The Holiday Home Page 0,89

Belinda had designed a large party zone, marked out as a square by bamboo canes pushed upright into the sand. She had tied washing line all around the tops and on to that had looped balloons and fairy lights. Along one side of the square was Merlin’s disco. He had a laptop, decks, huge speakers, lights and a bubble machine going. Opposite him on the other side of the square was Pearl’s ice-cream caravan and the long buffet table, now holding the chilli and salads.

Belinda found Greg and Francis and ordered them back to the house to get the rest of the food. She went over to Merlin. ‘Have you got a microphone in case of speeches?’

Merlin picked a hand mic up and twirled it like a gunslinger. ‘Sure do, beautiful Belinda with the big bosoms.’

She really wasn’t in the mood. ‘Merlin, you are a moron.’

Abi came running up to her. ‘Where are the pink skirts? All the girls want to wear one.’

‘In those black plastic bags under the food table. There’s a bag of blue Neptune crowns for the boys too.’

Abi kissed her. ‘You’re a star!’ And dashed off.

Half an hour later most of the guests had arrived and Merlin’s music was hitting the spot. A mixture of seventies classics and the latest dance music got all the partygoers moving.

Merlin watched Pru as she sat at the edge of the throng, nursing a glass of wine. It brought back memories of the party on the beach in Newquay all those years ago, when he’d spotted her sitting apart from the crowd, aloof, contained.

He rolled a cigarette and cued up a couple of very long tracks to play on his laptop, then he went and sat next to her.

She looked at him and shuffled to the other end of the rock she was sitting on.

‘Like old times, eh?’ he said, lighting his cigarette. The loose strands of tobacco lit up like dry tinder.

She glanced at him again and then turned back to watch the dancers.

‘It was at a party like this that we first got together, remember?’

‘Hmm.’ She still wouldn’t look at him.

He blew some smoke rings into the air and asked, ‘How about a dance?’

Now she did look at him. ‘With you?’

‘Yep. I don’t see anyone else asking.’ He looked around him and side to side. ‘Do you?’

Pru couldn’t help but laugh. ‘No thanks.’ She got up, leaving Merlin looking pleased with himself, and wandered down to the sea, slipping her sandals off and enjoying the cold water on them in the warmth of the evening.

The painful memories came flooding back.

*

After their first night together, he disappeared for ten days. She hung about near Atlantic House and the beach, refusing to join the family on trips into Trevay or Plymouth.

Her mother soon grew annoyed with this state of affairs. ‘I would like to spend some time with you, Prudence. If you won’t join us on our trips out, you will at least help me run some errands.’ Dorothy passed her daughter a lengthy shopping list just as Connie walked by. ‘Constance?’

‘Yes, Mum.’

‘Why is your sister mooning about, refusing to leave the house?’

‘She’s fallen in luurve.’

Dorothy sniffed. ‘Oh, is that all. A holiday romance. Who is the boy?’

Pru looked daggers at her sister, who blithely continued: ‘She met him at that beach party in Newquay. He’s called Merlin and he’s an odd-job man in the winter and a lifeguard in the summer.’

Pru shouted at Connie, ‘He’s not an odd-job man! He’s a labouring builder. There’s a difference, you know.’

‘No there isn’t.’ Connie stuck her tongue out.

‘You’re just jealous because you fancy him yourself!’ snapped Pru.

Connie blushed furiously.

Dorothy stepped in. ‘Whatever he is, don’t tell your father.’ She gathered up her handbag and car keys. ‘Come along, Pru. Stop brooding about young Lochinvar and come push a trolley round the supermarket with me.’

Sullenly and speaking in words never more than one syllable in length, she did the shopping, packed it into her mother’s car, unpacked it into the larder and fridge, then, as soon as was humanly possible, she escaped out of the house and back down to the beach.

It was late in the day by this time and the young families were packing up to leave. A few hardy stalwarts were starting to light small portable barbecues. Pru walked miserably down to the waves, her head hanging low, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her shorts. Feeling the prickle of tears, she angrily wiped her eyes on the sleeve