Page 2 of Just the Beginning

‘Oh, Annie, no!’

Chloe’s dismayed gasp was followed immediately by her uncle saying, ‘But darling, your sewing machine means the world to you, and all that material you’ve collected over the years, it’d be a waste to just throw it all away. Surely you’ll find some use for it?’

If Anya hadn’t spent so much time hiding away in her workshop making clothes and furnishings for the house, perhaps she’d have noticed what Drew had been up to. Knowing she’d indulged in a little fantasy world while in the real world people had lost their jobs, their homes, their marriages to the string of failed businesses Drew had set up and abandoned made her feel sick inside. If she’d been able to sell some of the things she’d made, she might not have felt like she’d completely wasted her life on nothing more than an indulgent hobby. The evaluator from the bailiffs had killed that notion in a matter of minutes when, after a cursory flick through the contents of her workshop, he’d declared nothing in there worth the cost of storage. ‘I don’t have space.’

Ryan winked at her. ‘Don’t worry about that; we’ll find room.I was only thinking the other day that I haven’t sorted out the sheds in a long time. I bet if I went through them I could empty one out and convert it into a workshop for you. I know it won’t be the same as what you’ve got now, but it’d be something to tide you over.’

‘That’s a great idea, Dad,’ Chloe chipped in.

Anya knew she meant well, they all did, but for a moment she wished she’d found another way to resolve her problems that hadn’t involved turning to her family. It was an unkind thought and she regretted it immediately. She felt even more churlish when Chloe took her hand and squeezed it gently. ‘Hey. Mum and I will sort out the workshop while you hoover around upstairs, okay?’

Anya closed her eyes against a sudden pricking of tears and she was simply too tired to argue about it. ‘Okay.’

2

Anya’s brave face held all the way through the long drive back to Halfmoon Quay. Perhaps sensing how close to the edge she was, Chloe hadn’t argued when Anya had insisted on taking the back seat. She and Ryan had chatted quietly to each other, leaving Anya to stare out the window and brood. They’d just turned off the motorway and were waiting at a set of traffic lights when she felt someone’s eyes on her. Turning her head, Anya met Ryan’s gaze via the rear-view mirror.

‘Everything okay back there?’

A small laugh escaped unbidden. ‘Not so much.’

Ryan’s responding chuckle was rueful. ‘Sorry, stupid question. There’s a services here if you want to stop and grab a coffee?’

Anya shook her head. ‘No, I just want to get back h—’ Her voice hitched and she swallowed the rest of the word. Halfmoon Quay meant a lot of things to her, but it had never felt like home. Though she’d always loved her visits over the years, and as much as her cousins had included her in everything, she’d still not truly been one of them. She didn’t have the rock andsand of the village woven into her soul the way those that had lived there all their lives did. ‘To Freya,’ she amended.

‘Sure thing.’

The lights changed and Ryan navigated around the busy roundabout towards the turn-off that would lead them to Halfmoon Quay. Realising she’d been a little short with him, Anya loosened her belt and leaned forward to touch her uncle’s shoulder. ‘I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.’

‘It’s all good, Annie. You just focus on looking after Freya,’ Ryan said, keeping his eyes on the snaking queue of traffic ahead of them.

Chloe half-turned in her seat and smiled at her. ‘You look after Freya, and we’ll look after you.’

Unable to find the words to express her gratitude, Anya nodded then sank back against her seat, her gaze fixed once more on the familiar scenery. She knew every twist and turn of the road, every hill and landmark. There was the church steeple poking over the top of the trees. Here was the junction that always seemed to be a bottleneck whatever time of day or night she passed through it. On the right, the faded peeling paintwork and graffitied boarded windows of a once bustling coaching inn now long since closed down. Next came the long drag up the hill that had seemed to go on forever when she was younger while her tummy bubbled with excitement and she’d stretched and strained in eager anticipation of that first magical glimpse of the glittering silver-blue sea and the grey brooding walls of the castle standing watch on the promontory above the village.

For the first time in her life there was no excitement inside Anya as they crested the hill and the picturesque view of Halfmoon Quay was laid out before her. The only emotion that gripped her insides was fear, accompanied by the never-endingdrumbeat of words in her head that had been growing louder with each mile of their journey.

What am I going to do? What am I going to do?

Once they pulled up outside the sprawling whitewashed stone house with its grey slate roof there was no time to think as it was all hands on deck to unload the cars and hump all the boxes down to the end of the garden. Standing in the middle of the open-plan main living space of the summer house, Anya felt that familiar sense of panic rising again as she surveyed their piled-up belongings. Even though she thought she’d cut everything down to the bare minimum it still felt like they’d never find room for everything. Her aunt Helen came over and picked up a box. ‘Why don’t you let us sort this out while you go to Ma and Pa’s and fetch Freya?’

Goodness, that sounded like a wonderful idea, but they’d already done so much for her it felt rude to leave them to sort out her mess – again. ‘Oh, I couldn’t do that.’ She surveyed the stacks of boxes as she bit her lip. ‘I suppose we should unpack the clothes first. Or maybe the kitchen stuff.’ She cringed a little inside hearing the self-doubt in her own voice. She never used to be this indecisive. One of her great joys had been planning and designing the layout of their family home, and the compliments from guests about her eye for style had been a source of pride. Now they were a source of shame, knowing the money she’d spent on all those perfect accessories had been stolen from other people.

Chloe planted her hands on her hips, a steely glint Anya knew well in her eye. ‘Yes, you can. Look, we’ll just find and unpack a few essentials, make the beds up and everything else can go into the garage for now. That way you can take your time setting things up the way you want them over the coming days.’

Anya hesitated, still conscious of not taking advantage of them. ‘I would like to go and make sure Freya’s okay…’

Her cousin shooed her towards the door with a grin. ‘Off you go then. Mum and I will be fine here, won’t we?’

Helen nodded in agreement. ‘I don’t know why we didn’t think of it in the first place. With Ryan and Matt’s help it won’t take long to move most of this out of the way. We should be sorted by the time you get back with Freya.’

‘Thank you.’ Anya didn’t know how many times those two words had passed her lips today, but it wasn’t enough, could never be enough, to express her gratitude. ‘I won’t be long.’

The walk from her aunt and uncle’s house to the old stone cottage where Amy and Ron Penrose lived wasn’t far, and after hours sitting in the car and then moving boxes she wanted to stretch her legs. Opting for a circuitous route, she headed not towards the castle but instead around the sweep of the crescent-shaped harbour that had given the village its name. There were one or two commercial trawlers moored up at the top of the quay nearest the open water, stacks of lobster pots and tangles of old fishing nets piled up beside them, but the vast majority of the vessels tied up were small pleasure boats. Their white hulls and shiny masts glittered in the sun. The quayside was a hive of activity even this early in the summer season. Most of the people she passed were working on their boats, washing decks or touching up woodwork with pots of varnish that filled her nostrils with a stinging scent when the breeze blew across her face. There were quite a few holidaymakers around, mostly older couples taking advantage of the nice weather before the schools broke up and the village was inundated with sunseekers. Here and there were families with very small children dressed up in bright T-shirts and floppy hats.

The shops and businesses lining the road facing the quay were a mix of traditional and new. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Mr Hawthorn’s newsagents with its rack of buckets, spades and fishing nets waiting to tempt the enthusiastic sandcastle builders and rock poolers. She paused beneath the striped awning, the blue almost bleached out to match the white, to cup her hands and peer through the window. Just as she remembered, the shelves behind the counter were stacked high with plastic jars full of penny sweets. Oh the agonising she, Chloe and Matt had done over what treats to buy with the shiny fifty pence pieces Ma and Pa would present them with. She’d have to bring Freya sometime and introduce her to the fizzy delights of sherbet spaceships and sticky strawberry laces.

Stepping back, she spotted the column of little white cards lining the far side of the window, noting the ‘HELP WANTED’ announcements on a few. She didn’t have time now, but she’d have to come back and check them out because as soon as she’d got Freya settled in, the next thing on the top of her worry list was finding a job. Anything would do, because someone with her lack of both a bank balance and anything resembling aCVcouldn’t afford to be fussy. Tomorrow would be soon enough to start looking. Mind made up, she carried on along the road, past the faded glory of the old hotel with its peeling window frames and a pair of straggly hanging baskets framing the entrance door. It had always been the jewel of the seafront and it was sad to see it looking so neglected.

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