around me, and twisted the fastenings back into place. ‘There you go. Good as new.’
Nell’s bobbing about picking up macaroons, oblivious of the developer disapproval. ‘And I thought you said you weren’t going to hook up with anyone? Now, Clemmie, are you finally going to introduce us all?’
From what I’ve seen so far I’d advise running a mile from Mr Hobson, not getting to know him better. But I know when I’m beaten so I grit my teeth and get on with it. ‘Charlie, this is the one and only Sophie May whose event this is, Plum owns the gallery, and Nell is St Aidan’s most prolific event organiser.’ Hopefully that covers it.
Nell’s straight in there. ‘Lovely to meet you at last, Charlie. Can we offer you some product samples?’
I smile at Sophie to cover up Nell’s blatant manoeuvre. ‘Mr Hobson’s big on coasts, if you’ve got any unspoiled coves I’m sure he’ll be happy to take those off your hands. Cosmetics not so much.’ I make it sound jokey for Sophie’s benefit, but I flash Charlie a dead eye so he knows it’s not.
Nell ignores me, senses Charlie’s hesitation and goes in for the kill. ‘You could always take some for your wife … or your girlfriend? That’s what the other men have been doing.’
Charlie puts up his hand. ‘No, I’m good, thanks.’ If Nell pushes far enough to ask if his mother might like some instead, I suspect he might implode.
Nell raises an eyebrow, digs down into her tail nets, and pulls out a leaflet. ‘In which case you may like to take this?’
Someone’s got to wind this up, and I suspect it’s going to be me. ‘You’ll have to excuse Nell, she’s a bit of an evangelist. When it comes to the Singles’ Club, she’s St Aidan’s fairy godmother, feel free to ignore her.’
Charlie looks like he can’t wait to escape. ‘I’m definitely not searching for a partner. But if you insist, some cleanser for my mum? Or a few more macaroons?’ Of three hundred guests, he’s the only person to take the swag and make out he’s the one doing us a favour. And still look miserable about it.
‘Our pleasure.’ Despite the knock back, Nell looks triumphant as she hands him his goodies.
He holds up his bag. ‘Thanks, it’s been great to meet you all, but I have a dinner meeting to get to.’ He’s wheeling out the fake ‘great’ again. The flicker of a smile on his lips is probably because he’s ecstatic to leave, but even that doesn’t reach his eyes. He turns to me. ‘Can I offer you a lift home – seeing as I defrocked you?’
There’s no harm in telling it like it is. ‘Thanks, but I don’t actually have a home. In any case, I’d probably rather swim.’ I’m clinging onto my mer-persona but being completely true to my human self here as I give him a goodbye wave.
Nell watches his back all the way to the door, then turns to me. ‘You two have a lot in common.’ She narrows her eyes. ‘Both defiantly single, both macaroon obsessed …’
He also has the biggest scowl this side of John O’ Groats. Which is only one of the hundred reasons I have to close this down. ‘That’s where it ends, okay? Shut up now, clam face.’
And that’s my first evening in St Aidan. Which is exactly why I can’t wait to leave.
In Trenowden, Trenowden and Trenowden Solicitors’ office
Peeling paint and sticky breakfasts
Thursday
‘Your grandmother was a great believer in matriarchal lineage.’
You know that thing where you’ve no idea what someone’s talking about? As the solicitor’s words float past me I gaze at Sophie, who’s effortlessly managed to nail looking cool and in control. Even though it’s barely nine and she’s bouncing Maisie on her knee, there’s not a crinkle in her perfectly pressed pale blue chinos, or the hint of that humungous hangover she’s penciled in for. Sophie’s the only person I know who could juggle a baby and a fistful of carrot sticks and still keep her top pristine white. I stare past her through the small paned window to the cottages clustering along the harbour’s edge. As the morning sun sparks off the water I blink away the shadow of a headache, curse those tricksy cocktail cups, and force myself to concentrate. ‘Sorry?’
Behind the desk, George Trenowden lets out a sigh. We only managed to wave at each other last night, but in the office, he’s way bigger than he looked across the gallery. This big blond bear of a guy apparently handles so much business for Sophie they’re on bestie terms. Even though Trenowden, Trenowden and Trenowden have been managing the tenanted flat since it was left to me all those years ago, the only other time I came to their office, the Trenowden I saw was a generation older and in Penzance. Although I’d say wrenching our hands off with his hand shake when we arrived came across as more painful than friendly. Despite my fingers still being in recovery, I’m crossing them tightly, hoping he was out on the deck when I lost my netting last night.
Even worse, what if he’s looking across the desk, and doing that thing where he can’t help seeing last night’s mermaid outfit superimposed on top of the flowery cotton dress I put on earlier, mistakenly thinking it was spring? This is why fancy dress should be banned. And why I make sure I move often enough to leave the embarrassing stuff behind. With any luck, in a minute he’ll say something I can understand.
‘The flat your grandmother left you, which is finally vacant? The reason you’re here?’ He cocks a pale eyebrow at me, checking I’m back in the room. ‘I understand Laura chose to pass it on to you rather than her grandsons.’
I shrug, fix my gaze on the toe of my suede ankle boot and spot what looks a lot like a soggy rice crispie cluster. Hurrah to Sophie’s kid’s and their overflowing cereal bowls, although organic and soaked in almond milk doesn’t help me here. As for the shoes, I know mine will be the only feet in St Aidan not in flip flops or baseball boots, but I had heels welded to my feet when I was fourteen so I’d look less dumpy. Even if St Aidan is a heel wearer’s minefield of granite steps and sand piles, for the short time I’m here I’ll work with them. And where do I put a piece of stray breakfast in a solicitor’s office? As I pick it off and close my hand around it, I’m wishing I’d kept my I’d rather be shoe shopping sleep shirt on, if only to express how much I’d rather be anywhere else than here.
It sounds ridiculous to say that me and my late grandmother weren’t related, but that’s how it is in my head. Mostly I know Laura from her neat pointy handwriting on parcels that arrived on every significant day throughout my childhood. She must have been one of those people who are great at buying presents because the contents were usually spot on. But the excitement was mostly eclipsed by how tetchy they made my otherwise happy mum. When Laura died and the flat unexpectedly came to me, I was too busy partying to take much notice. The rent covered the maintenance, the solicitors handled everything, and up until now I’ve managed to pretty much dodge the reality of being a property owner. As for the rest of Laura’s family details, I’m deliberately in the dark. For my whole life, I’ve made it my business to know as little about the Marlows as I can.
‘I’m not sure about her other grandchildren, she wasn’t my actual …’ I tail off, then as Sophie sends me a smile, I try again. ‘Apart from when I was small I never really knew her.’
My biological dad chose to jump the channel rather than be with my mum and me, but as the old saying goes, I didn’t miss what I never had. My mum was the best. With the two of us in our little cottage there really wasn’t space for a dad. And that’s why my extended mermaid family have always been so important to me. Then when I was five my mum fell in love with a man called Harry who was worth the trouble, so Harry’s the one I count as my real father. When someone has your back every moment while you’re growing up and beyond, that top trumps absent DNA a thousand times. Which is probably why I feel like a fraud sitting