of the floor lay a rug of pink primroses. Stencilled roses scrambled along the edges of the exposed white wooden floor. There was a white wicker basket nestled in one corner. Her eyes darted back to the daybed, covered in cushions of pretty pastel prints and rambling roses, floral gingham and woven checks. One wall had a shelf filled with books. Three gold picture frames hung on the opposite wall. Coral’s smile was now so wide it was almost reaching her ears. It was the dreamiest, most beautiful place she’d ever seen. Or it would be, once they’d cleared away all the dust and cobwebs.
Finally, she dragged her happy eyes back over to her friend. Nicks met her gaze. They wore matching faces.
“Woo-hoo!” they both shrieked ecstatically. And Nicks was not the shrieking sort.
“And it’s all ours!” Coral added by way of a second shriek. Of course it was all theirs. They shared everything. Romeo growled at a spider running for cover and then barked at a nosy seagull who had perched himself on the deck railing, eager to take a look at the hut’s new inhabitants.
Nicks giggled. “Well, come on then.” She grabbed Coral’s hand and together they tumbled inside the little piece of beachy heaven that was Coral Hut.
Nicks made immediately for the shelves on the wall to inspect the books while Coral went towards the white wicker basket tucked into a cosy corner. She swiped at a dust layer and hoisted the lid. Inside there were two enamel candle holders, one pale blue and the other a butter-yellow colour, with a small box of candles. Next there was a large, flat paisley box of scented paper and pens. Coral brought her nose closer to the paper. The sheets smelled of perfumed musk that reminded her of Great-Aunt Coral. She gave one more sniff before putting the paper down and picking up a cake tin printed with cherry blossoms. Would it smell just as good inside? She prised off its lid. It was empty but smelled of roses, like it might once have held squares of Turkish delight. It was a pretty little tin and so Coral set it to one side. It deserved to sit on top of the wicker basket, not inside lost in the darkness.
Suddenly, Nicks called her over excitedly, which put an end to Coral’s searching and sniffing through the basket for that day.
“You must look at this!” Nicks had an open book in one hand and was looking at the three gold-framed pictures on the wall. Coral scurried over. The frames were filled with prints of chubby cupids with curly hair and feathery wings. One cupid held a harp in its fat little fingers; another had a small horn plumping up its cheeks.
“And listen to this.” Nicks blew at the dust on the book and began reading out loud. “Oh my love is like a red, red rose that’s newly sprung in June; oh my love is like the melody that’s sweetly played in tune.” Nicks grinned and flicked a few pages forward in the book and continued to read. “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.”
Coral wondered what Nicks was on about. Her face must have said it all.
“It’s a book of romantic poetry,” Nicks explained. “And there are lots more just like it – look!” The shelf above her head was heavy with books all crowded up against one another.
Coral gazed from the books to the cupids. Coral Hut was like a temple to love. She remembered her great-aunt’s note; who’d have ever guessed that the old lady was the romantic sort? What a pity there hadn’t been enough time to get to know her better…
Nicks found two faded, folded deckchairs and dragged them out on to the deck, although there was no way she could sit down yet. She gazed out blissfully at the ocean. She could also see the lifeboat station and the cobbled launching jetty. Sunday Harbour pier was a stripe in the distance. It was early in the day, but the beach was already busy with people and dogs and boats. Coral meanwhile scurried between the hut and deck. She couldn’t stop moving; it was all way too exciting.
“Look – throws for snuggling under!” she exclaimed, cheerfully chucking a candy-striped woven blanket at her friend. They’d been hidden under the daybed. Nicks disappeared beneath a cloud of dust.
“Just what I don’t need!” She coughed and laughed and Coral vanished inside the hut again. But Nicks stayed outdoors to have a look at the huts on either side of theirs. The one to their right was painted khaki and had camouflage netting thrown over its roof. The hut to their left was simpler and painted a bold glossy red. They’d been in such a hurry to discover Coral Hut that they hadn’t paid any attention to their neighbours. Both huts stood silent and locked up tight.
Just then a familiar face caught Nicks’s eye. Actually, it was two familiar faces. They were laughing, and then they shared a kiss.
“Coral – get out here, quick!” Nicks called.
Coral instantly appeared, breathless and with wild hair. The combination of sea air and energetic poking around had sent her curls crazy.
Nicks pointed at the water’s edge. “Look.”
An old man wearing swimming trunks and goggles was doing star jumps. Two women went speed-walking by with their elbows flying like pistons. A small girl with a head of colourful glitter clips collected shells. But most important of all – a young man and woman stood and kissed…
There was a reason why Nicks and Coral were so pleased at the sight of the kissing couple. But to understand why meant going back in time to the beginning…to the day of Great-Aunt Coral’s funeral…to the day it all began…
It was one o’clock in the afternoon and Coral was staring at the sandwich on her plate. The bread was wholewheat and nutty. Brown bird-feed bread; it was not her favourite. And one edge was hard and crusty. What was the point of crusts? She’d often wondered the same about homework. Prising open the sandwich, she stared at the dissolving egg mayo inside. It was nothing personal, but egg mayo was simply not a summer sort of sandwich filler. Now a choccie biscuit – that was a summer sort of tummy filler! She turned to the small side table. But there was not a single choccie thing in sight, and not a single biscuit left on her plate. Her eyes kept moving until they landed on Nicks’s plate. Her friend was munching on what looked suspiciously like a choccie biscuit.
Nicks looked up. “You’re staring at me, Coral,” she said, scratching her head with a face like it hurt.
“And you’re eating my choccie biscuit.” “I’m sharing your biscuit,” said Nicks, offering it back to her friend.
Coral made a huffy face, so Nicks took another nibble and made a delicate lip-smacking sound. “Fine,” was all she said.
There was no reasoning with a biscuit guzzler. So Coral shifted her attention to the rest of the people in the living room. They were all very busy eating, moving around and talking. She watched Nicks’s mother nodding gently while she listened to a group of ladies dressed smartly in brooches and hats. She ran the local post office and knew almost everyone. Coral’s own mother strolled around the room doling out stuffed eggs, mini muffins and biscuits for dunking. She made pint-sized chit-chat as she moved, always offering a smile with a small sympathetic tilt of her head. No, it just won’t be the same without Great-Aunt Coral. Oh yes, she will be dearly missed.
“It’s nice that your family has come together to remember Great-Aunt Coral,” Nicks said.
Coral nodded.
“Are you OK?” Nicks’s face was worried.
Coral nodded. The old lady was not much more than a picture in her head. She was twelve years old and yet in all that time she’d never really spent much time with her great-aunt.
Nicks was staring at her friend. “Coral, are you sure you’re all right?”
Actually, she was starving. She stared mournfully at the egg mayo growing mould on her plate. “I guess I’ll be fine, Nicks.”
“Shall I get you something?” She