Amber Aitken - It Takes Two

“Seems so.”

“Really?”

“Definitely. It’s even called Coral Hut!”

Coral was suddenly very grateful that her parents hadn’t named her after Hildegard, her great-aunt on her mum’s side. Actually she was grateful for more than one reason.

“Wow, that is brilliant!” Nicks cried out gleefully.

“I know! And we can go and see it tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow? Double brilliant.” That was Nicks excited. She just wasn’t the squealing type. “So what does it look like?”

“Uh, I don’t really know.”

“I bet it’s ace!”

Coral closed her eyes and built a beach hut in her mind. It was cute and colourful and very girly and all their friends would think they were amazing for having it. She was so busy imagining it she forgot all about Nicks…until her father threw his deep voice like a bowling ball down the hallway. “ Say good night, Coral! ”

That knocked her out of her daydream.

“See you tomorrow morning very early, Nicks,” Coral whispered. “Good night.”

She didn’t know about a good night, but it would certainly be a long one. She climbed back into bed and snuggled up to the warm hairy bundle beside her. Life was good. Even Romeo’s doggy breath didn’t seem quite so bad.

“Coral, have some breakfast, please.”

“But Nicks is waiting for me!”

Coral’s mum pushed a piece of toast with honey into her hand. “Well, eat it on the way then.” She inspected her daughter’s head of crazy curls and reached for her handbag. “You haven’t even brushed your hair.”

Coral faked left and bolted right. But she wasn’t quick enough. She was suddenly in the midst of an energetic hairbrushing. Nicks’s neatly combed blonde head peered round the kitchen door.

“There’s toast made, Nicks,” advised Coral’s mum.

“I’ve already had scrambled eggs, thank you.” Nicks smiled.

Coral scowled. What did breakfast matter when the beach hut was waiting? Romeo chewed at her laces. He knew something was up and he was just as eager to find out what.

Finally – released from the brush – Coral and her two best friends made a swift dash for the beach, flying down alleys and past houses in a blur. Finally they arrived at a neat row of beach huts standing one beside the other in a straight, sea-facing queue. Of course the girls had seen the huts before, but things were different now. The beach huts were all the same, but they weren’t. One of these huts was now theirs.

The slice of toast in Coral’s fingers had gone cold and soggy. It wasn’t designed for breaking land-speed records. She ignored it and stared with eyes like two shiny coins, her mouth open and round, ready to ooh and aah as soon as she found Coral Hut. Nicks’s gaze too was fixed on the huts. Romeo, though, was more interested in the toast. He stood up on his back legs and nibbled around Coral’s fingers.

The huts all had narrow double doors with windows on either side. Every single one had a small deck with a railing and sloping roof. And yet each beach hut was different. Some were colourful. Others were plain. Some had their own fancy features like wagon-wheel deck railings and carved wooden window shutters.

“What number did you say Coral Hut was?” asked Nicks with a wrinkled-up face. The bright early-morning sunshine dazzled her.

“Number five,” Coral called out as she counted.

Nicks used one hand to shade her eyes and pointed with the other. “That must be it then.”

Coral followed her finger. But that hut was dull. It was nothing but bare, bleached wood. There was nothing special about that hut.

Coral mooched over to it. The key slipped in first time. She breathed in sharply. Now all she had to do was to open the double doors. She glanced over at Nicks nervously. Her friend shrugged and smiled: it was only a beach hut. She nodded – and pushed. Inside, the beach hut couldn’t have been more different…

It was a breathtaking, girly heaven. So there were cobwebs, but she could see through those. Coral did a quick whizzaround the small room and then started back at the beginning, sucking in each detail and swallowing it down like a sweet treat. Everywhere was light and summery, with wooden walls whitewashed in cottagey-white. Coral smiled. There was a white wroughtiron daybed pressed against one wall with a sturdy, pink-painted straight chair to serve as a table beside it. On its seat was a white enamel jug of flower stalks. Rose petals had fallen and dried around its base. Coral’s smile widened. In the middle of the floor lay a rug of pink primroses. Stencilled roses scrambled along the edges of the exposed white wooden floor. There was a white wicker basket nestled in one corner. Her eyes darted back to the daybed, covered in cushions of pretty pastel prints and rambling roses, floral gingham and woven checks. One wall had a shelf filled with books. Three gold picture frames hung on the opposite wall. Coral’s smile was now so wide it was almost reaching her ears. It was the dreamiest, most beautiful place she’d ever seen. Or it would be, once they’d cleared away all the dust and cobwebs.

Finally, she dragged her happy eyes back over to her friend. Nicks met her gaze. They wore matching faces.

“Woo-hoo!” they both shrieked ecstatically. And Nicks was not the shrieking sort.

“And it’s all ours!” Coral added by way of a second shriek. Of course it was all theirs. They shared everything. Romeo growled at a spider running for cover and then barked at a nosy seagull who had perched himself on the deck railing, eager to take a look at the hut’s new inhabitants.

Nicks giggled. “Well, come on then.” She grabbed Coral’s hand and together they tumbled inside the little piece of beachy heaven that was Coral Hut.

Nicks made immediately for the shelves on the wall to inspect the books while Coral went towards the white wicker basket tucked into a cosy corner. She swiped at a dust layer and hoisted the lid. Inside there were two enamel candle holders, one pale blue and the other a butter-yellow colour, with a small box of candles. Next there was a large, flat paisley box of scented paper and pens. Coral brought her nose closer to the paper. The sheets smelled of perfumed musk that reminded her of Great-Aunt Coral. She gave one more sniff before putting the paper down and picking up a cake tin printed with cherry blossoms. Would it smell just as good inside? She prised off its lid. It was empty but smelled of roses, like it might once have held squares of Turkish delight. It was a pretty little tin and so Coral set it to one side. It deserved to sit on top of the wicker basket, not inside lost in the darkness.

Suddenly, Nicks called her over excitedly, which put an end to Coral’s searching and sniffing through the basket for that day.

“You must look at this!” Nicks had an open book in one hand and was looking at the three gold-framed pictures on the wall. Coral scurried over. The frames were filled with prints of chubby cupids with curly hair and feathery wings. One cupid held a harp in its fat little fingers; another had a small horn plumping up its cheeks.

“And listen to this.” Nicks blew at the dust on the book and began reading out loud. “ Oh my love is like a red, red rose that’s newly sprung in June; oh my love is like the melody that’s sweetly played in tune. ” Nicks grinned and flicked a few pages forward in the book and continued to read. “ How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach. ”

Coral wondered what Nicks was on about. Her face must have said it all.

“It’s a book of romantic poetry,” Nicks explained. “And there are lots more just like it – look!” The shelf above her head was heavy with books all crowded up against one another.