This was absolutely ridiculous. Why was this happening? Admittedly the quota of dishy men around here was shockingly low. Most of them smelt of cow or three hours in the pub, but surely she could trust her hormones not to go into mad overdrive the minute a vaguely civilized man wandered into her eyeline.
Actually, the vicar was gorgeous, far better looking than a man of God had the right to be, but he didn’t make her fluttery inside, and the butcher was quite dishy but she had felt mildly repulsed when he asked her out for a drink the other month, soit couldn’t just be a good-looking-man thing. It must run deeper than that. Whatever it was she really needed to get back to reality – who was this new woman and what had she done with her mind?
As she looked up it would appear Alex might be asking the same question, his eyebrows raised quizzically at her. What had she done now? What if he was familiar because he was like that bloke off the telly and could read her mind? Maybe the sand could just open up now and swallow her, or a nicely timed tsunami could just swing on by.
Glancing at the sea, there was no sign of a massive, life-threatening wave on the horizon, which she was supposed was a good thing. Oh shit, he was still smiling, and waiting.
‘Sorry, I didn’t catch that?’ Surely the safest response.
‘I was just saying that the towel look might not catch on at work.’
‘No, very true, employers are funny about that sort of thing. Expect you to be fully and appropriately dressed. Madness.’ What was she saying? At least if she carried on burbling nonsense he’d eventually edge his towel to a safer part of the beach, the bit this madwoman and her child didn’t occupy.
‘Yup, I have to admit it is lovely not having to rush from pillar to post all day long. I can’t remember feeling this relaxed in a long time.’
Sylvie looked up at the seagulls swooping overhead and breathed the salty air in deep. He was right. This was a whole different life from her old one, and a damn sight more relaxing – it was just a shame it might not be sustainable. However, worrying about that now wasn’t a sensible option either. She’d shelve that for tonight when she could gaze out at the moon wishing sleep would hurry up and flicker its fingers over her, just for a couple of hours.
‘It’s magical here. It slows you right down. Are you here on holiday?’ She was itching to ask about his wife but knew that dropping it casually into conversation would alert him to her curiosity. And that was not a path she wanted to wander down.
‘Yeah, we thought we’d come down for a week, catch up with a friend that moved down last year. It’s been lovely. I can see why he decided to stay.’
‘Cornwall’s a funny place, it’s said it will either welcome you with open arms or spit you back out fairly quickly. You’d be amazed at the people who come down here thinking it’s perfect but find that once the holiday vibe has worn off they just aren’t suited to it at all, and then for others it’s instant. Like this is the place they should be and they’ve been waiting all their lives for it.’
‘Ha! And I’m guessing you’re the latter?’
‘Oh no, I’m born and bred. Eighth generation, I think, if not more. But I did escape for a short bit. I think everyone should. It can be quite insular down here. But then, well, you know, I wanted to raise Sam as I had been, on the beach, buckets and spades, the only threat being pasty-stealing seagulls rather than gang culture and knife crime.’
‘I’ve only been here a couple of days, but you’re right, those things do seem to be distinctly lacking from Penmenna. It seems as if nothing could disturb the peace here, and that’s coming from someone who has…’ He paused. ‘…well, never mind.’
Before Sylvie could decode what he was possibly alluding to, or indeed press him on it, the peace of Penmenna was very much disturbed.
‘Cheese an’ Chrise!’ Ellie stood, hands on her hips next to a large pile of tumbled slates. Her stance very much suited to a fishwife of old, with her hands on her hips and fury writ across her face. A scarf tied in a knot and perched upon her head would have completed the look perfectly. Whilst Sam stood next to herwith that slightly amazed look that he seemed to have adopted since meeting her and Sylvie was beginning to worry might become permanent. She hoped that the wind didn’t change quickly.
‘Ellie!’ Alex leapt to his feet and headed straight over to his daughter.
‘Did you see that? We worked so hard, didn’t we, Sam?’
‘We did.’ Sam nodded intently. He was clearly going to be #TeamEllie on this one.
‘I’m sure you did, but that’s not really the point, the point is that…’
Sylvie tried to cover up her smile. She knew she’d have to be #TeamAlex, simply because of the Parent Code, but secretly she was with Ellie all the way. It was healthy to express frustration, but the truth was she was glad it wasn’t Sam being so terribly healthy.
‘We worked really hard and then the buggering thing fell over! What’s a girl supposed to do with that, huh?’ Her arms uncrossed as she spread them wide, palms upturned in a universal what’s-a-girl-supposed-to-do-with-that shrug.
That was it! Sylvie broke the code and dissolved into a giggle – only a very short one – but a noticeably obvious giggle all the same. She liked Ellie.
Alex threw her a desperate look over his shoulder, to which she did a mini shrug of her own, and then waited to see what he’d do next. She was clearly failing at the parents-stick-together thing, but she was as intrigued as Sam as to who would win this particular battle. And her money wasn’t on the six-foot-two man in front of her.
‘Ellie, I see that your tower fell, and I know you worked hard at it, but you just said some very naughty words…’
‘Very naughty.’ Sam decided to chime in and Ellie shot him an amused look, whereas Sylvie winced a bit.
‘And no matter how upset you are, you can’t use words like that.’
‘Which ones?’ The young girl managed the perfect combination of confusion and challenge.
Sylvie no longer liked Ellie, she thought she might just love her a little bit instead.
