eyes. In reality, I probably looked like I had a squint.
‘I worked in events; planned parties, corporate retreats, that sort of thing. I wasn’t as good at it as I thought apparently; my boss fired me last week. She said I attract chaos wherever I go.’
Under normal circumstances, I’d be delivering sparkling conversation and found out his name, life story and inside leg measurement by now. However, I didn’t quite feel it was appropriate to flirt at my nana’s wake. I’d already caused a scene once without adding more drama to proceedings.
‘So not a miracle worker then? I could do with one of those right now; even a good accountant would be a start.’ He stopped for a second and laughed. ‘Listen to me banging on when it’s you who’s at a bloody funeral! I’m not like this all the time, I promise. Let me get you a drink and you can tell me about singing Big Yellow Taxi to the whole village. It sounds like a great story.’
‘How can I say no to that? A vodka and Coke for me please; you can tell me why you need a miracle worker.’
‘Coming right up, it’s a long story mind.’
‘I’ve got time to listen.’
Fitty McFitterson turned his back to fix my drink and I sneaked a peek at his bottom. Perky and round, I thought, and very squeezable.
He went to the back of the pub to fetch something. Just after he left, I felt the atmosphere of the pub darken. There was a presence of someone behind me and I just knew I wouldn’t like it. If I closed my eyes and wished myself away, perhaps I’d wind up back at my flat in London, safe from the world with a giant tub of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream…
No.
‘I didn’t expect to see you here today, Lucy.’
I turned round and saw the last person I wanted to see. My body instantly went into panic mode as I came face to face with her. Every inch of me began to shake and although my brain was screaming at me to run, I stayed rooted to the spot.
‘Hello Mrs Cunningham,’ I said in as calm a voice as I could muster. ‘H-how have you been?’
I worked up the nerve to look her in the eye and took a deep breath to brace myself. She was looking at me as though I was something unpleasant she’d trodden in with her expensive Gucci shoes.
‘Take a wild guess at how I’ve been. I’ll give you a clue: it hasn’t exactly been sunshine and rainbows recently. But then you’ll know exactly why that is, won’t you? Given that it’s all your fault.’ Her voice cut through the muted atmosphere like a blast of icy wind. I could feel my entire body shaking with fear. I’d desperately hoped I wouldn’t run into Mrs Cunningham. No such luck.
My heartbeat quickened as memories clamoured for my attention, ones I hadn’t allowed to surface for quite some time. I could feel a crimson blush creep into my cheeks and I desperately wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear.
‘Mrs Cunningham, I’m so sorry. P-please, you have to believe me, I didn’t set out for any of it to happen…’
She rolled her eyes and glared at me. ‘I thought you were down in London nowadays,’ she said coldly.
‘I-I am, I’m just up for Nana Lily’s funeral. I’m going back in a couple of days.’
Had it been anyone else, I’d have squared up to them and told them that my life was no business of theirs, but Mrs Maggie Cunningham was different. The animosity between us was rooted deep in the past and could never be healed. Not when so much had happened.
‘Quite right, you’ll want to get away from here as soon as possible won’t you? After all, we haven’t seen hide nor hair of you round these parts for a long time. From what I’ve seen, you can’t even be bothered to visit your poor mum and dad at Christmas. Smells like a guilty conscience to me.’
And with that Maggie gracefully glided off towards a group of people in the far corner of the pub. I watched as she embraced and laughed and engaged in conversation: none of those courtesies had been reserved for me. Her eyes locked with mine for a brief, chilling moment before they slid sideways as though I didn’t exist, like something had caught her eye and she’d turned to see what it was but found nothing there. I was a trick of the light, a spectre at the feast. The worst part of it all was that she was right. For the past eight Christmases, I’d made silly excuses to avoid coming back to Luna Bay and given my family no alternative but to visit me in London or send their presents by post. It hadn’t been the same as spending the festive season in Luna Bay of course, but it was what I’d resigned myself to. Maggie was right: I had a very guilty conscience.
Fitty McFitterson made his way back with a brand new bottle of vodka and came over with my drink.
‘Here we are, one vodka and Coke for Luna Bay’s answer to Joni Mitchell.’
By the time he’d reached the end of his sentence, I’d grabbed my bag and run out of the pub.
Time to go, I’ve made a huge mistake.
I ran home, mentally preparing myself to run away again. All I could think was that I had to get out of Luna Bay as quickly as possible. Seeing Maggie Cunningham had brought back every bad memory I’d tried to suppress and now it was time to leave.
When I walked through the door, I was greeted with a miniature version of Atlantis. Water was pouring through the light fitting in the hall, pooling on the carpet and spreading at a rapid rate. There was a huge damp patch on the ceiling that looked like it would burst open at any moment and when I poked my head round the kitchen door, I noticed water was spurting through the light fitting in there too. This was obviously Dad’s attempt at fixing the ‘minor plumbing problem’.
‘Dad?’ I called. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘Everything’s fine Luce!’ His voice was surprisingly sunny, considering his house looked like the venue for the Olympic swimming trials. ‘Just a bit of a problem upstairs, nothing to worry about!’
I wasn’t buying that for a second. I ran up the stairs and found Dad in the bathroom, ineffectually mopping a giant pool of water. It wasn’t hard to see where it had come from: the sink taps had been left on and it had overflowed.
‘Oh Dad, what have you done?’ I stared blankly at the mess and tried to stop a rogue giggle from bursting out of me. There were towels everywhere soaking up the water and Dad was acting like nothing had happened.
‘I was having a wash before the funeral when the phone rang and I forgot I’d left the taps running.’ He smiled and continued mopping. ‘See, told you there was nothing to worry about!’
‘I don’t think Mum’s going to see it that way! It’s like bloody Atlantis in here.’
Dad did a mock-scared face and shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’ll all come out in the wash.’ He laughed at his own joke then put his mop down. ‘It’s lovely having you back here, you know.’
I nodded, feeling a bit guilty that I’d come home to get my stuff and leg it again.
‘Yeah
