Some things in life are bad,
They can really make you mad.
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle,
Don't grumble, give a whistle,
And this'll help things turn out for the best, and...
Always look at the bright side of life
Always look on the light side of life

Eric Idle/Monty Python

Previously…

‘What did he say?’

‘Things I don’t want to repeat.’

‘How do you feel?’

‘I ought to feel scared, angry, confused and terrified, but I don’t–not any more. That ’phone call just confirmed what I guess I knew when all this blew up in my face–Olivia is a lying, cheating bitch and her father’s a foul-mouthed, bullying tyrant. If they want a fight, they’ll get it.’

‘That’s my girl, you go get ’em!’

And now the story continues…

We headed for the car park where Dawn had left her car to make sure that it was okay to leave it overnight. We had both had a few drinks and the last thing she wanted was to be breathalysed.

After speaking to the night car park attendant and slipping him a fiver, the car was left over in the corner right by the sign that said, ‘Please Park Prettily.’

It was dusk by now and the dim glow of the street lights were all we had to guide us on our way, that and the fact that the church was floodlit and could be seen from most places in the cove. Being out in the open air had started to do things with my head and the ground started to feel as if I was on the deck of an ocean going yacht, making me a little unsteady on Jocasta’s borrowed heels.

We were at the slightly giggly stage as we walked up the hill carrying Dawn’s overnight bag. We kept nattering about things we did as children, like the time when we both got told off at Christmas for going downstairs and opening our presents at three in the morning.

Eventually we arrived at the Vicarage and went in using the kitchen door. David and Jocasta were in there and looked up as we walked in.

‘David, Jocashta, this is my Dishter, Shawn, I mean, my Shishter, Dawn.’ I was feeling distinctly woozy.

‘Hello, Dawn,’ Jocasta said, a slight smile playing on her lips for some reason.

‘Hi,’ David added, waving his hand vaguely in our direction.

‘Come through to the sitting room,’ Jo suggested.

‘That’sh where you shit.’ I said, giggling to Dawn.

David went very red in the face for some reason, mumbled something about letting the dogs out and shot through the door leaving the rest of us to go into the other room.

I flopped down with a sigh, feeling strangely light-headed.

The others made themselves comfortable and then began chatting as if I wasn’t there.

‘So, Dawn, what do you think about Samantha then?’

She looked at me and I grinned back.

‘She still can’t hold her drink; three small glasses of wine and she’s nearly under the table.’

‘Excush me. I’m here, you know, and anyhoo, how can I drink under the table, I would shpill it.’

They both looked at each other and chuckled. I couldn’t understand why they were laughing because I didn’t think I’d said anything funny.

They carried on talking and I wasn’t paying much attention. I must have fallen asleep as I vaguely remember waking up and helping Dawn upstairs to bed. She must have been a bit tipsy as she was swaying about rather a lot.

The next thing I knew, it was morning and for some reason the light was very bright through the curtains and I had a splitting headache. I heard a banging and realised it was the incredibly loud ticking from my watch that still appeared to be attached to my wrist. I blearily looked at the time. My eyes–well one of them anyway–focused and I saw the time: half past eleven–Blimey.

Looking under the bed covers, I noticed I was wearing my satin nightie, but couldn’t remember getting undressed. There were no signs of Dawn or anyone else and the house seemed decidedly quite. Then I remembered: I was supposed to be at the cottage by seven. Mrs Pearson wouldn’t be happy that I was super-late and I had wanted to make a good impression with her. I stumbled out of bed.

‘Bugger.’ I exclaimed as I stubbed my toe on the bed post; this was not a good start to the day. My head felt as if extensive building work was taking place inside, involving pneumatic drills, sledge hammers and some explosives. My tongue felt like an Axminster carpet–a shag pile one at that, and now my toe had suffered extensive trauma. I limped out of the bedroom and went to the bathroom. After Mother Nature had been sorted out, I stepped into the shower and turned it on.

‘Bugger, bum.’

The water was freezing and then I remembered to turn the knob thingy and the water got too hot.

‘Shhhhhhugar.’

Add hyperthermia and being boiled alive to my growing list of ailments and you can see that I was far from being a happy bunny.

I dried myself off, slipped on my nightie again; after all, I didn’t want to frighten the life out of the kids, and was back in the bedroom in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Mind you there wasn’t anyone about, including the kids who, thinking about it, must have been long gone to school by now.

Glancing out of the window, I wondered who had switched off the sun; when I went to have my shower a few minutes earlier, there had been wall to wall sunshine, but now clouds had gathered and it was looking positively gloomy. I realised things were bad when I saw a seagull flapping it’s wings like mad and getting nowhere.

'Great.’ I thought, ‘what a day to move. Where is everyone? It’s so quiet I can hear my heart thumping.’

As it looked like a bit of a rough day, I put on some jeans and a sweater, white socks and trainers–sort of business like for the things I had to do today. A quick brush of hair and scrunchiefication, followed by a minimal application of makeup and I was ready. I had a couple of paracetamol to settle my aches and pains and then I felt almost semi human and ready to face the day.

Downstairs, I entered the empty kitchen and wondered if this was what it was like on board the Marie Celeste?

I had some cornflakes and burnt some toast and then, grabbing my cagoule I made my way down the path to the lane. It started to drizzle and get rather windy–well it would, wouldn’t it? So I struggled with my cagoule which, for the uninitiated, is a rain jacket that goes over your head–in theory. Have you ever tried to get a thin nylon thingy on when the wind is howling and the rain soaking you to the skin? Eventually, I got the correct arms in the right holes and my head in the only hole left and it was on. Instantly I regretted the fact that it was yellow and could be seen for miles on a foggy day. Here was me trying to blend in and be a cool local and there was I looking as yellow as a banana and more tripperish than a day-tripper.

As I made my way to the cottage, I noticed a few folk walking around; you know, the hardy types that would never allow a bit of rain and a force 10 gale get in the way of their holiday? I assume the locals were a bit less silly as I didn’t see anyone who remotely looked like a local as I struggled along. Unbelievably, there were actually two kids carrying buckets and spades obviously heading for the beach. If medals were awarded for optimism, they would get them with gold leaf clusters.

The rain got heavier and the wind freshened and I was almost blown over by several gusts. Looking up, I swear I saw a seagull flying in reverse gear. When I could see it through the torrential rain, the sea looked choppy and rather scary. I thought that this place was tranquil and calm; this was just about as tranquil and calm as the first morning of the January sale at Harrods.

I turned into the lane leading to the cottage and wondered if Mr and Mrs Pearson had bothered to come. I bet there are old wives tales that predict such weather and living here for half a century gives a sixth sense about impending climatic disasters. Perhaps some of the old timers might even cast the runes. There again, there’s always the weather forecast on radio, TV and the internet to go by.

I arrived at the cottage and struggled up the wet steps to the front door. With water dripping off my dainty nose, I rummaged in my handbag for the key. I knew I had put it in there last night, but as I searched through, even to those hidden depths that rarely saw the light of day, I still couldn’t find it. Then, unexpectedly, the front door opened, giving me such a shock that I nearly dropped my bag on the wet step.

A lady was standing there, she had on a housecoat and had a duster in her hand and looked as if she knew how to use it.

‘Awright ’en aree?’

‘Pardon?’ I shouted as the hurricane appeared to be increasing in force. I wondered when we would finally be in the eye of the storm–I could do with a break.

‘Pizen dawn in’it?’

I gave up trying to understand what the hell she was saying and I just wanted to get out of the tropical rain storm before I drowned or got a pruney face.

‘Mrs Pearson?’ I yelled.

‘Oh ar, ’m.’

‘I’m Samantha Smart?’

‘Yes ’m?’

‘Can I come in, then?’

‘Ah be bleaized d’zee ye, comalong in.’

She stood aside and I took that to mean that I could actually go into my own–if only rented–cottage and I gratefully went past her, up the steps and into the kitchen.

My gob was well and truly smacked when I discovered Dawn, Jocasta, David, Millie, Jennifer and Phillipa all holding some sort of drink in their hands and looking at me with smiles on their faces.

‘SURPRISE.’ they shouted.

I was dripping on the linoleum, doing my celebrated impression of a flabberghasted wet banana. My mouth was opening and closing like a codfish, as I hadn’t a clue what to say.

Over the welsh dresser was draped a banner, saying, ‘Welcome Home Samanth’.

Jen came over, looking cross. ‘Sorry about the banner, Samantha, we ran out of paint. Phillipa said we had enough, but I knew–’

‘–You pig, Jen, I never said any such thing. I said–’

‘Girls, do shut up. Samantha doesn’t want to hear your bickering all the time,’ Jocasta scolded them, before turning to me and smiling. ‘The kids have the day off school again, something to do with the teachers being too busy with paperwork to teach. Anyway, how’s the head?’

‘Numb; I—I don’t understand–’

‘Well, Dawn told me last night that after a binge–’

‘I did not binge–’

‘Please–alright after having a teeny-weeny bit too much drinky-poos, you normally sleep for hours and wake up half dead. She explained that anything stronger than David's watered-down communion wine does strange things to you. We all felt that you would not be in a fit state–physically or mentally–to do much here today and we knew that you had your heart set on staying here tonight so I did a bit of ringing around and got things organised. We’ve been here since seven this morning and tidied things up a bit. We hope you like what we’ve done.’

Dawn came over and held my hand.

‘Sorry, sis, I told her all your deep dark secrets like how you can’t hold your drink and that sucked your thumb until you were twenty–’

‘–I didn’t, erm I was eighteen, but never mind that now. What have you done?’

‘We think you’ll like it. There wasn’t too much to do as Mrs Pearson had kept the place very nicely, but I know you were worried about your studio, so come and see–’

Jen and Phillpa started giggling and the others smiled as I went past them following Dawn upstairs and along the corridor to the studio. The door was closed.

‘Right, close your eyes, sis,’ Jo ordered.

In trepidation I shut my eyes, dreading what they might have done; paint the walls pink to reflect my girlie character? Put up net curtains to cover the wonderful windows? New carpets perhaps…I shuddered at that one…no I didn’t know what…

‘Open your eyes, Sam…’

I cracked my eyelids and then snapped my eyes open wide. ‘Ooooh.’

All the boxes and junk had gone. The cheap, stained carpet that had covered the floor had also vanished. Now, there were floorboards that were smooth had been polished and now shone splendidly. There were some shelves that had been put up and the large cupboard that was in the corner had been cleaned and emptied. There were a few spot lamps dotted around the room and three strip lights had been put up to take the place of the old dangling bulbs. Even though it was dark and wet outside, the lights made the place look light and airy–ideal for portraiture.

I felt like a kid in a sweet shop, I didn’t know what to look at next. I kept glancing towards Jennifer and Phillipa–they were standing to one side, giggling and prodding each other. They looked like they wanted to burst and I wondered what they were up to.

I continued to look around. It was just about the ideal studio and I couldn’t believe how much work had been done in so short a time. It was like one of those makeover programmes on TV where for some reason or other there is only a short time to make lots of things happen.

Along one wall, a work surface would come in useful in sooo many ways. On it were a couple of sketch pads and a pencil box. The leather settee from downstairs had been brought up and put against the back wall, ideal for when I needed a break…

Jennifer and Phillipa were giggling again and then they stepped away from each other and behind them was–an easel!

‘Oh,’ I gasped, when I saw it; it was a studio easel and just like the one I used to have when I lived with my parents. I sat down on the sofa suddenly. It was all a bit much and–guess what–I cried, not from the sadness of all that had happened with my wife and the lost dreams, but with happiness that I had found this place, all my new friends and my darling sister.

Dawn came and sat down beside me as the others made a sort of dignified retreat.

‘You like?’

‘Oh yes, Dawn. It—It’s just what I’ve always wanted: a place of my own and somewhere to draw and paint. Thank you so much.’

‘You don’t have to thank me, that’s what sisters are for when they aren’t arguing and engaging in sibling rivalry. Anyway, you should thank Jocasta; she arranged everything. Mrs Pearson got Mr Pearson and a few of his mates to come around here last night after you were comatose to strip the wooden floor, do the electrics and the carpentry. Then all the rest of us came this morning and did the rest. The bed’s made up and the fridge is stocked so you don’t even have to go shopping.

‘Oh, sis, this is—is–magnificent!’

‘Yes, and you have wonderful friends. Where we live is okay, but the community here is something else. I’m going to try to persuade my other half to come and live here. I’d like to be near you and with the beaches for the kids, I think the quality of life here would be worth the upheaval.’

‘Oh, Sis, it would be marvellous if you moved here.’

‘We’ll see. I’ll work hard on Adrian. The distance to his office is about the same to here as it is to where we live at present, but as I say, we’ll see. Now we’re all going to disappear. Shall we meet up at the pub at lunch time?’

‘What about the awful weather?’

‘What awful weather?’

‘Look outside, it’s–’

I stood up and went to the window. It was like a huge curtain opening; the clouds were rolling away, the rain had ceased, the wind had dropped and the seagulls were flying the right way up again. The sun was shining strongly and I could actually see steam coming off the roofs and pavements as everything dried quickly. Soon there would be no trace of the awful weather and Penmarris would be back in smiling business.

I turned back to Dawn and smiled. ‘I do like it here. Yes, I’ll meet you at the pub. Will Jocasta, Millie and David be there?’

‘I’ll ask them in a minute or two.’

‘Thank them for me, will you? I’ll do it properly later.’

‘Okay,’ she said, kissing my cheek and making to go.

‘Dawn.’

‘Yes, hon?’

‘I’d better not drink any alcohol, had I?’

‘Better not, sister dear.’

---

To Be Continued...

The Cove By Liz Wright

Please leave comments...thanks! ~Sue

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing and pulling the story into shape.