It Takes Two
Best friends Coral and Nicks play cupid with hilarious results in this cute and quirky summer read!Twelve year-old Coral believes that with a little bit of help from cupid, everyone can find their One True Love. So with her best friend Nicks (and her Jack Russell, Romeo) she sets up The Cupid Company - her very own beach-side matchmaking agency. But Coral soon discovers that bringing people together is enough to drive you crazy!
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The Cupid Company
1
It Takes Two
Amber Aitken
To the Winksie sisters
Table of Contents
Coral was spread out flat on her bed, knees up, making a pointy P-shape, when her mother knocked on her bedroom door. She had had a bath and was in her pyjamas watching a romantic comedy sheâd already seen over twenty times. There were hearts on her duvet, hearts on her curtainsâ¦even small pink heart-shaped fairy lights draped all across her headboard. Just like her bedroom, Coralâs life had a theme: she was totally in love with love. It really made her world turn.
Coralâs mum came in, smiling that dreamy sort of smile mothers sometimes have when youâre not in trouble or being ordered to do something. She sat down on the bed, when suddenly there was a loud yelp. The duvet came alive, rising up and wriggling in the air. Coralâs mum shrieked and leaped just as high. A black blotch of a nose emerged from beneath the duvet, followed by a white shaggy face and dark brown eyes floating in pools the colour of dark chocolate. There were two small flaps of caramel ears and another patch across the belly, but the rest of the dogâs body was white â or it was supposed to be. This, though, depended on a number of things: whether heâd been taking flying jumps at muddy puddles, rolling in washed-up seaweed, or tumbling through burrs. He was a dog with many active pursuits. This was how Coral usually explained it to her mum, who never seemed particularly impressed.
âYou nearly crushed Romeo,â Coral grumbled.
âCoral â I have told you before. Romeo is not to sleep on your bed.â Coralâs mum looked serious. She pointed to the dog basket, positioned neatly below a large poster of two swans with their long necks curved into a heart shape, and stared sternly at the Jack Russell.
Romeo knew which bed was his. The patchwork dogâs eyes dipped pitifully and glanced pleadingly from the pointed finger to the stern face.
âRomeo. NOW!â Coralâs mum ordered.
Quickly the dog scampered off the bed and bounced like a ball into his basket. He rested his chin on one paw, tucked the other over his head and pretended to go to sleep, although he was really thinking doggy thoughts.
Coral frowned and blew noisily at the red-brown curl which had fallen across her eyes. She much preferred Romeo snuggled up against her.
âI have something for you,â her mum revealed as she pushed a small brown envelope across the bed.
Coral wiggled upright and reached for the offering. Her name looped in curly writing across the front. Pressing the envelope gently, she could feel something hard and long. Carefully, she opened it.
Inside was a key and a note from her Great-Aunt Coral â after whom sheâd been named.
Dear girl,
Werenât we the special pair â one of us a namesake and the other a great-aunt! Here is the key to Coral Hut. I thought it only right that my beach hut and all its treasures should go to you. Iâve enjoyed watching you grow; youâve got a good headfor romance. We shared more than you know.
I trust that you will look after and cherish Coral Hut, just as I have done all these years. It has been my very favourite place in the world. Make it yours.
Sincerely yours,
Great-Aunt Coral
Coral Hut, No. 5 the Promenade, Sunday Harbour
Coral reread the note. The words âbeach hutâ fizzled in her memory. Now that she thought about it, she remembered her mother once mentioning that her Great-Aunt Coral owned a beach hut down at the harbour. The key was long and black and cold in Coralâs hand. She looked to her mother for confirmation.
âCoral Hut is all yours,â she nodded, smiling.
Coral thought about the colourful wooden beach huts lined up on the harbour like crabs with their long skinny legs pushed deep into the sand. She could find her way there with her eyes shut. Down to Café Cod. Through the cobbled alleys and behind the wooden-clad houses painted white and pale blue. Past Blades restaurant and the fragrant fish market stalls nestled in between the small upturned fishing boats, sheets of torn nets and piles of old lobster pots. Beyond the south quay, along the beach past the old jetty â yes, there stood Sunday Harbourâs own row of beach huts. Coral could almost smell the salt air already. She tried to imagine number five in the row.
âFor me?â she finally wondered out loud.
âThatâs right.â
âWhen can I see it?â
Her mum shrugged. âTomorrow, I guess.â
âMorning?â
âItâs your summer holiday â you can go any time you like.â
Her mum had a point. There was no school for weeks. Coral had her friends. And her very own beach hut!
