‘Have you met the infamous Mary Reynolds yet?’ said Colin, nodding in her direction.
‘I have indeed.’
‘Very quiet woman,’ he said. I giggled. ‘Mary’s one of my aunt Lydia’s best friends,’ he added, offering me some more popcorn. ‘She and my mam are organizing a surprise fiftieth for Mary. Along with Joe Clancy.’
‘Oh, your mam was telling us about that earlier. I’d say Mary will be delighted.’
‘It should be good craic.’
I finished off my handful of popcorn, then looked over at the cabinet again.
‘Where did you get that?’ I asked, pointing at the porcelain egg.
‘The egg? Oh, it’s Lydia’s. It’s been there for years. Why?’
‘No reason really. I just think it’s really pretty. I used to have one with a little swan inside it. My dad bought it for me. But I broke it.’ I’d dropped it a few weeks before he died and had been really upset because I loved it. He’d promised to buy me a new one, but he never got the chance.
‘Where is your dad tonight?’ asked Colin.
‘My dad… he died a few years ago,’ I said.
‘I didn’t realize… sorry.’ Colin started to fidget with his sleeve again.
‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘You couldn’t have known. He died when I was nine.’ Sometimes it surprised me how easily I was able to talk about my dad now.
‘What happened to him?’ asked Colin.
‘He had a tumour. He’d been sick for a while.’
Colin nodded and then looked away.
‘Is there something inside that one?’ I said, changing the subject.
‘Which?’
‘The egg; is there something inside it?’ I’m not sure why, but I really wanted to touch it. Maybe because it brought back memories.
‘Open it if you want.’
‘Can I?’ I didn’t know why I felt such a rush of excitement.
‘Yeah, sure.’
I opened the door of the wooden cabinet, clasped my fingers round the smooth turquoise porcelain and lifted the egg out. I gently pulled it open. Inside there was a little silver heart, studded with tiny sparkling crystals.
‘Wow.’
‘Nice, isn’t it?’ said Colin. ‘I used to be fascinated by it as a kid. But I wasn’t allowed to touch it. I used to open it when Lydia wasn’t here. She’d have killed me if she’d found out.’
I stared at it for a few moments. As I placed it back in the cabinet I could hear loud music blasting through the wall.
‘Is that Iggy Pop?’
‘Yep.’
‘Where is it coming from?’
‘Lydia’s shop,’ said Colin. ‘She’s a little bit crazy, in a good way. Come on and I’ll introduce you.’
I followed Colin out the front door. Just a few steps away was the bright shopfront of Lydia Jones Designs. I’d spotted it on our first visit to the village, but figured it would be way too expensive for my budget. Colin pushed open the door and we stepped into a wonderful little clothes store. Racks of beautiful handmade dresses hung on multicoloured beaded hangers, and pink shelves held suede clutch bags and charming costume jewellery. A half mannequin in the centre wore a pretty red dress with an empire waist and lace hem.
Colin weaved through the racks towards the back of the shop where a woman whom I guessed was Lydia sat at a desk working on a sewing machine. She was surrounded by a mess of fabric and buttons and beads, and clearly hadn’t heard us come in. She was bopping her head up and down, and singing along to the music. Like Colin she had pale skin, but hers had only a few freckles. Her hair was dyed purple and she wore what looked like one of her own designs, a yellow shift dress with a collar of white felt daisies. It was the kind of outfit that only somebody very quirky could pull off.
Colin waved his hand in front of her face and her head jerked up. She reached for the stereo and turned the music down.
‘Hello!’ she said in a cheery voice.
‘This is Jacki,’ said Colin. ‘She’s just moved here.’
‘Hi, Jacki, nice to meet you.’ She stood up and held out her hand. I noticed that her fingernails were painted neon pink.
‘Nice to meet you too,’ I said, shaking her hand. ‘I really like your dresses. They’re amazing.’
‘And your dress is adorable,’ she said.
‘Oh, thanks!’
‘I love vintage too. I use a lot of antique materials in my designs.’ Lydia sat back down on her swivel chair.
‘People come from all over to get dresses made here,’ said Colin. ‘She’s practically famous.’
‘Oh, stop!’ said Lydia with a giggle.
I liked Lydia immediately. She was wonderfully weird.
‘We could hear your music through the wall again,’ said Colin, picking up a piece of blue fabric from one of the chairs and fashioning it into a belt round his waist.
‘I can’t concentrate without loud music,’ Lydia explained. ‘I need it, but it drives my sister crazy.’
‘You need to get earphones,’ said Colin.
‘It’s not the same,’ said Lydia and I in unison, and we both laughed. ‘I play albums on repeat when I’m working on a design,’ Lydia added. ‘Each dress a different album.
Colin was so lucky – I would have loved an aunt like Lydia. I couldn’t imagine her being best friends with Mary though. The two of them were completely different.
‘Anyway, what do you guys think?’ Lydia held up the dress. It was beautiful, turquoise with a purple lace hem and metal sequins on the bodice.
‘Wow. That’s the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen,’ I said.
‘Fabulous!’ said Colin.
‘It’s the same colour as your porcelain egg,’ I noticed.
‘Yes, it’s exactly the same colour,’ said Colin. ‘Where did you get that egg again?’
‘What egg?’ Lydia enquired, fixing the dress’s collar.
‘The porcelain egg in the cabinet. Jacki was admiring it.’
‘Oh, that thing. A friend gave it to me. A long time ago.’
‘Which friend was that?’ asked Colin.
‘Just an old friend – you don’t know her.’
‘It’s lovely,’ I said.
Lydia looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Yes, it is nice,’ she agreed.
‘Colin, are you in there?’ called Brigid from the doorway. ‘Jacki’s mum is heading home.’
‘I’d better go,’ I said. ‘I’ll be back to have a look around your shop sometime.’
‘Yes, definitely drop in,’ said Lydia. ‘We can listen to extra-loud music together.’
Colin walked me out to the shop door and even gave me a hug as we said our goodbyes.
I lay in bed that night smiling, pleased that I’d actually made a new friend. Colin was so cool and, as an added bonus, he knew Nick really well. I realized Nick had a girlfriend, but maybe they hadn’t been going out that long. Or maybe they’d been going out for ages and were headed for a break-up. A girl can dream.
Chapter 4
The following afternoon I sat on my bed, reading Mum’s copy of
