Page 34 of The Love Game

‘Violet, there’s a problem and only you can solve it,’ Beau said, making a beeline for her when he arrived for work the following Tuesday morning.

‘Should I be nervous?’ Vi said, smiling through the mouth full of pins she was using to adjust the corset laid out on her workbench.

Beau shook his shaggy head, his bright blue eyes glittering. ‘Not unless the idea of hosting a gala award ceremony on the pier makes you nervous.’

Picking the pins out one by one, Vi stuck them back in the felt sunflower pincushion and put her head on one side.

‘Run that one past me again?’

He came further into her studio and dropped down on her sewing chair. ‘Picture it. The sun’s out, the pier is laid with gorgeous tables, a dance floor here outside the birdcage …’

She nodded slowly. ‘And all this would happen because …?’

He grinned. ‘Because the Good Sex industry awards board just got word that their usual venue in London has been closed down due to health and safety, and they need somewhere else at short notice. Somewhere quirky, somewhere fitting for the event.’

‘The Good Sex awards? Is that really what they’re called?’ Vi said, distracted.

Beau threw his upturned hands out to the side. ‘We have a sense of humour in our line of work. What can I say?’

‘But why on earth would they want to have it here?’

‘Because a certain handsome American who’s up for an award suggested it?’

‘You suggested it,’ Vi said. ‘But what about …’

‘Imagine Cal’s mother’s face,’ Beau said, trying to cajole her into agreeing.

‘When is it?’

‘The third Saturday of July.’

‘That’s next month! In fact, it’s less than four weeks away, Beau,’ she said.

‘Hence the urgency,’ he said, as if she’d proved his point.

‘I don’t think so,’ she said, doubtful. ‘What if … I don’t know, what if it rains, or … what if people get drunk and jump naked from the pier like loons? Lady Mayoress Dearheart would have a field day.’

‘Loons?’ Beau laughed. ‘Who cares what people think? I’ll make sure no one is drunk and disorderly and I’ll put an express order in for glorious sunshine.’ He made it sound so easy. ‘Come on, Violet. Be adventurous. Say yes.’

His choice of words pulled her up short. Adventurous was the exact word Barty had used to define her grandmother.

Slowly, she started to nod. ‘I’m still worried about the weather,’ she said. ‘But go on then.’

Beau planted a big kiss on her cheek and gave her a bone-crushing bear hug. ‘You’re a star,’ he said.

‘Don’t make me regret it,’ she said, and he shook his head, raising his eyebrows as if to say, What could possibly go wrong?

Vi sighed, alone again, praying she hadn’t just made a humungous mistake.

‘I’m going away for a couple of weeks.’

Violet looked at Cal impassively and shrugged. ‘Have a wonderful holiday.’

She’d gone to great pains to avoid being alone with him, but everyone else had already left the pier for the evening on Thursday when he came and leaned against the doorframe to her room.

‘It’s not like that,’ he said, looking at the floor.

‘You don’t need to explain yourself to me.’

‘I want to,’ he said.

She crossed her arms. She’d caught the occasional glimpse of Ursula coming and going over the last week and had steered well clear of them both.

‘Go on then.’

He fell silent, wrong-footed to be granted an audience after she’d repeatedly shut him down since Ursula’s arrival.

‘I want to say sorry,’ he said.

‘For what?’

Cal rubbed the space between his eyes as if he had a migraine, and Vi didn’t rush in to help him out.

‘I never expected Ursula to come back,’ he said. ‘Please believe that.’

‘I believe you.’ Violet held herself perfectly still, her chin raised. ‘There, you’re off the hook. Go and pack your suitcases.’

A pulse flickered in his cheek and his eyes blazed. ‘I’m not trying to get off the hook. That’s not fair, Violet.’

She hated that the sound of her name on his lips made her resolve tremble.

‘What do you want from me, Cal? A no-hard-feelings pat on the back, a shake of hands, an agreement not to say anything to your wife?’ Vi couldn’t hide the sharp edge from her voice. ‘Fine. Your secret’s safe with me – I’m not exactly proud about what happened either, for the record.’

‘I didn’t say any of those things,’ he said softly.

‘But there’s no denying that everything has changed now she’s back, is there?’

He looked down, his jaw clenched. ‘I didn’t think she was ever coming home.’

Home. And there it was, the nub of it. Swallow Beach was Ursula’s home.

Keris had filled her in on the colourful history of the town, including how four generations of Ursula’s family had lived there cheek by jowl with the Dearheart clan, always dueling to hold the prized mayoral office.

Ursula and Cal were sons and daughters of Swallow Beach, and Violet was an interloper.

She’d never felt more like a third wheel in her life, and it seethed in her gut, a hot mess of hurt and anger and frustration.

‘So this is what, a second honeymoon?’

He shook his head, looking out to sea. ‘Of course it fucking isn’t.’

‘But she’s going with you?’

Cal scrubbed his hands over his face. ‘I have to try, Violet. I don’t know what the hell’s going on, and a big part of me wishes she’d just stayed the hell away, but she’s here and I have to deal with it.’ He looked at her, agonised. ‘I didn’t want to lie to you, or lead you on.’

Shame washed red hot over her cheeks at the idea that he felt pity for her.

‘Just go, Cal.’

‘I—’

‘Have fun,’ Vi cut across him. ‘Don’t forget your sun cream.’

She turned her back on him and started to sort through the new delivery of feathers on her workbench, and she didn’t turn back around again until she heard him leave the birdcage to go home to his wife. She’d never felt more like her grandmother, and it made her as miserable as sin.

Life didn’t get any easier with Cal out of the picture. In fact, Violet’s Dearheart issues went from bad to worse a couple of mornings later when, despite attempts to intervene from Keris, the Lady Mayoress steamed her way along the pier and into Violet’s studio.

‘Gladys,’ Vi said, taking her foot off the sewing machine pedal. ‘What can I help you with?’

‘I have it on good authority that you’re organising an orgy on the pier in three weeks. Did you honestly imagine you’d get that past me?’

‘An orgy?’ Vi said, nonplussed.

‘I think she means Beau’s awards ceremony,’ Keris said, hovering by the doorway.

Ah.

‘Awards ceremony my eye,’ Gladys said, looking at her clipboard. ‘“A night of good sex”,’ she read, curling her lip with distaste as her voice dropped an octave, as if the words were summoned by the devil. ‘That’s what your advert says, bold as brass.’

‘My advert?’

Gladys sucked air between her clenched teeth and smacked her clipboard down for Violet’s examination.

Clipped to it was a glossy A5 flyer for the awards evening, and someone, Beau presumably, had indeed advertised a night of good sex.

Great. She made a mental note to throttle the affable American with one of Cal’s whips the next time she saw him.

‘It’s tongue in cheek, Gladys.’

‘Lady Mayoress Dearheart.’

Vi refrained from rolling her eyes, just. ‘It’s a perfectly legitimate awards ceremony. They’re using the pier as an emergency venue, that’s all.’

‘By they , you mean all manner of perverts and smut peddlers, I take it?’

‘By they , I mean people like Cal,’ Violet countered, and Keris high-fived the air behind Gladys, who was looking as if she’d swallowed a lemon.

‘I’m sure you’re more than well aware that Calvin’s salacious sideline was just a distraction, he needed something to keep him busy while Ursula was overseas on business.’

Violet’s eyes doubled in size. Overseas on business? Was the woman deranged?

‘And now she’s returned and things will get back to how they should be, you mark my words.’

Vi couldn’t decide if Gladys really believed the stuff she was spouting or if it was just wishful thinking.

‘And he’s told you that himself, has he?’ Vi hated herself for not being more dignified and keeping the question inside her head.

‘As good as,’ Gladys shot back. ‘He’s a Dearheart. He needed to sow his wild oats, and now he’s ready to return and plough his furrow.’

‘You’ve lost me,’ Vi said, wondering if she was one of Cal’s wild oats.

‘I think the Lady Mayoress means she wants Cal to plough Ursula’s furrow,’ Keris said, a wicked glint in her eye.

‘Don’t be so disgusting, Keris Harwood, I said no such thing,’ Gladys said, pushing her glasses up her nose.

‘You sort of did. And I don’t think you’re right, because Ursula’s a horror and would make his life hell. Surely you don’t want that for him?’

Vi looked between the two of them.

‘I’d thank you not to speak ill of my daughter-in-law,’ Gladys said, looking down her nose, but even Vi could hear the lack of conviction.

‘Ah, come off it, Glad. You boycotted their wedding.’

That was news. Vi decided that she’d had enough; her fuse was growing shorter every day lately.

‘Did you come for anything specific, Gladys, or just to stir trouble?’

Keris looked at Vi, wide-eyed at her uncharacteristic bluntness, and Gladys turned slowly to look at her too.

‘I came to officially inform you that in light of the imminent threat to civil order,’ she tapped Beau’s leaflet, ‘I’m filing the compulsory purchase order application with the authorities this afternoon on grounds of gross public indecency.’

‘It’s an awards ceremony,’ Vi sighed.

‘With live sex. This is Swallow Beach, not Amsterdam.’

The Lady Mayoress snatched up her clipboard and huffed out, elbowing Keris out of the way as she went.

Violet didn’t follow her. Gladys wasn’t interested in listening to the truth; she’d spotted an angle she thought might work to turn the locals against the pier and she was going to run with it as far and as fast as she could.

‘No fire-eaters. Absolutely no fire-eaters, Beau, I mean it.’

Beau put his hands up and laughed, clearly enjoying winding Violet up. They were having an impromptu lunch meeting in the sunshine on the pier; Keris had just returned from a sandwich run and they were all making the most of the afternoon sunshine.

So far Beau had suggested synchronised divers off the edge of the pier, a naked contortionist and now a troupe of fire-eaters he knew from Kent.

Violet knew that he was winding her up after she’d taken him to task over his flyer, but she was struggling to laugh it off because Gladys wasn’t without local influence or importance.

‘I’m just kidding,’ Beau said. ‘It’ll be a classy affair, I promise.’

‘Like that Tom Cruise movie,’ Lucy said, unwrapping her chicken salad.

‘ Cocktail ?’ Violet guessed.

Lucy shook her head. ‘No, the one with masks and spanking.’

‘You could be the official photographer for the evening, Luce,’ Beau said, offering her half of his Kit-Kat.

It hadn’t escaped Vi’s notice that Beau and Lucy were developing quite a close friendship, and Charlie seemed to have a bit of a hero-worship thing going on for the American too.

He hung out in Beau’s workshop more than his mum’s whenever he came by the pier after school lately, his big infectious teenage laugh carrying around the birdcage like a breath of fresh air.

‘There better not be masks and spanking, I mean it Beau.’

‘Chill out Vi,’ he said, shoulder-bumping her. ‘Cal’s mother’s all hot air.’

‘You didn’t say that when she chained the gates together,’ Vi said.

‘Or when she set up a one-woman picket line on open day,’ Keris said, lying back on her elbows and turning her face up to the sun. ‘Who needs Portugal when we have days like this one.’

It was a reference to the fact that Cal was in Portugal, with Ursula of course.

They’d been there for a week now; a bolt of fury streaked through Vi’s body at the thought of them rekindling their love in the sunshine.

Would he make love to her in the sea? A tiny part of Vi’s heart turned black at the thought of it.

Was this how it felt to be in an affair with a married man?

Forever fantasising about what he was doing, if he was happy, if he and his wife were at that very moment hanging from the chandeliers.

It was a deeply unsettling state to be in.

Violet couldn’t even imagine how much harder it had been for her grandmother with the added complication of her own marriage as well as her lover’s, not to mention the fact that she had a child in the mix to think of.

Vi could only imagine that T must have been one hell of a guy to be worth all of that risk.

Up on the beach they could see the day unfolding; families with young children paddling, older couples reading the paper, serious sun-worshippers grabbing a few rays.

Lucy raised the camera that was always present around her neck and fired off a few shots; it looked like a quintessentially English seaside postcard.

None of them saw the lone figure watching them, the incoming danger.