Sparks Fly Read online

  Coming Home

  to

  Merriment Bay

  Part Two

  Sparks Fly

  Emily Harvale

  Copyright

  Copyright © Emily Harvale 2019

  All rights reserved

  Emily Harvale has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, businesses, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Crescent Gate Publishing

  E-edition published worldwide 2019

  ISBN 978-1-909917-49-1

  Cover design © JR and Emily Harvale

  Edited by Christina Harkness

  Other Titles by Emily Harvale

  Highland Fling

  Lizzie Marshall's Wedding

  The Golf Widows' Club

  Sailing Solo

  Carole Singer's Christmas

  Christmas Wishes

  A Slippery Slope

  The Perfect Christmas Plan

  Be Mine

  It Takes Two

  Bells and Bows on Mistletoe Row

  The Goldebury Bay series:

  Ninety Days of Summer – book 1

  Ninety Steps to Summerhill – book 2

  Ninety Days to Christmas – book 3

  The Hideaway Down series:

  A Christmas Hideaway – book 1

  Catch A Falling Star – book 2

  Walking on Sunshine – book 3

  Dancing in the Rain – book 4

  Hall's Cross series

  Deck the Halls – book 1

  The Starlight Ball – book 2

  Michaelmas Bay series

  Christmas Secrets in Snowflake Cove – book 1

  Blame it on the Moonlight – book 2

  Lily Pond Lane series

  The Cottage on Lily Pond Lane – four-part serial

  Part One – New beginnings

  Part Two – Summer secrets

  Part Three – Autumn leaves

  Part Four – Trick or treat

  Christmas on Lily Pond Lane

  Return to Lily Pond Lane

  A Wedding on Lily Pond Lane

  Secret Wishes and Summer Kisses on Lily Pond Lane

  Wyntersleap series

  Christmas at Wynter House

  Merriment Bay series

  Coming Home to Merriment Bay – four-part serial

  Part One – A Reunion

  In loving memory of my grandmother, May, who encouraged me to tell stories.

  Table of contents

  Title

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Other titles

  Series info

  About this book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Coming Soon

  Also by

  Acknowledgements

  A note from Emily

  Contact

  This is a novel told in four parts and will form the first book in my Merriment Bay series.

  This is Coming Home to Merriment Bay-Part Two: Sparks Fly

  The four parts are:

  Coming Home to Merriment Bay-

  Part One: A Reunion

  Coming Home to Merriment Bay-

  Part Two: Sparks Fly

  Coming Home to Merriment Bay-

  Part Three: Christmas

  Coming Home to Merriment Bay-

  Part Four: Starry Skies.

  My Merriment Bay series is interconnected with my Wyntersleap series. Each series can be read alone, but several characters appear in both series.

  Chapter One

  'We could post the photo on some of the social media sites I'm on,' Kyra suggested, 'and ask if anyone recognises him.'

  'I don't think that's wise,' Cat said, glancing at the faded photo they'd found in Granny Viola's trunk of the gorgeous RAF pilot. It now stood in the centre of the dining table, propped up against a vase containing autumn blooms. 'We don't know anything about him. He may not be dead as we now seem to have assumed he might. He may be alive and married with kids and grandkids. I'm not sure I'd like to see a photo of my husband, dad or granddad plastered on a stranger's social media page or whatever it is they're called.'

  Kyra sighed. 'I know you dislike the whole concept of social media, Mum, but millions of people love it.' She snapped a shot of the photo with the camera on her phone.

  'I agree with Catherine,' Mary said, refilling their crystal wine glasses. She may have been persuaded to leave the precious porcelain in the cupboard, but not serving wine in crystal glasses at their evening meal seemed to be a step too far for her. 'I would be mortified if someone did that to me or a member of my family.'

  Cat threw her a sarcastic grin. 'Perhaps I should get Kyra to stick a photo of me on there with a caption or whatever, asking if anyone knows who my dad is. What would you think about that, Mum?'

  Mary narrowed her eyes. 'I would think you were being rather mean and selfish, Catherine. But as I don't believe you are either of those things, the question is irrelevant. Besides, you're still a little self-conscious of your scars, although I don't know why. But you would no more post a photo of yourself in a public place than I would.'

  'Touché! But you do realise, now the question of my parentage has once again reared its ugly head, I'm not going to let it rest until you eventually tell me.'

  Cat reached out and touched Mary's hand. She wasn't cross about her mum continuing to keep the information from her; Mary clearly had her reasons. And Cat had survived for thirty-five years without knowing. She could wait a little longer. She and Mary had come a long way in the few short weeks since Cat and Kyra had arrived in Merriment Bay, but there were still some emotional wounds yet to heal that they had inflicted on one another. But now that she had come home, Cat was determined to finally find out who her dad was.

  'I wouldn't expect you to, Catherine. You're a Devon.'

  What a typical response from Mary. Cat grinned at Kyra and flicked her eyes skywards.

  Kyra grinned back. 'So what are we Devons going to do to find out who this man is? Are you going to invite the Lesters round for dinner tomorrow, Gran? Or shall I show the photo to Amias when I see him tomorrow morning, and ask if he can help?'

  Mary stiffened. 'Personally, I'd rather we ask William. Especially as he's the Mayor. If there are records at the museum or wherever, but they're not open to the public, as Mayor of Merriment Bay, William may be able to find a way to work around that.'

  'And you think Amias wouldn't?' Cat gave a snort of laughter. 'You clearly don't know him as well as you think you do, Mum. Unless he's changed over the years.'

  'I'm pleased to say, I hardly know the man at all. And I'd very much like to keep it that way. His sister, on the other hand, I can't avoid. Horton and Wells are the only Estate Agency in Merriment Bay, so I really had no choice. But as it happens, she is quite delightful. Now that she's married to that lovely Josh Horton, you wouldn't even know she was once a member of the Wells family.'

  Cat gasped, unsure of what surprised her most about Mary'
s comment, that Natalia was an estate agent, that she'd married Josh Horton, that they were the agents handling the sale of Devon Villa. Or that Mary seemed to think that being married to Josh somehow meant Natalia had broken all ties with her family.

  'Forgetting for one moment that I knew nothing of Natalia's current status, I hate to point this out, Mum, but Natalia is still a member of the Wells family. She always will be. Nothing will ever break that family apart. They're as close as it's possible for a family to be.'

  Mary dismissively waved her hand in the air. 'Oh, I know they were all as thick as thieves. And probably were thieves. Don't look so cross, Catherine. I've known that family for far longer than you. Mother knew them too. What I meant was her lowly beginnings haven't held her back.'

  'Lowly beginnings? Sometimes, you astound me, Mum. They may have lived in a tiny, tumbled down house, but at least it was theirs and they owned the land it stood on. And despite the fact they had nothing but that land and that house, Alwick would never sell to make a quick profit and I don't expect that's changed. He told Amias and Natalia the land would be theirs one day. Although I know you said that Amias has done well and that he now owns a big, new house on the bay.'

  'Yes. And Alwick built himself a new house on that land, and one for Natalia, some years ago, so at least they no longer live in that hovel.'

  'Did he? Well I'm glad to hear that. But it wasn't a hovel, Mum. Anyway, my point is, it shouldn't matter where anyone comes from. What should matter is what they do, and where they end up.'

  'That's what I said.'

  'No. You said–'

  'Does it matter?' Kyra interrupted. 'Isn't it time we all got along? I'll ask my question again. Are we asking William Lester for help to find the man in the photo? Or are we asking Amias Wells? A. William? Or B. Amias? An A or B answer will do.' She shook her head and grinned. 'In my opinion, we should ask them both. Two heads are better than one, as you're often saying, Mum.'

  That was true. Cat did often say that.

  'You're getting rather cheeky, bossy and stubborn since turning eighteen just over a month ago, sweetheart.'

  The grin grew wider and Kyra raised her wine glass in the air. 'What can I tell you? I'm a Devon.'

  Even Mary smiled at that.

  'I agree with my cheeky, bossy, stubborn daughter.' Cat winked at Kyra. 'It makes sense to approach them both. They might look at it from different angles.'

  Mary sighed. 'Reluctantly, I agree. But I certainly won't be the one asking Amias Wells. And before you ask again, Kyra, the answer is no. That man will not set foot in my house. You and Catherine can have the dubious pleasure of requesting his assistance. But one thing does occur to me. Granny Viola was a WAAF during the war. That's probably how she and this man met.'

  'What's a WAAF?' Kyra pulled a face. 'Is that an old-fashioned term for a WAG?'

  'No.' Mary frowned. 'It was something to be proud of. The Women's Auxiliary Air Force was set up in 1939 and in December 1941, the government passed the National Service Act, allowing the conscription of women between the ages of eighteen and sixty. Granny Viola became a WAAF on her eighteenth birthday, in January 1942. She worked in the radar control system at RAF Merriment. That was vital work, although more so during the Battle of Britain in 1940, and during the Blitz. She was too young to join up in time for those.'

  'That must've been exciting.' Kyra sounded impressed.

  Cat nodded. 'Exciting and terrifying in equal measure, I suspect.'

  'Yes,' Mary agreed. 'I constantly asked Mother about her life back then but she always said, as I do now, “The past is the past. Let's leave it there.” But she told me snippets. Mainly, I longed to hear about her sister, Ivy.'

  'Ivy?' Kyra looked from Mary to Cat. 'I've never heard about her.'

  'She died in the war, sweetheart.'

  Mary sighed. 'I never knew her. She died in January 1945 but her life must have been thrilling. Mother was scared of heights, so she kept her feet firmly on the ground and joined the WAAF. They weren't allowed to fly. But we lost so many pilots that training more in secondary roles to release front line pilots for active service, became paramount. That led to the formation of ATA. That was the Air Transport Auxiliary, and women were allowed to join. ATA pilots were civilians and that suited the RAF. They didn't like the idea of women pilots flying military aircraft. You must have heard of the famous pilot Amy Johnson, Kyra. Well, Ivy was a pilot just like her.'

  'Really? A pilot? But who taught Ivy to fly?'

  'ATA. Everyone assumes they only took experienced pilots but that soon changed. Ivy became what was known as an “Attagirl” in 1943. She'd always wanted to fly, apparently, so the ATA motto of “Aetheris Avidi”, or in English, “Eager for the Air” was apt. Mother used to become dreadfully upset at the very mention of Ivy's name, so I know little of her except that she delivered new planes from factories to RAF airfields all over the country and took planes back for repairs. She was returning a damaged plane from the former RAF Acklington, in Northumberland when she was caught in a blizzard and crashed into a hillside. She was only twenty-two. Far too young to die.' Mary gave a sudden cough as if realising that comment may have hit a nerve. 'Now I really must dash off. I promised Gladys I would pick her up at 7 p.m. on the dot and it's 5 minutes to the hour now. Bridge club members abhor tardy behaviour. Catherine, may I leave the clearing up to you and Kyra?' She was already getting up from the table and about to head for the door.

  'Of course. Woe betide anyone who falls foul of the bridge club. You go and have fun. Kyra and I will clear up and then we might watch a movie.'

  'Um. I meant to mention this earlier, Mum.' Kyra cast Cat an apologetic smile. 'But I have plans tonight. It slipped my mind what with everything earlier. You know I said I'd met Lucas and Marcus Lester?' Cat nodded that she did. 'Well, they asked me if I wanted to go and hang out with them on the beach this evening. Just for a couple of hours. It's still so warm and there's going to be a gorgeous full moon tonight. I promise I'll be back by 10 and Lucas and Marcus will bring me to the door. There're a few other people my age going. It's a chance to make some friends. Is that OK?'

  Cat smiled. 'Absolutely, sweetheart. You go. I'll clear up. You had my permission when you said Lucas and Marcus. Not that you need my permission. I hung out with their dads for a while in my youth, and Mum was right about them, even if she is still so wrong about certain other people we won't mention. Will and Stephen were lovely young men. I know you'll be perfectly safe with their sons.'

  Kyra beamed and shoved her chair back, kissing Cat on the cheek and hugging her shoulders. Then she raced to the door but stopped and glanced back.

  'I may be safe with them, Mum. But I wouldn't bet on them being safe with me. Lucas is a hunk. And Marcus isn't bad either. He just needs more self-confidence and I'm determined to give him a hand with that.'

  She grinned, winked, and was gone before Cat had time to reply.

  But Kyra was only joking.

  Wasn't she?

  Chapter Two

  Cat already had several unanswered questions, along with her concern for Granny Viola, and far too many memories, both good and bad, vying for space in her head. Now, as she cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher, she had added an interest in Ivy Devon's life, and had squeezed in doubts about the Lester boys and worries about Kyra on the beach, on a sultry night beneath a full moon. She knew from experience where that could lead. Not that she regretted it. None of it. Well. Perhaps she had one or two regrets. But she shoved them to the deepest recess of her mind as fast as she could.

  What she needed to do was declutter. Yes. Declutter her mind just as Mary was decluttering Devon Villa. Ivy Devon's life was no doubt fascinating, but did Cat really need to think about it now? And discovering who her own dad was, as important as it may be, had waited this long. It didn't need to be foremost in her mind right now. And Kyle? Perhaps Kyra had been right when she had said that maybe it was time the Devon women put the past behind them. Eighteen y
ears was half Cat's lifetime. If there was any chance of her finding happiness in the future, she would have to let go of the past.

  Or lock it up in a large leather trunk and stick it in her bedroom, as Granny Viola seemed to have done with hers. Somehow that was even sadder than carrying the memories around in her heart. Or maybe Granny Viola did that too. If she ever came out of the coma she was in, Cat would ask her.

  No. Not if. When.

  Granny Viola would wake up. She would. She must.

  Cat had left a note when she ran away eighteen years ago, but she had never said goodbye. And now she really wished she had. No. She wished she might get a chance to heal the rift between them first. She wasn't ready for goodbye.

  When Isla Presley passed away two years ago, Cat had been devastated. Isla had become a surrogate mum and grandmother. But her death should've made Cat realise that Granny Viola might not have much longer on this earth. She was ninety-five; ninety-three back then. Why hadn't Cat cast aside her stubbornness, her bitterness, her pride and her anger and made this journey sooner? Why had she left it until Mary's letter had arrived? Was she now too late?

  She switched the dishwasher on and poured herself another glass of wine. She could go and sit in the front garden and watch the twilight fade into night. She'd missed the sunset but it wasn't yet dark. She could read or watch TV. She could continue with the decluttering of the house. Or begin the decluttering of her mind.

  But was she really ready for that?

  She was glad Kyra was making friends. Perhaps she should take a leaf out of her daughter's book and do the same. Mary had said that Abigail, William's wife, was about Cat's age, and Mary was intending to invite the Lesters round for dinner. She could text her mum and offer to go and do that now. Perhaps they were free for Sunday lunch tomorrow? But perhaps they wouldn't want her turning up on their doorstep on a Saturday night to invite them. And Mary might not be pleased to have her bridge game interrupted.