Sunshine Kisses

Chapter 1

Seaside – The Kooks

A

bigail Briar’s mother had a unique way of making her feel like a disaster.

That was her prevailing thought as yet another text buzzed in her pocket and she swore under her breath for the hundredth time that morning. Ignoring it for the moment, she focused on cursing both her reading and shopping habits as she dragged her bulging suitcase through the closing doors of the train, almost tripping when her equally overstuffed tote caught on the front row of seats and threw off her balance.

When Abby was safely seated, she inspected the fabric of her bag, sighing as she found a few loose threads where it had snagged on the door of her Uber to the train station. It was a favourite—a memento of a family trip to New York that had included hours exploring The Strand. The print was worn from nearly a decade of use, but she kept the bag in otherwise pristine condition. Perhaps she could mend it at the hotel.

Of course, if she hadn’t been in such a hurry, she might have taken slightly more care exiting the car, rather than yanking her bags after her as she jumped out to run for her train.

Abby had never been great at keeping time, but that day had gone particularly badly. She’d had a stroke of inspiration on her thesis topic and gone down a research spiral before realising that she had accidentally turned off the set of alarms that were supposed to be governing her day, and she was now well past pack your last toiletries and grab your white slip dress from the dryer and fast approaching you need to leave for the train station right the fuck now.

Her angel of a flatmate, Sarah, had finally stepped in when Abby sent half of their haircare products tumbling to the shower floor. She may have been slightly overzealous in trying to ease her conditioner out of the badly abused silicone bread pan they had squeezed all their potions into. When it had finally released with a pop, the change in weight distribution had caused the whole arrangement to topple over, sending masks and oils scattering. Ever the cool, composed antithesis to Abby’s chaotic mess, Sarah had placed both hands on her friend’s shoulders and looked her calmly in the eye.

‘Go pack up your laptop and check you have all the notes and books you need. I’ll finish up here and stuff these last bits into your bag.’

There was a reason she was one of Abby’s favourite people.

Since it was near impossible not to do exactly what that measured, reasonable voice told you, Abby had busied herself double checking the contents of her enormous tote, finally determining that she did have everything she needed to continue working on her holiday. Minutes later, Sarah had transferred the suitcase into Abby’s waiting hand and pushed her out the door.

In the short Uber ride from her flat to the train station, Abby had received no fewer than ten texts from her mother. Painfully aware of her daughter’s shortcomings as she was, Susan had repeatedly shared her fears that Abby was going to miss her train. She suspected that for Susan it was less a concern that she might wait an additional day to see her child, and more disturbing that the delicate timetable of their holiday would be destroyed should the traditional game of lawn bowls need to be moved from Thursday evening to Friday. When she was inevitably asked to recount her day over dinner, Abby planned to insist she had reached the train in plenty of time. The truth—that her boot had barely cleared the closing doors—wouldn’t benefit anyone.

Her phone vibrated once again, and she took a deep breath as she fished it from her pocket.

Incoming call from— Of course.

‘Hello, mother. Can’t talk. I’m on the train,’ she said, keeping her voice low. Not low enough, evidently, as she noted a number of scowls aimed in her direction.

‘Oh, you made it, darling. Wonderful. I was just worried, you know, because you do lose track of time occasionally…’

Abby rolled her eyes as her mother continued to monologue, prattling on about their plans for the following week. At least she could mostly tune it out. It wasn’t as if she’d be asked for an opinion. But a single name filtered through the white noise, snapping her awareness back to the tinny words carrying through her speaker.

‘What was that about Erik?’ she asked, pitching her voice even quieter. There were still scowls pointed in her direction, but fewer than before. Generally she respected train etiquette, but really, if you were that concerned with protecting your silence, headphones or earplugs were a minor investment.

‘I was just calling to tell you Erik will be collecting you from the station, so keep an eye out for Peter and Nora’s car.’

Abby’s heart squeezed.

And there it was.

The reason she had volunteered for the madness that was a week with her parents and their longtime friends.

Erik.

Her best friend since they had been born a week apart twenty-five years before.

Throughout their childhoods, they had rarely left each other’s sides, but clashing university schedules and Erik’s endless work trips after graduating had colluded to prevent them spending more than a few days together each year. It was true that choosing to occupy a week with her parents felt like a sick form of masochism—even if it was in a beautiful seaside hotel, and on their account. Though there was an open invitation to join them on their annual holiday, she hadn’t taken them up on it since she’d left school. But then Erik had dropped into an email that he would be home for Easter, and asked if he’d be seeing her on their parents’ trip to the coast.

Despite an open understanding between the two households that where one went, the other swiftly followed, extended familial obligations often kept them apart during Erik’s brief trips home for Christmas—usually the only time off he could commit to. Add to that the fact that his schedule had been thrown off the previous year, and he’d come to visit for his birthday in June rather than his traditional December holiday, making it far too long since she’d seen him. The chance to reunite for a whole week was simply too much to pass up.

After a muffled goodbye to Susan, Abby dug through the stack of books in her tote and huffed when she realised that her current read was missing. She cast her mind back, trying to remember the last place she’d seen it. On her bedside nook. Where she’d placed it before going to sleep the night before. Not in the mood to invest herself in something new, she unlocked her phone again and pulled up the last email Erik had sent her.

As always, his message ignored any pleasantries and dove straight into a detailed response to her previous thoughts, followed by a minute review of his week. And there, just before signing off with love:

I’ve been encouraged to take some time off, and my parents have finally twisted my arm to join them at Belridge over Easter. I know you haven’t gone since we left school—believe me, if I didn’t feel so guilty about not spending any real time with them in years, I wouldn’t be going either—but it might actually be bearable with you. Let me know if I should pack the gifts I’ve been accumulating for you, or if that space would be better allocated to invisible ear plugs and tranquillisers.