waves with the farm dogs and Pigeon, which inevitably meant Celine was also there, looking resplendent with her beach waves, bikini top and cut-off shorts as she batted a volleyball to no one in particular.
‘Oh. It’s you again,’ Aster said, eyeing me up and down like a cow at the island auction. ‘Are we inviting mainlanders to everything now? Is she coming for Christmas?’
‘Ma.’ Gabe gave his mother a warning look as he handed me an iced tea.
‘I’m only asking.’ She waved a hand in resignation. ‘If Lily is going to bring all her guests to our private, family afternoonsthen I’d like to be warned in advance so I can decide to stay at the farmhouse and clean out the chickens instead.’
‘Come on, now, Mammaw,’ Malcolm said, kissing her hello. ‘I thought I’d convinced you that we aren’t all bad.’
‘Did you, now?’ She sniffed in reply.
I’d said hello to a few people and now stood awkwardly, debating how to ask where Pip was in a way that wouldn’t arouse any more suspicion, when a small motorboat chugged around the rocks on the far side of the cove, Pip sprawled out on one side, Lily perched on the other with Beanie, and Richard steering.
‘Is that Richard’s?’ I asked Malcolm as the boat pulled up to a tiny wooden dock half hidden behind some boulders.
‘It belongs to everyone. The farm’s boat, really,’ he answered as we wandered over to help unload the cool boxes and bags. ‘Most families have at least one.’
‘Do you and Lily?’
‘We have a couple of surfboards, if that counts.’ He took Beanie and put her down before offering a hand to help her mum, who lifted her maternity maxi-dress out of the way with the other hand as she stepped out of the boat. ‘All our spare cash has gone into children or the businesses, so we settle for borrowing this one for now.’
Once Lily had moved to the side, Pip helped his uncle clamber off, then hopped out himself before walking over to the end of the dock where I stood waiting.
‘Hi.’ He smiled, sticking his hands in his shorts pockets. ‘You look nice.’
‘Oh. Thanks.’ I looked down at the shorter, rose-pink dress I’d worn a few days ago, as if I’d not tried on everything in my holiday wardrobe before selecting it, hoping my face didn’t look quite as sappy as that compliment made me feel.
‘It’s okay to say that, seeing as we’re friends?’ he asked, forehead creasing. ‘It’s not overstepping?’
‘I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t mind.’
It might be hard to mind now every time hedidn’tsay it.
‘Well, that’s good enough for me.’
He fetched the cool boxes and passed me one, while Malcolm and Lily unloaded the rest of the items from the boat and we carried them over to a pop-up shelter.
‘I don’t believe this.’ Lily groaned, opening up one bag to find a very agitated hamster, still in its plastic ball. After scolding Beanie with the promise that the next time she brought her pet on an outing, they’d leave him there, she tasked her children with building an enclosure where Mister Whiskers could roll about in the shade, using rocks, driftwood and whatever else they could find. Lily then poured herself a drink and took a seat on a deckchair, nodding for me to sit beside her.
‘That poor animal has been with us, what, six weeks? I can’t believe he’s survived that long,’ she said, shaking her head while biting her lip in a way that implied she was desperately fighting a belly laugh. ‘These are ninth-generation farm kids. Eber Hawkins will be face-palming in his grave.’
She tipped her sunhat down over her nose and shuffled lower in the seat. Approximately thirty seconds later, Jack was tugging on her arm.
‘Mammy! Mammy! Maaaaa!’
