Nell reaches out and squeezes my hand. ‘We’d all be here to help you too –you do know that?’
I close my eyes and repeat under my breath, ‘Quiet life, quiet life, quiet life.’
When I look againPlum’s nodding. ‘Clemmie’s even offered to show you her gran’s recipe cards.’
Mum wasn’t the kind of mother who’d sent us out into the world without cooking skills, and she was especially strong on her homely puddings. But my sherry trifle and apple crumble didn’t cut it once Dillon moved up the career ladder and his tastes went upmarket too.
I’m biting my lip as I look up at the concern in their faces. ‘I really appreciate your honesty and support; it means a lot.’ I have zero intention of selling eighties-style quiches from my veranda, but it’s still heart-warming to know they’ve got my back.
‘And talkingof Dillon…’
My eyes snap on to Plum’s face, because unless I’m the one mentioning him, he’s the last person I want to discuss.
‘You know he still cares about you?’ She’s fiddling with her dungaree strap again. ‘A lot…’
I have no idea why she’s brought this up now, but I have my answer ready. ‘Dillon and I will always stay friends.’
The strap is knotted around her finger. ‘He still hasn’t moved on … not at all…’ The pause is for what we both know to sink in – Dillon, given his freedom and who he is, should have. That was the plan anyway. ‘I wanted you to know.’
I’d trusted Dillon would have let me know himself had there been a change, so I’m not sure where to put this information, or how to react to it. My heart was so wrung out by the time he left, I’m not sure either of us have fully processed it even now.
All I know is, every decision I made back then came from a place of love – I was desperate to do the right thing for both of us, especially him. In the end you have to go with your gut instinct in the instant, stand by that – and hope you’re giving the person-you-loved-the-most-in-the-world wings to fly, rather than a detonator and a bomb that shatters their life for ever.
‘As far as I’m aware, Dillon’s enjoying Dubai.’ I gather every ounce of my strength around me, to underline the situation that Plum should already know too. ‘It’s only Shadow and me now, and I don’t intend to change that. But thanks for telling me anyway.’
I can only hope she understands the same as I do from what I’ve said here, and doesn’t add a spin of her own. I have no plans to add in anyone new. But it also means I won’t be considering a reconciliation either.
‘Hey, Floss, it’s your neighbour. He’s waving again!’
Nell’s nudge is so hard she almost knocks me off the chair.
I already know what Kit’s friendly wave from the front of his hut looks like, because I saw it when I came out onto the deck first thing this morning. It’s just a shame he isn’t further away; a few more yards and he’d be out of waving range. As it is, there’s this unspoken pressure to acknowledge each other every time he pops up in my eye line.
I turn to give a twitch of my wrist across the expanse of dune and realise he’s not alone.
Nell’s hip collides with my elbow again. ‘There’s three of them, the other two are holding hands.’
For eff’s sake.‘He’s not losing any time. Second day here, looks like he’s already up and running with real live customers!’ I put a hand on Shadow’s collar as I hear the rumble of a growl in his throat. ‘You can’t go running after them either.’
Plum’s frowning as the couple dash along the natural path below the deck, and down onto the beach. ‘Kit’s got his camera out. There’s not much sand to run on when the tide’s in, but they’re going for it anyway.’
I already know the drill. After Dillon and I had sorted out our rings, Kit had us posing all over Neal Street to round off our record of the day with romantic shots of Covent Garden. We’d actually chosen a picture he took of us by a line of red phone boxes for the save-the-date cards we never got as far as printing.
I glance at my phone. ‘If he’s hoping for shots at sundown, he’s going to have a long wait.’
Nell’s grinning at me. ‘With David Bailey and his happy couples prancing around down there, you won’t be short of entertainment.’ She lets out a huge guffaw and her next shove is so strong I almost land on the floor. ‘Play your cards right, you could be serving them afternoon teas!’
I laugh. ‘The High Tides Hotel or my beach hut? I think I’m safe there.’ But seeing Kit waving his Nikon, I’m kicking myself. ‘Why didn’t I think of opening the sand deck as a photo booth?’
Plum laughs. ‘Too late now! The Little Cornish Kitchen at The Hideaway is here to stay!’
It’s not as if you can look away when it’s playing out right on your doorstep. Kit’s directing the happy couple from pose to pose along the dune edge. Back-to-back, side by side, face to face. As they hurl themselves down on the sand, chins propped on elbows among the reed clumps, they’re barely twenty feet in front of us. Kit comes to a standstill above their horizontal bodies then turns to look at us. As his gaze meets mine, he grins at me, shakes his head and rolls his gaze up to the clouds. Then a second later he’s down on his knees, going in for the close-up shots.
Plum looks across at me. ‘Did you see that eye-roll? What the hell was that about?’
‘I’ve got absolutely no idea.’ But I could do without the goosebumps it brought on.
She frowns. ‘Are you shivering? You need to wrap up with that cough of yours.’
