Page 15 of The Sunrise Sisterhood

‘Bookings for The Seaside Gourmet Girls have been pouring in and I can’t cope on my own.’

‘But I thought … since Jen …’ Skye stuttered. The last time she’d facetimed Liz from Uganda, her godmother had confessed that she’d lost interest in the business. She’d seemed in quite a state and if it hadn’t been so early in the day, UK time, Skye might have suspected she’d been drinking.

‘I’ve had my arm twisted to give it another go.’ Liz explained. ‘Besides, I’m too young to retire and I can’t really do anything else. So what do you say? I need someone I can trust to help me out, and you were my first thought.’

Her first thought. Skye could have wept, ‘I’m flattered and I am looking for a job for the summer. But it must be about fifty miles from Salcombe to here. It took Dad a couple of hours to get back this afternoon.’

‘You’d stay with me, of course. I’m rattling around here on my own.’ There was a pause. ‘Most of the time.’

‘Is this anything to do with Dad?’ Skye was suspicious; this seemed almost too good to be true.

‘Sort of, but in a good way. I happened to mention how busy I was. He suggested you would be perfect for the job.’

‘Did he?’ Skye stole a glance at her father. The girl was scribbling something down on a piece of paper. She handed it to Mike and he touched her arm, while whispering something in her ear.

Really, Dad? She was practically a child. Skye turned away so she couldn’t see him making a fool of himself.

Of course, her dad didn’t need her here. He’d be fine on his own; he was more than capable of entertaining himself while Nilla was gone.

Maybe she’d be better off away from Exeter. She was almost thirty, for heaven’s sake, far too old to be hanging around the family home like a bad smell. And it sounded like Liz genuinely needed her. Plus, she’d be working with someone she knew rather than strangers, which would be far more enjoyable.

‘So what do you think?’ Liz prompted. ‘Will you come?’

‘When do you need me?’ Skye asked, suddenly sure this was the right thing to do.

‘Is tomorrow too soon?’ said Liz. ‘I’ve agreed to do a dinner party on Monday and it’ll be my first one for … since Jen died … I haven’t agreed the menu and I’m going to have to ferret out all the equipment and …’

Skye’s heart went out to her godmother as she continued the list of jobs she had to do; she sounded completely overwhelmed. ‘I’ll be there tomorrow,’ she promised. ‘We can work it all out together.’

Liz sighed, ‘You’re a lifesaver.’

‘Not at all.’ Skye smiled. In fact, she had a feeling it might be the other way around.

They ended the call and Skye turned back to see her dad approaching, eyebrows raised and his thumb up as if checking she was OK.

He said you’d be perfect for the job.

OK, it was hardly the most complicated job in the world, but who cared. She smiled and stuck her own thumb up in reply. This had worked out brilliantly.

Chapter Six

Clare

Clare waited under the porch with Ivy in her arms, glad of the shade to protect her daughter’s delicate skin from the sun. It was Saturday afternoon and she’d made a pitstop at her dad’s house on the way to Salcombe.

She was in dire need of the loo and Ivy had just woken up, hot and clammy from the two-hour car journey. From the smell of her, she was ready for a clean nappy too. Clare predicted that she had about two minutes before Ivy started to complain vociferously about the situation.

She deliberately hadn’t called ahead in case her dad had fobbed her off and said he was busy. She’d pretty much given up trying to call him for a chat. He was invariably tied up when she rang and would terminate the call as quickly as possible, which left her feeling rejected. She’d been delighted when he’d actually called her recently, until he confessed that he’d called her by accident because her name was stored alphabetically next to ‘cleaner’ in his phone.

Hence she’d decided to drop in unannounced. Although, of course, it might backfire if no one was at home. At this point, she’d be happy for anyone to answer the door.

‘This is Grandad’s house, Ivy, remember?’ she murmured, kissing her daughter’s warm cheek. ‘Posh, isn’t it?’

Mike and Nilla’s residence in Exeter was a far cry from the tiny, terraced house Mike had co-owned with Jen. It had been sold once her parents divorced and Jen had rented a succession of houses ever since. Mike, however, had ploughed his money into bricks and mortar and had successfully ascended the property ladder. This one was a handsome Victorian house with an in-and-out driveway and a separate servants’ annexe, which now functioned as Mike’s office.

Clare had never fully understood what her dad did. Something to do with finding investors for businesses which needed funding, and getting a fee for doing so. A financial matchmaker basically . Whatever he did, he seemed to be good at it.

She knew someone was in because the sound of Smokey Robinson was drifting out from one of the open first-floor windows. That had to be her dad.