Eventually, they arrived at Marine Lake and Helen nodded toward the cluster of buildings at the end of Knightstone Causeway. “That’s Knightstone Island, although it hasn’t looked much like an island for over a hundred years, not since it was joined to the mainland.” She pointed to the dam running from Knightstone Island to Anchor Head on the other side of the bay. “That keeps the water in at low tide, hence why they call it a marine lake.”
Sebastian and Helen walked down the ramp, past the sandy beach, and along the path that ran around the edge of the water. They sat on the seawall to eat the chips they’d bought along the way. The same chips Mr. Healthy had been opposed to buying until Helen reminded him he’d be contravening a British law—because, seriously, who didn’t eat chips at the seaside?
“You nearly lost your dual nationality back there,” Helen said, biting into a chunky chip doused in vinegar. “What would your British grandmother have said if she were still alive?”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been looking me up again?”
“The internet is a wonderful thing.” Helen took another chip. She’d spent yet another night cyberstalking him. Well, it wasn’t like she’d hacked into his personal files or anything—although with time and a reckless willingness to break the law again, she probably could.
“Okay. Let me test you,” Sebastian said. “How old am I?”
“You turned thirty last month, on tenth of May—which makes you exactly four months older than me, by the way—and you were born in Halifax, Nova Scotia but grew up in Ottawa.” Helen reeled off the schools he’d attended, including his business degree from Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario. “You obtained British citizenship through your mother’s mother, who was born and raised in Southampton until she married your Canadian grandfather, also from Nova Scotia.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Shall I go on?”
“Please do.”
“You started swimming aged eleven, attending the Ottawa Swim Club, coached by Derek Peters and later—when you moved to Vancouver— by Frank Bertelli, who also happened to coach Michael Adams a few years before you. And you won your first Olympic medal, a bronze, in the men’s 4x100 relay, Michael’s last ever race, after which you applauded him and set off a standing ovation.” Helen had enjoyed watching that particular YouTube video of a younger, less muscular Sebastian stepping off the third-place podium to work the crowd. “You’re quite the showman.”
“And you’re quite the researcher. Good job, Hobbs.”
Helen accepted his compliment with a gracious nod and another chip. “It’s what any fake girlfriend would do.” And then a thought occurred. “Does my researching you breach that clause about personal space?”
“Clause four?” Sebastian shook his head. “The more you know about me, the more real our relationship will appear.” He picked up another chip, but didn’t eat it. “Last Saturday … I’m sorry I bombarded you with so many personal questions.”
“They weren’t that personal, and considering how we met, you had a right to ask.” As soon as she’d been able to, Helen had grilled Emma to find out exactly what she’d told Sebastian. No wonder he hadn’t asked about her parentage or any other family during thebombardment. “I didn’t realize just how bad an impression you had of me until you thought Harry and Lucy were my children.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry about that, too.”
And it was precisely due to that bad impression that Helenstillhadn’t told him the full story about Jaxon, or that DC Nazir could’ve switched her placement. Helen should—would—tell him soon, he had a right to know, but when and how?
They ate in silence for a few minutes watching children play in the shallow waters of the lake.
“So what do you think of Weston-super-Mare so far?” Helen asked.
“I love it.” Sebastian looked to the group of hotels and bed-and-breakfasts that lined the curve of Anchor Head on their right. “This bit here has a Mediterranean-Riviera vibe going on.”
Helen hooted. “I’ve never heard it described like that before!” But when she glanced at the buildings among the trees, and how they reflected the evening light …hmm…“At a push, maybe. When the sun shines.” Helen turned back to Sebastian. “What’s Vancouver like? Do you have a house or an apartment?”
“Apartment.”
“Your mum stills lives in Ottawa, doesn’t she? Do you go home much?”
Sebastian stopped smiling. “No, it’s a four-hour flight.”
“I can’t get my head around the distances in Canada.” Helen dabbed a chip in a few loose grains of salt. Curious about Sebastian’s life back home, she drew breath to ask for more details about where he lived, who he hung out with, and what he liked to do when not training, but he spoke first.
“Your gear from Strive arrived today. It’s in the car.”
Chatter and banter time was over, apparently, so Helen retuned her brain for another work-related conversation.
“The clothes should fit,” Sebastian continued, “but they’ve given you a few options just in case. Is your brother still okay to drive you tomorrow?”
“Yes, he and Emma are looking forward to it.”
Helen relayed the carefully made plan that Sebastian had approved via text message a couple of days ago. Rather than Helen leaving early with Sebastian only to sit around during his meetings and interviews with local radio and TV, Tom and Emma would pick her up and get to Weston by ten-thirty—half an hour earlier than Sebastian actually needed her to arrive by. When Helen had repeated Sebastian’sif you’re on time, you’re latemotto, Tom had cheered, all for the new sergeant major in his sister’s life.
