In the end, Poppy decided to go to the funeral, not so much for Dan, as for his dad. She wanted to pay her respects to a man she had liked a lot. If she had to go back to the Midlands, she could also spend a little time with her own family who she missed more than she dared to admit. It was the first time she’d been back since opening the Starfish Studio, and she braced herself for an emotional few days.
Like all funerals, the best that could be said, was that it was now over, thought Poppy as she lay awake that night in the spare room at her parents’ bungalow. Dan’s family had asked her to travel in the lead car and sit in the front row and she hadn’t liked to refuse them even though it had felt decidedly awkward. Dan had insisted on holding her hand in the car and as they followed the coffin into the church. Everyone must think they were together again, and a few of his relatives went so far as to tell Poppy how glad they were. Dan didn’t try to explain, leaving Poppy in total limbo, wondering whether she should contradict him directly or simply let it go, considering the occasion.
Never mind, she would soon be back on St Piran’s. She couldn’t leave the studio any longer. There was still almost three months left of the season, even though Fen reassured her that things were ticking over while she was away. She had found a space on the new helicopter shuttle in a few days’ time, leaving her a chance to catch up with her parents, and with Zoey and her other friends.
Zoey met her for a drink the next evening in one of their old haunts. They squeezed into a booth away from the bar and Zoey told her about a disastrous Tinder encounter and a promising date she’d had with a personal trainer from the health club who she claimed looked like Aidan Turner. Poppy laughed almost continuously and it felt so good after the gloom of the past few days. Missing regular catch-ups with Zoey and her family was the biggest downside of being on St Piran’s and was a serious temptation to move back home.
Zoey soon turned from her own love life to Poppy’s.
‘Are you OK? Dirty Dan turning up at the studio must have been a shock,’ she said.
‘You can say that again.’ Poppy sipped her cocktail. She was struggling to hear Zoey above the hubbub in the bar from the music and scores of raised voices. It was rammed with people and she wasn’t used to the level of noise or crowds of people after the quiet of St Piran’s. On one level, she’d missed the buzz; on the other, she found it almost oppressive.
‘I’m a bit surprised you came back with Dan for the funeral,’ said Zoey.
‘It was more for Pete and his family’s sake than Dan’s, although he was in a terrible state, what with his dad and Eve leaving him.’
‘I was amazed when you told me she’d thrown him out but it serves him right …Oh God, I hope he’s not trying to get you back, is he?’
Poppy didn’t want to tell Zoey that Dan had said he still loved her. She knew exactly how her friend would react, so she laughed it off. ‘There’s no chance.’
‘I bloody hope not … and what about Jake? Have you heard from him?’
‘Not for the past few days, but he’s probably stuck in some remote place in the jungle. I’m not waiting on his every email.’
‘Oh really?’ Zoey shook her head, then said gently, ‘I admire you so much, Poppy. What you’ve done: making a new life for yourself after what Dan did to you – well, it’s amazing. I might sound bossy, but that’s ’cos I love you and I don’t want anyone or anything to mess up what you’ve achieved.’
‘Don’t worry. They won’t,’ said Poppy, but from the doubtful expression in Zoey’s eyes, she wasn’t sure she’d convinced her friend completely.
The next morning, she’d only just finished booking her rail ticket south when Dan called to meet her for a ‘chat’. Even though she was apprehensive about what he might have to say, she needed to face it head on. Besides, she was leaving the following morning so it was their last chance to talk face to face. How would he react when she told him she was going back to Scilly? Not that it should matter to her; after all he was one who’d left her.
Fen phoned to see how she was. Poppy picked up the call, crossing her fingers that there had been no more cat-related floods.
‘Is everything OK at the Starfish? How’s Leo?’
‘Everything’s tickety-boo. And Leo is a little monkey. He brought a dead goldcrest into the studio yesterday and dropped it right on the toes of Minty’s snakeskin boots. She screeched like he’d committed a murder in front of her.’ Poppy could hear the chuckle in Fen’s voice. ‘She actually came over to bring some more of her bits and pieces, though it was more like a royal visit. I’m sorry to say they’re selling very well and didn’t she let me know about it. I half wish no one would buy them.’
‘It is a m-mixed blessing,’ said Poppy, laughing as she pictured Leo delivering his ‘gift’ for Minty. ‘I can’t say I’m sorry I missed her although I’ve noticed she hasn’t been calling in as much since Jake left.’
Fen chuckled. ‘Hmm. By the way that Tim – the Phantom Crocheter – was here and complained that Rowan’s latest bowl range was obscene, but I feigned all innocent, told him I’d no idea what he meant and asked him to explain. I thought he was going to have a heart attack trying to tell me why Rowan’s pot was so rude and then he started to back-pedal like the clappers. Maisie and Jess were here, and they were wetting themselves too and Tim made a sharp exit.’ Fen tutted loudly. ‘Some people are such old fogeys. The things they get worked up about – a few saucy pots – when there’s so much real horror in the world.’
‘I know,’ Poppy said, she could hardly speak for laughing. The Starfish Studio, she realised, made her smile. St Piran’s made her smile. For all its quirky and often frustrating ways, she missed it. ‘I wish I’d been there, Fen. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. I can’t thank you enough for holding the fort.’
‘I don’t mind, honestly. Now it’s not my responsibility and I can dip in and out when it suits me, I enjoy working in here. It’s like having a grandchild you can hand back at the end of the day. Not that I’ve had any, of course.’
‘Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it and thanks again,’ said Poppy. She had a pang of sympathy for Fen. She didn’t know if Fen had ever wanted children of her own or not; it was wrong to assume that she had. However, judging by those drawings of Archie’s, she was convinced that she’d had at least one love affair and that it hadn’t ended happily. In that way, she and Fen were kindred spirits. There might be almost fifty years between her and Fen, but they had a lot in common. Fen had a young and generous spirit and Poppy hoped she was that open-minded and fun to be with when she was almost eighty.
‘How’s your man doing?’ said Fen. ‘It must be hard for him, on his own.’
Poppy cringed. ‘Dan’s OK, I think, considering. I’m fine. I’m looking forward to coming home,’ she added, just in case Fen hadn’t got the message that Dan was definitely not ‘her man’.
‘Don’t worry about the studio. I’m managing and everyone’s chipping in.’
‘I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘Oh, you’ll be able to too soon enough. We’re notching it up on your account, ready for when you come home.’
After saying their goodbyes, Poppy put down the phone and looked around the sitting room. Her parents had redecorated after she’d gone to university but a few traces of her youth remained. A photo of her with her friends on graduation day and a watercolour of a Cornish harbour she’d bought while she was working in the craft centre. The room focused her mind on how much had changed since those days – before she’d even met Dan – but also on her ties to home, the love she had for her parents and how much she missed Zoey. Had she tried to take too many steps, too soon after Dan had left?
In the space of a few minutes, her mood had switched from gloom to hope and back to gloom again. Fen’s reports of the studio and island life had briefly set her back on track: she’d been looking forward to returning to the Starfish and kick-starting her new life. Now, she didn’t know where home was any more.
The Canalside Café was a cheerful sight with its brightly painted narrowboats chugging past the red-brick cottages and pub. She and Dan had cycled there many times from their Staffordshire home in happier days and Poppy felt it was a place that might lift Dan’s spirits and also one where they could find private space to talk.
Lime and willow trees overhung the canal and she noticed that the leaves were tinged with yellow and a few were floating on the water canal. A slight hint of autumn was definitely in the air here in the Midlands, while it still seemed high summer on Scilly.
When Dan turned up, they ordered a coffee and a cake each – although Poppy had little appetite – and managed to bag an outside table next to the towpath. With cyclists, dog walkers and families, the café and towpaths seemed packed to her. It was such a contrast to the studio, where half a dozen visitors constituted a crowd.
They talked about the wake and even shared a few smiles at some of the off-colour jokes and dodgy anecdotes that Dan’s elderly uncle had related when he’d had one too many whiskies. Poppy didn’t mention that some of his relatives had asked if she and Dan were back together.
‘Mum’s invited me to fly over to Auckland in November to visit her. She said she’ll pay for my ticket,’ said Dan.
‘That sounds exciting. It’ll be a great experience,’ said Poppy, pleased that he sounded keen to take his mother up on the offer. With the distance between them, he hadn’t seen that much of her over the past few years.
He nodded, then seemed distracted by a narrowboat idling alongside them and people shouting as it manoeuvred into the lock. Poppy gave him time, but the goose bumps were raised on her arms. She had a feeling something was coming … and that she might not like it.
He turned back to look at her. ‘You could come with me, you know.’