It Takes Two

To the Winksie sisters

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Dedication

1 the gift of love

2 love nest

3 love relations

4 all you need is love

5 labour of love

6 love thy neighbour

7 the colour of love

8 love letters

9 first love

10 lovesick

11 love hurts

12 love it or leave it

13 puppy love

14 tough love

15 the love boat

16 love lost

17 love conquers all

18 love to bits

19 love is in the air

20 the course of true love

21 all for love and love for all

Preview

Copyright

About the Publisher

1 the gift of love

Coral was spread out flat on her bed, knees up, making a pointy P-shape, when her mother knocked on her bedroom door. She had had a bath and was in her pyjamas watching a romantic comedy she’d already seen over twenty times. There were hearts on her duvet, hearts on her curtains…even small pink heart-shaped fairy lights draped all across her headboard. Just like her bedroom, Coral’s life had a theme: she was totally in love with love. It really made her world turn.

Coral’s mum came in, smiling that dreamy sort of smile mothers sometimes have when you’re not in trouble or being ordered to do something. She sat down on the bed, when suddenly there was a loud yelp. The duvet came alive, rising up and wriggling in the air. Coral’s mum shrieked and leaped just as high. A black blotch of a nose emerged from beneath the duvet, followed by a white shaggy face and dark brown eyes floating in pools the colour of dark chocolate. There were two small flaps of caramel ears and another patch across the belly, but the rest of the dog’s body was white – or it was supposed to be. This, though, depended on a number of things: whether he’d been taking flying jumps at muddy puddles, rolling in washed-up seaweed, or tumbling through burrs. He was a dog with many active pursuits. This was how Coral usually explained it to her mum, who never seemed particularly impressed.

“You nearly crushed Romeo,” Coral grumbled.

“Coral – I have told you before. Romeo is not to sleep on your bed.” Coral’s mum looked serious. She pointed to the dog basket, positioned neatly below a large poster of two swans with their long necks curved into a heart shape, and stared sternly at the Jack Russell.

Romeo knew which bed was his. The patchwork dog’s eyes dipped pitifully and glanced pleadingly from the pointed finger to the stern face.

“Romeo. NOW!” Coral’s mum ordered.

Quickly the dog scampered off the bed and bounced like a ball into his basket. He rested his chin on one paw, tucked the other over his head and pretended to go to sleep, although he was really thinking doggy thoughts.

Coral frowned and blew noisily at the red-brown curl which had fallen across her eyes. She much preferred Romeo snuggled up against her.

“I have something for you,” her mum revealed as she pushed a small brown envelope across the bed.

Coral wiggled upright and reached for the offering. Her name looped in curly writing across the front. Pressing the envelope gently, she could feel something hard and long. Carefully, she opened it.

Inside was a key and a note from her Great-Aunt Coral – after whom she’d been named.

Dear girl,

Weren’t we the special pair – one of us a namesake and the other a great-aunt! Here is the key to Coral Hut. I thought it only right that my beach hut and all its treasures should go to you. I’ve enjoyed watching you grow; you’ve got a good head for romance. We shared more than you know.

I trust that you will look after and cherish Coral Hut, just as I have done all these years. It has been my very favourite place in the world. Make it yours.

Sincerely yours,

Great-Aunt Coral

Coral Hut, No. 5 the Promenade, Sunday Harbour

Coral reread the note. The words ‘beach hut’ fizzled in her memory. Now that she thought about it, she remembered her mother once mentioning that her Great-Aunt Coral owned a beach hut down at the harbour. The key was long and black and cold in Coral’s hand. She looked to her mother for confirmation.

“Coral Hut is all yours,” she nodded, smiling.

Coral thought about the colourful wooden beach huts lined up on the harbour like crabs with their long skinny legs pushed deep into the sand. She could find her way there with her eyes shut. Down to Café Cod. Through the cobbled alleys and behind the wooden-clad houses painted white and pale blue. Past Blades restaurant and the fragrant fish market stalls nestled in between the small upturned fishing boats, sheets of torn nets and piles of old lobster pots. Beyond the south quay, along the beach past the old jetty – yes, there stood Sunday Harbour’s own row of beach huts. Coral could almost smell the salt air already. She tried to imagine number five in the row.

“For me?” she finally wondered out loud.

“That’s right.”

“When can I see it?”

Her mum shrugged. “Tomorrow, I guess.”

“Morning?”

“It’s your summer holiday – you can go any time you like.”

Her mum had a point. There was no school for weeks. Coral had her friends. And her very own beach hut!

“I must phone Nicks,” she squealed. She also needed to remember to breathe.

Her mum laughed. “Fine, but make it quick. It’s getting late.”

Like she was going to sleep anyway. But Coral’s mum wouldn’t want to hear that.

“Oh, yes, quick, quick,” she agreed as she scrambled out of bed and dashed into the hallway. She headed for the unpainted straight-back chair pushed up close to the wall and settled on to its hard tapestry cushion. It was not a comfortable arrangement, but her father liked it just so.

Just above her a wall-mounted phone shared space with a gold and dark wood hanging frame. But the frame didn’t hold a photograph or a pretty mounted picture. Instead, typed in simple black bold, were the words: PHONECALLS COST. KEEP IT CHEAP & CHEERFUL. Her father was a watcher of bills. He was an accountant; he couldn’t help himself. But at that moment Coral had far more important things to think about.

Reaching for the cordless handset, she punched in Nicks’s number while staring up at the ceiling. She could dial her best friend’s number without looking. It was a little game she played with herself (it was probably an only-child thing). Nicks answered on the eighth ring.

“Hello?”

“What took you so long!” Coral cried out passionately. Her news – stuck inside her for so long – had practically knotted up her intestines.

“Oh, hi, Coral,” replied Nicks evenly. “I was just getting ready for bed.”

Of course she was. But Coral was too excited to think sensibly. Her thoughts were a high-speed blur. She tried to snatch the words zooming around her head and place them into sentences, but it would have taken too long. So she simply caught them and threw them out, one by one.

“I have. Well. Actually. My Great-Aunt Coral. She gave me. Or left me. A beach hut. It’s mine!”

The phone was silent for a few moments.

“What beach hut?”

Coral was fizzing with excitement and had expected Nicks’s reaction to be just as delirious. Dumped back down to earth, she tried again.

“My great-aunt owned a beach hut,” she explained, slowing her pace. “It was her favourite place until she became very old. And now it’s mine.”

“Yours?”

“Seems so.”

“Really?”

“Definitely. It’s even called Coral Hut!”

Coral was suddenly very grateful that her parents hadn’t named her after Hildegard, her great-aunt on her mum’s side. Actually she was grateful for more than one reason.

“Wow, that is brilliant!” Nicks cried out gleefully.

“I know! And we can go and see it tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow? Double brilliant.” That was Nicks excited. She just wasn’t the squealing type. “So what does it look like?”

“Uh, I don’t really know.”

“I bet it’s ace!”

Coral closed her eyes and built a beach hut in her mind. It was cute and colourful and very girly and all their friends would think they were amazing for having it. She was so busy imagining it she forgot all about Nicks…until her father threw his deep voice like a bowling ball down the hallway. “Say good night, Coral!”

That knocked her out of her daydream.

“See you tomorrow morning very early, Nicks,” Coral whispered. “Good night.”

She didn’t know about a good night, but it would certainly be a long one. She climbed back into bed and snuggled up to the warm hairy bundle beside her. Life was good. Even Romeo’s doggy breath didn’t seem quite so bad.

2 love nest

“Coral, have some breakfast, please.”

“But Nicks is waiting for me!”

Coral’s mum pushed a piece of toast with honey into her hand. “Well, eat it on the way then.” She inspected her daughter’s head of crazy curls and reached for her handbag. “You haven’t even brushed your hair.”

Coral faked left and bolted right. But she wasn’t quick enough. She was suddenly in the midst of an energetic hairbrushing. Nicks’s neatly combed blonde head peered round the kitchen door.

“There’s toast made, Nicks,” advised Coral’s mum.

“I’ve already had scrambled eggs, thank you.” Nicks smiled.

Coral scowled. What did breakfast matter when the beach hut was waiting? Romeo chewed at her laces. He knew something was up and he was just as eager to find out what.

Finally – released from the brush – Coral and her two best friends made a swift dash for the beach, flying down alleys and past houses in a blur. Finally they arrived at a neat row of beach huts standing one beside the other in a straight, sea-facing queue. Of course the girls had seen the huts before, but things were different now. The beach huts were all the same, but they weren’t. One of these huts was now theirs.

The slice of toast in Coral’s fingers had gone cold and soggy. It wasn’t designed for breaking land-speed records. She ignored it and stared with eyes like two shiny coins, her mouth open and round, ready to ooh and aah as soon as she found Coral Hut. Nicks’s gaze too was fixed on the huts. Romeo, though, was more interested in the toast. He stood up on his back legs and nibbled around Coral’s fingers.

The huts all had narrow double doors with windows on either side. Every single one had a small deck with a railing and sloping roof. And yet each beach hut was different. Some were colourful. Others were plain. Some had their own fancy features like wagon-wheel deck railings and carved wooden window shutters.

“What number did you say Coral Hut was?” asked Nicks with a wrinkled-up face. The bright early-morning sunshine dazzled her.

“Number five,” Coral called out as she counted.

Nicks used one hand to shade her eyes and pointed with the other. “That must be it then.”

Coral followed her finger. But that hut was dull. It was nothing but bare, bleached wood. There was nothing special about that hut.

Coral mooched over to it. The key slipped in first time. She breathed in sharply. Now all she had to do was to open the double doors. She glanced over at Nicks nervously. Her friend shrugged and smiled: it was only a beach hut. She nodded – and pushed. Inside, the beach hut couldn’t have been more different…

It was a breathtaking, girly heaven. So there were cobwebs, but she could see through those. Coral did a quick whizzaround the small room and then started back at the beginning, sucking in each detail and swallowing it down like a sweet treat. Everywhere was light and summery, with wooden walls whitewashed in cottagey-white. Coral smiled. There was a white wroughtiron daybed pressed against one wall with a sturdy, pink-painted straight chair to serve as a table beside it. On its seat was a white enamel jug of flower stalks. Rose petals had fallen and dried around its base. Coral’s smile widened. In the middle of the floor lay a rug of pink primroses. Stencilled roses scrambled along the edges of the exposed white wooden floor. There was a white wicker basket nestled in one corner. Her eyes darted back to the daybed, covered in cushions of pretty pastel prints and rambling roses, floral gingham and woven checks. One wall had a shelf filled with books. Three gold picture frames hung on the opposite wall. Coral’s smile was now so wide it was almost reaching her ears. It was the dreamiest, most beautiful place she’d ever seen. Or it would be, once they’d cleared away all the dust and cobwebs.

Finally, she dragged her happy eyes back over to her friend. Nicks met her gaze. They wore matching faces.

“Woo-hoo!” they both shrieked ecstatically. And Nicks was not the shrieking sort.

“And it’s all ours!” Coral added by way of a second shriek. Of course it was all theirs. They shared everything. Romeo growled at a spider running for cover and then barked at a nosy seagull who had perched himself on the deck railing, eager to take a look at the hut’s new inhabitants.

Nicks giggled. “Well, come on then.” She grabbed Coral’s hand and together they tumbled inside the little piece of beachy heaven that was Coral Hut.

Nicks made immediately for the shelves on the wall to inspect the books while Coral went towards the white wicker basket tucked into a cosy corner. She swiped at a dust layer and hoisted the lid. Inside there were two enamel candle holders, one pale blue and the other a butter-yellow colour, with a small box of candles. Next there was a large, flat paisley box of scented paper and pens. Coral brought her nose closer to the paper. The sheets smelled of perfumed musk that reminded her of Great-Aunt Coral. She gave one more sniff before putting the paper down and picking up a cake tin printed with cherry blossoms. Would it smell just as good inside? She prised off its lid. It was empty but smelled of roses, like it might once have held squares of Turkish delight. It was a pretty little tin and so Coral set it to one side. It deserved to sit on top of the wicker basket, not inside lost in the darkness.

Suddenly, Nicks called her over excitedly, which put an end to Coral’s searching and sniffing through the basket for that day.

“You must look at this!” Nicks had an open book in one hand and was looking at the three gold-framed pictures on the wall. Coral scurried over. The frames were filled with prints of chubby cupids with curly hair and feathery wings. One cupid held a harp in its fat little fingers; another had a small horn plumping up its cheeks.

“And listen to this.” Nicks blew at the dust on the book and began reading out loud. “Oh my love is like a red, red rose that’s newly sprung in June; oh my love is like the melody that’s sweetly played in tune.” Nicks grinned and flicked a few pages forward in the book and continued to read. “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.”

Coral wondered what Nicks was on about. Her face must have said it all.

“It’s a book of romantic poetry,” Nicks explained. “And there are lots more just like it – look!” The shelf above her head was heavy with books all crowded up against one another.

Coral gazed from the books to the cupids. Coral Hut was like a temple to love. She remembered her great-aunt’s note; who’d have ever guessed that the old lady was the romantic sort? What a pity there hadn’t been enough time to get to know her better…

Nicks found two faded, folded deckchairs and dragged them out on to the deck, although there was no way she could sit down yet. She gazed out blissfully at the ocean. She could also see the lifeboat station and the cobbled launching jetty. Sunday Harbour pier was a stripe in the distance. It was early in the day, but the beach was already busy with people and dogs and boats. Coral meanwhile scurried between the hut and deck. She couldn’t stop moving; it was all way too exciting.

“Look – throws for snuggling under!” she exclaimed, cheerfully chucking a candy-striped woven blanket at her friend. They’d been hidden under the daybed. Nicks disappeared beneath a cloud of dust.

“Just what I don’t need!” She coughed and laughed and Coral vanished inside the hut again. But Nicks stayed outdoors to have a look at the huts on either side of theirs. The one to their right was painted khaki and had camouflage netting thrown over its roof. The hut to their left was simpler and painted a bold glossy red. They’d been in such a hurry to discover Coral Hut that they hadn’t paid any attention to their neighbours. Both huts stood silent and locked up tight.

Just then a familiar face caught Nicks’s eye. Actually, it was two familiar faces. They were laughing, and then they shared a kiss.

“Coral – get out here, quick!” Nicks called.

Coral instantly appeared, breathless and with wild hair. The combination of sea air and energetic poking around had sent her curls crazy.

Nicks pointed at the water’s edge. “Look.”

An old man wearing swimming trunks and goggles was doing star jumps. Two women went speed-walking by with their elbows flying like pistons. A small girl with a head of colourful glitter clips collected shells. But most important of all – a young man and woman stood and kissed…

3 love relations

There was a reason why Nicks and Coral were so pleased at the sight of the kissing couple. But to understand why meant going back in time to the beginning…to the day of Great-Aunt Coral’s funeral…to the day it all began…

It was one o’clock in the afternoon and Coral was staring at the sandwich on her plate. The bread was wholewheat and nutty. Brown bird-feed bread; it was not her favourite. And one edge was hard and crusty. What was the point of crusts? She’d often wondered the same about homework. Prising open the sandwich, she stared at the dissolving egg mayo inside. It was nothing personal, but egg mayo was simply not a summer sort of sandwich filler. Now a choccie biscuit – that was a summer sort of tummy filler! She turned to the small side table. But there was not a single choccie thing in sight, and not a single biscuit left on her plate. Her eyes kept moving until they landed on Nicks’s plate. Her friend was munching on what looked suspiciously like a choccie biscuit.

Nicks looked up. “You’re staring at me, Coral,” she said, scratching her head with a face like it hurt.

“And you’re eating my choccie biscuit.” “I’m sharing your biscuit,” said Nicks, offering it back to her friend.

Coral made a huffy face, so Nicks took another nibble and made a delicate lip-smacking sound. “Fine,” was all she said.

There was no reasoning with a biscuit guzzler. So Coral shifted her attention to the rest of the people in the living room. They were all very busy eating, moving around and talking. She watched Nicks’s mother nodding gently while she listened to a group of ladies dressed smartly in brooches and hats. She ran the local post office and knew almost everyone. Coral’s own mother strolled around the room doling out stuffed eggs, mini muffins and biscuits for dunking. She made pint-sized chit-chat as she moved, always offering a smile with a small sympathetic tilt of her head. No, it just won’t be the same without Great-Aunt Coral. Oh yes, she will be dearly missed.

“It’s nice that your family has come together to remember Great-Aunt Coral,” Nicks said.

Coral nodded.

“Are you OK?” Nicks’s face was worried.

Coral nodded. The old lady was not much more than a picture in her head. She was twelve years old and yet in all that time she’d never really spent much time with her great-aunt.

Nicks was staring at her friend. “Coral, are you sure you’re all right?”

Actually, she was starving. She stared mournfully at the egg mayo growing mould on her plate. “I guess I’ll be fine, Nicks.”

“Shall I get you something?” She nodded. “A sandwich, please. And I could probably do with one of those mini-muffin things too.”

“Yes, of course.” Nicks nodded and headed for Coral’s mum and the travelling plate of snacks.

Coral remained perched on her hard chair and stared out across the room. Her grandfather had fallen asleep in his chair. An aunt (of the non-great variety) was scraping sponge cake off the fake Persian carpet. Her father was standing over a very small cousin who seemed determined to reach the handmade miniature sailing boats on the mantelpiece. Her father had dedicated months to the building of those little boats. And then her cousin Archie wafted in through the front door like a south-westerly sea breeze. He was alone.

Archie was eighteen – nine years older than Coral – and he still hadn’t got himself a girlfriend. Coral blamed the rock climbing. After all, what girlfriend wanted to watch rock climbing? Archie even did fake rock climbing, or that’s what it seemed to Coral – climbing pretend rock walls in sports centres.

Coral waved as Archie passed, but he was on course for the kitchen so she searched for Nicks again.

Her best friend seemed to be talking to a thin young woman with long, dark hair tied in a loose bun. Her eyes were red circles and matched her blotchy cheeks. Coral’s mum’s head was once again tilted with sympathy. She reached for the small plate in Nicks’s hands and offered a biscuit to the sad woman, who accepted one, taking a dainty bite. The biscuit seemed to calm her. Nicks leaned over and rubbed the young woman’s shoulders like she was caught in a blizzard and needed to stay warm…

When Nicks did finally return, Coral was still in her chair and listening to her godmother’s second rendition of the Begonia Story (she’d planted what she thought were begonia seeds only to discover that there must have been some mix-up because yellow daisies had grown instead). Coral laughed anyway.

Her godmother spied Nicks and sighed. “Nicks, darling, thank goodness,” she cried, looking quite relieved. “The sausage rolls are ready – only I couldn’t bear to see dear Coral sitting here all on her own.” And then she was gone. Coral shrugged. She understood. This was not the sort of day for anybody to be sitting alone.

“Who were you talking to?” she asked her best friend.

“That’s Gwyn,” Nicks replied. “Gwyn was your great-aunt’s homecare nurse. She’d been with her for almost two years. She’s taking all this quite badly.”

Coral nodded sympathetically and tried to catch Gwyn’s attention. The homecare nurse finally saw Coral’s smile and returned it sadly. She was wedged in between the rhubarb tarts at the edge of the food table and another blue-rinsed relative who was also asleep in a chair. Coral wondered if some company might cheer her up. The snoring wasn’t very cheery. And the rhubarb tarts didn’t seem to be doing it either.

Archie, she noticed, was now at the other end of the food table and looked lost. Rock-climbing audiences had dwindled since all the old folks had started nodding off one by one. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, gazing about the room, looking for something interesting to focus on. The wall behind him finally caught his attention and he pulled a hand from his pocket and rapped it with his knuckles. Coral watched her cousin carefully. He was examining the wall for its climbing potential! Somebody had to save him.