‘Really well. We were all out eating ice cream yesterday and she loves what Milo’s done to the camper van. She keeps threatening to get behind the counter.’ He grins at the memory. ‘It’s been good bumping into friends from school days, too.’ He takes a quick look at me and when I meet his eye, we both look away sharply.
‘What’s it like being a café owner?’
I sigh. ‘Honestly? I don’t know if I’m cut out for it. I’ve given it a good go, but maybe it’s time to move on to something else.’ I shrug. ‘I don’t know what though. And if I give up the café, I’d lose my home by the beach.’ I look around me. Even in the lowering light, as long as I keep my toes out of the water, this place is so peaceful and beautiful and very hard to imagine leaving. A tiny terrace or flat in the middle of a housing estate is never going to feel the same.
‘What is it about running the café you don’t like?’
‘It’s harder and harder to get and keep customers these days.’ I dig at the sand with my toes and the dry grit gives way to darker, damp sand. I feel like I’m being interrogated to expose all my failings, and it’s making me feel raw and vulnerable. Emotions that are horribly reminiscent of our history.
‘Really? The Camper Café is going great. There’s no shortage of customers. Maybe you could think outside the box and try to add something different to bring people in?’ He gestures up the gap in the dunes to the café. ‘You have a great spot here. You should be teeming with customers.’ He cups my elbow gently and I can feel every fingertip against my skin. ‘Come on. It’s not like you to quit.’
I’m not sure where it comes from, but my mind flashes red.I’ve been battling falling customer numbers for months now and tried to think outside the box, and he comes along with his exciting life and two brilliant businesses and tries to tell me where I’m going wrong. All my work pressures, confusion about how I feel about him, and hurt welling up from our past explode inside me.
‘It’s not me that quits,’ I spit out.
For a split second he looks confused, then his eyes harden. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ But he knows exactly what I mean. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens.
‘You quit on us, Jackson.’ The words hang in the air between us. ‘You gave up.’
He turns away abruptly, his eyes locked on the horizon. The muscle in his cheek jumps once then stills. He hasn’t moved away, but the distance between us now feels massive.
I want to ask him why he gave up so easily? Why didn’t he stay? Didn’t fight harder? Why did he not believe in us enough?
But I don’t.
I stare at his profile instead, my eyes tracing the curve of his jaw, his perfectly proportioned nose and the hoop of the ring through that damn eyebrow. I swallow, hard.
At this point, the silence is deafening, then he shifts his feet, but his eyes don’t leave the sea.
‘You’re not talking about now,’ he says quietly. ‘You’re talking about back then.’
‘Of course I am.’ My fingers twist my white-and-yellow bracelet round and round my wrist. ‘You walked away.’
He whips around, his eyes full of something fierce, but not anger, not quite. ‘You think I gave up? I was drowning. You wouldn’t talk to me. Wouldn’t let me in. I was only bloody fifteen. I didn’t know how to fix something when I wasn’t even allowed near it.’ He swallows, his Adams apple bobbing in histhroat. ‘But I never quit on us.’ Those last words are intense and rip through me.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. He’s right, or at least he’s not wrong.
A heavy silence drops between us again. He finally begins to move and anticipation shoots up my spine, but he’s turning away from me.
‘You’re home. Mr Suit and Tie is waiting for you.’ He jerks his head towards the path off the beach.
I look over. Greg is heading this way, and he doesn’t look happy. I’m torn. I want to run to safety and meet him, but I want Jackson to understand my pain.
Jackson still hasn’t moved. He’s standing a metre away from me and his last words might have been flippant, but his expression betrays something more complex.
I’m searching for the words to explain, but before I can order my thoughts into a reply, he’s walking away. I want to watch until he’s disappeared, but have to drag my eyes away from him to turn my attention to Greg, who is now at my side.
‘Hey, I know I’m early.’
‘Early?’ My brow creases, my head still full of Jackson. ‘Oh. Shoot. We’re supposed to be going out, aren’t we?’
‘Don’t sound so enthusiastic, will you?’ Greg’s tone is tense and it’s accompanied by a scowl. He throws a look at the disappearing figure of Jackson, who is now halfway back to the beach huts. ‘I thought you’d be looking forward to going out.’
‘It’s only the bloody pub. It’s not exactly riveting. Couldn’t you have come up with something better?’
Greg takes a step back as if I’ve slapped him. ‘I thought you’d enjoy it. It’s new and got great reviews.’
He sounds like a puppy that’s been kicked, but I’m a ball of tension. ‘You could have put the effort in. It’s not exactly thinking outside the box, is it?’
