Page 40 of Starting Over in Starshine Cove
“It really is. It’s all you want at the end of the day, isn’t it? For them to be happy?”
“Exactly. Especially at this age – there’s plenty of time for the tough stuff later in life! I know our kids have been put through the wringer more than most, but here they are, looking like they don’t have a care in the world. How was your day together?”
Marcy and Sophie have now technically finished their placement, and I have given them both glowing reviews in their online logbooks. I’ve listed the skills they’ve gained, the tasks they’ve done, and highlighted a few areas for improvement. Itmade me feel all grown up, and I kind of wished I’d been able to just draw smiley faces instead of making constructive comments.
“It was good,” he says firmly. “We went to Corfe Castle, and walked along Studland beach, and generally mooched around having a nice time. Has Sophie told you they’re planning on heading to Crete?”
“She has. I felt guilty about using them both as free labour for the past fortnight anyway, so I’ve given them a little leaving gift – I suspect it will be translated immediately into either cheap flights, or a lot of alcohol. She said there’s a villa there they can stay at?”
“Yes. It’s not mine, it’s her godfather’s – one of my work colleagues. It’s in a nice, quiet part of the island. More of a cocktails-by-the-pool vibe than getting off your head and dancing till six a.m.”
“I’m sure one could lead to the other if they were determined.”
“True. We’ll just have to hope not, or we’ll be in for a lot of sleepless nights. Anyway. How do you feel about it?”
“I’m okay,” I reply, knowing exactly what he means. “Dan and James are here for a bit, though I suspect both of them have their own plans too. I’ll be busy with the café once the school holidays start. I’m… well, I’ll be all right. What about you?”
He shrugs, and can’t quite hide the sadness in his eyes. I see him try, though, and recognise the gesture. Us parents get very good at hiding our sad moments.
“I’d be lying if I said the last few weeks haven’t been a bit of a let-down on the whole ‘spending quality time with daughters’ front – they’ve basically both been too busy. But this is what life looks like now, isn’t it? And that’s good, I want them to be busy. I want them to have friends and jobs and plans, and not to feel obliged to set aside time for their ancient dad. Besides, it’s beena lot of fun in other ways. I got to hang out with this cool chick I used to know back in the day.”
“Really? I bet she was awesome.”
“She was. In fact I’ll miss her when I go back to London.”
“Well, a wise woman would probably point out that London isn’t exactly Timbuktu?—”
“Which is in Mali, did you know that?”
“Funnily enough I did, yes. Anyway. You can visit – we won’t ban you from the village or anything. And I’ll probably be in London more seeing Sophie anyways, so we can always meet up again. When are you heading back?”
“Well I can be flexible. Technically I have five days left, so I’ll play it by ear. If it works out I can give the girls a lift to the airport.”
“Ah. So you have time for your date with Susan, then?”
Susan is the woman he contacted from the dating app. The one with the perfect hair and the slim figure and the annoyingly warm smile. I’d quite like to hate her, but she looks too nice.
“Yeah, maybe. We’ve been chatting and she knows I’m not down here permanently. She still seems quite keen on meeting up though.”
Of course she does, I think, schooling my face into a neutral expression. She must think she’s hit the jackpot – Zack is, as Archie said, a silver fox. He’s hugely attractive, clearly successful, and as far as I know has all his own teeth. He’s quite the catch.
I do hate her, I decide – I don’t care how nice she looks. This is not the most mature of responses, I know. In fact it’s a very silly reaction for any number of reasons. I have no claim whatsoever on Zack, and it should be irrelevant to me who he dates. We are just friends – although I must be an especially bad friend. He has done his best to encourage me to go on dates andlook for happiness, whereas I am secretly hoping that when he meets Susan, she will have crippling halitosis.
What kind of monster am I? I don’t have the courage to tell him how I feel, but I still don’t want him to see anyone else, at least while he’s here. It’s hypocritical and cowardly, which are two words I don’t especially like to associate myself with.
“Anyway,” Zack says, finishing off his drink and then stifling a yawn. “I’m going to head up to my room for a bit. Bear needs a nap.”
“Are you sure it’s Bear who needs a nap?”
I have noticed that Zack is a real fan of naps, and often disappears for a quick midday slumber.
“Yep, for sure. I’m a human dynamo. It couldn’t possibly be that I’m exhausted after a day of keeping up with my super-fit, annoyingly energetic daughter… um, are you doing anything later?”
“As you’ve spectacularly failed to get Henry Cavill here, no.”
“Marcy said the younger lot are heading out for the night – something about a music festival on a farm?”
“Ah. Well, ‘music festival’ is a slight exaggeration, but it does make it sound a lot more exciting. Ged – he of the Funky Farmhands – has organised it. His parents run a dairy farm nearby, and he’s always keen to diversify. I think he has in mind that he’s creating the next Glastonbury, and this year is a soft launch – lots of local bands, two stages, kegs of ale and free camping.”
