Page 41 of Weave Your Magic

‘I bumped into Will the other day. He said your parents have a place here. That true?’

Mark rubbed at the back of his neck. ‘Yes, but . . .’

‘Yet you’ve been staying at the campsite in East Prawle. That’s odd. Care to explain?’

His eyes flicked to the beams running along the low ceiling. On any other evening they might have added to the intimate, welcoming vibe. But tonight it was as if these great big oak beams were pressing down on the three of them, forcing them into the sticky old carpet and making the atmosphere altogether claustrophobic.

‘I like hanging out with those guys, and they offered me a spare sleeping bag. It also meant I got to spend more time with the charming staff at The Witch’s Nose.’ Mark’s eyes twinkled but Susie’s barely blinked in response.

‘Hmm. Oh, here’s Abe with the drinks.’ Susie snatched up her half of cider and took a grateful gulp.

‘Cheers, then.’ Mark held out his pint a moment too late, but Abel came in to meet it with his own. ‘Cheers. Nice to meet you properly, Abel.’

‘You too.’

‘Susie says you’re another local?’

‘Once upon a time,’ Abel replied, licking the foam from his top lip. ‘Not anymore. I live in Bath now.’

‘Lovely,’ Mark replied politely, all the time looking at Susie. ‘But what a place to grow up – East Prawle. Must have been idyllic when you were a kid. The sunshine, the sea. It’s such a jewel of a place.’

Abel nodded. ‘Being on the beach every day is hard to beat.’

Mark nodded along with him, as if they were sharing the same memory. ‘Shell-hunting, sandcastles, beach cricket with your whole family. Though my dad could never resist smashing it way out into the water, so he’d have a quiet twenty minutes while we went to find the ball.’

Abel stilled and stared into his pint. ‘If you say so. My dad wasn’t around for that kind of thing. Barely one nappy, in fact.’

‘Oh god. I’m sorry, mate. I’ve put my foot right in it.’ Mark’s eye went wide and an awkward silence draped over them all.

Temperance broke in. ‘You weren’t to know you’re sitting with The Absent Dads Club. Suse and I didn’t have ours in the picture either. We still don’t.’ She shrugged and gave a jokey grimace. ‘But you can’t miss what you never knew.’

Temperance’s dad was another market trader that Lee met when she was still selling vintage, come rain or shine, from her stall in Bristol. It wasn’t exactly a deep and meaningful thing, and by the time Lee realised she wasn’t alone in her own body, he’d moved onto a different market rotation and was long gone. Susie’s dad had been a bit of a crazy fling on a short holiday to Iceland, with Temperance a toddler cared for by some good friends in the village for the week.

‘I want you to know I’m not ashamed,’ Lee often said when the subject of dads came up. ‘If you can take anything from it, let it be that even adults don’t always learn from their own pasts, but they can still be very happy with their lot. Very.’ And at this point she would kiss them both wetly on the head, whatever their age, as they tried to squirm away.

The idea of family was always a blurred one in East Prawle: Margie sometimes felt like a gran, albeit one that would tease you rotten. Gary at the bakery was the soppy uncle who cried when you passed your driving test. Besides, having a dad didn’t always look so great if some of the holidaying fathers were anything to go by: they’d be snappy over repeated ice cream requests, or they’d miss a springy cartwheel on the green because they were checking cricket scores on their phones. And Temperance was yet to see a dad – even one of the good ones – do anything that Lee hadn’t done for them. She was fun, she was firm, she was reliable. Hell – she was magic.

Mark rubbed his fingers across his forehead. ‘Fuck. I really am sorry, guys. That must have been tough. For everyone.’

‘The mums probably had it worst.’ Abel shrugged. ‘Being two parents in one. Paying all the bills, stressing about the future. And in my case, having to raise the son who looks exactly like the man who did a runner. Who needs a reminder like that at the breakfast table?’

‘But you and Diane are as close as anyone could be,’ Temperance said quickly, her heart suddenly hurting for him.

‘Yeah,’ Susie chimed, ‘you’re your own person. Not just a carbon copy of your dad. And your mum loves you. She always used to boast about you winning the county hurdles, remember?’

Abel smiled. ‘See? A natural runner. Maybe it is all in my genes.’

Susie laughed and elbowed him in the ribs.

‘She’s right, though. You’re nothing like your dad, Abel. You never could be.’

‘Thank you, Temperance,’ he replied quietly.

Susie looked between the two of them and cleared her throat. ‘Speaking of families,’ she turned to Mark. ‘There’s a Beston portfolio company based in Salcombe, Mark. Is that a coincidence?’ She squinted slightly.

His eyes widened. ‘No, no coincidence. My parents set it up.’

‘Right.’