‘Love?’ For a fleeting second I feel like I’ve found the explanation for my somersaulting insides. The ache in my chest is about so much more than lust. Then I look up at the base of his neck, and the shadow of stubble on his jaw and my tummy tumbles all over again. I catch my breath and stare up at his teeth cutting into his lip and my heart is banging. As he stares down at me it’s as if the world has stopped.
I’m holding my breath, closing my eyes, parting my lips, almost ready for the kiss, when Nell’s words ring in my ears.He’s completely committed elsewhere …Damn. He’s not talking abouthislove; he’s talking about Laura’s and the girls’. How could I have misjudged this so badly?He’salways going to love Faye, he just told me as much. Which is exactly understandable and how it should be.
I swallow and take a leap backwards. ‘True love is about letting go, the girls know that.’ I drag in a breath and try to avoid his eye. ‘They’ll understand if I go, they always do.’ There’s one sure way out of here to save face and a second later for the first time in years my feet are running.
As I hare back off along the beach and snatch a glance over my shoulder, he’s still standing staring at the space I was in. I’ve got at least a fifty-yard start. ‘Race you back to the car!’
By the time my hands hit the silky metal of the car boot my throat is burning and my chest is exploding. I’m kicking myself, and not just for my mistake back there. How the hell could I have been careless enough to fall in love? As I catch a glimpse of the pink toes glistening on the gravel I add my Converse to my mental ‘can’t leave behind’ list.
When Maude’s email drops in my inbox, I’m going to need an enormous bag.
37
Out in St Aidan
Definitely not a date night – strawberries and other queries
Tuesday evening
It’s eight and as I turn into the mews and hurry towards the Hungry Shark to meet up with Charlie, it’s official – I’m on my way back to Paris. Maude sent my flight number this morning, and I pushed a few things into a rucksack this afternoon. Then while I ate a hasty dinner of jam doughnuts, Plum printed out my ticket and she’s insisting on driving me to the airport first thing tomorrow. Nell and Sophie know how much I hate goodbyes, so they’re popping in for a speed hug before work and have promised to clear the fridge later. Now it’s all happened so fast, I can’t imagine how I ever hoped I’d still be around for Sophie’s Mum’s and Bumps Garden Party. That’s still ten days away and has now been downsized to a picnic, and the Singles will have to live without Laura’s Coconut Heaven and the Meringue Revisited nights we’d lightly pencilled in for later this week. Even though I’ve been expecting this, now it’s real my chest is aching. All that’s left now is to break the news to Charlie. But as tonight is supposed to be about fun I’ll leave that until the very end.
‘Charlie!’ As I catch his eye over a hundred salty surfer heads and push my way into the bar, I’m trying to pull the creases out of the vintage dress I grabbed this afternoon from Cats’ Protection. I know orange is a risk against my hair, but the fabric is wonderfully swishy, and when I’m far away the tiny stars on the print will remind me of the sky and the beach at Seaspray Cottage.
‘Nice dress.’ He raises his eyebrows as I wriggle in next to his elbow. ‘If you’d prefer dinner up at the Harbourside, they’ll always make room for us on the terrace?’
I ignore how much my head is spinning as his scent wafts up my nose. ‘No, Hobson, tonight’s about showing younewplaces. Picking the default setting in your comfort zone central isn’t going to help.’
There’s a flash of amusement around his lips. ‘If you say so.’
I’m trying to sound as knowledgeable as Nell did when she rattled off the itinerary for me. ‘The Hungry Shark is famous for their local bottled ciders, and they do fab warm apple punch in the winter.’
He’s holding back that smile again. ‘Great, I’ll bear that in mind for December. Would you like a drink before then?’
I’m killing this. ‘It’s fine, I’ll get these, my treat, what would you like, the Kopparberg is nice, or the Rekorderlig?’
‘Whatever you’re having.’
I catch the eye of the guy behind the bar. ‘Two mango and raspberry ciders, please.’ When the bottles arrive, they’re frosted with condensation and the liquid is icy sweet as it hits my throat. ‘We used to drink here a lot in the Sixth Form because they never bothered with ID’s. Do you want a glass?’ I take in Charlie’s head shake and hope he doesn’t guess I haven’t been in here since. As I take a swig he’s looking at his label. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Great, so where exactly is this Cornish Rekorderlig brewery?’
I’m not sure Nell went into that much detail. ‘Over near Truro?’
There are crinkles at the corners of his eyes. ‘Would that be Truro in Sweden, then?’
I’m staring at my own bottle and kicking myself for the gaffe. ‘Shit, that’s not very local, is it? I do have other better, less flawed gems to pass on.’
He’s almost laughing now. ‘Such as?’
I’m racking my brain, using the time to check the size of the palpitations as I focus on his tanned wrists and the open neck of his soft faded polo shirt. ‘Avoid the quinoa and kale at the Yellow Canary, it’s truly gross.’ Despite my off the scale heart problems, I have to do better than that. ‘And Jaggers cocktail bar does great offers. Sex on the Beach is two for one, day and night, three six five. And this week any cocktail with strawberry is half price so long as you buy the biggest jug. The hangovers are truly awful though.’ Even years on from when I last drank there I can personally vouch for that.
Charlie’s shaking his head. ‘Said with feeling. I’m noting all this down, Clems. So how does Jaggers compare to the Harbourside?’
It’s amusing that he’s only got one benchmark, but this one I know. Jaggers punters are eighteen rather than eighty, they’re way more dedicated to mass drinking, the chairs are purple and red perspex. And there are dedicated chill out areas; the Harbourside probably doesn’t even know what they are. We’ll be going there last because it’s at sea level. Is that useful?’
He nods. ‘Totally. Can’t wait to visit. But don’t stress, I’m already having the best time. So, where’s next?’
I’m squinting at the screwed-up cheat sheet I’ve pulled from my dress pocket. ‘Definitely not the Crab and Pilchard. That’s where I collided with the gravy urn back in the day.’
