Page 29 of Lipstick Kiss

“Absolutely.”

Luke was thirty-one years old and still looked to the door to see if Maggie was already coming back because all he wanted to do was bawl in her arms. Just the thought of meeting Cynthia scared the shit out of him.

“I’ll let you know when it’s set up,” Bailey said, then drained his cup and stood.

Luke stood too, on his side of the table, picking up his empty plate to take to the sink. “The sooner, the better, Bailey.”

“Leave the plate, Luke. I’ll wash it up.”

Luke did as he asked, only because Bailey needed to take care of him.

Chapter Nine

Freya

Freya’s classes were over for another school day, and she needed to get away straight after the bell to get to the lavender farm on the other side of the island. Except there was one student who was dragging his heels leaving the classroom.

“Kenny? Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yes, Miss,” he replied with so much gloom it squeezed Freya’s heart.

His dad, Ralph, worked long hours at Turner Hall. Ralph’s mum had left the island after their divorce. Ralph’s ex-wife came back to Copper Island periodically, but other than that time, it was just Ralph and his dad.

“You don’t sound like everything is okay.”

“Is Mr Turner coming back to evening class again?”

“I’m not sure, Kenny. Is there something you want to talk with him about?”

Kenny didn’t answer, looking at the walls and studyingthe periodic table like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Well, if you see him, tell him I still have that problem,” he said.

Freya was left open-mouthed as he grabbed his bag from the table and ran through the gap in the tables like a pinball. He flew through the open door. When she couldn’t hear the thunder of his feet on the linoleum floor, she pulled out her mobile from her pocket in her dress.

Freya:I need to talk to you.

Luke:Now?

Freya:Do you have time?

The phone rang in her hand, making her jump. She hit answer and lifted it to her ear.

“What’s up, Peaches?”

“How well do you know Ralph’s son, Kenny?”

“I’ve met him a couple of times. The first time was when I got off the boat and came home for good and the second time was while adding tram lines to the shirts you made me iron.”

She chuckled at his correct assessment of his ironing efforts. Pottery he could make, iron a shirt he could not. But it was the, back for good, that stole the breath in her lungs for a moment. He’d never called Copper Island, home, not ever.

“I have a message for you. Kenny says he still has that problem. What’s he talking about?”

“Those little shitheads that were there in the ironing class. I caught them shoving him about when I strolled through High Street. Can’t stand anyone being picked on, so I had a chat with them. Didn’t see any of them until that class.”

“Did you know he’s Ralph’s son?”

“Yeah. Where is he now?”

---