A Thousand Salt Kisses (Book 1 of Salt Kiss series)

><> Chapter Forty-Two <><

With Dad out of the dentists, I had decided that today was as good a day as any to reunite with my mum.

Now I let my phone guide me through the back streets of Coney to her new house. Like many classic English fishing towns, it comprised of two main roads and a labyrinth of narrow, winding cobble backstreets.

I had texted Rosie earlier after Llyr had left. I'd asked if she wanted to have lunch, but she texted back with a sad face and said that she was in another town all day.

"Probably with Jemima," I had mumbled, grumpily.

I wondered how school was going to be now that Rosie and Jemima were besties again - oh, with bestie boyfriends. It's like bestie squared, like in Maths with a little two. I had had a vision of Mrs Vendercum screeching on the blackboard with her worn-down chalk: 

Rosie + Will x Jemima + Allan = bestie².

'Stop it!' I had warned myself. There was no point in thinking about these things. Now I had become the petty one.

I had not ventured down these Coney back streets before as I had never had any purpose to do so. The houses on opposite sides of the roads were so close together that you could easily skip from one into the other, and I had to squish right up against a wall to let an old man pass me.

Eventually I turned down Josephine Avenue. Hanging baskets of red and pink flowers spilled onto the mossy walls of the stone houses.

It was cute but cramped, a little bit like somewhere I could imagine an imp or hobbit may reside. I double checked the address. Yep, this was definitely it.

I couldn't help but wonder how happy my Mum was living here, in this pokey little road. It was so... not her.

Mum was into her space. She liked big light rooms, and a large garden to look out onto. Still, perhaps I had best not judge a book by its cover.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. It had been about a month since I'd last seen my Mum.

The door opened with a creak and there she was, smiling in the doorway.

The first thing I noticed about my Mum was that she looked a little gaunt. She wore one of her favourite tailored dressed, and I could see that today her body did not quite fill it.

Well, I guess people often lost weight when they fall in love, during that honeymoon period. I mean, I had certainly shed a pound or two these past couple of months, so maybe the excitement of her own fling was also suppressing her appetite. I felt a little bubble of rage, and I distracted myself. This was not the best trail of thought to kick off this visit.

"Darling!" Mother cried, throwing her arms around me. I smelt her perfume and felt the most overwhelming sense of comfort being back in her arms. My anger dissolved.

"Mum!" I cried hugging her back and resting my head on her shoulder.

She eventually pulled back and I could see her eyes had welled up, just as mine probably were. It was just like that day at the station when she had greeted Dad and me, before dropping the big bombshell.

I followed her up through a narrow beige painted stairwell and up a couple of flights of stairs. She definitely wasn't her usual chatty self, in fact there was as sense of seriousness about her.

I entered her new studio flat. It was fairly nice, perfectly presentable. There was a double bed in the centre and a large fitted wardrobe to the left. A kitchen with all the mod cons graced the far right and there was a nice set of French windows which overlooked the sea.

I still couldn't quite understand why Mum would choose to live here in this wincey flat in Coney, rather than move back to the big smoke, or even to Starfish with us.

She made us a cup of tea, and we sat at her little kitchen table catching up on basic stuff. I told her about my job and that in my free time, I had been exploring the area.

She asked me where exactly I had explored and I became a little flustered. I mumbled about beaches and cliffs and she looked at me suspiciously.

"Hmm, and what about that chap you liked?" she asked, knowing me all too well.

Oh bugs, I had forgotten about our conversation all those months back on the jetty. Should I tell her there's still a guy, or not?

"He's about," I said, turning a vase of lilies on the table. I didn't want to outright lie.

"And...?" pressed Mum. Of course, she wanted to know more.

"He's really sweet. He's kind of local," I struggled. "He's a ... sailor."

"A sailor?" said Mother dubiously.

"Yes," I said. There was still such a thing as a sailor, right? All I really knew about sailors is that they wore those old fashioned navy and white suits, and that Popeye was one.

"In the Navy?" said Mum.

"Yes," I replied firmly. Okay, so sailors worked in the navy.

"Oh, maybe I know him, he could have rescued me that night the ship sunk?" said Mum. "I've met most of the sailors since the accident. Some of them are gorgeous. What's his name?"

"I mean... no," I said, panicking. "No. He is not in the Navy. He's just a sailor."

"You don't sound very sure about that Crystal," said my Mum sternly.

"I am!" I protested. "I am sure."

"Okay, if you say so," she replied. 

Eesh, what's with the third degree? I haven't seen her in months. I'm certainly not going to grill her about her stupid boyfriend.

"I wanted to talk to you, anyway," said my Mum. She sounded serious. My heart lurched into my stomach. What was she going to do now?

"Oh God!" I cried. She was getting married or was pregnant with Mr Geake's child. I swallowed trying to calm myself down, and ended up making a big gulping sound.

Mum examined my face, she appeared to be evaluating the situation. "Do you know what darling, it's nothing."

"What?" I gasped.

"It's just that I miss you, that's all."

Deep down I knew she was lying but I didn't delve deeper. Maybe it was because I didn't think I could cope with any more drama. I had enough on my plate with the separation, a crazy Dad and not to mention my own really complicated relationship. Whatever it was, maybe I just didn't want to know.

"Do you want to play a game?" she said suddenly.

"Huh?" A game?

"Yes, I thought we could play a game. I've got cards, backgammon..."

This was all very peculiar. Even as a child, Mum and I had never really played games. This was more something that I had done with Dad. We would spend hours playing marble wars, the entire living room being our battle ground.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She raised her perfect eyebrows, and tilted her head to the side. "Yes, Ijust wanted to do something fun with my girl," she said looking at me fondly.

I half-smiled, half-frowned. Maybe she just wants to avoid talking. The topics of discussion that would arise are only painful and inevitable.

"Okay..." I said, nodding. "Backgammon."