‘Sure. I only remembered yesterday morning her saying it.’
I wonder what reminded him of that conversation, but decide not to ask.
Lansallos is a small, south-facing cove a few miles west of Polperro. It takes us around an hour to get to the car park in Lansallos village, and then it’s a half-mile walk down to the cove. The track is steep and not suitable for a pushchair, so Charlie straps April into her baby backpack, and, after arguing about who’s going to carry the sun tent (he wins), we set off.
Sun streams down between the flickering discs of green as we walk beneath a shady canopy of trees, and off to our left the golden fields are bathed in morning light. A brook runs parallel to our path on the other side of a stone wall carpeted with thick moss and ferns, so our walk is accompanied by the music of running water. Every so often, we come across random adventure playground equipment made out of wood, like stepping stones, seesaws, climbing frames and balancing beams. I hop along the stepping stones until April whinges to get out of her baby carrier, so I resist mucking around after that in case she wants to copy me. Charlie says she can play on the way back up – he’ll need a break from carrying her.
Eventually, the wooded walk comes to an end and we pass through a stile and emerge onto a grassy hill leading down to the cove. The sea takes the shape of an inverted isosceles triangle, the apex pointing towards the cove where we’re headed, and the dark-blue horizon forming a straight line across the top.
The sun is beating down, so I get April’s white hat out of my rucksack – that was the trade-off for Charlie carrying the tent: I take her baby things – and pull it over her head. Charlie says he applied sunscreen before we left.
From the grassy hill we go through another gate and then walk down a slippery, sandy, rocky path that slopes gently down in the space carved out between two cliffs on either side. The beach at the bottom is small but beautiful, surrounded by interesting rock formations that curve in on either side. The water itself is pale bluey green as it swells into the cove, darker blue further out.
‘Wow!’ I say to Charlie.
‘Nice, eh?’
‘Just a bit.’
I’m in awe as we crunch over the sand-and-shingle mix beneath our feet. The rocks around the cove are unusual in colour – sort of metallic-looking. Charlie erects the pop-up sun shelter, a small blue-and-white tent, while I walk April around. He intends to try to get her to sleep in the tent so that she doesn’t kick off from exhaustion.
‘She’ll be taking her first steps soon,’ I say to Charlie, as he emerges from the tent, having straightened out a stripy, coloured beach towel. ‘She’s very steady on her feet.’
He smiles at his daughter. ‘Can you walk without holding Bridget’s hand?’ He takes her from me and steps back a few paces, then stands her on her feet. ‘Go to Bridget,’ he says, carefully letting her go. She wobbles and clutches onto his hands. He looks at me, his lips tilting up at the corners, and I suddenly feel a bit peculiar.
‘Come on, April.’ I kneel down, trying to ignore the niggling sensation in the pit of my stomach.
He lets her go again. ‘Go to Bridget,’ he says.
‘Come on, April,’ I repeat.
She takes one step and then grapples for Charlie’s hands again.
‘Let me try.’ I pick her up and turn her around to face him. ‘Go to Daddy.’
One step, two steps... Charlie and I glance at each other in delight.Plonk.She sits down on her bottom.
‘April, that was brilliant!’ he says excitedly, picking her up and kissing her over and over again on her cheek. ‘You walked two steps! Do you want to try again?’
She shakes her head at him.
‘Go on,’ he urges, passing her back to me.
‘What a clever girl!’ I say. ‘Go to Daddy.’
She lets out a whingeing sound and grabs onto my forearms.
I don’t want to make her cry...
‘Come on, darling, you can do it,’ Charlie encourages, waggling his hands about.
One step, two steps...
‘Good girl!’ Charlie says. ‘Keep going!’
Three steps... And...Plonk.
We both fall over ourselves in congratulating her. I never thought I’d be this impressed by an ankle-biter.
