Page 18 of A Summer Scandal

Looking down as he locked up for the night, he spotted a white folded sheet of paper on the wooden floor, and for a moment he wondered if he’d overstepped the mark with Violet and she’d returned his letter to sender. Opening it though, he found silver loopy handwriting very different from his own.

Being equally neighbourly. Here’s my mobile number in case of an actual, genuine, bona fide emergency. Or if you need someone to take in a parcel. Or similar. Violet. :)

Laughing under his breath, he shoved it in his jeans pocket and turned out the lights.

It was no good. Sleep just wasn’t happening. Violet tossed and turned, sliding in and out from under the coattails of sleep, never really sinking much beyond the point where her brain flicked from conscious to unconscious thought. It wasn’t all that surprising, really, that her brain jumbled up images of the pier, and her name in golden script, and a dark-haired man laughing into the morning sun. She could almost see Monica on her knees painting the boards, dressed in chic Capri pants, an Audrey Hepburn-esque vision, her dark hair held back from her face by a silk scarf.

Clicking on the bedside lamp, Violet plumped the pillows and sat herself up a little, looking around the shaded room. The mermaids looked passively back at her, their scales glinting in the lamplight, and the outline of the dressmaker’s dummy in the bay seemed almost as if someone was standing looking out to sea. Her grandmother, perhaps. The idea wasn’t frightening; it was more a gentle tugging sensation, as if Violet was here to do something Monica hadn’t been able to do herself.

Giving up on the idea of sleep, she headed for the kitchen in search of a cup of tea.

CHAPTER SIX

Someone was banging on Violet’s skull.

‘Stop,’ she mumbled, pulling the soft throw her mum had given her last week over her head on the sofa. She’d settled there with her cuppa and book in the middle of the night, and she must have finally managed some sleep for whoever it was knocking on her door to have woken her up.

‘Oh, crap,’ she whispered, her eyes still closed. ‘Wait for me.’

She wasn’t talking to whoever was at her door. She meant her dream, even though it was already sliding away from her; she couldn’t remember the details, just the delicious feeling of enjoyment and she wanted to stay there and enjoy it some more.

‘Hello?’ a loud female voice fired through the letterbox. ‘Anybody home?’

It was the kind of voice you didn’t ignore, school-headmistress-like and official. Sighing, Violet untangled herself from the blanket and folded it on the end of the sofa before padding barefoot into the hallway.

‘Just a second,’ she said, throwing the bolt. ‘I’m here.’

Opening the door a few seconds later, she found herself confronted with a woman whose voice matched her appearance perfectly. Boxy suit, overpowering floral blouse, stout-heeled shoes and an unnaturally red rinse on her helmet of hair. She looked curiously as if she’d come in battledress; Vi looked warily around her to make sure she hadn’t arrived with an army of pitchfork-waving locals hiding behind her skirts.

‘Rumours are true then,’ she said by way of introduction, looking Violet up and down as if PJs after nine in the morning was a crime. Her eyes settled on Violet’s blue-tipped hair.

‘Word clearly travels fast here,’ Vi said, still wishing she was asleep.

The woman didn’t introduce herself, just reached into her large black briefcase-style handbag and pulled out a stiff white envelope, holding it out like a bailiff serving up a summons.

‘You’re cordially invited to a council consultation on the future of Swallow Beach Pier.’

The words seeped in slowly, making Vi’s brow furrow. ‘A consultation?’ She blinked a few times, trying to wake up. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’

‘I didn’t give it to you, dear. I’m the Lady Mayoress of Swallow Beach, and given that you’re laying claim to our pier, I suggest you might want to attend the meeting in the parish hall at six sharp.’

That was a lot of words for a girl who’d been asleep five minutes previously to process, and Vi had stopped listening at the clearly antagonistic ‘given you’re laying claim’ bit.

‘Excuse me?’ She pulled herself up to her full height, which given she was barefoot, brought her up level with Mayoress No-name’s violently patterned bosom.

‘It’s all in the letter.’ The silver chains attached to the woman’s large specs rattled as she reached out and tapped the envelope.

‘And was this meeting already arranged before I arrived?’ Vi asked, battling to bring herself up to speed.

The sudden set of the woman’s jaw suggested not.

‘I see,’ Vi said. ‘Well, thanks. I’ll think about it.’

She retreated, closing the door on the woman, whose gaping mouth suggested she didn’t like the idea of being dismissed before she’d got what she wanted – in this case clearly the upper hand over the bay’s newest resident.

‘Great,’ she murmured, ripping the envelope open as she headed for the kettle. Her eyes skimmed the words after she’d set the water on to boil.Town meeting … suggested uses for Swallow Beach Pier … council compulsory purchase application …the words blurred; Violet was shocked to find herself suddenly tearful.

‘Bloody sodding hell,’ she muttered, dashing the back of her hand over her eyes. She wasn’t a crier, and she wasn’t going to let this less than warm welcome reduce her to one. It was just a shock to wake up to, that was all. She could always just not go to the meeting, she reasoned. It had clearly been called with the sole intention of putting the wind up her. She could call Mayoress No-name’s bluff and stay away. It would likely be just the two of them anyway; given how hastily the meeting had been called, there was every chance no one would even know about it.

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