‘Now that can’t be true, Auntie, or you would have gone years ago too.’

  Florence Sibley tutted, then went to the stove to take out their dinner. They sat at the kitchen table with Star even letting her say grace without a word.

  When she’d finished what she could manage of the large portion, Flo put her hand on top of her precious great-niece’s. ‘This old table has seen family present and past laugh, cry, debate, sing and be merry. And it shall carry on doing this, way into the future. When I go, promise me you’ll find a place for it somewhere in your life, where its secrets can soar.’

  ‘I promise,’ Star said, and she meant it. ‘Thank you for being such a constant in my life, Auntie Flo. But don’t you be going anywhere anytime soon, please.’

  ‘You were the daughter Jim and I longed for ourselves and I am so very proud of you.’

  Star looked sad. ‘Everything will be all right, won’t it, Auntie?’

  Florence Sibley nodded. ‘Of course it will. And if it’s not all right, then it is not yet the end.’

  ‘Amen!’ Boris shouted from under his cover.

  Chapter 35

  Jack sat on the sofa eating leftover pizza for his Sunday lunch. His head hurt from the too many beers he had consumed whilst watching rubbish Saturday-night television. He took a sip of his now cold coffee, and gagged. Getting up, he threw open the balcony doors and, not caring about the freezing rush of air, he stared out at the view. It was a surprise to him to note just how many boats were sailing up and down the wide estuary waters. Was there such a thing as Sunday boaters, like Sunday drivers? It wasn’t something he could say he fancied in this weather. Although when the sun did pop through, it did feel quite warm on his face. Maybe he should try it before he knocked it. He was sure he had never had this negative attitude towards stuff before he met Riley.

  He looked back at his laptop, open at his most recent screenplay. Writing was hard. The screenplay he’d been working on last time he was here had received countless rejections, but he was determined to keep going. And now that he was feeling so miserable, the words for the new script were starting to pour out of him. The male lead was going through heartbreak and it was the first time in his life that Jack could honestly relate to that.

  Since overhearing Frank and Monique talking in the cafe on Friday he had decided that he would just hide out at Kara’s place until Sunday. When Star came in to feed James Bond, Jack had held his breath and hid under the duvet, praying that she wouldn’t hear his heart beating loudly beneath it. Just the sound of her sweet voice and kindness to Kara’s beloved cat made him realise why he was feeling this way. Once she’d left, he would sneak out on the balcony so he could maybe catch a glimpse of her either getting in her car or walking back up the hill to her flat.

  That morning, he had heard an Irish accent on the ferry and looking out had seen a tall, dark and very striking-looking man who he assumed must be Star’s new partner. The man was the complete antithesis of himself – a five feet eight and a half, pale-faced bearded man with slightly crooked lower teeth and now a scar on his right cheek. He had always felt that he was punching above his weight when he first saw Star – until they had connected over the Pascal quote, that is. And he had finally understood how true those words were, that his ex-girlfriend had written to him all those years ago. Because now, however much his head told him that he didn’t care about Star, that his life was in New York, the pull of his heart had been too great to ignore. Maybe he should just see her and tell her how he felt. He had to leave ridiculously early tomorrow; hit the road by 5 a.m. at the latest if he was to make his early afternoon Heathrow flight. So if he was going to do it, he had to do it today. In fact, he had to do it this afternoon.

  Just as he was about to come in off the balcony, he heard voices and laughter below. Realising who it was, he shot inside. Peering behind the curtain in a way Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple would have been proud of, he glimpsed the towering figure of Conor Brady swinging hands with the tiny, ethereal Star Bligh. They were chatting animatedly as they walked along the crazy-paved promenade, even stopping for a quick kiss before they pushed the door open to the Ferryboat.

  Jack slammed the balcony doors shut and kicked the large empty pizza box that was on the floor. How ridiculous had he been, to think that Star would be sitting waiting for him! In fact, he felt embarrassed and shocked that he could have been self-absorbed and obsessed enough to think such a thing. Star had known that he had a girlfriend. And not only had he blatantly gone back to Riley, but he had also ignored Star’s messages and then selfishly told her, via the third party that was Kara when he had bumped into her in New York, that he was sorry! No wonder the girl had moved on. He had given her no reason to do otherwise.

  Chapter 36

  Star wriggled on the pub seat to get comfy as Conor went to the bar of the Ferryboat to collect the two roast dinners they had ordered. She had found herself putting on leggings and a big jumper as she wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or not, but since she had found out she was pregnant it seemed like she was ballooning at a rate of knots. It was exactly what had happened to her with Skye. But she had been five months along when she had found out – after Estelle had seen the truth and told her.

  She was only a matter of weeks now, but looking at the size of Conor, this was sure to be a big baby. Star winced at the thought. Giving birth to Skye, a tiny five-pound baby, had been painful enough. And Star had forgotten her dislike of being pregnant too. At sixteen, unused to the bump that she thought just made her look fat, she would look in the mirror at her silhouette and cringe. And when all her school friends were dressing up to go to clubs, she was sitting at home in her joggers eating garlic mushrooms dipped in custard! Being older, it would be different this time, she hoped. The hardest bit was going to be telling Conor. Luckily, she had agreed to drive up to Penrigan Head for their walk after lunch, so she didn’t have to make an excuse for her lack of drinking at least. She had it all worked out in her head. Conor, suffering from a huge hangover after his night out with Darren, had insisted on food before they had their walk. So, with limited daylight, they needed to eat and get up there quickly. Her plan was to tell him where they had seen the dolphin and kissed. Set the mood. It would be fine, she kept reassuring herself.

  ‘Diet Coke?’ Star laughed when Conor returned to their table. ‘You must feel bad.’

  ‘I tell you, it’s that cloudy poison. I am never ever drinking it again.’

  ‘Are you sure you want to go for a walk?’

  ‘Yes, the sea air will do me good.’

  ‘We will need to eat and leave as it gets dark around four now.’

  ‘Sure, sure. I’m just going to inhale this whole plate of food, then I’ll be fine.’

  ‘How was Daz?’

  ‘He’s grand. Says he feels a whole lot better, now he’s being true to himself.’

  ‘Good, and did he mention his dad?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s not so good yet. He’s hoping with Christmas coming up that it may ease the situation.’

  ‘Families and Christmas.’ Star sighed. ‘We usually just go to Flo’s, me, Mum and Skye. Mum gets drunk and rude and is usually crashed out by the fire before five. Skye recently is just stuck to her phone, so me and Auntie are the only ones who end up watching the Queen’s Speech and playing silly games together.’

  ‘Thank heavens for Auntie Flo.’

  Star laughed. ‘Thank heavens indeed.’

  ‘I love my Irish family Christmases. I have three brothers and a sister. It’s quite a party.’ His voice became sad. ‘But I don’t always get to see my Niall any more.’

  ‘Aw, that’s tough, but wow having all those siblings. Being an only child has its advantages, but big celebrations is certainly not one of them.’ She looked him. ‘Will you go back to London for Christmas then?’

  Conor hesitated. ‘Unless I get a better offer, of course.’ He squeezed her knee under the table. ‘Pudding?’

  ‘Are you having one?’

  ‘It has to be apple crumble and custard for me.’

  ‘Just a bowl of custard would be good.’

  Conor laughed. ‘You are so sweet. Custard coming up.’ He returned to the table to find Star looking at her phone with an anxious look on her face. ‘What’s wrong, a stóirín?’

  ‘It’s my mum. She’s fallen over, thinks she might have broken something and wants me to go to her right now.’

  ‘That’s OK. I’ll come with you. Let me cancel dessert and settle the bill.’

  They pulled into the Hartmouth Head static home park slightly blue in the face as Conor had insisted that Star roll the roof back so he could not only see the beautiful coast-road scenery but also allow him some room to manoeuvre his six-foot two frame in her little Smart car.

  ‘Home sweet home.’ Star parked outside the only dark green unit.

  ‘Right.’ Conor got out of the car. He had no preconception of his girl’s mother or where she might live.

  Estelle Bligh was sitting on the sofa, drink in hand, with her foot lifted up high on to a cushion.

  ‘So here you are at last!’ she snapped ungratefully. ‘Did you bloody walk or something? I took some ice out of my drink and just put it on my leg and wrapped an old tea towel around. It’s sooo sore. Oh, hello, big boy.’

  ‘Hello, Mrs Bligh.’

  ‘It’s Miss and just call me Estelle, please.’ The drunk woman looked him up and down.

  ‘Mum! This is Conor. Conor, this is my mum Estelle.’ Star began to unwrap her mother’s foot. ‘How did you do it anyway?’

  ‘I was only wearing one shoe and I slipped down the decking steps. What I needed was a strapping young fella like you to land on, Conor. Steren! Ow!’

  The woman’s little toe was bright red and slightly swollen. Her breath was acrid with alcohol.

  ‘They can’t do anything for broken toes at the hospital even if there is a fracture, I don’t think,’ Star said, ‘so you’ll just have to rest it. Did you hurt anything else?’

  ‘Not that I know of. I think the vodka broke my fall.’ Estelle tipped her head back and laughed hysterically. ‘The vodka broke my fall, get it?’

  An apologetic Star looked to Conor who winked at her encouragingly and advised: ‘Just a plaster will do. Wrap it around the other toe to keep it stable.’

  ‘I forgot you were a Boy Scout.’ Star smiled, heading off to the bathroom cabinet to see if she could find a suitable Band Aid.

  ‘Well, my girl certainly knew how to pick a good father for her children. What beautiful babies you are going to make.’

  Hearing this, Star froze in the doorway of the bathroom.

  Conor gave a nervous laugh. ‘I’m very fond of your daughter, Estelle, but we’re not quite at that stage yet.’

  ‘Aren’t you? I think maybe she owes you a little chat.’

  As Conor gazed over at Star with a look of bafflement on his face, she threw the packet of plasters at her mother.

  ‘Refusing to tell me about my own father and even how he died was a pretty low blow but this, this tops even that,’ she shouted. ‘From now on you are dead to me!’ And she stormed out of the mobile home and into her car.

  Conor said a hasty goodbye to Estelle then ran off, calling, ‘Star, calm down, darling. Talk to me. It’s OK, it’s all right.’ He squeezed himself into the passenger seat.

  Without saying a word Star started the car and tore out of the park and on to the coast road. Ignoring Conor’s attempts at reassurance and emitting sounds which had never before come out of her, Steren Bligh drove, white-hot with rage, until she reached her chosen destination. Here she stopped and got out. On a cold Sunday afternoon in November with the dark gloam of the night sky already forming she made her way over to her thinking bench. Conor was right by her side.

  She looked out to sea as if the familiar view would soak up and whisk away the painful conversation she was about to have. With a massive sob, the words, ‘I am pregnant,’ flew out of her mouth and into the world, hitting the confused Irishman’s ears, causing his mouth to drop right open like some bizarre fairground attraction into which you throw balls.

  ‘How?’

  ‘Do you want me to draw you a picture?’ Star sobbed again. ‘I am so sorry, but we had the conversation about condoms, and I guess because we were having so much sex, whatever precautions we were taking didn’t work, did they?’

  ‘Feck!’

  ‘Are you angry?’

  ‘No, of course not, just a bit shocked, that’s all.’ He put his arms around her quivering shoulders then took his warm jacket off and wound it around her. ‘How far gone are you?’

  ‘I don’t know for sure. I’m going to the doctor’s on Tuesday.’

  ‘And how are you feeling?’

  ‘I feel fine so far. I was a bit sick after we had those oysters the other night, but I don’t think that was baby-connected.’

  ‘Do you want to keep the child?’

  ‘I had to talk to you first, but yes, I do.’ Before he could say anything Star began to gabble, ‘I know you’re a wanderer, I would never trap you. I can manage fine on my own.’

  Conor stood up and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Let me just take this in, OK, before you start saying things like that. Jesus, Star. I was just getting myself back on track.’

  ‘And that doesn’t have to stop. We’re not in the Dark Ages. I have a successful business. I don’t need your money, Conor.’

  ‘It’s not about money, is it? It’s about that little human being inside you that needs love and care and to be brought up correctly. And you definitely want to keep it?’

  ‘Please don’t ask me that again.’ Star stood up, his jacket slipping to the floor. ‘I want to go home.’

  With Conor now hunched up in the car with the roof closed, they travelled in silence back to Ferry Lane. Star parked up at the back of her shop, switched off the engine and put on the handbrake.

  Conor turned to her and put his hand under her chin. ‘I really do think the world of you, Star, and I mean that, but I just need to go into my own place and have a big think about this and digest it – and then we can work out what we both do with this news. Do you understand?’

  Star nodded. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Apologies not required. I was there, remember? It takes two, after all.’ He kissed her gently on the lips, looked down at her tummy then clambered awkwardly out of the car. As he walked up the stairs to his flat over the florist’s, he called back, ‘Give me a couple of days to get my head around everything. OK?’

  Star nodded again, then when he was out of sight she bashed her hands on the steering wheel and through gritted teeth repeated, ‘Damn Estelle! Damn bloody men! Damn getting bloody pregnant!’

  Chapter 37

  Star woke up when the alarm went and looked at the bedside clock. Seven thirty, good – she would have time to go and feed the cat over at Kara and Billy’s place and then get back to the shop. A text was already in her inbox from Conor. Morning beautiful mummy to be. Dinner at mine 7pm tomorrow. Heating will be on full, I promise xx. She smiled. She was always moaning to Conor that his place was never warm enough. And it was probably better to see him after she’d been to the doctor’s anyway, so they would have a definite due date of birth to work to.

  ‘Bye, Mum, see you in a bit!’ her daughter shouted as she left, slamming the front door.

  Star caressed her rounding tummy and felt worried about telling Skye. It could be even trickier than telling Conor had been.

  This should be such a happy time, but it was far from the ideal scenario. On paper: pretty girl meets handsome Irishman and they have a baby. The crucial bit missing from the story was: they fell in love with each other as their relationship developed.

  From the outside, it appeared that most couples seemed to do everything in the right order and in the right way. They got to know each other, fell in love, had the most gorgeous wedding, moved into a bright and airy home with a huge garden, popped out two adorable children, neatly spaced, with two sets of amiable and flexible grandparents who helped along the way. But did anybody really have the perfect life? Of course not. This was the unreality of ‘reality’ on social media, with its filtered experience that made even the most adequate feel inadequate. Once you turned off this fantasy, you saw that every single person was fighting their own battle to stay afloat in this ever-changing world.

  As Star stood under the shower, she thought about the families around her: were there any who fitted the perfection mould? The Dillons, who had been a tight unit, were now blown apart by the inability of Charlie to accept Darren’s sexuality; Kara’s mum had left her husband and younger child for another man; and even behind the bright smile of Mrs Harris from Tasty Pasties lay the memory of her husband dying in a fishing boat accident ten years previously. (Although Philip Gilmour, the owner, had once told Star in confidence that the man had been a bully anyway, and that was why Mrs H. was so relaxed and contented now.) There was always a backstory behind the front page.

  Life, Star decided – real life – was one big board game of Snakes and Ladders. First you were up, and then, just when the final square with 100 on it was within reach, you could land on a big snake and tumble all the way down to the first square again. Nothing was guaranteed in life. When happiness came along, it had to be grabbed with both hands and celebrated, bounced about with joy like a beach ball with friends on a sunny day.

  Before too long, Star was making her way down to Ferry View Apartments to feed James Bond. An hour had passed since she had woken up, and by now Conor would be over at the other side on the ferry crossing, which pleased her. She wasn’t ready to face him yet and the Airbnb guest would definitely be gone by now. Kara had messaged her last night to tell her that she and Billy had had the most brilliant time and to confirm that the guest was leaving at 5 a.m. today for his return flight. She wrote that she and Billy would pop in and see Star on their way back that evening. Star had been burning for her friend’s support but, not wanting to ruin her minibreak, had decided that telling her face-to-face was much the best option.