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I lean in for another hug from her.
She’s the best.
Sammy
Happy Birthday! What did you get?
Sammy’s text arrives as we’re in the middle of demolishing a huge stack of fluffy delights with maple syrup and fruit.
I send her a quick snap of the food and a selfie of Mum and me.
Sammy
Have the best day. Call me later x
We spend the day soaking up the sun on the beach. I smother myself in sunscreen, not wanting to get strap marks or burns that will spoil the new top for tonight. I barely tan anyway.
Mum sketches in her notebook in between naps in the sun. It’s a perfect day, with nothing to worry or care about, and contentment fills me up. It’s these times — these feelings — that I store up and keep locked away for when I hear someone say something cruel at school or when I’m picked last in sport.
It doesn’t bother me so much now. I’ve been hearing the mean cast-off comments for years.
Besides, apart from Sammy, who do I care about at school? It’s a means to an end. University is in my future, and then I can leave behind the pettiness of school.
The sun is still warm in the sky when we head back to get ready.
“Come on, sweetheart, or we’ll be late!” Mum calls up the stairs.
I’m looking in the mirror, fussing. I don’t usually bother with makeup when we are in Cornwall. We are at the beach and in and out of the water, so what’s the point? Luckily, I have a few bits in my toiletries bag — eyeliner, mascara and some tinted lip balm would have to do. At least my skin has a little more colour thanks to the good weather — a little pink tinge to my cheeks, which stops me looking so washed out.
A final check and I bounce down the narrow stairs.
“Oh, you look lovely.”
Mum has dressed up too. She’s wearing a summer dress with red flowers splodged all over it. She looks beautiful.
She takes my hand and twirls me around, and we giggle as we leave the cottage.
I’d googled the restaurant online, and it looked pretty sophisticated. It’s right on the harbour, with glass doors to give the patrons the best view over the bay. There was a photo of it all dressed in lights at dusk, and it looked magical.
We park and walk in, waiting to be seated by one of the staff dressed in a smart white shirt and black apron. Normally, the places we visited were all polo shirts and cut-offs, but this wasn’t normal.
We’re shown to a small table to the side of the open-plan dining room. Although there isn’t a view over the harbour, it’s still really nice.
A big table occupies the best view — it looks like a celebration of sorts. They’re loud, and it’s a little off-putting. I try to ignore them and focus on our night.
“Did you look up the menu?” Mum asks.
“Maybe.” I hide behind the menu card. It was my thing — I’d always check out what I wanted before we arrived. Making decisions about food took me forever. I wanted to try everything, so getting a head start was smart. At least, that’s what I told myself.
“And?” she prompts.
“It’s a seafood place, and the reviews all say to indulge.”
“Yes, go ahead. I didn’t book this place for you not to have what you want on your birthday.”
“Well, I’d love the moules mariniere. I thought we could share that for a starter. Get the large portion?”
“Perfect. I’m going to have the scallops, too.”
