Charlie Dillon was in full swing on the family stall at the Saturday market. ‘Order your Christmas veg in now, ladies,’ he shouted out to the queue that was forming. ‘No need to travel to Belgium, madam, the finest Brussels sprouts are here, go well with your turkey stuffing.’ He gave a cheeky wink when he said the word ‘stuffing’. ‘And don’t miss out on our very own five-star Savoy cabbage – the very same those chefs use at the Savoy Hotel in London, don’t you know.’ The queue was entertained as usual.
Darren tore down the back stairs on his way to the ferry quay.
‘Dad,’ he acknowledged tentatively as he walked by the laden stall. An expressionless Charlie just cocked his head at his son and carried on serving his customer. A strained-looking Pat Dillon put a fake phone to her ear and mouthed at the young man, ‘Call you later.’
‘All right, Kara?’ Charlie shouted across to her when he had a breathing space. She was busy arranging her Christmas wreaths at the base of her stall. ‘Did you hear that Tasty Pasties is up for sale? Never thought I’d see the day when Philip Gilmour would hang up his pink apron and let someone else have a go. Rumour has it he’s found a new fella and is running off into the sunset with his pasty fortune. Each to their own, I guess.’
Kara took in this comment and gulped. She had minded her own business about his falling out with Daz, mainly to keep the peace as much as possible with the rest of the Dillon family, but it seemed somehow strange that he could talk openly about another gay man, but not be accepting of his own son’s sexuality. She calmed herself. ‘You interested then?’ she quipped.
‘Nah, he’s not my type, darlin’.’
‘Ha ha.’ Kara made a funny face at the bald middle-aged man. ‘I meant about the shop!’
Beside her, working at her own stall, Star was putting the finishing touches to her display. Despite all the drama, she had still managed to get her Christmas collection together, the various bespoke pieces gleaming beneath the sparkling lights she had positioned all around them. She had given up on messaging Conor, who had chosen to ignore her for days. She hadn’t seen him once going backwards and forwards to work down at the ferry and there had been no sign of him in Frank’s. She was saddened that he really was being so adamant in his avoidance of her. She missed him. He had become such a big part of her life and now, with no contact at all, her days felt empty again. Especially now with the worry of her mother still being in hospital.
‘You all right, Mum?’ Skye called from the Passion Flowers stall next to hers. ‘Kara has asked me to pop down to Frank’s to get coffees and bacon rolls. Do you want anything?’
‘Ooh. I’d love one of his warm bacon and cheese croissants, please. Here, let me give you some money.’
‘Don’t be silly, I’ll get it. Coffee too?’
‘A decaf please, plenty of milk.’
It had been such a relief when her daughter took the revelation of her father’s identity in such an adult way. Star had spared no punches with the story, had told her exactly how it was and who he was. And that she had heard on the grapevine that the man in question had gone to live in Australia with his family around ten years ago. ‘I couldn’t bear you feeling like I do now, not having any clue at all who my father was,’ she had told her daughter, adding that if Skye were to contact him, whilst respecting his existing family, then that was her choice, but she needed to be prepared for rejection if she did so. The wise seventeen year old had just held her mum’s hand and told her how sorry she was that her father had been such a bastard, and how lucky she was to have Star as the best single parent a daughter could ask for. She had also been completely cool about her mum having a baby, was very excited, in fact, at the thought of a tiny brother or sister. And when Star told her that the child was Jack’s, Skye hadn’t batted an eyelid. Had said that she thought Conor was great, but that whatever happened, her mum should follow her heart. It had made Star burst with pride that she had brought up such a balanced and thoughtful individual.
Star turned her heater up under her stall and put both hands on her bump. She had stared at the image on the screen during the scan and couldn’t quite believe, despite what the midwife had told her previously, how far along the pregnancy was. When asked if she wanted to know the sex, she had declined, same as with Skye. She preferred the element of surprise and the lack of preconceptions in her mind of what her hoped-for little boy would be like. She and her baby would meet each other in March for the first time properly. A feeling of warmth engulfed her at the thought. A new little bundle of joy to love and cherish and one she had wished for, albeit not in quite these circumstances.
Just having the scan in itself had been sobering. With Skye, her mum Estelle had been involved all along the way. She hadn’t seemed quite such a drunk then, or maybe she was and at sixteen years old it hadn’t been so obvious to Star. Estelle had been moved back to Penrigan Hospital now and was hopefully going to be allowed back home in a few days. Star would call her at lunchtime to see how she was getting on and ask when would be a good time to visit.
Kara’s Christmas wreaths were flying off the stand. ‘Great idea to make all those up in advance,’ Star called over to her.
‘I know,’ Kara replied. ‘At this rate I’m going to have to ask Skye to do some more when she comes back from Frank’s. How are you feeling today?’
‘Good, thanks. Cold as usual.’
‘Shit, I forgot to give you this! I’m so sorry. Billy gave it to me last night.’ Kara handed her mate an orange envelope. ‘It’s from Conor.’
Inside was a card with a dolphin on the front and the words: I’ve been an eejit the past few days, sorry. Let’s talk. Pop up after the market. I’ll be home by five.
‘Well?’ Kara was on tenterhooks.
Star put her hand to her heart. ‘I’m going to see him later.’
‘Good. I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Jack?’
‘Why would I? He thinks I’m pregnant with another man’s child. Not exactly a catch in his eyes.’
‘I think you should tell him.’
‘No! I told you, I don’t want a pity plea from any man, and he actually said out loud that he was a changed man and must get back to Riley. What a mess!’ Star thought sadly back to her auntie’s wise words: Between what is said and not meant, and what is meant and not said, most of love can get lost.
How true were those words and how common in relationships. It was ironic really that the one person you shared all your deepest darkest secrets with, not forgetting bodily fluids, was generally the person you communicated with the worst. And then, after many angry words that you didn’t mean, you would split up, and the person you had once been so close to became a stranger. There must be a graveyard in the sky full of misunderstandings, regretted words, and lost romantic hopes and promises.
But it was Star’s fear of complete abandonment that had been the narrative of her life. She had lived it avoiding the crossfire of emotion; not saying how she felt, because sometimes just believing that she wasn’t good enough for someone to want her was easier to accept than the fear of somebody actually telling her that she wasn’t.