Her eyes are on the landscape, but weirdly, mine are still on her. That stray lock of hair really is driving me insane. I force my gaze away, and follow hers to the view. The sea is spreading out around us, and cliffs covered in bright yellow flowers soar up into that pastel-shaded sky. I suck in a breath. She’s right, it is amazing. It’s the kind of place a better man than me would be able to wax lyrical about, maybe even write a poem. It stirs something inside me, tugs at me in a way I never expected. I’ve seen some spectacular places in my life, but this… this feels different. Special. Like I’ve fallen into a magical kingdom in a far-off realm.
‘Yeah, I guess it’s okay,’ is all I say. There’s no way I can put what I’m feeling into words.
She looks a little deflated, like she expected more from me. I shrug, a spasm of pain roaring up my sciatic nerve just to remind me it’s still there. ‘It’s really nice,’ I add, feeling helpless. I’ve never been good with words. I’m better at doing than saying. Sandy always joked that I showed my love by fixing her car and building her the summer house she dreamed of, rather than using fancy words and romantic gestures. I wish I’d done both now.
I tap out a reply to Shannon. I can’t change the mistakes I made in the past, but I can at least try not to repeat them.Thanks sweetheart, I write.I love you.
She sends a string of heart emojis back, and I can’t help but grin. Clever enough to study at Oxford, but still addicted to little cartoon pictures to express her feelings.
The cab drives onwards, taking the bends at breath-stealing speed, and eventually we start to see signs of habitation. A gas station with two pumps and a side hustle in spare tractor parts, a fancy-looking seafood joint, a couple of small stores. After a few minutes and some pretty full-on descents, we enter what I presume to be the village. I’m a little disappointed there isn’tsome kind of sign. You know, giving the population and maybe a civic motto? Something like ‘Bonnie Bay – where anything is possible!’, or ‘Bonnie Bay – the place you lose your life savings in a fake bookstore!’
Instead, we just drive along a central road, the high street I guess. I gaze out of the window as we pass a small stone harbour, complete with an ancient-looking jetty. The brightly painted boats are a mix of small pleasure craft and bigger fishing vessels, and they clank up against each other in their moorings. I wonder if there’s a way to hire one. It could be a good way to get up close and personal with those puffins of mine.
The harbour gives way to a beach, rich yellow sand and big rocks thrown over the place at random, like they’ve been left there for giants to sit on. The image strikes me as much more vivid and fanciful than I’m used to. Seems like this place is changing my mindset a little already. Maybe I’ll be cranking out sonnets by the morning – assuming I survive until the morning. I’m still half convinced this is going to end with a knife fight and me running for my life, chased by locals wearing goat heads and furs.
We cruise along a cobbled street, past various cafés and stores. There’s a fine-looking pub called the Kestrel, which I like immediately – named after a bird, and probably home to pints of Guinness, my new favourite drink. After the pub, there’s a long string of buildings, some tall and skinny, others filling in the gaps between them. They’re all painted in white and pastel colours. They kinda look like cotton candy, and I can’t help smiling at them. I glance across at the woman, and see a similar look of wonder on her face. She catches me, and says: ‘It’s like bunting, isn’t it? You know, the little flags on strings you get at street parties?’
I nod. She’s right. Cotton candy bunting, but made out of bricks and mortar. ‘Yeah. It’s real pretty.’
It’s not much, but my response earns me the first proper smile I’ve seen from her. It changes everything about her face, chases away the sadness in her eyes, and lights up the whole damn world. Jesus. That smile should come with a health warning.
My heart’s still beating a little faster as the cab driver pulls up to a stop. ‘Here we are, folks,’ he announces, his accent so thick I can barely understand him. ‘Bonnie Bay!’
I pay the man, then clamber carefully out of the cab. My body thanks me for being upright, and I stretch myself out until the kinks pop loose. The driver gets the bags from the trunk, and I stand and look around as he drives off with a toot of his horn. The first thing that hits me is the sound, or the lack of it – no traffic, no sirens, not even any people. Just the calming rhythm of the waves rolling into the bay.
The harbour is to one side of us, the beach to the other, and infinity in front of us. The sunlight is bouncing off the sea, shades of green and blue that seem to change with every swell. The water looks so clear I want to jump right in. I sigh, letting go of some of the strains of the day, some of my nagging worries. I let them go, and they float away, carried off on the breeze into the endless ocean. For that one moment, I feel perfectly at peace, at ease with my own body, my own mind, my own world. Like a gull on a wind current, soaring above all my problems.
I tear my eyes away from the sea, and am surprised to find the woman from the train still standing nearby. I’d expected her to be on her way now, off to wherever her final destination might be. She’s staring out at the bay with the same sense of reverence I was feeling, and part of me doesn’t want to disturb her.
She looks up at me, and I’m horrified to see tears on her cheeks. What the hell am I supposed to do now? Comfort her? Call the paramedics?
‘I’m okay,’ she says, laughing and swiping at her eyes. ‘This is happy crying, don’t worry!’
‘Right. You sure? It’s pretty hard to tell from looking.’
‘Sorry! I promise you, I’m fine. Thanks for sharing your cab. I don’t think, with hindsight, that I’d have been able to walk all the way here. So… um, goodbye, I suppose?’
She grips the handle of her case, the one with the broken wheel. It’d take me five minutes to fix the damn thing, but even I know that wouldn’t be appropriate. She gives me the nuclear explosion that is her smile, and manfully, I stay on both feet. ‘Yeah. No problem. Be seeing you.’
We both turn away from the sea view – and walk in exactly the same direction. In fact we almost collide in our haste to leave each other. Our cases clang together, crashing like bumper cars, and we both have identical confused looks on our faces.
‘Where are you going?’ she asks, frowning.
‘The Edge of the World Bookshop,’ I reply patiently. ‘It’s right behind you.’
She frowns some more, and then laughs. I have no idea what she’s finding so funny, and killer smile or not, I’m tired and sore and I would really like to not be in this situation any more. This is crazy, and I haven’t even seen a goddamn puffin.
‘That book you were reading on the train,’ she says, once she’s stopped giggling. ‘The one about hiking?’
I nod, feeling weirded out that she was reading it upside down. No clue why, because I certainly noticed the one she had about the stone circles.
‘Did you by any chance find a card inside it? One that invited you here?’
All I can do is blink, and try to get a grip of the thoughts that are spreading through my mind like a wildfire. Is it possible that she’s here for exactly the same reason as me? Did she also finda card? Is she, like I am, wondering what the hell she’s gotten herself into?
‘Yeah, I did,’ I manage to reply. ‘It was… well, it somehow convinced me to get a train to this place. Against every ounce of judgement I possess. I’m normally a lot more… sensible.’
She runs her eyes over me, and replies: ‘Hmmmm. I can see that. You look sensible, and capable, and not at all insane – not like me. I’m a complete mess!’
