Forever and Ever

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

1 forever friends

2 shipmates

3 partners in crime

4 together forever

5 stalemate

6 pen pals

7 a name is forever

8 in it together

9 feels like forever

10 forever young

11 sista hood

12 beach chums

13 could this be forever?

14 school mates

15 puppy pals

16 friends in need

17 playing for keeps

18 always and forever

19 checkmate

20 friends indeed

21 smiles to last forever

22 peas in a pod

23 soul mates

Copyright

About the Publisher

1 forever friends

The ocean tide was at its lowest, the boats sitting high and dry on the yellow beach sand. Early-morning fishermen stood chewing sandwiches while they fished. Somewhere up above in the salty air, white seagulls circled and squawked for their breakfast. The promenade and beach were otherwise deserted, but Coral and her pup Romeo barely noticed. They were running far too fast.

On the other side of the Sunday Harbour seafront, Nicks was also racing along. Pretty beach houses of sea blue and green stood quietly as she passed them by. Shops were empty too. Not that Nicks noticed.

Coral and Romeo sped past the cobbled jetty and a huddle of beached buoys with the wind whistling in their ears like a hurricane.

Nicks’s heart beat so fast it made her chest burn. But that didn’t slow her down one bit. She swiped at the tears streaming down her cold cheeks and ran even faster.

Coral was the first to spy Coral Hut as it stood quietly in line with the rest of the sleeping beach huts. The sight of its pale pink, minty-green and lemon-yellow stripes spurred her on, and she put all her energy into her final sprint.

Finally Nicks reached the promenade. There was Coral Hut! She dipped her head and moved her arms even faster.

The two girls arrived at their beach hut at precisely the same time. But then they were best friends; they did almost everything together.

“Coral!”

“Nicks!”

“I got here as quickly as I could,” cried Coral breathlessly. “I left the moment you called. Are you all right?”

Nicks was also trying to catch her breath. She was sobbing at the same time, which made catching her breath just about impossible. And talking was out of the question. Coral immediately inspected her friend for any sign of injury. She looked OK. Coral patted her friend’s head. Her long blonde hair was a tangled, windswept knot, but the rest of her head seemed to be in good shape. She zoomed in on her friend’s face with its puffy, red eyes and cheeks drenched in tears.

“Why are you crying?” she pleaded. Nicks had refused to tell her anything on the phone – she’d only said that she had the worst news ever and that they should meet at the beach hut immediately.

Finally Nicks took a very deep breath. “My mum has been offered a new job!” she cried out.

Coral stared and blinked.

Nicks took a second deep breath. “And the job is in a town almost five hours away from Sunday Harbour!”

A new job…in a town almost five hours away? Coral gasped (it had taken a few moments for the awful news to make sense). “Is she actually going to take it?”

“I think she just might! She says it seems too good to pass up. She thinks she may never get an opportunity like this one again.” The words tumbled out one after another.

Thoughts of endless days without Nicks spread through Coral’s head. Suddenly her dry eyes sprang a leak. The tears spilled over her eyelids and landed on her cheeks with a splat. It really was the worst news ever.

“But what about you? And me? And us?”

“That’s exactly what I said,” groaned Nicks.

The girls hugged fiercely on the patch of sand directly in front of Coral Hut while Romeo gave a small, woeful whine. He was a small chocolate and white terrier with a very big heart.

“Come on, let’s go inside,” sniffed Coral, who was not usually the sensible one of the two, but today felt that she had to look after her best friend.

Nicks nodded and allowed herself to be led up the deck steps. Coral kept her jaw firm as she unlocked the beach hut’s narrow double doors. A few determined tears tipped down her face but she swiped them away. Quickly she pulled out a couple of deckchairs and, grabbing one of the soft woollen candy-striped throws, dragged the whole lot out on to the deck.

“Sit,” she said.

And they did, facing the gleaming silver ocean. Coral draped the throw over their knees and took her best friend’s hand in her own. They sat that way for a few moments, not saying anything. Coral was trying desperately hard to be grown-up and brave for her friend’s sake, but it was proving difficult. All she could think about was a Sunday Harbour without Nicks. And what about the Cupid Company they had set up together at Coral Hut? They were Cupid’s co-workers–the best matchmaking team ever. Their motto was All for love and love for all. But a team needed at least two people. Coral shook her head to scatter the sad thoughts that were collecting like puddles. Squeezing Nicks’s hand, she stared out at the horizon.

“Your mum hasn’t quite made her mind up yet, has she?” she asked.

“Well, no, not fully,” replied Nicks.

“So we still have a chance of persuading her to stay then?”

Nicks shrugged half-heartedly. “I guess so.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do–we’ll just have to find a way to get her to stay in Sunday Harbour!” Coral had an excellent imagination; she was never one to be outdone. Romeo yapped his agreement, like he understood everything, and Coral rubbed the fur between his ears thoughtfully. But how…?

“But how?” cried Nicks.

Coral coughed in a serious sort of way. “Well, we will…mmm. We could…um. How about we hide her car keys!”

Nicks frowned.

“No, that’s just silly,” added Coral before her friend could answer. “Well, how about sending your mum a pretend letter saying that the job has gone to someone else?”

Nicks shrugged and then shook her head.

“Yes you’re right–too deceitful,” agreed Coral. “Erm, you could beg and plead for her to stay?” she added hopefully.

“I’ve tried that one already,” grumbled Nicks.

The morning air had been very still, but just at that moment a gust of wind sprang up out of nowhere. It tugged at the girls’ hair and swirled around the deck, yanking at the Cupid Company poster taped to door. The poster fluttered to the floor like an autumn leaf. The wind disappeared and Romeo barked.

Coral stared at the poster. “I’VE GOT IT!” she cried out, grinning at the heavens. If they were Cupid’s co-workers, then Aphrodite–the goddess of love–had just sent them a very clear instruction. Coral turned to face her friend with enormous moon eyes and a big smile. “How about the Cupid Company makes it their mission to find your mum the perfect partner. If she falls in love she’ll never ever ever want to leave Sunday Harbour!” Coral punched the air determinedly. There really was nothing more powerful than love. It had been known to change lives.

Nicks straightened up immediately. Her head tilted from side to side as she considered this suggestion. And then she turned to face Coral. Her frown had turned itself upside down.

So Coral smiled too.

Nicks grinned.

Coral grinned.

“MAG-NIF-ICENT!” they both shouted out at once. And then they hugged (only this time it was out of happiness). It was time for the Cupid Company to work its magic.

2 shipmates

Nicks jumped to her feet and the throw slipped to the floor. She didn’t give it a second glance. An organiser by nature, she now had the biggest Cupid Company assignment of their matchmaking careers to plot and plan. And as it was her mum they would be matchmaking, everything had to be very carefully considered.

She rushed inside the beach hut for her clipboard and the file of completed Cupid Company questionnaires. All she had to do was search through them to find Mr Perfect. Except the file was not where she’d left it, neatly stored inside the white wicker basket. Now where could Coral have put it?

Nicks stood up and stuck her head out through the open door. Coral was leaning over the deck’s railing and talking to a middle-aged man and woman who were standing on the deck of the glossy red beach hut next door–the hut that belonged to the famous crime thriller writer, JD ‘Doctor Death’ Hatchett. He’d left Sunday Harbour with a ‘To Let’ sign on the red hut’s door, so there was a good chance that the couple were the red beach hut’s new occupants. Nicks joined Coral out on the deck and waved politely.

“This is my very best friend Nicks,” announced Coral in a loud voice. And then she turned to Nicks. “This is Meredith and Malcolm. The name Meredith means ‘protector of the sea’.”

“Oh, OK!” smiled Nicks. “Hello!”

The protector of the sea grinned broadly and waved. She was slim with black-grey wispy hair that wafted on the sea breeze like tumbleweed. Malcolm was a small man with wide shoulders, thick legs and a very kind face.

“We’re marine scientists,” he revealed proudly.

“This beach hut is our research base for the rest of the summer,” joined in Meredith. “Our mission is to convince the world–scientific and otherwise–to change the name of the starfish to the ‘sea star’, because, well, it’s not a fish! It doesn’t even look like a fish.”

Both girls stared silently at their new neighbours. Could you do that? Just tell the world to just change the name of something? If so, Coral had a few suggestions of her own – like seahorse, dragonfly and catfish. None of them made sense either. She imagined creating public campaigns to lobby for—

Suddenly an elbow lodged in her side. Nicks and their new neighbours were all staring at her expectantly.

“That’s a really good idea!” she replied enthusiastically. But she didn’t mention the seahorses, dragonflies or catfish just yet.

“It is?” squawked Nicks.

“Great news!” replied Meredith. “Collecting washed-up marine matter from the shoreline can be very exciting. And we could really do with the help.”

Coral stared and shrugged. She’d missed something; she just wasn’t quite sure what it was yet.

Nicks huffed. Not that she really minded helping their new neighbours clear up, but they had to get her mum to fall in love. Everything depended on it! There really was no time for anything else.

“Well, we’d better say goodbye,” she said with a gentle smile. “We have lots to do.”

“Yes, lots and lots,” agreed Coral.

And, waving goodbye, Nicks and Coral disappeared inside Coral Hut, where they fished out the file of completed Cupid Company questionnaires that was lodged in between the books of romantic poetry on the shelf. Coral then settled into a deckchair beside Nicks and opened the file.

“So let’s start by making a shortlist of perfect partners for your mum.”

Nicks nodded. “We must find someone who is kind, clever, funny and handsome.”

“Right,” agreed Coral as she flicked through the questionnaires on file. “Kind. Clever. Funny. Handsome…” She flicked some more. “We seem to have a shortage of questionnaires.”

“Pass me that,” snapped Nicks. She was usually a very patient sort, but today her nerves made her nervy. They could not mess this one up. So she flicked left and flicked right. Questionnaires covered in scribble floated on the breeze. Finally Nicks glanced up. “There’s no one kind, clever, funny or handsome enough!”

The girls slumped. Even Romeo’s hairy chin dipped to the floor. But inspiration was not long in coming. Coral squinted while she waited for a new idea to land in her head. One always came. Finally she sat bolt upright.

“This Cupid Company case is not like any other we’ve ever had before, is it?”

Nicks shook her head in agreement. “This one is the most important case by far.”

“Usually our clients come to us looking for love,” continued Coral thoughtfully. “But your mum…well, she’s not really looking for love, is she?”

Nicks nodded glumly. “I think she’d try her hardest not to fall in love right now. All she can think about is that daft new job.”

“So we can’t ask your mum to complete a questionnaire. But that’s OK, you know her better than anybody, right? You know her likes and dislikes.”

“Well, sort of.” Nicks thought about her mum. Her mum was just…her mum. “She really hasn’t had many boyfriends, you know,” she admitted.

Coral gave her chin a scratch. “She married your dad, that’s a start.”

“My parents got divorced.”

“So you see–that’s a start! We’ll look for someone who is not like your dad.”

Nicks frowned. She thought her dad was kind, clever, funny and handsome. “Maybe we should try and find someone who Mum has something in common with–you know, like a shared hobby.”

“Good idea! So what are your mum’s hobbies, apart from the post office?”

“The post office is where she works, Coral–it’s not a hobby.” Nicks fell silent and chewed her bottom lip for a few thoughtful moments. “She does like genealogy.”

“That’s probably why she works at the post office,” replied Coral matter-of-factly. “What better place to collect stamps.”

“Duh! Genealogy is when you trace your family tree and make heritage scrapbooks and collect heirlooms and stuff,” explained Nicks.

“Oh right,” Coral was surprised. That all sounded much too like hard work. She was already thinking about other ideas. “Wouldn’t it be brilliant if we could contact your mum’s school sweetheart! You never know, maybe he’s single too?” Her eyes were misty with the possibility of it all. The only thing better than love was long-lost love.

“My dad was her school sweetheart,” harrumphed Nicks.

“Right–well there’s only one thing left to do then,” declared Coral hurriedly. “We have to find out what other things she’s into. That might give us a clue as to what kind of man we should find her. We have to go to your house and do some of our own investigating.

We may only get one crack at this, so Mr Perfect had better be Mr Perfect! We’ll flip through photo albums. We’ll dig in old shoeboxes and look under the bed. We’ll poke about in desk drawers and page through your mum’s recipe books. We’ll check her diary and even listen in on her phone calls. This is how we’ll find out about her hobbies and interests!” Coral was excited by the mystery of it all, but Nicks was still stuck at recipe books.

“What do recipes have to do with finding Mr Perfect?”

“That’s how we find out what her favourite foods are,” replied Coral with an isn’t-it-obvious face. “We need to know exactly what she likes and what she dislikes. What are her favourite things in the world? What are her hopes and dreams? But she must not find out what we’re up to.”

Nicks stared at her friend. When did getting her mum to fall in love turn into a top-secret spying operation? But then they were desperate. She shrugged.

Coral stood up, glanced about, and checked her wristwatch. “I’ve got a dentist appointment. My mum will kill me if I’m late. We’ll make contact at your house at say–oh-eleven-thirty-seven-a.m.”

“I have no idea what that means, Coral.”

Coral glanced about again, trying to contain her eagerness. “That means I’ll meet you at your house this morning at 37 minutes past 11,” she explained patiently to her friend, who obviously was not very good at this sort of thing. But Coral had always been a fan of James Bond’s films. She understood that they were now secret agents of love.

“Right, well, I’ll hang out here for a while longer,” replied Nicks.

“OK, fine.” Coral kept her voice low and hoarse. “And I’ll see you you-know-where at you-know-when. She winked and was gone.

3 partners in crime

Coral arrived at Nicks’s house at 20 minutes past 12 o’clock, but that was only because her mum had insisted on popping into the chemist after the dentist. But that was OK; it had worked out for the best in the end. Coral had spent that time in the fancy-dress shop three doors down from the chemist.

“Hey, Nicks!” she hissed as she hopped excitedly from one foot to the other. “Is your mum around?”

“She’s upstairs, but she’s leaving soon.”

Coral grinned. “Perfect! Look what I have for us.” She rattled a paper carrier bag printed with the words FANCY PANTS.

“Erm, a pair of fancy pants?” replied Nicks nervously. Her best friend was known to have some wild ideas.

Coral frowned. Her best friend could be odd at times. “Nope. I got us a pair of wigs.” She opened the bag and removed one blonde and one curly reddish-brown wig. “They’re for us, so that we can conduct our research without being noticed.”

“Without being noticed by who?” wondered Nicks out loud.

“By your mum, of course! She must not know what we’re up to, remember? And Sunday Harbour is a small town. So these will be perfect.” She passed Nicks the wig that was long and blonde.

“They would be perfect, I guess,” replied Nicks, “except have you noticed one thing?” She put the wig on her head.

Coral stared and blinked at her friend, who did not look very different at all. Nicks’s own hair was long and blonde too. So she whipped the wig from her friend’s head and handed her the wig that was reddish-brown and curly and a surprisingly good match to her own hair instead.

Nicks pressed this wig firmly on to her head and stared silently at Coral for a few moments. “There, now you’ll look like me and I’ll look like you. That should trick my mum.”

Coral made a ‘humph’ sort of sound through her nostrils. Nicks wasn’t being as grateful as Coral had imagined she’d be. Perhaps she should have got her the blue beehive–that would have shown her! But there wasn’t any time to think any more about that now as suddenly Nicks’s mum appeared at the door to the kitchen.

“Hello, Coral, dear,” she chimed sweetly as she reached for her car keys hanging on a hook.

Coral shoved the blonde wig under her top. “Hi, Mrs Waterman,” she replied.

“I do wish you’d call me Maggie,” replied Nicks’s mum. “What’s that under your top, Coral?”

“Oh, this?” Coral patted her round soft belly. “Too many treats,” she chuckled.

Maggie Waterman raised an eyebrow and made a face like she suspected something was up. But she didn’t ask any further questions and simply kissed the tops of the girls’ heads instead. “All right then, you two, be good, and I’ll see you later.” And then she was gone.

“I bet she’s off to meet someone about that new job she’s after,” growled Coral like it was an unforgivable offence.

“Actually she’s off to the post office,” replied Nicks, who was still holding the wig she’d hidden behind her back. “Now, where do we start?”

Coral stared around the kitchen. “We might as well start in here,” she suggested.

Nicks deposited the reddish-brown wig on the countertop. They had to learn everything possible about her mum if they were going to find the perfect Mr Perfect. And the decorative bowl on top of the microwave seemed like a good place to start. It wasn’t long before she held her hand in the air victoriously.

“Ticket stubs for the Sea Life Aquarium!” she announced, smiling. It had been a great day out–her mum did love the ocean and dolphins.

Coral grinned. “Brilliant–maybe Mr Perfect also loves fish and stuff!” She returned to her own exploring and found the door to a large cupboard beneath the stairs. Inside was a lady’s bicycle with two flat tyres and cobwebbed spokes. There was also a tennis racket with broken strings and an abdominal exerciser with rusty hinges. These were excellent clues as to what Maggie Waterman did not enjoy. She turned to Nicks, who had her nose stuck in a book called Recipes for Every Day of the Year.

Her friend glanced up from her reading and nodded. “The pasta recipe pages show the most wear and tear. Mum does like pasta.”

Coral drummed her fingers on her chin and gave this some thought. “Pasta is Italian food. And Mr Selvaggio at Deli Antonia is Italian. He must be very lonely since Mrs Selvaggio passed away. So that’s another place for us to visit.”

“What is?” asked Nicks, who no longer had any idea what Coral was talking about.

“Deli Antonia! Now, shall we head upstairs?”

Nicks led the way to a bedroom that was decorated in white with a small gold chandelier and a large gilt-edged mirror over a dresser.

“This room is lovely,” ooh’d Coral. “It’s so girly and romantic.”

“My mum does enjoy decorating. She buys all the latest interior decorating magazines.”

“So that’s another thing then!” cheered Coral, who was really starting to enjoy this snooping…or investigating. “If there’s a kind, clever, funny, handsome, pasta-loving interior decorator in Sunday Harbour–we will find him!”

Nicks was finally beginning to believe that this research wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “Come on–I’ll get the photo albums out,” she said as she reached beneath the bed for a large box with a label that read FAMILY PHOTOS. Inside the box were three matching photo albums. Hoisting one out, she clambered on top of her mum’s white bedspread. “Now, what exactly are we looking for?”

Coral joined her friend on the bed and nestled in close. Reaching over, she turned to the first page of the photo album. There were snaps of Nick’s mum when she was younger, taking part in various stage productions. Coral jabbed a finger at one of the photographs.

“Look–see, your mum obviously loves the theatre.”

Nicks seemed surprised. She’d really had no idea. Her mum had always kept very busy…well, just being her mum.

“So maybe Mr Perfect could be a member of Sunday Harbour’s amateur dramatics society?” suggested Coral as she turned the pages of the photo album.

The next set of photographs consisted of beach shots that were so old they were black and white. These would have been taken way before Maggie Waterman’s time. The women in the pictures wore swimming costumes that had skirts attached and the men walked about in straw hats. Coral didn’t like to imagine a world without colour and was about to turn the page when one particular photo caught her eye. It showed a row of beach huts that looked remarkably similar to Sunday Harbour’s own row of beach huts. Coral paused and peered closely. Sand dunes rose up in the background. There was a promenade. And a sign beneath a lamppost that advised: PEDESTRIANS AND BICYCLES ONLY. Sunday Harbour’s promenade had an identical sign, in exactly the same place!

Coral’s nose was now practically touching the album as she scanned the rest of the photographs closely. One photograph three down and two across suddenly seemed to jump out at her. It was mounted with a narrow cardboard edging and somebody had written an inscription in capitals along the bottom of the cardboard mount. OUR LOVELY BEACH HUT, it said. This particular photo showed a close up of the front of a beach hut with two young girls standing on the hut’s deck, smiling and holding hands. Like the beach bathers in the other black and white photographs, they also wore old-fashioned swimming costumes and had heads of matching corkscrew curls decorated with large droopy bows. The girls were probably about twelve years old, although the bows made them look a little younger. Coral chuckled. She was twelve years old and couldn’t imagine wearing big old bows in her hair!