forward, she eased the wayward point of his shirt collar free and straightened it before letting her hand drop to smooth over the rough tweed covering the big heart which had given her all the love a girl could ever have needed growing up. ‘Ignore me, Dad. It’s nice to see you looking smart, that’s all. Take as much time as you need. Eliza’s still at a loose end, so she’s going to give me a hand with lunch club.’
Friday lunch club was a tradition her parents had started when they’d first opened their fish and chip shop on the seafront promenade at Lavender Bay. The tradition of eating fish on a Friday might have waned in popularity, but the pensioners still flocked through the doors for a bargain meal. Rain or shine, through the high heat of summer and the cold depths of winter, they turned up like clockwork and went away smiling with a small cod and chips, and a pot of mushy peas for those so inclined. What they lost in profits through the discounted price was more than covered by the return in numbers—and community goodwill.
It was not lost on either Libby or her dad that for some of their customers, lunch club was a highlight of the week. Nobody was rushed through their order, and on warmer days such as that morning they put a handful of folding tables and chairs outside the front door for those who wished to linger and share their meal.
Her father paled. ‘Oh, lovey, I forgot all about blooming lunch club when I made my appointment. I…I could put it off.’
This time she didn’t hide her sigh. ‘Give it a rest, will you? I can manage the shop with my eyes shut. It’ll do Eliza good to do something other than mope about the place.’ Libby scrunched her nose. ‘That sounds awful. I don’t mean it like that, I’m just really worried about her. Nothing’s been the same since she came home.’ Eliza, one of Libby’s two best friends, had recently split from her husband and returned to live with her parents who ran The Siren, the main pub a few doors along the promenade from the fish and chip shop. Her other best friend, Beth, lived next door in a flat over the shop she’d inherited earlier in the year.
Since leaving Martin, Eliza had been at something of a loose end and Libby worried that if she didn’t find her way soon she might think about leaving Lavender Bay again. Both she and Beth had moved away permanently following their university courses, leaving Libby alone. University had never been on the cards for her, not that she’d ever been that academically inclined to begin with. From the first moment the careers advisor had called her in to talk about the future, Libby had had only one answer: she would work alongside her dad in the chippy.
Though the loss of her friends’ physical presence had sat on her heart like a stone, she’d never felt jealous of them. Lavender Bay was her home, and she couldn’t imagine herself anywhere else. This was where her mum was: in every grain of sand upon the beach; in the cry of the wheeling gulls high over the rolling waves; in the weft and warp of Libby’s daily routines.
There was no denying her relief that both Beth and Eliza had returned to the bay, nor that she’d been completely lost without them. Oh, they’d each done their best to keep in touch with regular Skype chats and not-so-regular visits home, but it had only served to emphasise the difference between their lives. While they grew and expanded their life experiences through both successes and failures, like a fly suspended in amber, Libby’s life had remained resolutely the same.
And then there was her dad. Mick Stone had always hung the moon and stars for Libby, and his quiet strength had been the rock she clung to through the maelstrom resulting from her mother’s painful illness and eventual death when Libby had been barely 13 years old. Her resultant teenage rebellions as she struggled to adjust to their new status quo had bounced off Mick’s solid frame without seeming to make a single dent at the time. It was only as she grew older that Libby had begun to come to terms with just how difficult she’d made things for him.
Mick’s weathered face softened. ‘Poor Eliza, she’s been through the mill, hasn’t she? Let me get this business out of the way, and then I’ll pick up the slack here.’
She snorted. He wouldn’t know slack if it pinched his nose. No one worked harder than her dad. Though she did her best to ensure they split the work as evenly as possible, he was forever looking for an excuse to give her a break. She adored him for it, even as it drove her crazy. They were partners in crime, a team through thick and thin, though she didn’t plan on selling fish and chips for the rest of her life. The future she’d mapped out for herself lay under this roof, and her dream was to turn the chippy into a café and bakery. But those plans were for other days, and she was happy to bide her time until her dad decided he’d had enough and was ready to hand over the reins.
In spite of it being the hottest day of the year so far, lunch club had proven as popular as ever, and without Eliza’s help, Libby would’ve been rushed off her feet. With the fryers on, the heat inside the shop had been punishing, even with the little air-con unit on the back wall running at full blast. With the last customer served, she clicked off the power to the fryers and the heating cabinet then moved to stand beneath the air-con and let the cold air wash over her. Eyes closed, she stood there until the combination of the frigid air and her sweat-soaked T-shirt sent a shiver through her entire body.
‘Oh, that looks good.’ Opening one eye was almost too much effort, but Libby cracked a lid and watched as Eliza propped the folding chairs she’d been carrying against the wall then came to stand beside her. ‘Okay, I’m never moving from this spot.’ Eliza dragged the hygiene covering from her hair and gathered the mass of curls spilling loose in one hand to expose the nape of her neck to the chilly blast.
Since they’d been little girls, Libby had always envied Eliza for her hair. The curls always seemed full of life and vitality, not like the limp, brown mop her own hair would be without all the dye and gel. Picturing the horror show lurking beneath her hat, Libby shook her head. ‘How is it possible for you to work non-stop for two hours in Lavender Bay’s own version of Dante’s Inferno and still look like some pre-Raphaelite goddess at the end of it?’
Eliza laughed. ‘You must be joking. I caught sight of myself in that mirrored sign over there as I walked past, and my face is glowing like a neon sign.’
Libby didn’t agree but was too hot and tired to argue the point. With a healthy flush on her cheeks and a bit of life back in her eyes, Eliza looked better than she had since returning home. ‘Have you thought any more about what you want to do?’
Laughter fading, Eliza scrunched up her face. ‘Not a clue, but I’ll have to find something soon before Mum and Dad get too used to the idea of me being behind the bar again. It’s great to be home, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t fancy the idea of pulling pints for the rest of my days. Do you know what I mean?’
Not really. With the death of her mum, it had been only natural for Libby to step into her shoes and help her dad with the business. At first it had been a case of pitching in around their two-storey home above the shop, keeping the place clean so her dad didn’t stay up half the night doing chores after being on his feet all day. It had progressed to prepping the batter, stocking the cold drinks fridge and taking orders whilst Mick manned the fryers. The day he’d deemed her old enough to work them herself was still one of the proudest moments of her life. Not a grand achievement to most, but it had been a milestone on her path from adolescence to adulthood. She loved the shop, loved the ebb and flow of people’s lives through the door. Shared their triumphs and commiserated their disasters as she shook, and salted, and wrapped the food which kept them going at the end of a long day.
It was the people she loved the most. Her people. They came through that front door in good times and bad. If someone was having a hard time, it showed in the way their orders changed. When a regular customer reduced their order, her dad would often slip them an extra piece of fish or add another scoop of chips to their standard portion size. He greeted each and every customer with the same
