Page 41 of The Love Game

‘Are you sure the pier can take this many people?’ Keris said, standing beside Violet in the birdcage at quarter to eight.

‘Don’t even say that,’ Vi said. There were over a hundred people out on the pier, a hubbub of voices, the clink of crystal and cutlery, the sound of laughter as people ate their first course, all warmed by the burnished glow of the setting evening sun.

Keris looked like a Greek goddess in a one-shoulder, floor-length silver-grey sheath, and somewhere out there on the pier Lucy looked every bit as glam in pillar-box red as Beau’s date-not-date.

It was a good look on her; for the first time since Violet met her, she looked relaxed – the Beau effect again, no doubt.

‘Have you seen Cal yet?’

Violet shook her head. ‘He’s probably there somewhere. I haven’t really looked.’

She sensed Keris’s sidelong glance and chose not to look at her. The lie was so flimsy it was see-through, but indifference was all she had. She’d looked for him, she just hadn’t managed to spot him yet.

‘He’s at the fourth table back behind the candelabra,’ Keris said.

‘Who with?’ Vi cursed herself silently, wishing she’d had the strength not to ask.

Keris breathed out. ‘He’s brought Ursula.’

Vi swallowed hard, nodding. ‘Okay. Thanks.’

That was pretty categorical, then. He’d brought his wife to an event on the pier.

On her pier. It would have been less effective if he’d slapped her face.

Trying not to show how much it had wounded her, she smoothed her hands down her dress and checked over her shoulder to make sure Charlie was in eyesight.

He was having a whale of a time helping out the caterers who’d set up base in his mum’s studio, moving the chaise to the side to turn it into a makeshift prep kitchen for the evening.

’Shall I switch the fairy lights on yet do you think?

’ Vi had been looking forward to the big switch-on since the electrician had strung them all up for her that morning.

She’d called the enterprising guy who’d sent her his card in the mail recently, and despite the early hour she’d asked him to come to the pier.

He’d been great at helping her bring her vision to life.

Lighting up Swallow Beach Pier was one of the images she’d pictured in her head ever since she’d first set eyes on it.

Keris wrinkled her nose. ‘Give it a little while, you want it to make everyone go ooh .’ She craned her neck to look outside as someone tapped the microphone outside and cleared their throat to get everyone’s attention. ‘Looks like the show’s about to start.’

A hush fell over the gathering and Barty came through with a plate of cake in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other.

‘Bloody good stuff this,’ he said, raising his glass, then balancing it on the coffee machine so he could inch the door open and listen to the goings-on outside. Vi and Keris moved either side of him, and he looked from one to the other and then smiled softly to himself, the smile of a blessed man.

Charlie joined them a little later, standing alongside Violet to watch the category for ‘Artisan Metal-worker of the Year’, his eyes round and his fingers crossed tight.

Vi swiped away a rogue tear when a delighted Beau came up to collect his award, and spotting Charlie by the door, dashed over and pulled him through the door to high-five him, laughing.

Violet made a mental note to remember that Lucy, Beau and Charlie would never have met if it wasn’t for the pier; despite Hortensia’s tale of doom and gloom, in her own experience it had given more than it had taken away. So far, anyway.

The awards presenter announced a half-time break after Beau’s presentation and the waiters flowed through the doors with bottles to top up everyone’s wine glasses and desserts to round off everyone’s appetite.

Inside the birdcage, Violet drew Barty to one side.

‘There’s something I need to do,’ she said. ‘Will you trust me, Barty, and come with me?’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Anywhere, darling.’

She reached out for his hand. ‘Come with me.’

Five minutes later, she’d led Barty around the balcony that edged the birdcage, a slender strip of wood just wide enough to walk on. They held onto the filigree metal railings, and came to a standstill when they were completely out of sight of the party.

‘It’s lovely out here, isn’t it?’ she said, looking at her elderly companion.

He nodded. ‘I spent many an evening out here with your grandmother. Stargazing. Talking.’ He shrugged.

Vi didn’t want or need him to elaborate. It was one of her favourite spots too, just the vastness of the sea ahead, no anchoring glimpse of the shore behind.

‘She never had a proper funeral,’ Violet said. ‘I looked into it after you raised it, and her ashes were left for safekeeping with Swallow Beach funeral directors.’

‘Oh my love, I’m so sorry,’ Barty said, in turmoil. Vi wasn’t sure if he was talking to her now or her grandmother forty years ago. He turned frightened eyes to Violet. ‘Did you find out what happened to the ashes?’

She sighed. ‘I went to the undertakers, Garland and Sons?’

Barty nodded, clearly familiar with them. ‘I taught Maria Garland to waltz for their wedding many moons ago.’

‘Well, I saw Stuart, and he found the record of my grandmother’s ashes in the 1978 ledger, and then tracked them down in their unclaimed ashes collection in the cellar.’

A look of abject misery crossed Barty’s face. ‘She was so close all of these years and I didn’t know.’

Vi shook her head, keen to assuage his guilt. ‘You couldn’t have done anything. It needed to be next of kin who collected the ashes, or family at least.’

‘And they’re still there after all this time?’

‘No,’ Vi said. ‘I have them now.’

‘Oh,’ he whispered, his hands gripping the railings.

Violet reached inside her bag and eased the black canister out carefully. ‘They’re here,’ she said. ‘I’d like to scatter them tonight, Barty. Will you do it with me?’

‘Child,’ he breathed, staring at the ashes as if they were pure gold. ‘Wouldn’t your mother wish to be here?’

Vi shook her head. ‘She loved her mum, but out of respect for my Grandpa Henry she just can’t bring herself to come here. She doesn’t think her mum would want to leave Swallow Beach.’

Henry nodded, his usually playful eyes sombre. ‘May I hold her?’

Violet’s heart broke a little for him as she passed him the simple canister. He clasped it to him in both hands, and then closed his eyes and pulled in a deep, shuddering breath.

‘My Monica,’ he said, stepping back to lean against the birdcage for support. ‘My darling girl, I’m so sorry.’

Vi gave him some privacy, taking a couple of steps away along the railings, staring out over the starlit sea. It really was the most magical spot, like standing at the end of an ocean liner out on the ocean.

After a few minutes Barty moved alongside her again.

‘Tell me something about her,’ she said quietly.

Barty looked at her. ‘I stood here with her, many times, on almost exactly this very spot.’ Vi could understand why; it was like the edge of the world, away from prying eyes. ‘You look so like her tonight, you took my breath away. She would have been so terribly proud of you, darling. I am, too.’

‘Thank you,’ Vi said.

‘But you’re different too, Violet,’ he said. ‘You’re stronger, and I think that you’re wiser than she was, or than I was,’ he said. ‘Love makes you do irrational things sometimes.’

Violet couldn’t argue there.

‘She was wilful, and as spirited as a child who knew no better.’ He laughed softly. ‘I’ve seen her turn cartwheels along the length of this walkway.’

Barty nodded as Vi looked along the walkway. It was barely three feet wide and about forty foot long.

‘All the way from one end to the other, laughing as she went, her dark hair tumbling around her face.’

It was such a vivid picture that it brought tears to Violet’s eyes.

‘We weren’t allowed to be in love,’ he said, his eyes on the sea. ‘But I loved her all the same, and I like to think she loved me too.’

Vi laid a hand over Barty’s on the railings. ‘I know she did,’ she said. ‘I’ve read her diary, Barty. I wanted to get to know her better, so I read it, and the one thing that I can say for certain is that she loved you.’

Barty pulled his handkerchief out and dabbed his eyes. ‘Did she hate me in the end?

Oh God, this was so hideously difficult. Violet was torn between respecting her grandfather, honouring her grandmother, and not breaking Barty’s already battered heart.

‘No, I don’t think she hated you for even a second. She … she was drinking before she came here alone that night.’ Barty’s hand stole into hers on the rails. ‘I don’t think she intended to take her life at all, Barty. I think it was a horrible, tragic accident.’

Barty slumped heavily, using the rails to stay on his feet.

‘I always thought it was my fault,’ he said. ‘My punishment.’

She put her arm around him, and after a few moments, he straightened, drying his face again.

‘Thank you, Violet,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

She held the canister in her hands. ‘Shall we?’

He took the ashes and pressed his lips to the lid. ‘I love you, Monica,’ he said. ‘Safe travels, my darling.’

Tears slid down Vi’s cheeks as he handed the ashes back with a shaky, heartbroken smile.

‘Let her go, child. It’s time.’

He put an arm around her shoulders as she twisted the cap off, and that was how they stood, side by side under the starlight, as Violet upended the ashes and let them scatter towards the sea below on the warm summer breeze.

‘Goodbye Gran,’ Violet whispered. ‘Thank you for everything.’

‘Goodnight my love,’ Barty said. ‘You’re part of Swallow Beach forever now.’

Violet replaced the lid on the empty container, not even surprised that Barty had chosen the exact same phrase as Cal. Her romance with Cal had been an echo of Monica’s romance with Barty all of those years ago; unexpected, life-changing, but ultimately doomed to fail.