‘Excuse me?’ With Charlie so established in Cornwall now, it’s easy to forget that Ross is the one who grew up here. However surprising it is that he’s returned to his roots after so long away, we both know guys with as many letters after their names as Ross has don’t work as temporary stand-ins.
He sniffs. ‘Charlie mentioned you were arriving, but I thought that was tomorrow. And my placement ran on unexpectedly, which is why I’m here having a last blowout.’ He’s drumming his fingers on the table, then his voice rises sharply. ‘Hey, don’t let Diesel eat my toast!’
The crusts I’m wrestling out of Diesel’s mouth are green and slimy, but it’s a matter of pride to get the whole slice back onto the plate again.
To be fair to Diesel, he might have done Ross a favour here. Considering all the yummy cake on offer, grilled sludge looks a terrible choice. ‘Why not give Diesel the dodgy toast and I’ll shout you an extra-large slice of death-by-chocolate instead?’ I’m appalled that I can even recall his soft spot for cocoa, but if I’m plagued with unwelcome insider knowledge, I might as well use it.
That’s brought on a frown like a storm cloud. ‘You are joking? Of course Diesel can’t have the toast. Avocado’s bad for dogs.You must know that?’
I do now. What’s more, as a trusted pet sitter, it’s more than my life’s worth to admit the gaping hole in my doggy knowledge. ‘Sothat’swhat the slime is! Lucky super-vet’s here to put me straight.’
These guys and their health kicks. Plus, he’s looking at me like I’m about two inches high. I know he’s got a gazillion more qualifications than me, but other attributes count too. In my world I look guys in the eye as equals until proven otherwise. And didn’t he used to laugh out loud rather than have a tiny ironic twist to his smile? It’s like I’m staring at someone who hit thirty-five and had a total sense of humour bypass.
Looking at that stony expression, it hits me how dismal my life could have become if things between us had worked out differently.
I did not have that thought.More than that, I have spent the last twelve years making sure I never let my mind go anywhere close to there. What am I thinking?
He’s staring out to sea like there’s no hope for any of us. ‘If you’re responsible for Diesel, I’d better drop you a chart off.’
‘A chart?’ I’m talking in the voice of a strangled hedgehog. ‘You’re surely notcoming round?’ It’s bad enough seeing him here. If I had to face him in Clemmie’s tiny flat, I might actually expire.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not about to invade your space.Foods dogs need to avoid – a visual reminder.It’ll fit through the letterbox.’ He rubs Diesel’s ears. ‘Charlie worships this boy, we can’t be too careful while he’s away.’
If there had been any other way, Charlie and Clemmie would never have left him. But I’m damned if I’ll let Ross see the responsibility petrifies me. Instead I give a tug on the lead. ‘So can I get you that cake before we go? Or more toast?’
He pulls a face. ‘I’ll give that a miss, thanks. I’m suddenly less hungry than I was.’
‘Great!’ It’s not, but as we’ve totalled his visit to the Surf Shack and he’s pretty much wrecked my afternoon, no other ironic answer springs to mind. I toss in a final throwaway line before I run. ‘We’ll see you around then.’
He leans back in his seat. Narrows his eyes like he’s giving this his full consideration, but there’s also an extra flicker to the scar on his cheekbone that gives away how uncomfortable he is. ‘It might be best if I leave the beach to you from now on.’
The last time I saw that same pained frown and the twitch on his cheek, I’d just lost our baby and he was backing out of the room, heading back to the States. And I hadn’t ever planned on seeing him again. To the extent that you have no idea of the effort I’ve put in to make sure I didn’t. As far as I know it’s been forever since he was down in Cornwall, and I had no reason to think that would change. If I’d had the slightest suspicion he’d be here, I’d have headed for the other end of the country.
If I’ve ever let that unlikely accidental meet-up scenario play out in my head, it certainly didn’t end with us glaring at each other as we divvied up who could go where in the village. Of all the shocks, I was not ready for this one. When I think how much I’ve looked forward to chilling by the sea and reconnecting with my happy place. And now I feel like a tidal wave has picked up my entire ordered, nicely level life and tumbled it to chaos.
The full implication of what he’s said is dawning on me. ‘You mean you’llstill be here?’
He closes his eyes. ‘Only for a couple of days.’
I make sure my smile is the brightest ever. ‘In which case wewon’tsee you. Around or anywhere else. Which is fine byus.’ Including Diesel makes us sound stronger, but better still it makes this less about him and me. I’m about to tell him to have a nice life, but I manage to bite it back. Even a very breezy ‘laters’ feels too loaded with threat that I’ll be stalking him, so I end up being my mum doing her impersonation of her old hockey teacher. ‘We’ll say cheerio, then – toodlepip!’
And for once when I turn to march off, Diesel wags beside me. And somehow we manage to make it across the deck and down the steps without me falling off my flipflops. And then we’re sinking into the soft sand, hurrying to the ocean’s edge where the lacy-edged breakers are frothing over the watery shine below.
3
Clemmie’s flat at Seaspray Cottage, St Aidan
Sweet fillings and sticky ends
The next morning, Saturday
‘Chocolate chips, walnut, white chocolate chunks and Oreo, dark chocolate and mint…’
As I come through into the living room next morning Nell’s eggs are stacked and waiting on the apple-green dresser in the kitchen, and I’m running my favourite brownie mixes past Diesel. I’ve already re-smoothed half my rather salty hair and messaged Clemmie and Charlie with some early-morning views from St Aidan – Diesel lying by the open bedroom door, enjoying the breeze from the balcony. And Pancake giving me a disgusted-of-St-Aidan dead eye. That was for being two hours behind Clemmie’s morning schedule serving up today’s prawn and bamboo-shoot kitty-soup breakfast. Which was pretty mean of Pancake. After all, she was the one who kept me awake most of the night lying on my pillow mountain purring in my ear.
I can’treallyblame my lack of sleep on Pancake. And it wasn’t down to the noise of the waves breaking on the beach below the window either. And the bedroom itself is dreamy, with the comfiest bed with the prettiest floral-print eiderdowns and picture-covered walls painted in a patchwork of dusky rose colours. If I was still thrashing around under the soft floaty duvet as the dawn light crept across the sky, it was because the afternoon at the Surf Shack was running through my head like an everlasting film loop. And if I ever managed to stop it, the gap simply filled with half-forgotten montages from years ago instead.
And sure, in those long dark hours before daybreak I was cursing myself for not having given Charlie a subtle yet thorough grilling about Ross’s movements before I arrived. I should have realised I need to be just as vigilant now as I was all those years ago when I was constantly scanning the horizon, triple-checking the coast was clear.
