Page 8 of Finding Love in Micklewick Bay

‘Well, I was actually thinking next Saturday night, if that fits in for everyone. It’ll be incentive for me to get the remaining boxes unpacked.’ Stella glanced around at her friends. ‘How about you, Jazz? Do you think you’ll be able to get a babysitter?’

Jasmine nodded enthusiastically. ‘Wild horses wouldn’t keep me away. Oh, and you’ve got to let me make you a housewarming cake.’

‘You don’t need to do that. Haven’t you got enough on your plate without giving yourself the extra burden of making a cake for me?’

‘Not at all, I insist, and besides, it’s never a burden if it’s for one of my besties.’ Jasmine beamed at her.

‘Well, if you’re sure, then it sounds lovely. Thank you, Jazz.’ Stella smiled warmly at her friend.

‘You might not be thanking her if it’s anything like the one she did for a hen party a couple of weeks’ back,’ said Maggie, pulling a mock horrified expression. ‘Who knew penises came in lime-green or shocking pink with bright orange stripes?’

‘You’ve clearly led a sheltered life, Maggie Marsay,’ said Florrie, through her giggles.

Stella gave a hoot of laughter causing heads to turn at nearby tables. ‘Florrie Appleton, you dark horse! And here’s us thinking you were Little Miss Prim-Knickers!’

‘My thoughts exactly,’ Lark said, giggling.

‘Come on then, you’re going to have to tell us where you’ve seen such wildly coloured appendages. Are you referring to Ed’s, I wonder?’ Stella waggled her eyebrows mischievously, makingthe friends splutter with giggles and further piquing the interest of the other diners.

‘And what about Jazz? Where on earth have you seen any like that to model them on?’ Lark asked, barely able to speak for laughing.

Jasmine snorted. ‘Hah! I wish! I’ve just been going from a vague and distant memory. It’s been that long since I’ve seen one in the flesh, if you’ll excuse the expression. The chief bridesmaid said she wanted something outrageous and colourful with a penis theme, so…’ She gave a shrug. ‘I followed her brief to the letter. Here, I’ve got a photo on my phone – of the cake, not vibrant penises, so you can calm your jets, Stells. Here, you can see for yourselves.’ Jasmine fished her phone from her bag, the others watching as she selected the photo. ‘There, what d’you think?’ A wide grin spread over her face as she handed her phone to Florrie beside her. ‘Pass it round.’

‘Wowzers!’ said Florrie, her eyes wide. ‘The one in the middle’s… um?—’

‘Would have your eye out if you weren’t careful,’ said Lark, causing the friends to dissolve into further giggles. ‘What do you think of that, Stells?’ she asked, handing the phone over to her.

Stella scrutinised the image, pushing her lips into a pout. ‘Actually, penis theme aside, I think it’s actually very creative and expertly executed,’ she said, wrestling with a smile.

‘Mmm. Me too,’ said Maggie peering over at it. ‘Mind, I’ll bet you’ve never seen any willies that colour, Stells, even with your vast bedroom experience.’ She shot her a mischievous sideways look. Stella’s colourful love life often attracted much teasing from her friends, which she always took in good spirit.

‘Can’t say I have, nor any covered in glitter, for that matter.’ Stella returned an amused smile. ‘But there’s always a first; maybe this Christmas.’

Just then, a familiar cackling laugh spliced through the chatter of the room courtesy of craggy-faced local fisherman Lobster Harry. He was a permanent fixture at the Jolly when he wasn’t out to sea in his ancient trawler, much to his wife’s chagrin.

‘Well, that thought tickled Lobster Harry, Stells,’ Lark said dryly, causing the friends to collapse into a further bout of raucous laughter.

Stella swiped tears of mirth from her cheeks, her face was aching from laughing so hard. This was just the light-hearted tonic she needed after her stressful week; her friends could always be relied upon to make things better. She glanced over at Jasmine, her heart squeezing with affection for her. Jasmine always seemed to be negotiating stress, albeit for different reasons to her own, yet she always seemed to be upbeat, never let it faze her or get her down. Stella often found herself thinking she’d rather deal with the sort of hassle she was faced with at work, rather than the variety Jasmine had to navigate. To make matters worse, the poor lass had her deceased partner’s parents to deal with, and they were a nightmare, always intent on making her life difficult and having nothing to do with their grandchildren. It was another good reason not to get emotionally entangled with a man – not that Stella needed any more convincing.

Jasmine was a single mum of two, whose partner had died six years ago. She held down three jobs and always seemed to be dashing around, whether it be taking Zak and Chloe to their after-school classes and parties, or heading to her next job – she not only worked as a cleaner for Stella’s mum, but she did several shifts at Seaside Bakery, the shop two doors down from The Happy Hartes Bookshop. Making celebration cakes had started out as a side-hustle to boost her earnings so Zak and Chloe didn’t go without, but over the last year it had reallytaken off, her skilfully crafted designs speaking for themselves, including cakes decorated with penises apparently.

‘What are you lot cackling about?’ The friends looked up to see Ando Taylor standing by their table, a half-drunk bottle of Micklewick Mischief in his hand. His familiar back-to-front baseball cap was set at a cock-eyed angle on top of his thinning long, blond hair. His usual teenage-youth-style get-up of slashed jeans, brightly coloured trainers and battered leather jacket belied the fact that he was well into his forties.

‘Now then, Ando,’ said Maggie, smiling up at him. ‘Having a good Friday night?’

Ando was generally regarded locally as something of a beach-bum and a bit of a daft lad. But in recent months, the friends’ opinion of him had softened thanks to his quick thinking in calling for an ambulance when Maggie had been involved in a traffic accident a few weeks ago. He’d also called Florrie so she could sit with her best friend until the ambulance arrived. He’d further stuck his neck out and offered a statement to the police as to the identity of the driver who had shot out in front of her so recklessly. It had been non-other than Jasmine’s father-in-law, Gary Forster, who had fled the scene and denied it was him until paint samples taken from the bump in the side of his car proved to be a perfect match for Maggie’s little vehicle. The statement had caused Ando a huge amount of grief, with him being hounded by the Forsters for “wrecking” their lives.

‘Aye, it hasn’t been bad so far.’ He nodded. ‘You keeping okay, Maggie? You’re looking well after… well… I mean since, you know.’ He shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot.

‘I’m doing fine, thanks, and so is the baby.’ She beamed at him, patting her bump.

‘That’s grand news.’ The warmth of his smile suggested he was genuinely pleased to hear it. His gaze fell to Jasmine. ‘Nowthen, Jazz,’ he said in a familiar Yorkshire greeting. ‘You’re looking fit there.’

‘Now then, Ando. Thanks.’ She gave him a small smile, her uncertain expression betraying she was anticipating his next question; the one he now asked on a weekly basis.

‘Don’t suppose you fancy letting me walk you home tonight? I can grab us a packet of pork scratchings to share on the way back, maybe stop off at my place, finish off the last of my home-brew. Admitted it’s a bit rank, like, but it hits the spot if you can stomach the taste. I’ve called it Gut Rot, you know, like this is called Micklewick Mischief.’ He flashed her a leary grin, waving his bottle of beer at her.

Stella fought to contain the bubble of laughter that was rising inside her. She pressed her lips together, resisting any eye contact with her friends.

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