Page 9

‘Well, if it isn’t Mr Miagi,’ Susie drawled, bringing out her old nickname for a boy she’d once loved like a brother.

The summer Susie turned nine, she decided she wanted to learn to surf and that fifteen-year-old Abel would be her teacher.

It hadn’t really gone so well, but he’d been patient and kind through it all.

Abel looked up from behind the bar, polishing optics with a tea towel. A smile cracked its way into his cheek on one side. ‘Wipe Out?! Christ, you’re so . . . grown up!’ He lifted the polished wood hatch and strode out to pick her up into a hug.

Susie blinked. This certainly didn’t seem like an Abel with a stick up his butt, the way Temperance had just described.

Much more like the boy who used to play stuck in the mud with her on the green long after all the other older kids lost interest. ‘Oof! Good to see you, too. Growing up is a thing that tends to happen. I wasn’t going to stay in tie-dye leggings and a Polly Pocket T-shirt for twelve years. ’

He put her down, his smile washing away into something wistful. ‘I remember that T-shirt. ’

Susie laughed. ‘Tee had to turn it into a pillow for me, just so I’d agree to stop wearing the raggedy thing.’

‘Gran said you work here now. That’s awesome.’

‘Yeah, amongst other things, here and there. I’ve done a bit of seasonal stuff along the coast too. But you can’t beat The Witch’s Nose for the tastiest local gossip. It’ll be buzzing with the news that you’re back. The prodigal grandson.’

‘Yeah, I mean . . . the thing is, I’ll probably get going soon.’

Margie came through the swing doors from the kitchen carrying a tray of IPA cans.

‘Not until you’ve helped me with the delivery, you won’t.

Let a little old lady cart all this about like a Shire horse on its way to the knacker’s yard?

Pfft.’ She shook her head, making the collection of gold chains and charms around her neck tinkle.

Susie bit back her smile. Margie was little but she packed a sinewy punch when she wanted to, from so many years of changing barrels.

She was clearly working an angle with her grandson and Susie was only too happy to oblige, especially as she’d stepped into the pub with the same mission: keep Abel in sight, make him stay.

‘It’s the big city in him now, Marge. Only out for himself, no sense of community,’ she teased. ‘Where have you come from, anyway?’

‘Bath,’ Abel replied, quietly.

‘Bath?!’ Susie guffawed. ‘All this time Temps and I thought you were in Melbourne or Texas or . . . Casablanca, and you were only in Bath.’ Her tone cooled suddenly. ‘Bath isn’t that far away. Close enough to come back for visits. Easily.’

Margie gave him stony look. ‘Well, he’s here now. Come on, lad.’

Abel shrugged off his checked shirt and left it on the bar, following Margie back through the swing doors.

For a moment, Susie’s hands twitched to reach out and pull a reading from Abel’s shirt.

Temperance wasn’t the only one who’d been heartbroken the day he left East Prawle: Susie had lost the closest thing she’d ever had to a brother.

Would she find a reason behind it all, if she just drew out a memory from the soft blue flannel?

Her fingers flexed, magic sparking in her palms. But she balled them up again.

Somehow, it felt like an invasion of privacy, like reading the diary of your best friend.

When Abel was ready, he’d tell them, she was sure.

This was the good-hearted guy who never made her feel like an annoying little kid, who helped her tie her shoelaces when everyone else had already run off for an ice cream. He had to be in there somewhere.

Susie remembered Temperance’s urgent command: ‘Don’t let him out of your sight, Suse. Seriously .’ Well, taking in a delivery might not be her favourite thing to do at work but at least it would keep Abel busy under her watch for the next few hours.

‘I’ll give you a hand!’ she yelled through the doors. Susie slipped her phone from her back pocket and shot out a text to her big sister:

I think Margie is on our side. Come to back of pub and help xxx

‘This is a lot of booze, Gran.’

Margie clutched her chest in mock-horror. ‘Oh deary me, whatever will I do with booze in my knitting shop?!’ She rolled her eyes. ‘The fancy dress party is a big one, Abe, bigger than New Year’s almost. Come tomorrow you’ll be sweating over all the empties on the green.’

Abel cleared his throat. ‘I can’t stay, Gran, you know that. I’ve got . . . things to get back to. Work.’

Margie rolled a small barrel over to the door, putting her hand to her lower back and wincing as she straightened up again.

Susie thought it was a masterful touch – light yet effective.

‘Your mum can cope without you for a few days and keep the business ticking over. Honestly, you turning up here, it’s like you heard my deepest wishes or something. ’

‘It is?’

‘Oh yes. I love this weekend, but it’s a hard one.

And I’m not getting any younger.’ She put her hands to her cheeks, covering up the perfectly placed blusher and pushing her cheeks up, introducing a few exaggerated wrinkles.

‘Having you around will save me some serious aches and pains come Monday.’

‘Right.’ Abel kept his eyes on the boxes he was hauling from the car park tarmac, but Susie could tell the cogs were whirring. She needed to help seal the deal, if she could.

‘And now you’re here, you’ve got to see the party. You’ve got to dress up for the party!’ Susie said excitedly.

He winced. ‘I don’t do fancy dress. And I didn’t bring anything with me, literally just jumped in the car like this.’ He plucked his grey T-shirt between his fingers.

‘Good thing we have a whole shop of clothes at our disposal, then!’ she chirruped back, not letting his downer of a mood reach her.

‘I remember you being pretty inventive back in the day. And even if it’s just a mask and some glitter spray, you’ll still be getting in the spirit.

Gary had the Scouts make some paper-maché ones.

I mean, they smell a bit of damp old newspapers but they do the job. ’

‘How can I resist?’ Abel muttered under his breath.

‘Hmm?’ Margie’s beady eyes were on him in a heartbeat.

‘OK, I’m in,’ he said more loudly. ‘Just for one night, though. Just that.’

Margie put her hands under a cardboard tray of little lemonade bottles and then proceeded to stumble on what Susie could clearly see was perfectly flat ground. ‘Oooh!’

‘Gran!’ Abel rushed forward and caught her by the arm. ‘Are you OK?’ He took the clanking bottles from her and set them down. ‘You don’t need to do any more today: Wipeout and I will finish it. You go and have a cuppa.’

Margie held the back of her hand to her forehead for a moment and Susie buried her laughter in her shoulder. ‘Maybe that’s a good idea, lad. It’s just, when I heard you say you won’t be staying for my birthday party next weekend, I came over all funny, you know?’

Abel shut his eyes. ‘Your seventieth. I’d forgotten.’

Margie’s voice went reed thin and wavery.

‘Of course, it’s easy to forget about your old Gran when you’re off out and about, living your life.

I understand. It’s just a simple barbeque on the green for the people I hold closest to my heart.

To raise a glass to the fact I’m still here.

For now, anyway. You’ll be there, won’t you, Susie love? ’

Margie had never before called Susie anything remotely like ‘Susie love’. Affectionate nicknames in Margie’s worldview were ‘bugalugs’, ‘harpy’ and ‘silly knickers’, but nothing so sappy as ‘love’.

‘I wouldn’t miss it, Marge. You know, Temps and I were just saying this morning how you’re the closest thing we ever had to a gran and you mean so much to us. Helping out with the cooking and serving is the least we can do. ’

Abel growled. ‘I didn’t pack a bag, Gran. How can I stay a week and miss that much work? And you know I can’t—’

Margie held up her hands, her signet rings catching the sunlight. ‘I’ve got you pants and pjs, all that stuff. No bother. I keep a little drawer of essentials ready for you, in case you ever come back.’

Susie’s heart lurched. This bit wasn’t a trick. She could see the vulnerability in Margie’s eyes all of a sudden. Even though Susie and Temperance had long ago accepted that Abel was long gone, never to return, Margie must have been leaving the door open just a crack all this time.

‘Oh, Gran,’ he put his arm around the small but mighty woman’s shoulders.

After a sigh, he went on, ‘I haven’t taken a week off in .

. . a long time. Maybe years. So I’m overdue.

I’ll move some things around, OK? But just a week.

And I’ll work here at the pub so I’m,’ his eyes flicked to Susie briefly, ‘kept out of trouble.’

‘. . . and it turned out the woman was making all the cat ornaments in her shop from real cat fur! Bleurgh . So I gave my notice in after my lunchbreak and never went back. I’m more of a dog person anyway.

’ Susie stacked a box of beer bottles just inside the back door and wiped her hands on her jeans.

Abel shook his head, laughing.

Temperance couldn’t believe the sight she was taking in.

Abel: relaxed, smiling, not bolting in the opposite direction to someone from his past. She couldn’t deny that her ribs were squeezing her heart in a confusing way.

One part of her was happy deep down inside that Abel and Susie were catching up like no time had lapsed at all.

But another much more shallow part was stung that something about Susie made it easy for Abel to chat and laugh, whereas he’d had a total of about six syllables for Temperance earlier on the green.