Star had nearly finished setting up her stall and was hoping that a busy Friday market would help her take her mind away from her situation. Opposite, Charlie Dillon was tipping a pile of ready-cooked beetroot into a large bowl. His usual black beanie hat with an embossed carrot on the front was pulled well down over his ears and he was looking preoccupied.
Star went across to select an apple for breakfast. She had got over her feelings of queasiness on waking earlier this morning.
‘No Daz today, then?’ she asked casually. Star was finding it really hard to understand Charlie’s reaction to his son coming out. If Skye were to tell her she was gay, Star knew she would embrace it – and her – with open arms.
‘No, he’s down on the quay what with our Billy being away.’
‘Ah, right. I’ve missed his smiley face in the market lately.’
Pat Dillon was putting a handwritten Organic Parsnips sign at the front of a pile of the vegetables. She looked pained as her husband said darkly, ‘Yeah, well, he’s made his choice.’
‘We all make choices, Charlie, and they’re not always ones that other people agree with. You see, now Skye is a teenager, I’ve begun to realise that a bit of wiggle room is required, especially where so much is at stake.’ She picked a juicy Orange Pippin off the front of the stall, and placing a 50p coin on the green baize cloth in front of her, walked back to her own stall, head held high. Was it any of her business? No, it wasn’t. But Darren was a friend and via Kara she had heard just how much he was hurting from his father’s response or lack of it.
Back in the workroom, a couple of text messages beeped in. One was from Conor saying, Hello stranger, fancy some Friday night fun? But all of a sudden the fun felt like it had to stop. Sex with him was joyous and spontaneous, but the creation of a new human being could, ironically, spell the end of both of those things. She took her gloves off to answer.
I promised Auntie Flo fish and chips as it’s Friday
Spoilsport! How about after?
I need to be up uber early for Saturday market day too
The Irishman went quiet. The other message was from Estelle. Star had made no contact with her mother since her outburst, had ignored her messages and calls knowing that if she answered when she was still feeling so angry, she might end up never seeing Estelle again. And that was something she didn’t want to happen.
Star, it’s me. I’m sorry x
Star reread the text. Estelle Bligh had never apologised to her in her whole life. Overwhelmed with both the response and the hormones now juggling around inside of her, Star started to cry. Rather than having a go at Charlie, maybe she should be less of a hypocrite and deal with her own problems first. Who was she to judge the man? They were not her feelings, nor her battle. She looked at her mum’s text again. Yes, sorry sometimes was the hardest word to say, but with the fragile state she was in at the moment, Star knew that she needed to sort herself out and be feeling calm before facing the dramas to come. She and her mother had said some dreadful things to each other, but Estelle had hurt her badly and Star wasn’t quite ready to forgive.
Star decided she would let her mother stew for a little while longer and reply when she was good and ready. And when the time was right, they could re-establish their skewed relationship equilibrium as they had done countless times before.
A new customer had just come in. Wiping her eyes, she put on a false smile and came out towards the counter.
There in front of her, his face hidden completely by a bunch of flowers, was Conor. He pulled the bunch down as if playing peek-a-boo with a child and just stared at her for a second, then realising she had been crying he dropped the gift on the counter, leaped over the counter gate and pulled her into a huge bear hug. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘I knew something was wrong.’
‘It’s OK. I had a row with my mum, that’s all.’ Star couldn’t stop the tears from coming again. He continued to hold her. ‘I need to get outside and man the stall,’ she said weakly.
‘They’ll come in if they want anything and the only suspected criminal around here is me so I doubt if anyone will steal anything.’
Star broke free. ‘Sorry. It’s just, my dad died, and I know I didn’t know him, and the row with Mum was big and—’ She stopped.
‘And?’
Star bit her lip. She just couldn’t say the words. Instead: ‘I’m tired, Conor. I just need a good night’s sleep.’
There was relief in his voice. ‘I’m so sorry to hear about your Da, that’s very sad. Do you want to talk about it?’
‘Not now.’
‘OK,’ he said gently. ‘How about I leave you be for a couple of days and, weather dependent, we meet for a walk on Sunday? It’ll have to be after lunch as we are running the ferry till one o’clock. We could see if our old mate Phocoena phocoena is up on the Head, maybe?’
Star managed a grin. ‘I’d like that … and Conor, it’s not because I don’t want to see you, it’s …’
Conor held his hand up. ‘No need to explain. We all need some time out. Daz asked if I fancied a drink tomorrow night, so I will have a few of those cloudy numbers with him, so I will.’ He grinned, jumped back over the counter gate into the body of the shop and picked up the beautifully wrapped bunch of flowers. ‘Here y’are,’ he said. ‘Stargazer lilies for the brightest little Star in Ferry Lane Market.’
‘Aw, look at you being all romantic.’ Star put her nose to them. ‘They are gorgeous, thank you.’
‘No, you are gorgeous and thank you for being just the way you are, tears, tantrums and tiaras included.’
‘Even Auntie Flo told me that you will have kissed the Blarney Stone.’
‘Well, you can tell Auntie Flo only the very lucky few receive my gold star jibber-jabber.’
Star smiled. ‘I must pop over and see her later. Get her fish and chips.’
‘Can’t Skye do it again this week if you’re tired?’
‘No. It relaxes me, seeing her and Boris.’
‘Boris? Don’t tell me she’s found a fella!’
‘No, he’s her potty-mouthed, or rather potty-beaked, swearing budgerigar. Proper hilarious, the things he comes out with. I should video him on my phone so you can hear.’
‘Well, maybe I can come up and meet the pair of them in the flesh and feathers one of these days. And the legendary Estelle, of course.’
‘Then you would run for the hills.’
Conor leaned across and kissed Star’s forehead. ‘Nah. I’m not going anywhere. See you Sunday and no more tears, OK?’
As he disappeared back down through the crowds now forming in Ferry Lane Market, Star noticed the Oscar Wilde quote on the card she had put up on the shelf beside her: The very essence of romance is uncertainty. She thought it wasn’t only the essence of romance that was uncertain, the very essence of bloody life was too.