Sunrise By the Sea by Jenny Colgan

Chapter Forty-three

By the next day, the town was mobbed. Everyone was wandering up and down Beach Street. Many were helping; cousins and friends had shown up, waded in over the broken cobbles or commandeered rowing boats to sweep out and try and dry out the old cottages and fix things up. People had come from miles around, particularly after a news helicopter had done a broadcast on television, showing the devastation to the ancient causeway. It was truly amazing, Polly had thought: people had come from miles away, with blankets (not really necessary) and mops (very, very necessary).

The weather stayed glorious so the streets were full of people, whom Andy promptly manage to oblige with beer and fish and chips, and the grocer’s, set back from the main drag, got rid of all the newly acquired ice cream which almost made up for their ruined stock.

But Polly was still faced with the endless scraping task of trying to clean up the ovens and was still without a working door. She was baking at home but that had to go to the workers, so selflessly giving up their time to put the town back together, so she was missing all the trade, even when all the fishermen trooped up the hills and presented themselves as her personal cleaning army, announcing as their slogan, ‘RECLAIM THE PASTY!’

In the early afternoon, an unexpected quiet fell on the harbour-side, and Polly looked up. Everyone was staring at a ridiculous vehicle that had appeared on the causeway. It looked like a convertible on the top and – no, surely not – a boat underneath, and had a big sign on it saying AQUANDA.

A crowd gathered. As it neared the submerged end of the causeway, the car took a sharp right turn and, as the crowd literally gasped, launched itself, taking a cut through the waves and sending a jet of water behind it.

The audience gasped again and some of the children started clapping as the car/boat spun a wide circle in the sparking water and came to a halt in a skid on the beach.

‘Stop smirking,’ said Polly to Huckle, as they both stood watching, the twins, who had been given little mops of their own, dashing out breathlessly.

‘LOOOOK! AT! THE CAR!’

Avery was hopping up and down with excitement.

‘IT’S A BOAT!’

‘Do you need to pee, Avery?’

‘NO! YES! BUT! AFTER THE BOAT CAR!’

Well, if the worst came to the worst, he was outside and already filthy, thought Polly to herself, failing to win Mother of the Year for the fifth year in a row.

‘Oh, come on, it’s cool,’ said Huckle, nudging her elbow.

‘It’s ridiculous!’ said Polly. ‘I bet it cost more than the entire contents of this shop.’

‘It’s his money,’ said Huckle.

‘I know, I know,’ said Polly. ‘I’m being bitter. Ignore me.’

‘IT’S! A! CAR! BOAT!’

‘It is,’ said Polly laughing. ‘A! CAR! BOAT!’

The doors of the water car came up sideways like a DeLorean, and Reuben and Kerensa stepped out, both grinning broadly. Between them was Lowin, wearing a T-shirt embroidered with a huge cobra, and looking like someone who knew exactly how jealous of him every other kid there would be, and enjoying every second of it.

‘WOAH,’ said Avery. ‘Lowin is my friend. I’m go say hello.’

And he dashed across to the harbour’s edge where Lowin was mounting the steps.

‘HI, LOWIN! HI! HI, LOWIN!’

Lowin gave him a slightly disdainful look as he took his parents’ hands and carried on, as if he were a young prince inspecting his town.

‘HI, LOWIN! HI! HI, LOWIN! HI!’

Polly hit her head on Huckle’s shoulders.

‘Just think about his therapy bills,’ said Huckle soothingly.

Thankfully, kind Kerensa gave Avery a cuddle. Daisy would almost certainly have been coy and careful about what she wanted but Avery could not be.

‘CAN I COME IN YOUR CAR BOAT?’

‘’Fraid not, kid,’ said Reuben. ‘I’d have to insure you for four million. Hey, hi!’

He waved at Huckle and Polly, who came down to greet them.

‘Wow, it’s been pretty rough here, huh.’

His face, however, was beaming.

‘How long have you had that thing?’ said Huckle.

‘Don’t ask,’ said Kerensa. ‘He’s been so desperate for a chance to show it off.’

‘They only ever made four hundred,’ said Reuben.

‘And the rest are at the bottom of the sea,’ added Kerensa. ‘Have you got anything to eat? The boys are starving.’

‘Sure am,’ said Reuben.

In response, Polly showed her the wreck of the Little Beach Street Bakery.

‘Oh, man,’ said Reuben. ‘Oh, man, that’s bad. Are my ovens all right?’

‘They will be.’

‘Good, good.’

He turned to address the crowd that had gathered round.

‘I got something for you all,’ he said, in a way that made Polly a little anxious. Being in Reuben’s debt could be an uncomfortable place to be.

‘I’m going to buy everyone . . . new doors! Watertight, waterproof, whatever the water thing is. You can have ’em! New doors, new weather-proof windows! All on me.’

Polly speculated, correctly, whether Reuben had just made any large investments in glassware firms as the locals cheered.

‘Yeah yeah yeah,’ said Reuben. He looked back at Polly.

‘Are you absolutely sure you didn’t bake anything at home this morning and were keeping it for emergencies?’

Of course Polly had.

‘Great,’ said Reuben, digging into the wicker basket with jam tarts, lemon curd, and cheese twists she had made up for the helpers. He had got steadily chubbier over the years, even as Kerensa had got thinner and thinner, in the manner of the very rich, and he stuck both paws in.

‘“Thanks for the door, Reuben”,’ he said finally. ‘Seriously. I’m buying you an awesome door, girl dude.’

‘Oh yes,’ said Polly, distracted. Of course it was a kind offer, of course it was, she was so grateful. And of course she didn’t want his money; they were friends, after all. But a new door . . . it didn’t begin to touch the sides of what they were facing, not really. Nowhere near.

She swallowed down that thought. New doors would be great.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m so grateful.’

‘I just need one thing in return.’

Of course he did.

‘I need you to cater Lowin’s birthday party.’

‘Oh.’ Polly blinked. This wouldn’t be a small affair. ‘What is it? Some friends from school?’

It wouldn’t be sausage rolls and a caterpillar cake, she could tell.

Reuben barked with laughter.

‘No! Ha. No way. No, it’s going to be an event! I’ll get the party planner to contact you.’

‘You have a party planner? For an eight-year-old?’

‘Well, he’s going to be eight, aren’t you, Lowin?’ said Kerensa, hugging the boy’s round head affectionately.

‘Whatever,’ said Lowin, grabbing two of the jam tarts, sniffing one, and throwing the lemon curd away whereupon Neil, followed by about sixteen huge sea gulls, immediately pounced on it, setting up a hell of a racket.

‘Well, of course,’ said Polly. ‘I’d . . . I mean, of course.’

‘There’s going to be a DJ,’ said Kerensa. ‘And loads of champagne. Seven-year vintage, clever, huh? You’re going to love it. And you can invoice us a lot more than the cost of the door,’ she added in a low voice.

Polly thought about Reuben’s parties she’d catered over the years, and smiled as politely as she could.

‘’Scuse me,’ said Daisy, from down somewhere by Polly’s knees. ‘Is there going to be a LOT of snakes at this party?’

‘Does he still like snakes?’ said Kerensa distractedly. ‘It might be car boats now. Or football or something.’

Little Daisy’s face brightened. This had obviously been on her mind for a long time. Polly squeezed her hand tightly.

‘Good,’ Daisy said in a breathy whisper.