The Great Summer Street Party Part 3: Blue Skies and Blackberry Pies

Georgia Hill

• Publisher: One More Chapter
• Year: 2022
• Topic: Literature
• eBook ISBN:
  9780008519766
• Subtopic: Historical Fiction
• Index: Literature

Welcome to Berecombe-by-the-Sea for a year of very special celebrations…

This year sees the seventy-fifth anniversary of D-Day. We owe an enormous debt of gratitude to those brave boys who went to fight on French beaches for our freedom.

And now Berecombe is playing host to our American allies once more. All surviving soldiers who were billeted in the town have been invited for street parties, a D-Day parade, a black-tie ball at The Henville and much, much more.

So, come along, get dressed up and join in the fun!

Berecombe's year of commemoration may be coming to a close… but the rest of Ashley Lydden's new life has only just begun!

Ashley couldn't have predicted that she'd find herself a whole new – much happier – life in the quiet, seaside town of Berecombe, but now she can't imagine being anywhere else.

She knows better than most though that life has a way of surprising you when you least expect it, so when things start going all kinds of wrong for Ashley and her handsome American, Eddie McQueen, she's forced to lean on her new friends for support. Thankfully, the residents of Berecombe learned decades ago that there's no problem that can't be fixed with a little bit of bunting and a whole lot of love…

Readers are LOVING The Great Summer Street Party:

'A delightful escapism read and a beautiful story that brought back lots of memories of my Nan' Helen

'Packed with romance, celebrations, starting life again and lots of see, sun and sand…a lovely friendship and community vibe' Meena

'What a lovely blend of romance and historical fiction surrounding the soldiers involved in the D-Day landings…Get out the bunting!' Norma

'Made me really want to read more after rushing through it' Joanne

'Left me wanting more…the most perfect setting in the West Country, sun, sea and a fantastic welcoming community' Sally

Chapter One

Ashley cycled along Berecombe seafront, breathing in great gulps of salty Devon air. It was a detour from her flat to the Arts Workshop but, on a day like today, it was too good to miss. Making sure she didn’t cycle too fast, as Bronte’s lead was attached to the handlebars and she was running alongside, she stole a glance at the view. Now that the school holidays were over, most of the visitors she could see were retired, or young couples with pre-school-age children enjoying the beach and making the most of the blue skies and warm sunshine. The summer had been a series of long, hot, sunny days running into one another. And now, although it was early September, the weather was still balmy. It was possibly even better now that the shrill heat of July and August was softened by gentle breezes. As she slowly cycled she could hear the shrieks and giggles of children building sandcastles or paddling in Berecombe’s safe, shallow waters.

Stopping to better enjoy the view, she checked on the little black poodle panting beside her. She was on her way to teach her first art class. Nerves suddenly hit; she hadn’t taught for over two years. ‘Ooh, Bronte, let’s just hope I haven’t forgotten how to do it!’ she murmured. Lifting her face to the sun for a few luxurious seconds, she inhaled the soothing sea air and concentrated on slowing her breathing and calming herself down. The sea sparkled a dancing blue, pillowy clouds drifted and all around her were the happy sounds and intoxicating smells of a seaside town. Not for the first time she thanked her lucky stars that she’d ended up living in this quirky little town in east Devon. It had helped her heal, she’d made new friends and had a job she loved. And now she was about to take another step on the road to getting back to herself. No, she corrected. She was taking another leap into creating the new her! Her nerves were replaced by an enormous sense of well-being as with a grin she pushed off and headed for the Workshop.

An hour later, she faced the class in airy Studio One. It was a group of only nine and all women. Easels and chairs had been set up in a circle around a tableau of three white jugs sitting on some rich blue velvet with a bowl of vivid oranges. The colours popped and zinged and, along with the familiar scent of paint tickling her nostrils, took her straight back into her teaching days before her accident. She just hoped she could still do it. Forcing herself to relax, she remembered what Ken, her manager, had whispered to her on the way in. ‘Remember, it’s not like teaching schoolkids – they all want to be here. Or that’s the theory.’

Ashley hoped so. At least her friend Beryl was here. The woman, dressed today in a bright pink linen smock and matching earrings, which contrasted with her silver pixie cut, gave her an encouraging wave as she sat down at one of the easels. Ashley smiled back. Beryl and Biddy, Berecombe’s most notorious pensioners, had become two of her closest friends. She was particularly fond of Beryl. Biddy could be forthright and difficult, but Beryl was nothing but kindness and Ashley knew she was here to show moral support. If someone had told her two years ago that she’d be best buds with a couple of women well into their seventies, she would have laughed. But they’d become family – her family in Berecombe. She watched as the rest of the group settled. The only other woman she knew was Marti Cavendish from choir, who was chatting to a sleek middle-aged woman in expensive-looking white jeans. Ashley winced. Perhaps the first lesson might be about what was appropriate to wear in an art studio.

Ashley hesitated, wondering when the best time would be to bring the class to order. She couldn’t believe how nervous she felt – her legs were trembling! She’d been teaching art all her working life, and even though Ken had said they differed from schoolchildren in that they’d paid to be here, that might well mean they’d be more demanding. Beryl caught her eye and winked. It gave her a little courage. No going back now.

Clearing her throat, she began to speak. ‘If you could all face the front, then we can start.’ No response, they were all too busy chatting. Oh God, it was going to be a disaster, wasn’t it? What could she do? Taking a deep breath, Ashley dipped into her teacher’s bag of tricks and summoned up her alter ego, the one she used to use to best effect with the tricky Year Nines on a wet Thursday afternoon. ‘Right then,’ she bellowed, making them all jump. ‘Face this way, ladies, and we’ll get going.’ It worked. Even Marti stopped gossiping and faced the front. Teaching, Ashley suddenly remembered, was all about acting a part. Forcing yourself into the authority role and beaming out confident vibes even when, as now, it was the last thing you felt. She felt her shoulders loosen as she realised they were sitting up and paying attention. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Beryl give her the thumbs-up. A rush of confidence flooded through her as she settled back into the old, familiar groove. She might not have taught for some time, but it was like riding a bike; she hadn’t lost it after all.

Lowering the volume to a more conversational and friendly level, she said, ‘We’ll begin by introducing ourselves. I’ll start. My name is Ashley Lydden. I’ve taught art for all of my teaching career, although I’ll confess, this is my first class for a while.’ Again, at the perimeter of her vision, she saw Beryl nod encouragingly. Forcing a smile, she added, ‘I hope you’ll forgive me if I’m a little rusty.’ She was relieved to see that there were one or two sympathetic murmurs. They were on her side. Emboldened, she went on. ‘You see, I had a car accident a while ago which meant I had to learn how to walk again.’ A shocked sound rippled around the room. ‘It also meant I couldn’t stand for any length of time so I couldn’t teach.’ Ashley let out a breath. There was a time when she couldn’t tell even her closest friends about the accident and now she was telling a room full of strangers. Realising how far she’d come in her recovery thrilled her. That and being back in an art studio and teaching. It was a wonderful feeling. She relaxed some more. She could do this! ‘So, if I pull up a stool next to where you’re working and sit on it peering over your shoulder, please don’t be put off. It’s just a more comfortable way for me to give you some feedback and tips.’ Relieved laughter sounded and she felt her nerves calm. She’d definitely got them on side. Now she could take them with her on their learning journey. Oh, how she’d missed this. She hadn’t actually known how much until this moment.

‘After you’ve introduced yourselves, I’m going to set you a task so I can see how you work. It’ll give me a good idea how to tailor the next lessons so I can best move you on. Remember, none of this is about competition.’ At this Marti looked disappointed. ‘It’s about exploring and developing your own personal style and using a range of media and techniques. But most of all, it’s about having fun!’

At the half-time break, Ken popped into Studio One to see how everything was going. ‘Okay?’ he asked.

‘Think so,’ she whispered. ‘I remembered to do the health and safety and fire drill stuff, had a chat about wearing old clothes or bringing an old shirt, doled out the obligatory painting kit to those who thought it would be provided, and set them to a still life. Not very exciting but it gives me a chance to evaluate their skills. See what I’m working with.’

‘Excellent idea. I watched a little of the session through the window just in case you needed me to jump in but there was no need. You handle them really well, Ashley, my friend. Just the right amount of encouragement and suggestion on how to improve. I didn’t expect anything less.’ As he saw Beryl approach, he added, ‘I’ll leave you to it. Looks like you’ve got it all under control. And, if it helps, imagine them all—’

‘Naked. Yes, thanks, Ken. And it doesn’t!’

He grinned, put up his hands in surrender and left.

‘I’ve brought you a coffee,’ Beryl said, handing over a mug. ‘You’re doing so well, my lovely. I’ve heard lots of compliments about how good a teacher you are.’

‘Thanks, Beryl. I was so nervous at the start!’

‘Absolutely no need and I can assure you it didn’t show. We’re all having a super time and learning lots.’

‘I can’t tell you how relieved I am that it’s going well, and I really appreciate you coming along.’ She glanced over to where the students had gathered around the hot water urn. ‘I’m not sure if I ought to go and mingle at the tea table or leave them to bond as a group. If they were schoolkids, I’d leave them to it but—’

‘Oh, they’ll come over when they’re ready. And in Marti’s case, it’ll be to tell you how she narrowly missed out on getting into the Royal College of Art. She’s already bored that nice lady wearing the white jeans.’ Beryl winked, her wrinkles creasing into well-worn grooves. ‘I’m amazed she’s had time to fit everything she claims to have done into such a short life, especially as she only admits to thirty-nine.’

They laughed. Marti was well known for her boastful ways.

‘I’m really enjoying this,’ Beryl continued. ‘Thanks for putting the class on. I’m missing choir ever since Petra left, so it fills a gap. And it’s good to flex the old creative skills. If I have any.’

‘I had a sneaky look when you popped to the loo. You’ve got talent, Beryl. And thank you for the kind words. If this goes well, I’ll think about putting on more classes, maybe some in the evening for those not free during the day.’

‘Excellent idea.’

‘I miss choir, too,’ Ashley said, as she sipped her coffee. ‘I loved those fun sing-alongs, especially the Grease medleys. Always left in such a good mood. Really lifted the spirits.’

‘Have you heard from Petra?’

Petra, Ashley’s friend who had been running the choir, had recently skipped town unexpectedly.

‘No. I imagine she’s too busy. Touring the country with the band – going from town to town – can’t leave much time spare.’ Ashley supposed it was true, but she’d been disappointed that Petra hadn’t rung. She’d thought they’d become close since she’d moved to Berecombe, and had considered Petra a good friend, so her sudden departure and radio silence ever since were hard for Ashley to process.

‘Biddy’s spitting feathers, she’s that mad about the girl running off and leaving everyone in the lurch.’

‘And no one wants to get on the wrong side of Biddy.’

‘I have to agree. Although she’s one of my dearest friends, I confess to treading warily around her.’

‘At least the café is in safe hands with Tessa, Eleri and Zoe – though I know Petra’s managerial skills are sorely missed. I think they’re planning to carry on until Millie finds a new manager to take over Petra’s job.’

‘And at least Tess can use the kitchen to make her bread. I’m particularly fond of her walnut loaf. It’s not ideal though. The girl really should have given poor Millie some notice. Sorry, Ashley, I know she’s a friend of yours.’

‘Was. I haven’t heard from her since she left and she didn’t tell me anything about going off to sing with the band.’

‘How hurtful. And what about your nice young man? Is Eddie returning to Berecombe soon?’

‘I hope so. He’s hoping to spend some time in town when he gets back from the States and before he has to go to Bristol to start filming.’

‘I’m so looking forward to this TV series he’s doing. Folklore and myth! Right up my alley. Now, you must excuse me, I’m just going to say hello to one or two people.’

Ashley watched her go. Beryl’s question about Eddie had made her insides go to mush in excitement. She couldn’t wait to see him. As soon as they’d met, the attraction had been instant – and hot – but the relationship had been fraught with difficulties. Now, though, there was gentle hope on the horizon. Although not finding it easy, Ashley was gradually making peace with the fact that his ex-girlfriend was having his baby, and she had fully supported Eddie flying over to the States to be with Bree while she gave birth. They’d been in constant touch while he’d been in the US, but the time difference and his new baby made it difficult to talk.

Bree hadn’t coped well after the birth, so they’d all gone to stay with Eddie’s parents in Rockport, and he was leaving her and baby Hal there when he returned to the UK to make his new TV series. The set-up at Eddie’s parents’ sounded very cosy and Ashley was working hard at squashing down the jealousy; she felt very much the outsider – the other woman, even.

‘Baby steps,’ she muttered to herself, ignoring the irony. ‘Baby steps.’ This was one more thing she had to work on: coping with the fact...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• Dedication
• Epigraph
• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5
• Chapter 6
• Chapter 7
• Chapter 8
• Chapter 9
• Chapter 10
• Chapter 11
• Chapter 12
• Chapter 13
• Chapter 14
• Chapter 15
• Chapter 16
• Chapter 17
• Chapter 18
• Chapter 19
• Chapter 20
• Chapter 21
• Chapter 22
• Chapter 23
• Chapter 24
• Epilogue
• Acknowledgments
• Thank you for reading…
• About the Author
• Also by Georgia Hill
• One More Chapter...
• About the Publisher