A Summer Scandal: The perfect summer read by the author of One Day in December

‘Violet?’ Cal’s hand warmed her shoulder. ‘Shall we?’

Buoyed by his presence, she swallowed her fear. It was now or never.

‘Yes. Yes, we shall.’

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_4e334bf1-6db4-5a50-b2f9-60f894667f05)

The change from pavement to wooden boards underfoot felt like passing from reality to fairytale. She was really here, really doing this, really walking along her grandmother’s beloved pier. After just one day here, Vi already felt immeasurably closer to Monica, never more so than as she set foot on Swallow Beach Pier for the first time.

‘Okay?’

Cal’s reassuring voice was quiet at her shoulder as he closed the gates so as not to attract attention. He didn’t touch her; perhaps he sensed she needed to do this under her own steam. She nodded, her gaze lifting towards the glass pavilion at the other end. She’d feared that it might feel rickety, rather like walking the plank, but it was dry and solid beneath the soles of her sheepskin boots. A light sea breeze lifted the blue ends of her hair, and she breathed in slowly, purposefully, filling her lungs with the fresh, salty air as she moved forwards. She was aware of Cal following a few steps behind her, grateful for both his presence and his silence.

‘I’m here, Gran,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve come.’

Solid as the pier was, Violet caught glimpses of the sand below through the gaps between the boards, and then of seawater as they moved further away from dry land. A slight sense of disorientation made her pause for a second, aware that they were putting their trust in the structure to hold them safely above the waves. Glancing back towards Cal, she found he’d paused too, and his little nod and thumbs up was enough to make her turn back and carry on again.

Half way now. She knew as much because a pale blue stripe had been painted across the boards and inscribed with the faded words ‘Half way to paradise’. Vi hunkered down to look at it, tracing her fingertips over the swirled golden letters, glad they’d stood the test of time.

Was it her grandmother’s hand? She suspected so. The letters had been accented in gold leaf, and something in the style reminded Violet of the Lido apartment. Looking at it, Vi couldn’t help but wonder if her grandmother had paused to look at it the very last time she’d walked the pier. Apprehension twisted her mouth, and then Cal’s hand on her shoulder made her look up, shielding her eyes from the low, peach-pink sunrise with her hand.

‘It’s tradition not to step on the line,’ he said. ‘Everyone in town knows that.’

Standing, Vi blew on her cold fingers, digesting this new bit of detail about the town’s relationship with the pier, even those too young to have ever been on it.

‘Right,’ she said, stepping carefully over the board. Maybe the rule was a practical one, there simply to protect the paint, or perhaps it was more deeply rooted in superstition. Good luck, bad luck. Was it random, or did fate play a part? Had Violet always been destined to come here?

Giving herself a mental shake, she marched along the pier, her head held high, not stopping again until she reached the end where the boards flared out to accommodate the pavilion. She wasn’t just Monica’s artistic, impulsive granddaughter. She was Della’s daughter, and Della had instilled a forthright practicality in her only child that served her well in that moment.

‘Keys,’ she whispered, feeling in her coat pocket.

‘Do you want me to come in with you?’ Cal asked.

Violet slid the key into the lock and found it as well-maintained as the previous one. Despite the fact that the pavilion was glass, it was difficult to see inside due to the dust accumulated over many years standing empty.

‘Yes, come in,’ she said, unthreading the chain from the door handles and laying it on the floor. As she bent she caught sight of the waves beneath them, a reminder that they were cut adrift from the mainland. Straightening, she rolled her shoulders and pulled the door open, giving it a bit of a shake when it offered resistance.

‘Smells a bit.’ She wrinkled her nose, pulling off her bobble hat and stepping inside as Cal pulled the door closed behind them.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, or rather side by side, given that Cal was a good six foot two to Violet’s five foot four.

‘Wow,’ Cal murmured. ‘I’ve only ever seen inside it in photographs.’

His words reminded Violet how much the pier was ingrained in the locals, and also reinforced how bizarre it was really that she’d grown up with no knowledge of it at all.

‘Do you know what it was used for?’ she asked, not yet moving further inside.

He paused. ‘Exhibitions, I think? And as a gallery too, for a while in the sixties. If my memory serves me rightly, it was a shopping arcade for a while too.’

‘Really?’

Cal nodded. ‘Local craft shops, souvenirs, that kind of thing.’

Violet gathered her coat closer around her. She had no idea what she was going to do with the pier, if anything. Her thought process hadn’t got much beyond this moment; seeing it, walking in Monica’s footsteps, trying to understand its power over her grandmother.

‘Shall we look around?’

Violet found herself glad of Cal’s suggestion; she’d faltered, held still by the quiet cathedral of the glass pavilion. Inside, it seemed to be separated into various spaces by smoked-glass walls, creating an illusion of rooms, almost.

‘This isn’t what I expected,’ she said, even though she didn’t really know what she’d expected.

‘I think the walls were put in to create the shop effect,’ he said. ‘They could probably come down again if you wanted them to.’

Vi nodded, not really taking the suggestion in beyond drily noting it as a male thought process, already assessing the place for DIY. Walking slowly, she led the way through the birdcage from empty room to empty room, saying very little and thinking a lot.

What on earth was she going to do with it? What had her grandmother done with the place when it was hers? She needed to know more, and given the amount that Cal knew already, she was pretty sure that the older generation in Swallow Beach would be able to fill in the gaps. Barty, perhaps. Each square space had smoked interior walls for privacy but the outer wall offered a wide view out over the sea. Standing in the back corner, Violet laid her hands on the cold, dusty glass.

‘Don’t lean on it,’ Cal cautioned. ‘You might end up in the sea.’

She smiled, far away. This room offered the best sea-view of all. She couldn’t see any land, just wall-to-wall water. Even the grubby windows couldn’t dampen the effect all that much; it was serene, like a cabin on a ship out in the middle of nowhere.

‘Want me to leave you in peace for a while?’

Vi turned to look at Cal, and as she did, she noticed that some of the floorboards in the room had been painted, much like out on the pier. They weren’t blue though. Someone, Monica presumably, had painted them in shades of the rainbow, faded now but still easily distinguishable as red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. More than that. She’d painted the names of the colours, the same golden swirly letters as before, illuminated by the early morning sun.

Kneeling by them, Vi caught her breath, reading the words one by one until she reached the last. Pulling her gloves off quickly, she swept the layer of dust away with her flat hands, then stilled, staring down at the glittering letters.

Violet.

Her name, written there on the end of the pier by her grandmother all of those years ago.

Hot tears bubbled up out of nowhere; it was so unexpected, and so direct a link, almost as if her gran always knew she’d one day kneel here and find it. Her logical brain understood, of course; her mum hadn’t just chosen her name at random after all. She’d always said it was a whim, but now Violet knew different. You couldn’t call a girl Orange or Green, but Violet … yes. Had her mum remembered this floor on the day she was born, maybe given her a name that made her think of Monica? Vi swallowed down a great gulp of air, sentimental to the brim.

‘That’s pretty special,’ Cal said, hunkering down next to her.

‘I can’t believe it’s here,’ she whispered, swiping her hand over her damp cheeks. ‘Sorry, stupid of me.’

He stood, holding his hand out and heaving her up too. ‘Not stupid at all,’ he said, reaching out briefly to touch the blue tips of her hair.

She nodded quickly, feeling out of her depth, then looked up, startled by a scrabbling noise on the glass roof overhead.

‘The swallows,’ Cal said, gazing up. ‘They gather on the pavilion roof.’

Violet watched them flit around for a few silent moments, not quite trusting herself to answer, not even sure what she wanted to say.

‘I’m glad you’ve come to Swallow Beach,’ he said softly when she looked back at him.

‘You are?’