Crest Bay
Tucked away on the coast and in another era, Sienna is in the place her grandmother always told her of
The Silversmith’s shop nestled amongst tailors and milliners in The Bromlington Arcade.
Vintage maroon tiles hemmed the arcade’s entrance, rotating glass doors swirled like chic skirts, and the metal letters of The Bromlington were fashioned high over an arch like a brooch pinned to a hat.
Sienna checked her reflection in a shop window; just as her grandmother had done nearly sixty years before her.
Sienna had always been fascinated with her grandmother’s life. Mary had been quite the woman, and at seventy-nine, she still was. A woman of elegance and intelligence who’d worked as an au pair, a travelling secretary, and even a newspaper columnist.
She had seen the world, and shared her incredible stories with Sienna. Which is why Sienna was so surprised when Mary said that one of the best places she’d ever visited was a tiny English seaside town.
“It’s the place I fell in love,” said Mary, a twinkle in her eye.
“With Grandad?” asked Sienna, confused. Her grandparents always said their eyes met in Vienna across the floor of an extravagant ballroom where they were accompanying the rich families they both worked for at the time. One dance and the rest was history.
Sienna missed her grandad.
Mary smiled. “Before I met your grandfather. Oh, don’t look so shocked, Sienna, I was rather a beauty in those days, or so I was told. I did have boyfriends before I married.”
Sienna giggled. Mary was still stunningly stylish. She could imagine her attracting attention in her younger years.
“Anyway,” continued Mary. “My sister and I took a holiday to Crest Bay, a couple of hours train ride from London.
“It was a hidden gem with gold sands and sparkling seas; as good as any I’d visited in Europe.
“On our first day, your Great Aunt Jemima insisted we go shopping for sun hats – she really did think she was in St Tropez. And that’s when we found ourselves in The Bromlington Arcade.”
“I can just imagine it,” said Sienna.
“There was a little silversmith’s shop tucked between a gentleman’s tailors and a ladies’ hat shop. Well, we had to go in of course; the jewellery in the window was exquisite. Look, here’s a photograph.
“That’s where I met Henry.”
Sienna’s eyes gleamed.
“And fell in love?”
Mary gazed at Henry’s picture.
“For the first time. While Jemima was browsing, Henry and I chatted. Then he asked if I’d like to go for lunch; a cafe called Joan’s, I think.”
“And you said?”
Mary blushed.
“I said, ‘That sounds lovely’.”
“Then what happened?”
“We spent every spare moment together; a holiday romance.” Mary sighed. “But I had to leave for a new job as a travelling secretary. It was my dream to travel; Henry didn’t want me to give it up.”
“That’s so romantic.”
Mary smiled. “It was a long time ago. But it was a special place – you should see it for yourself sometime.”
It was just as Mary described; golden sands, sparkling blue waves, that holiday feeling. Sienna glanced at the photo in her hand; first stop, The Bromlington Arcade.
The Silversmith’s was as perfect as it looked in the photo, and vintage jewellery still glittered in the wood-framed windows.
Sienna pushed open the door, a bell dinging overhead. The air smelled of metal, heat, and polish. Glass cabinets twinkled with jewels and precious metals.
A young man appeared, smiling.
“Hello. Can I help you?”
Sienna blushed. The man was roughly her age, wearing leather apron, sleeves rolled up, silver and sandpaper gripped in his hands, and a spark in his eyes that made Sienna’s heart flutter.
She held out the photograph, shyly.
“Hi, I’m Sienna. This is a bit random, but my grandmother told me a story about this place. She knew the owner, Henry, a very long time ago.”
His eyes fell to the photo and he smiled.
“This must be Mary.”
“You’ve heard of her?”
“Henry told me all about his first real love. I’m Harry. I was Henry’s apprentice for the last few years until he died. He never forgot her.”
Sienna’s eyes were filmy.
“He’s gone? I wish I’d got to meet him.”
Harry offered a kind smile.
“I know he’d have loved to meet Mary’s granddaughter.”
Disappointed, Sienna nodded.
“I could tell you what I knew about him, though,” said Harry. “I was about to stop for lunch. There’s this great little cafe on the beach, Joan’s, if you fancy joining me?”
Sienna met Harry’s gaze, a flicker of something passing between them.
“That sounds lovely.” She smiled.
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