Page 67 of The Summer That Changed Us

‘My advice is to tell him you love him and keep telling him,’ she said kindly. ‘I work in advertising and we work on the principle that a consumer has to hear or see a message twenty times before they act on it. And he’s a man so, you know, make it forty.’ She finished with a wink.

They were both laughing when Pam clapped her hands again and asked them to reform the circle.

‘Judging by the noise levels, it sounds like there’s a lot of guilt in the room,’ said Pam, crossing her legs. ‘But what I also heard was lots of reassurance, we told each other that we shouldn’t feel guilty about x, y and z … Funny how we can extend kindness to others but find it so hard to go easy on ourselves. So, let’s talk about self-care next. What can we do for ourselves to combat the guilty feelings when they arise? What strategies, what coping mechanisms can we use? It could be a gratitude journal, or exercise class. Anything. Would anyone like to share what they do?’

‘I hope drink gin is on the list,’ Tess muttered to Robyn behind her hand, ‘or I’m buggered.’

Hands went up.

‘I lost my sister to cancer and I feel guilty that I’m still here, so I volunteer in my local cancer charity shop,’ one of the older ladies called Madge said. ‘It’s my way of giving back.’

‘Good on you,’ Pam said, giving her a thumbs-up.

‘My work colleagues had a collection and bought me and Martin, my husband, a spa break,’ said Anita. ‘It was magical: two days floating around in our dressing gowns and flip-flops. We can’t afford to do that regularly, but we’ve managed it a couple of times since. Just being out of the house on neutral ground makes it easier for us to talk about our feelings.’

‘That’s a good one,’ Pam agreed. ‘And I like the idea of neutral ground.’

‘I try and meditate,’ said a jolly-looking young woman with plaits and freckles called Freya. ‘Especially when I’m feeling low. I remember my surgeon telling me that my scars will be someone else’s sign of hope. That keeps me going.’

‘Wise words, and a lovely way of looking at it,’ said Pam, nodding. ‘Anyone else, anyone not said anything yet?’ Her gaze rested on Robyn before she had chance to look at her empty mug.

‘I … ’ Robyn’s voice dried up as all eyes turned in her direction. She took a deep breath and remembered how the old Robyn was never afraid to jump into a conversation. And what if her suggestion helped someone else? That was the point of sharing their stories.

‘It’s OK,’ Pam rushed to reassure her. ‘No need to speak at all if you’d rather not.’

‘Thanks, but I’d like to.’ She cleared her throat and felt the comforting pressure of Tess’s leg against hers. ‘OK. There’s a shingle beach near where I live. It’s quiet and natural and at first it doesn’t look anything special but if you scoop away the top level of shingle you can find hidden treasure.’

‘No way!’ Freya gasped.

Robyn smiled. ‘Not actual valuable treasure, but sea glass.’

‘Mermaid’s tears!’ said Madge. ‘That’s what I’ve always called it.’

Robyn smiled at her. ‘Exactly. The glass is beautiful and all colours and shapes. My friends and I collect it. We walk along the tideline hunting for sea glass, and share our news and, well, it’s like open-air therapy I suppose.’ She paused, feeling a bit silly, but every single person was listening intently.

‘Go on,’ Pam nodded encouragement.

‘The air is sea-salt fresh and the sound of the waves rushing in and out is so powerful and grounding, if that doesn’t sound a weird way to describe water!’ she continued, allowing her gaze to drift. ‘There’s something about being on the edge of land and looking out across miles and miles of sea and sky and it reminds me how small we are. But at the same time, we’re just as precious as the little jewels of glass, we are part of something vital and we’re alive.’ Robyn stopped. ‘That’s it, really.’

For a second the room was in complete silence and then suddenly everyone was clapping.

‘That was beautiful,’ said Pam, blinking hard.

Sadie jumped to her feet and handed out tissue after tissue.

‘Wow,’ Tess breathed beside her. ‘You ought to work for tourist information; I’m sold.’

‘What do you do with the sea glass, once you’ve collected it?’ Freya asked. She inched to the edge of her seat. Others did the same.

Robyn smiled. ‘Sometimes nothing, but there’s a christening coming up in the family, so I’m making all the children one of these.’ She pulled her phone out of her bag, scrolled through her pictures until she came to the one of the mosaics she’d started for Betty. She’d taken a piece of flat driftwood and spelled the baby’s name out in green sea glass. It wasn’t finished yet, but the rest of the wood would be covered in mix of white and blue glass with a few shells dotted about.

The group cooed over Robyn’s phone as it was passed around the circle and she answered their questions and basked in their praise.

‘I’d love to do that!’

‘You’re so creative.’

‘Which beach is it?’