she? Here was a prime example why people should leave home and explore the world, thought Daisy. Staying here had turned Tamsyn into Ottercombe Bay’s answer to Phoebe Buffay from Friends, blurring the line between adorable and certifiable.
‘Where are you going next?’ asked Tamsyn, wide-eyed, cupping her tea with both hands. Daisy wished Tamsyn would blink more often – it couldn’t be good for her eyes. Daisy spotted Aunt Coral also looking at her intently; she felt under pressure to say something and oddly the need to impress.
‘Um, I’m not sure. Abroad again probably …’ She didn’t have the money right now but her long-term plan was definitely to travel more extensively. ‘South America,’ she blurted out. It was somewhere she had always wanted to go but living hand to mouth meant it was only ever going to be a pipedream.
Tamsyn’s mouth dropped open. ‘Wow, you are my absolute hero.’ She turned to Aunt Coral who gave a proud nod.
Daisy felt awkward and it showed on her face. She dropped her gaze to her teacup. She began to recall more about Tamsyn as her brain rearranged her archived memories. She remembered the little girl who followed her everywhere, who went beachcombing with her and liked to collect shells but screamed if she found a crab. She remembered sitting on the edge of the pavement watching the carnival procession together. She remembered them as gawky teenagers swigging cider behind the beach huts. She remembered a friend.
‘You not going to the carnival tonight?’ asked Daisy.
Tamsyn grinned. ‘I was on my way out when I spotted the motorbike.’
‘Sorry,’ said Daisy. ‘You shouldn’t miss it for me.’
‘Uh, no way. You’re far better than any crumby old carnival. I was only going to get a look at the men in uniform.’
Daisy recalled the officious bloke in the high-vis top. ‘Really?’
‘Oh, yeah. Police, firefighters, lifeboat crew, they all have floats in the carnival now.’ At the mention of lifeboat crew Aunt Coral and Daisy exchanged looks.
‘It’s a shame my brother couldn’t make it for the funeral,’ said Aunt Coral, her nose twitching slightly. Daisy noted the offhand reference to her father.
‘Dad’s really sorry. He sends his love though,’ said Daisy, who had hoped her father would have made the effort to attend but given he lived in Goa it was never really on the cards. Aunt Coral nodded her understanding.
‘Oh, I remember your dad. He rescued me once when I built this amazing sandcastle with a moat and I was so busy trying to keep the water out I hadn’t noticed the tide creep in and it was all around me and he waded out to save me,’ said Tamsyn, as she machine-gunned the story out.
Daisy smirked. ‘I remember that day. It was only ankle deep; you didn’t need rescuing at all.’ Daisy laughed.
Tamsyn pouted playfully. ‘Huh, I could have been swept away – the current here is very strong.’
Before she realised it, Daisy was deep in conversation as the memories flooded back. And for a change they were pleasant ones she was happy to recall. Time seemed to whizz by and Daisy was vaguely aware Aunt Coral was now walking around wearing pyjamas. She checked her watch, causing Tamsyn to look at the kitchen clock.
‘Crikey it’s late,’ said Tamsyn, making Daisy grin at the old-fashioned turn of phrase. ‘Mum and Dad will be wondering where I am.’ Getting to her feet Tamsyn gave Daisy another huge hug. ‘I am pleased you’re home,’ she added, then turned to Aunt Coral and kissed her cheek. ‘Bye. See you tomorrow.’
‘Yes, thanks Tamsyn.’
‘Tomorrow?’ asked Daisy as the sound of the porch door being vigorously shoved announced Tamsyn’s departure.
‘She comes around most days.’
‘Doesn’t she work?’
‘Oh yes, good little worker is Tamsyn, but it’s all a bit erratic at the beach café. They have school kids working there in the summer, pay them next to nothing and only have poor Tamsyn for the lunchtime rush.’
Daisy pondered this. She’d always thought her lack of being able to land a decent job was because of her frequent moves but it seemed even if she’d stayed locally she’d have been no better off. Her thoughts were invaded by a disgruntled-looking Bugsy rushing into the kitchen. He marched up to Daisy and shook himself. Daisy offered him a finger to sniff and he promptly wiped his nose on it.
‘Ew!’ Daisy recoiled, pulled a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her hand. Bugsy looked quite pleased with himself, he even gave a brief wag of his curly tail before he turned around and presented Daisy with his bum.
‘Right, I’m off to bed,’ said Aunt Coral, picking up the dog. ‘It is lovely to have you back even if it’s only for a few days.’
‘Oh yeah, that reminds me. What were you saying about me not being able to leave after the funeral?’
Aunt Coral’s eyebrows danced. ‘Oh yes. You need to stay for the reading of the will. Great Uncle Reg has left you something substantial – that was what the solicitor said. Night, love, see you in the morning.’ And with a fleeting kiss on the top of Daisy’s head she disappeared upstairs.
Daisy was woken by something scratching at her door. She was coming round, whilst wondering where she was, when the bedroom door sprung open and something burst in. Daisy leapt in fright but quickly realised it was only Bugsy. At virtually the same time the dog seemed to spot who was in the bed. He snorted his disgust and strutted out of the room. It seemed Bugsy’s wake-up calls would be a disadvantage of having a bedroom on the ground floor.
It was Monday morning, the day of the funeral. She had tried to talk to Aunt Coral about the will yesterday but she didn’t know anything more than she’d already shared except to say Daisy’s father, Ray, hadn’t been left anything because Reg had helped him out financially in the past and Ray had agreed he’d already had his fair share of any inheritance. This in itself had been a revelation to Daisy, but looking back her father had rarely had a stable job while she’d been growing up so the money they had lived on must have come from somewhere. Reg had always been generous to a fault, one of the many things she’d loved and admired about him.
She wondered what Great Uncle Reg had left her in his will. She thought back to the last time she’d seen him, it had been almost three years ago, shortly after she dropped out of university for the second time and she felt a twinge of guilt. He had seemed full of life despite his advancing years. She recalled his mane of grey hair and wayward beard that always seemed at odds with his otherwise smart appearance, which invariably included a cravat. He’d said something to her then about securing her future but she hadn’t paid much attention – she now wished she had, the suspense was killing her.
A light tap on the door pulled her from her thoughts. ‘Good morning. I’m glad you’re awake. Tamsyn will be here shortly and we’ve got a truckful of sandwiches to make for the wake,’ said Aunt Coral. ‘Or “pallbearers party” as Reg liked to call it,’ she added with a chuckle before she disappeared into the kitchen.
The
