‘Donkeys?’ he reads, scrunching up his nose.
After an hour of scritching the heads and ears of sweet velvet-nosed donkeys in the stable yard by the visitors’ centre I was definitely feeling brighter. Even Daniel was enjoying himself, once he’d got over the oddball quaintness of Clove Lore and the smell from the mucking-out wheelbarrow in the corner of the cobbled yard.
We’d learned all the donkey’s names and picked out our favourites (I liked Clive, an elderly knock-kneed gent, tiny and sleepy; Daniel favoured Moira, a wiry old girl who nibbled at sightseers’ backpacks and handbag straps as we moved amongst the animals). We dropped cash donations into the big bucket and discovered the stable was owned by the estate and that none of the donkeys worked anymore. They live here as a tourist attraction and to maintain a sense of the old days, when the lime kiln on the seafront fired and the herring catch was hauled Up-along in great baskets and the animals transported goods and materials of all kinds up and down the slope.
Leaving the stables, having scrubbed our hands for at least ten minutes, I told Daniel all about Minty, the fox and field event this Friday, and my baking commission, and he said Minty sounded fabulous.
Then we swung by the tourist shops and I bought us each an ice cream from the little convenience store to celebrate his promotion and we scoffed them as we wandered back down to the seafront, the slippery descent and the speed the ice creams were melting in the midday sun making it tricky to talk much.
Once at the harbour I followed him inside the Siren as he checked in to his room and unpacked. I asked him if I could stay the night with him and he said, ‘Well, obviously.’
Then we made the excellent decision to order sandwiches and cocktails and found Finan and Bella’s speciality was Devonshire cider mimosas (too delicious to stop at only the one) before we headed out along the beach in search of the waterfall that I’d read about online back in Marygreen, and that’s where we’re off to now.
The beach is beautiful in the afternoon sunshine and the sea is a bright swirling green-blue like an artist dipped his brush into the water to clean it, and it’s so calm today.
Daniel remembered to bring sun lotion, thankfully. He’s looking delectable in long shorts, a pale blue shirt, a few days’ stubble, and some new sunglasses I haven’t seen before. He won’t wear a sunhat because of his perfect hair so I help him lotion the tips of his ears which are turning an adorable pink in the heat.
I slip my arm in his as we stumble over the pebbly beach heading away from the harbour following the towering rock face to our right. He tells me my new dress is ‘very you’, and I know exactly what he’s implying. He’s telling me that I seem to be finding myself at last. I definitely felt like Iwas, but then…Ugh, I don’t want to think about Elliot anymore.
‘Do you get a pay rise with the promotion?’ I ask, kicking the risk of any more conversation about my failed attempts at self-development into the long grass.
‘I do,’ he smiles proudly. ‘But I still have to deal with all the usual nonsense, only now I’ll have even more paperwork.’
‘Some of the new recruits still struggling to fit in?’ He knows I mean Ekon, his cookie-gifting nemesis.
Daniel blows out a deep sigh. ‘Yeah, you could say that. I don’t know what to do with half of them, but Ekon is definitely the trickiest.’
‘What’s he done this week?’
‘Nothing. I haven’t seen him since he gave me the cookie.’
‘Did you eat it?’
He gives me aWhat do you think? Of course I did!look.
‘And did you say thank you? Maybe it was a peace offering?’
‘You don’t know him.’ Daniel’s shaking his head, keeping an eye on his tread as we pass out of the sun and into the shade of the cliffs. ‘He’s always got a smart-arse answer for everything. Oh, that smirk, I could… I could…’ he falters, and we stop. ‘He’s just so annoying, you know?’
‘What are you saying? Is he bullying you? Intimidating you? What?’
‘No, it’s not like that. It’s like… he knows I have to be professional, that my job’s important to me, and there’s a lot of responsibility on my shoulders, and he’s… testing me.’
A glance at my friend tells me this really is troubling him; he’s forlorn about it. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘To see if I’ll let my reserve slip? To see how much he can get away with? To see if I… like him?’ He says this like it’s a revelation only just coming to him.
This slows our pace. ‘Are you having some kind of Ekon epiphany, Daniel?’ I try not to grin when his face is so stricken. ‘Hey, it’s OK.’
As I’m putting my arm around his shoulders, I detect the sound of water rushing somewhere ahead of us. We follow along the foot of the rock face and find ourselves in an indent with the waterfall directly ahead of us. It must be forty feet high, if not more, and the water’s showering down, hitting the beach and seemingly disappearing into some hidden chasm below. The rocks on either side of the falls are verdant with life, trailing leaves, moss and algae. It’s like the entrance to a giant’s cave in a fairy tale.
Neither of us remark about the waterfall, we just come to a stop in front of it, our eyes trained on the falling wonder, our ears tuning in to the hushing rush of its music.
That’s when I realise Daniel’s eyes are full of tears and he’s mortified about it.
‘Daniel?’ I admit I’m alarmed; he’s always the one with his life together.
‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me! Why am I crying over this guy?’
