The Long Weekend by Clare Lydon Page A

had space for, along with some tiles that probably retailed for around £50 each. On the other side of the kitchen shop was a small garden centre with a healthy array of gargoyles littering the pavement in front of it.
    “Tempted?” Geri asked Kat as they stopped in front of a statue of two grinning frogs hugging each other.
    “Shame I don’t have a garden, isn’t it?” Kat replied.
    The other thing that struck Geri as they strolled back up the road was that every store had a small Union Jack flying on a miniature pole above the door. Had they stumbled into the most patriotic village in the UK? Or perhaps they were all like this.
    As they approached the middle of the High Street, Geri saw the pub from the welcome pack. She and Kat stopped to peer through the window. There were a smattering of blokes at the bar but, significantly, it looked modern and was flooded with natural light, thanks to its massive wraparound windows.
    “Looks like a pub,” Kat said.
    “Got chairs and tables,” Geri added, still looking in the window.
    “Serves beer. Shall we lunch here?” Kat stood back and shielded her eyes from the sun.
    Geri nodded and a look passed between the two, followed by a cheesy grin.
    Kat looked at her watch. “Too early for a beer?”
    “Gone midday,” Geri said, walking past Kat and into the pub. “You can text Abby and tell her to meet us here.”
    Kat raised one eyebrow. “You’re a genius, you know?” she said to Geri’s back, slapping it as they walked into The Feathers.
     
     

The Clifftop
     
    Vic wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen such vivid colours in the UK – if she had, she certainly didn’t remember. The sky was crisp, baby blue, the sea a bath of inviting aqua. What’s more, the clifftops and fields surrounding them were such a rich shade of green that Vic might as well have been living in a Famous Five story. With every step the group strode along the coastal path, with each bend, descent and ascent, the route ahead was gradually, beautifully revealed.
    Today, instead of turning right on the coastal path at the bottom of the garden, they’d gone left. Vic had already driven a car out to the finish point, 11 miles down the track, with Kat following to drive her back. Ahead of her were Stevie, Tash and Stu, all three of them with their hoodies tied around their waists already, exposing their pale arms to the lunchtime sun.
    Stu said something and all three laughed.
    Vic smiled – her wife seemed in good spirits this morning.
    Laura nudged Vic. “Penny for them. Five pence if they’re really juicy.”
    They were walking a good five paces behind the leading group.
    “Very dull. I’d save your money.”
    “I’ll be the judge of that. You looked deep in thought whatever it was.” Laura brushed her long dark hair off her face and hopped on one foot. She dislodged some gravel from her trainer before falling back into step with Vic.
    “Not really – you give me too much credit.” A rueful grin spread across Vic’s features and she readjusted her glasses. “I was just thinking how great nature is. And then how old my thoughts are. Do you think it’s only a matter of time before I start to rush home for Countdown?”
    “I already do that – don’t you?” Laura grinned. “But well done on choosing this place – it’s an amazing location.”
    “Don’t thank me, thank Stevie. You know what she’s like with stuff like this – ruthlessly efficient.”
    “I know.” Laura bumped Vic’s hip with her own. “But I’m being nice and giving you some credit for choosing such a great wife.”
    Vic smiled. “Thanks, I think.”
    The pair walked on for a few seconds in amicable silence, the only sound the scraping of their shoes on the dry, sandy path, dust flicking up every few seconds and rising up unseen into their airways.
    “It’s all a bit more civilised than ten years ago isn’t it?” Laura broke the silence. “I think we only left the house to go to the pub then,