Thanks to Caleb’s encouragement, and the inspiration I’m gettingfrom the writing group, I’m beginning to grow in confidence. The words are flying from my fingers. I feel them like a second heartbeat inside me. I write for hours at a time, stopping only when I realize I’m thirsty or hungry. Each day my mind spins with new worlds, my blood rushing with possibilities.
Maybe whoever said the best things in life are free had it right after all.
—
Luce, I love him,” whispers Tash.
I’ve invited Caleb to Tash and Simon’s for Sunday lunch. We’re in the living room, and Caleb’s sitting with Dylan on the carpet near the fireplace, helping him out with the component parts of an airport-themed Lego set. He must have said something funny, because Dylan is laughing loudly in that throaty way small children do, and just at the point he’s begun to calm down, Caleb says something else, detonating another full round of hysterics, resulting in Dylan tipping his head to the carpet then falling onto his side, completely unable to contain himself.
“Are you absolutely sure he doesn’t have children?” Tash says.
“Positive,” I whisper.
“So are you two... you know, officially together now?”
“I mean, I guess so. We haven’t really said it in so many words... but it kind of feels like we don’t have to. You know?”
She nods, thoughtfully. “I see what you mean about him being different to anyone else you’ve dated.”
I turn to look at her. “Go on.”
“Well, he’s very... self-assured, isn’t he?” she whispers. “But not in an arrogant way. He just seems like someone who’s comfortable in his own skin. Like he wouldn’t be into playing games.”
“Yeah,” I say, as I watch Caleb help Dylan stick the wings onto his plane. “I feel like I know where I stand with him.”
“You know what he is, don’t you?”
“No, what?”
“He’s a proper grown-up.”
“Ugh, that makes him sound boring.”
“No, not boring, just... what you see is what you get. That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling as I lean back into the sofa, sipping my sparkling apple juice, today’s version of an aperitif. “It’s very good.”
And really, the past couple of months have been just that. Caleb and I have spent the onset of summer drinking in the joys of Shoreley before the main tourist season hits. We’ve meandered hand in hand through the cobblestoned streets, pointing out all our old childhood haunts to each other—the bandstand on the green where my friends and I used to congregate after school, the little courtyard behind the old-fashioned sweet shop where Caleb had his first kiss, the hill sloping toward the north end of the beach where I sat with my friends on the last-ever day of school and watched the sun setting between bouts of dramatic sobbing as we swigged from a bottle of cava, heartbroken at our forthcoming separation. We’ve waded in wellies through the creeks behind the harbor as seagulls swooped low above our heads, the sails of moored boats ringing against their masts like percussion in the breeze. We’ve walked barefoot across the salt flats, both of us laughing till we cried when Caleb slipped in the mud and then couldn’t get up, pulling me on top of him as I tried to help. We’ve plucked fresh samphire from the ground then taken it back to Caleb’s cottage, blanching it on the Aga and drenching it in butter and black pepper before devouring it with our fingers. We’ve eaten way too much salted caramel gelato from the ice cream parlor on the promenade. We’ve been crabbing and skinny-dipping, we’ve watched raspberry-ripple sunsets drizzle into the sea from the harbor wall, we’ve kissed under lampposts on moonlit streets. It’s been the best, most romantic time, and it’s castmy hometown in an entirely new light. I’ve rediscovered its romance, its charm and appeal, worthy of all those postcards and jigsaw puzzles and fridge magnets. It’s reminded me why people come here now. Shoreley sells them a dream, and this year, I have fallen for it, hard.
“Are you going to introduce him to Mum and Dad?” Tash asks.
It’s always an intimidating idea, introducing a boyfriend to our mum and dad: lifelong soulmates, the lighthouse keepers of their own epic love story.
“Thought I’d ease him in with the older sibling. Anyway, it’s only been two months. Feels a bit soon.”
Tash grins as Simon bellows, “Lunch!” from the kitchen. Dylan jumps up and leads his new best friend out of the living room, following the scent of Sunday roast. Caleb glances over his shoulder at us, shrugging happily as he’s led away.
Tash shakes her head, watching them go, then nudges me. “Remember when you first met him, you thought you knew him from somewhere? Like you’d met before?”
I nod. “Yeah. But I never did work out why.”
Tash presses her lips together like she’s trying to hold in some excitement. “Well, apparently, that’s a sign you’ve met your soulmate.”
I snort softly. “I thought you didn’t believe in soulmates.”
She shrugs. “This girl at work was talking about it on Friday. She’d read a whole magazine article about it. It all sounded quite convincing, actually.”
I smile. “Well, Caleb doesn’t believe in soulmates either, so don’t be sharing that over the Yorkshire puddings, will you?”
