The Bright Side

Chapter 10 - Part 1

SKY

Walking down the road feels incredibly foreign; I can't even remember the last time I walked through Seaford. Since the weather is so great today, I decide to go down the esplanade and treat me to a view of the sea on this brilliant day, let the sea breeze blow through my hair and the sun blaze down on my skin.

The beach is pretty deserted though – it's way too cold to swim – so I take off my shoes and socks, roll up my trousers and stomp my feet across the cold moist sand. It's heaven. I pass the sand sculptures, thinking of Tristan and the afternoon we've been here and I pass the spot where we sat just days ago and watched the sundown. I see their hotel towering over all the other houses on Queen Victoria Road, the windows like one big compound eye idolising the sea.

A bit further west the merry-go-round is circled in by parents who must be bored out of their minds but still extremely convincingly fake enthusiasm every time their offspring drives by on an ugly horse figurine or one of the out of proportion vehicles. They cheer the kids on as if it was their own achievement to have successfully gone another round. And then a familiar voice shrieks a familiar name and I scan the parental crowd for the corresponding face.

I can't see Rosie, but I can make out Mum with Adam piggyback and to my surprise Simon, Rosie's Dad, standing amongst the other parents.

"Yay, Rosie!" Mum waves her arm so hard that I'm afraid her rings will just fly off and hit someone in the eye.

"Hi, Mum." I pat her shoulder, making her jump and then hold my hand out to Simon. "Alright?"

"Hello, Sky. Good to see you." My hand, rather slender, disappears in both of Simon's huge shovel-like hands, his grip firm and I don't know, professional? Like he probably greets his clients every day to assure them of his masculinity and competence.

"Hey, handsome." Mum shines brighter than the sun, although she seems more like a planet orbiting her own personal star next to her.

"What's with you, bruv?" I ruffle Adam's hair. "Too cool for the merry-go-round?"

His eyes are a bit red and his nose snotty and I know exactly what happened. Mum tried to encourage him for a ride and he gave in for her sake although merry-go-rounds somehow scare him half to death.

"Yeah. Too cool!" His face lights up and he stretches his arms out towards me. When I slide him onto my own back he rests his head on my shoulder and his short arms almost strangle me.

"How was the funeral?" Mum tries to peel her attention away from the merry-go-round, but only manages to shoot me a side glance.

"Urgh. Terrible." The minister had somehow managed to work around Richard Ashmore's fatal flaw and what he did to his family, which made the whole service pleasant but also shallow. There were very few personal things mentioned, like, he had apparently been very active for National Trust and put a great deal of time and money into the conservation of historical sites, but aside from that, he said nothing that distinguished him from any other man. It could've been a service for anyone. That was not the bad part. The picture of what could've just as well been a forty-something-year-old version of Tristan up front next to the casket – grey streaked curls, a lifetime of grinning imprinted around his eyes – is still haunting me.

"How's Tristan holding up?"

"Not so well."

"Poor boy. Having it all... Rosie!" Mum waves her arms at her as she sails past on a miniature boat. "Having it all resurface again." She makes a face.

"Can you remember what it was like five years ago?"

"Oh, yeah. You'd hear people talking everywhere. I mean, a lot of people knew them with the hotel and all and everybody had something to say about it. Not that I paid attention. But you couldn't escape it for weeks. Hairdresser. Bakery. Newsstand. Gossip, gossip, gossip. You know what this town is like."