The Lavender Bay Collection. Sarah Bennett

Ten

      Beth opened the fridge to fetch the milk, and her eyes fixed on the plastic box on the shelf. Sam had left the rest of the petit fours for her to enjoy and she’d been rationing herself to one every day. There were only two left—one each of the fudge and the truffles. Every time she saw them, she was transported back to the dusty stockroom floor and that kiss.

      In spite of their mutual agreement to keep things on a friendly basis only, she’d found herself conjuring up ever-more ridiculous excuses to drop into the pub. So far she’d resisted the temptation. For nine whole days she’d pushed her tangle of feelings for him to the back of her mind, but her resolve weakened a little more each time she savoured one of the treats. ‘Get it together, Beth,’ she muttered, slamming the fridge closed with more force than strictly necessary.

      She’d just finished her coffee, and was perusing that morning’s to-do list when the bell attached to the back gate buzzed. Hoping Sam’s determination had cracked, she scampered down the stairs and unlocked the gate. ‘Oh, it’s you.’ There was no hiding her disappointment.

      ‘Gee, is that anyway to greet your best friend?’ Libby smacked a quick kiss on her cheek. ‘Annie should be right behind me.’

      ‘Annie?’

      ‘I’m here, darling.’ Sam’s mum appeared with a roll of black bin bags under her arm and a spotted scarf tying her hair back off her face. ‘Well, let us in then, Beth, there’s a good girl. We’ve a lot to get on with.’

      Thoroughly confused, Beth stepped back, and the two women bustled past her and straight up the stairs. She hurried on their heels. ‘Umm, not to seem rude or anything, but what are you doing here, exactly?’

      It was Libby who answered her. ‘We’re staging an intervention, B. Sam mentioned to Annie about you sleeping in your old room, and she called me. I had to wait until my day off came around, but we’re here to help you sort through Eleanor’s things.’

      ‘But…’ Beth paused just outside the door to Eleanor’s bedroom watching her friends survey the room with sad shakes of their heads.

      ‘But what? I could brain you for being so daft. You’re clearly finding it too tough to do this on your own, and you’re too bloody pig-headed to ask us for help, so we’re left with no choice.’ Libby folded her arms, giving Beth a challenging look she remembered all too well. Libs was braced for a fight, and she wasn’t sure she had the energy, or the will, to go toe-to-toe with her.

      Ducking away from the confrontation, she crossed the room to fiddle with one of the Wedgwood figurines scattered across the dressing table. A thin layer of dust coated the little shepherdess, but other than that it was in flawless condition, without even a trace of wear on the gold edging around her crook.

      They weren’t at all to her taste, but Eleanor had collected them for years and they were too good to throw away. Selling them seemed a bit mercenary, so it had been easier to ignore them, along with everything else in the room. She carefully replaced the statue. there were just too many decisions to be made and she didn’t feel equipped to tackle any of them. ‘There didn’t seem to be a lot of point doing anything in here when I haven’t decided if I’m staying or not.’

      The excuse sounded pathetic to her own ears, and Libby’s snort told her exactly what she thought about it. Annie had apparently appointed herself ‘good cop’ because she curled an arm around Beth’s shoulder to give her a hug. ‘Come on now, lovey. You’ll have to go through everything whatever you decide. Might as well be able to rest in comfort until you make up your mind. You should have a painting party, get some prosecco in and invite Eliza down for the weekend. She could probably do with an excuse to get away.’

      Beth raised her eyebrows as she and Libby exchanged a look. They’d had a chat with their friend last week and she’d sounded her usual chirpy self. Or maybe Beth had been too caught up with everything to pay enough attention. Eliza had made a few passing comments, but she’d dismissed them as the usual ups and downs all couples went through. She ran a quick calculation in her head; Eliza was ripe for a dose of the seven-year itch. Still, if Annie was worried enough to mention it, then perhaps it was time to get her down, so they could have a proper conversation. ‘What do you reckon, Libs?’

      ‘I’ll have to cover the early evening rush on Friday and Saturday, but Dad will pick up the slack for me.’ A twinge of guilt hit Beth square in the gut. Running the fish and chip shop took a lot of work, and she didn’t want to take advantage of her friend, or her father.

      ‘I can get someone in. The guys who did the windows were brilliant.’ It had become abundantly clear to Beth she had neither the experience or a steady enough hand to paint the exterior woodwork to a professional finish, so she’d recruited a local father and son team of decorators, while she’d confined herself to touching up a few faded spots around the shop floor itself. ‘I’m sure they’d be able to knock this place into shape in no time.’ She stared at the floral papered walls. Something neutral so potential buyers wouldn’t be put off…

      Libby gave her the evilest of eyes. ‘Call me Madame Zelda and set me up a booth on the beach, ‘cos I can read your mind. A splash of taupe, a dash of cream, nothing to tie you to the place. Well, bollocks to that.’ She pulled a fistful of colour sample strips from her handbag and thrust them at Beth. ‘We’re going to make you feel at home, whether you like it or not.’

      Annie laughed. ‘Well I might not have put it quite like that, but I agree. You need a space to call your own, lovey. And you certainly deserve it after everything you’ve been through.’ She squeezed Beth’s shoulders again. ‘Oh, don’t look so aggrieved. Eliza might be your best friend, but she’s my little girl first. Whatever she tells me goes no further, but I worry about you.’ She held out her hand to Libby. ‘I worry about both of you, but at least our Libs is close enough to keep an eye on. With Eleanor gone you need a bit of cossetting, and that’s what I’m here for.’

      A warm glow spread through Beth at the sincerity in Annie’s words. She was loved, and cared for and needed, so why keep fighting it? As the three of them settled into a slightly tearful group hug, Beth’s thoughts drifted to Sam.

      He’d arranged all of this—somehow understood exactly what she’d needed when she had no clue for herself. Even with everything on his plate, he’d taken the time to rally the troops. She could get used to having him take care of her if she wasn’t careful.

      Turning her thoughts away before they strayed too far back towards the kiss again, she began to clear the dressing table, wrapping each of the figurines carefully in some old packing paper Libby had produced from the store room and stowing them safely in a cardboard box. She could decide what to do about them—and Sam—another day.

      Beth hefted the final box from the bedroom, hooking the door closed behind her with her foot before she made her way down the back stairs. The airy room had been emptied of everything but the largest furniture which she, Annie and Libby had shifted away from the walls between them. Old sheets had been draped over them and the bedframe to protect them.

      Everything she wanted to keep was stored safely in the larger of the spare bedrooms, and the last of Eleanor’s things had been delivered to the RNLI charity shop. There’d been a lot of tears over the past couple of days, but plenty of laughter and fond memories too. All that remained was an old, red suitcase containing what looked to be personal papers, an intricately carved jewellery box, and the Wedgwood figurines wrapped up in the box under her arm.

      Entering the shop floor, she placed the carton on the counter and turned her attention to the empty mirror-backed cabinet which held pride of place behind it. A smiling woman reflected back at her, a woman who was looking towards the future at last.

      Once she’d stopped getting in her own way, organising the emporium became a challenge, rather than a chore. Getting to grips with the stock had made things so much clearer and had spurred her into clearing the junk and damaged items from the shelves and re-organising the layout of things. She wanted to keep the flavour and charm which Eleanor had worked so hard to create, but needed to put her