Page 6 of Finding Love in Micklewick Bay

Soon her long legs were striding past the higgledy-piggledy stack of lobster pots and small boats that lined the seawall, the smell of seaweed lingering in the air as she drew closer to where the Jolly was nestled below the cliffs. She wasn’t surprised to see the pub’s sunny terraced area jam-packed with drinkers and diners, their laughter and chatter filling the air.

‘All right, Stella,’ a voice called from a table in the far corner. She glanced over to see it belonged to Nate, owner of a localupcycling business, who was keen on her friend Lark. He had a bottle of beer in his hand and was wearing his familiar easy-going smile, his rosy face betraying the fact he’d spent a chunk of the day in the sun.

‘Hi, Nate. Had a good day?’ She smiled back.

‘Aye, not bad, thanks. You?’

‘It’s better now I’m here.’ Stella gave a laugh. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she said as she continued along the age-worn path.

‘Righto.’

As she made her way closer to the door, the jaunty sound of folk music joined the gentle lapping of the sea against the shore. She stepped inside the low doorway of the quirky, whitewashed building, that had occupied the spot for several centuries, and was instantly met by the mouth-watering aroma of the pub’s signature dish of fish and chips.Mmm.The delicious smell jolted her appetite into life with a start, making her realise just how hungry she was, her lunch all but a distant memory.

The heavily beamed bar area was already heaving with the usual locals and a generous dash of holidaymakers. Stella headed in the direction of the polished oak bar, its shiny brass beer pumps gleaming under the soft glow of the repurposed hurricane lamps that were fixed to the walls. ‘S’cuse me,’ she said, smiling politely as she squeezed by a group of friends who were deep in conversation. Her gaze went to the table by the old inglenook fireplace that was always reserved for her group of friends on a Friday evening. Being so tall meant she could easily peer over the crowd, and she spotted Maggie sitting opposite Lark, the pair chatting away. She caught Maggie’s eye and her friend gave her a friendly wave, causing Lark to turn and beam at her. Spotting a bottle of wine already on the table, Stella took a detour from the bar and made her way over to them; she’d grab another one later.

‘Hiya, lasses.’ Stella smiled as she slipped onto the settle beside Maggie, her thoughts finally drifting away from Mr Hot. ‘Been here long?’

‘Hiya, Stells,’ Lark and Maggie chorused warmly as Stella unhooked her bag and set it down on the settle beside her.

‘I’ve just got here,’ said Lark, reaching for the bottle of Pinot Grigio that was propped in the ice bucket. She poured a glass for Stella, her armful of bracelets jangling. Lark was looking ethereal as usual in a boho-style sundress in muted rainbow colours, trimmed with sparkly beads. Her long, wavy blonde hair hung loose around her shoulders, a silk rose fixed above her ear.

‘And I wasn’t much before,’ said Maggie. She was wearing a loose-fitting cotton shirt in a delicious shade of tangerine that hid her small baby bump. Her chestnut curls were scooped up on top of her head and tied in a lime-green scarf, while her glowing complexion was topped off with a sprinkling of freckles that danced across her nose and cheeks.

‘Florrie says to tell you she’s running late – not like her, I know, something to do with a phone call with an author that overran – she’s still stopping off for Jasmine on her way down though,’ said Lark. As a rule, Florrie, who was co-owner of the local bookshop, would call for Jasmine on her way to the Jolly of a Friday evening, Jasmine being the one who was usually running late. Maggie, who lived at the other end of town at Clifftop Cottage, always arrived on her own, as did Stella who lived further out, while Lark lived close by in a tiny cottage on one of Old Micklewick’s narrow, twisting paths.

‘Fair enough.’ Stella picked up the glass of wine and sank back in the settle, the easy-going atmosphere of the Jolly washing over her. She gave a contented sigh. ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am it’s finally Friday evening and I’m sitting here with you.’

‘Aww, Stells,’ Lark said in her familiar soft tone, reaching over and giving Stella’s arm a sympathetic rub. ‘And we’re glad to be sitting here with you too, flower.’

‘Had a rough one, Stells?’ asked Maggie, before taking a sip from her glass of lemonade, the ice cubes rattling. ‘Don’t tell me there’s problems with the new apartment?’

Stella shook her head. ‘No, everything’s fine with that; I love it.’ She couldn’t help but smile as an image of it popped into her mind. ‘It’s just my oppo at work, he’s been really dodgy, constantly trying to pull a fast one.’

‘Is he the one you mentioned before? Always trying to sneak things in he shouldn’t? asked Lark.

Stella nodded, her top lip curling in disgust. ‘Yep, he’s the one, Vaughan Elliott. Doesn’t help that he’s a total slimeball and makes my skin crawl. Honestly, a conversation with him makes you feel like you need to take a shower afterwards.’ She shuddered at the mere thought of him.

‘Eeuw! I can’t bear that sort.’ Maggie pulled a face.

‘Me neither,’ said Lark, her nose wrinkling.

‘Bloomin’ ’eck! What’s up with you lot? From the expressions you’re wearing anyone would think there was a horrible stink around here.’

The three turned to see Jasmine smiling at them, her bright green eyes offset by her dyed-red pixie crop. She was wearing a loose, white shirt over her favourite khaki combat trousers. Florrie was standing beside her and, despite the warmth of outside, she was looking surprisingly cool in a Breton-striped T-shirt and cropped navy linen trousers.

‘Please tell me it’s not cos you’ve got downwind of my plimsolls,’ Jasmine said with a chuckle. ‘I have to admit, they’re a bit rank; reek like a well-rotted compost heap. I’m going to have to leave them outside tonight when I get home; should keep the vampires away.’

‘Hiya,’ said Maggie, laughing. ‘Thanks for sharing that, Jazz.’

‘Now then, lasses. Yeah, you sell yourself well, Jazz.’ Stella grinned.

‘I do my best.’ Jasmine grinned back.

‘Hi, all,’ said Florrie as she eased in beside Lark who was struggling to contain her giggles.

‘Talk about TMI, Jazz,’ Lark finally managed to say.

‘Hey, I reckon it’s only right I warn you.’ Jasmine pulled out the chair at the top of the table. ‘Anyroad, sorry we’re a bit late – for once it wasn’t me running round like a loony.’ She pointed her thumb in Florrie’s direction. ‘It’s all down to her ladyship here.’

---