‘I guess that’s two votes for the pink sofa now,’ Freya said as she gave Angelo a kiss. ‘You’re out-voted, my love. You can’t have everything in black.’
‘I never said I wanted everything in black, I just don’t . . .’ Angelo trailed off and had another look at the photo Freya was brandishing. ‘OK .?.?. you can be in charge of the soft furnishings. I’m not sure cushions are my forte and you do, erm, prefer a more varied colour palette than I do.’
Freya gave him another kiss and flashed Lola a triumphant thumbs up. Angelo was more of a sculptor than a painter, liking clean lines or working with metal and wood, elements he could get his hands on, manipulate. Freya much preferred opening her paints and creating bright seascapes and sunset scenes.
‘What’s in there?’ Freya asked, nodding at the package.
‘Oh this?’ Lola glanced down at it, smoothing the rucks in the re-attached sticky tape. ‘Just something I ordered,’ she found herself saying, suddenly possessive of its secrets whilst she sorted out what it contained.
Freya nodded and asked no further questions. After all, it was the season of deliveries. ‘Do you want some wine? Angelo’s got an aubergine parmigiana baking in the oven. It should be done in about fifteen minutes.’
Lola shook her head at the bottle Freya was waving. ‘Maybe with dinner, which smells divine!’ She stood up. ‘I’ll just take this upstairs and change out of my dress.’
Freya nodded and turned her attention back to whatever Angelo was looking at on his tablet. Leaving them to their future building, Lola carried the box upstairs and plonked it on the middle of her bed, staring it out. Not quite ready to open it yet, she headed into the bathroom to remove her once expertly applied, but now rather smudged, makeup. She prided herself on always looking flawless and as a devotee of vintage styling she loved being dressed to the nines, even in the kitchen. Her bright red hair was curled into victory rolls which she knew would last another day if she slept with a hairnet on.
Smoothing in her night cream, Lola pushed away the thought that in a few weeks’ time she’d be turning forty. It seemed such a huge milestone, as if life was about to flip over into a different era. She wondered where the last twenty years had gone. Had she spent them well? Made the right choices? Giving her cheeks one final satisfied pat, she decided there was no point dwelling on the ‘what ifs’. She tried not to do regrets but as she got older, that was becoming harder to live by.
As she changed into some silky pyjamas, the package sat in the middle of the bed, almost demanding her attention. Lola opened it up and started to remove the inner packaging she’d stuffed back only to have her investigations stalled by Freya calling up that the food was ready.
Over dinner they discussed the storm that had thankfully left Polcarrow unscathed, Bayview House and Christmas.
‘You OK?’ Freya asked, tipping the last of the wine into her glass as Angelo cleared the table to wash up.
‘Yes, why wouldn’t I be?’
Freya shrugged. ‘You seem a bit distracted.’
Lola opened her mouth and almost spilled out about the contents of the package but instead quickly changed track. ‘Just busy thinking about all those Christmas cakes I’m going to be making, that’s all, plus I need to find time to fit in knitting a Christmas jumper for Alf and a matching one for Scruff.’
‘Oh my gosh, that’s the cutest!’ Freya gasped. ‘I can’t wait to see them. Hey, reckon we could get Angelo in a Christmas jumper?’
‘That’s a battle you can have. Maybe find one with a penguin on it, given the all-black thing he’s got going on.’
‘I could go even further and get him a penguin onesie.’
Lola laughed, picturing Angelo with his whole mad, bad and dangerous to know persona dressed as a six foot penguin. Freya was obviously having the same thoughts as she was, giggling into her wine.
‘What’s this?’ Angelo asked as he came in. ‘Did I hear “penguin onesie”?’
Freya composed herself. ‘No, of course not, would I be so mean?’ She reached out for him and quickly changed the subject. ‘Are you staying tonight or going over to Bayview?’
Angelo looked at Lola and then back at Freya. ‘Here would be nice if no one minds?’ Freya and Angelo exchanged a heated look.
‘Of course I don’t mind,’ Lola said and gave a pretend shiver. ‘I’ve told Freya you’re welcome to stay here as much as you like. I don’t like thinking of you freezing up in that old, draughty house.’
‘Don’t worry, the first thing I did was have the boiler replaced. It’s just everything else that’s taking time or money.’ He sighed and joined Freya on the sofa, where she began to reassuringly stroke his long hair. ‘I need to raise a bit of extra funds.’
Silence settled over them. All three of them knew there was an easy way for Angelo to make some extra cash but he was still stubbornly refusing to resurrect his art career. Freya, on the other hand, had grasped the opportunities Cornwall had presented her with to develop her paintings and following a gallery night in the café back in the autumn, had started to finally make some money from her art. Lola was proud to see that Freya was determined not to let anything stop her.
Catching the looks Angelo and Freya were casting each other, eyes sparkling and edges blurred with desire, Lola made her excuses about needing to get her beauty sleep and having an early start and headed upstairs to bed.
Even though the night air was nippy, Lola pushed the bedroom window open to let some fresh air in. Her bedroom was at the front of the cottage and she loved nothing more than being lulled to sleep by the gentle whoosh of the waves. When it was stormy she loved knowing she was safe and warm while the elements battled it out.
She sat on her bed and regarded the package sitting in the middle of her favourite lilac-sprigged duvet cover. Leaning forward, Lola lifted out the objects. Carefully, she unwrapped each one, taking her time to discover what was stowed away in the box. In the first was an ornate cross pendant Ruby had been given on her confirmation then never worn, a story Lola had heard when she’d found the beautiful cross as a child whilst searching through Ruby’s jewellery box. Ruby had never gone to church either, much to her parents’ dismay, citing that God could see you everywhere, that there was no point just being good on a Sunday morning. Tangled up with the cross was a tarnished ring set with a slightly dulled red stone. She lifted it to the light. A ruby? Lola slipped it onto her finger. She had never seen it before. Lola gave it a polish. Holding her hand out so it caught the lamplight, she wondered who had given it to her grandmother. Why had it been kept hidden? Ruby’s engagement ring had sparkled with a trinity of diamonds but that had been passed to Lola’s mother.
After pulling the ring off, she nestled it back against the black velvet and moved on to the next, bulkier package and found another set of tarot cards. These ones were smaller, fitting neatly in Lola’s palm, the illustrations printed in primary colours, more basic looking than the deck Lola had inherited from Ruby.
Giving the cards a shuffle, Lola began to deal out a spread, amazed to see the same cards coming out in the same order from this deck as every other one she dealt from for herself. The priest, the priestess, the lovers, new beginnings. Lola considered them, her thoughts flitting briefly to Tristan. It seemed preposterous to think they had been led to this tiny village at the same time to . . . well, to what? Fall in love?
