by Paige Toon
‘Got any plans for today?’
‘I was thinking about going to Heligan.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ He tucks into his fry-up. ‘Just felt like a day out?’
‘Yes, but it’s also for the book.’
‘Nicki’s book?’
I nod at him, unable to answer with my mouth full. I wonder if Charlie has told him I’m writing my own book as well. ‘I need to visit a few places for research,’ I add.
‘Like where?’
I look up at the ceiling, thinking. ‘Tintagel—’
‘That’s not far from me,’ Adam interrupts.
‘Where do you live?’ I ask, distracted from replying.
‘Bude.’
‘I had a boyfriend who came from Bude,’ I say as Charlie returns his attention to us. Beau, the guy I coincidentally started writing a blog about last night.
‘Surfer?’ Adam asks.
‘He was, actually.’ Bude has some great surfing beaches. ‘Do you surf?’ I ask him. He looks like a surfer.
‘Course.’
I glance at Charlie. ‘How about you?’
‘Not so much any more.’
Aah, but he used to! Another Morris similarity confirmed.
‘Now he’s a boring dad,’ Adam comments drily.
Charlie stares at him. ‘I can’t believe I actually missed you when you were in India.’
Adam chuckles and carries on eating.
I wonder if April is his only reason for stopping surfing. I imagine Nicki’s death stole all of the fun out of his life, too. For a good long while, at least. It’s a sobering thought.
‘Are you set on Heligan today?’ Charlie asks casually as we make our way out of the café after breakfast. He has a big black rucksack slung over his shoulder and Adam is carrying April up ahead. He’s slightly taller than Charlie, slightly longer and lankier. ‘I have to take my brother home and collect the tent, but I could take you to Tintagel on our way back through. I wouldn’t mind visiting that beach.’
‘Driftwood?’ I ask as we spill out onto the busy pavement.
‘Yeah, and April could do with some fresh air. She was cooped up inside all day yesterday.’
I think about the offer as he takes April from Adam and moves out of the way of passing people. He lowers her into the backpack and clips her into a harness, then glances up at me, his hair falling into his eyes as he awaits my answer. ‘What do you think?’ he asks, straightening up and swinging the baby carrier – and April – onto his back. He slides his arms into the armholes, his biceps flexing as he adjusts the weight on his broad shoulders. ‘Would save you having to get your campervan out.’
‘What’s this?’ Adam asks, interrupting.
‘Just wondering if Bridget wants to do Tintagel today instead of Heligan. I could take her there on my way back from yours.’
‘Guilt trip,’ Adam says under his breath.
‘Seriously can’t believe I missed you,’ Charlie replies, deadpan.
I decide to go along with the plan because, well, why not? So we walk back to Charlie’s place together. While he heads indoors to change April’s nappy, Adam carries his bags out of the house and puts them into Charlie’s silver pickup.
‘You sit in the front. I’ll go in the back with my niece,’ Adam urges, opening the front passenger door for me. ‘I don’t get to see her enough.’
We sit and chat about India until Charlie emerges.
‘You’d better not keep her awake,’ Charlie warns his brother as he buckles April into her car seat.
‘I won’t,’ Adam replies chirpily, tickling April’s ribs and making her giggle.
Charlie sighs and climbs into the driver’s seat while I smile to myself, enjoying their banter.
‘Do you mind if we swing by the campsite so I can grab my camera?’ I ask. I always try to photograph anything that I might need to reference later.
‘Sure,’ Charlie replies.
‘So tell me about this boyfriend from Bude,’ Adam says cheekily, dangling over my seat when we’re well into our journey, zooming along the A39. April is fast asleep.
‘Can you put your seatbelt back on?’ Charlie asks impertinently.
‘All right, Dad,’ Adam mutters, buckling himself back up.
‘What do you want to know?’ I swivel to face him.
‘What’s his name, how old is he, when did you meet him?’
‘Jesus, am I on Blind Date?’
‘Dear old Cilla,’ he says affectionately.
‘His name is Beau, he was twenty-five when we went out and that was six years ago. I was twenty-eight,’ I add.
He grins widely. ‘You like younger men?’
‘She has a boyfriend,’ Charlie interjects wearily.
Adam leans forwards and gently cuffs his brother over the head. Charlie bats him away, smirking. Adam looks out the side window, tapping his fingers on the doorframe. I suspect he’s one of those people who have so much energy they can’t keep still.
‘I had a girlfriend once who dumped me for a guy called Beau,’ Adam says thoughtfully.
‘Who?’ Charlie asks him, looking at him in the rear-view mirror.
‘Michelle,’ he replies.
‘Aah,’ Charlie says.
‘Seriously?’ I chip in.
He nods. ‘Yeah.’
‘It’s just that I need to hunt Beau down and he’s not on social media. I haven’t tried very hard, admittedly, but it would be great if I had a lead.’ There can’t be that many Beaus in Bude.
‘Why do you need to find him?’ Adam asks.
‘It’s for my blog.’
From his vacant expression I gather he doesn’t know anything about it, but, as he listens to my explanation, his features change from bemused to confused.
‘Does your boyfriend know about this?’
‘Of course!’ I spin out my usual line about how it was his idea and how he’s not the jealous type. I have a feeling I’m going to get bored of people asking me this question.
‘How long have you been together?’ he asks.
‘Just over a year and a half,’ I reply. ‘But I’ve been back in the UK since the end of last year.’
‘Are you going to move over there or will he come here?’
‘Not sure yet,’ I reply.
‘How’s the long-distance thing working out for you?’
‘He really is a nosy little shit, isn’t he?’ I say to Charlie, who laughs and nods.
We fall into a light-hearted silence that lasts all of fifteen seconds.
‘Hey, let’s go out next weekend,’ Adam says, leaning forward. ‘We’ll get Mum to babysit.’
‘Mmm,’ Charlie replies.
‘Come on!’ He clamps his hands on his brother’s shoulders and gives him a small shake.
‘Can you stop messing with me while I’m driving?’
‘I mean it,’ Adam states, letting him go. ‘You need a night out.’
‘Do I?’ Charlie asks. He doesn’t seem convinced.
‘Yes, you do,’ Adam says seriously. ‘It’s been too long. You can come, too, Bridget,’ he adds, his tone turning flippant. ‘Don’t want you to perish from loneliness.’
I laugh. ‘Gee, thanks.’
‘Are we on?’ he demands to know of us both.
‘Depends on my workload,’ I reply when Charlie doesn’t answer. I’m flattered that Adam asked me, but I’m not sure how reliable he is when it comes to seeing things through.
‘Bloody hell, no wonder you two get on,’ Adam mumbles.
Do we?
‘Here at last,’ Charlie says loudly as he pulls into a small car park outside a large, cream-brick apartment block.
‘You guys coming in?’ Adam asks.
‘Only to get my tent,’ Charlie replies, turning to me. ‘Do you mind waiting here with April? She could do with a bit longer.’
‘Sure.’
She’s still out cold.
Adam comes around to my door, so I wind down the window.
&n
bsp; ‘If I see Michelle around, I’ll ask her about Beau,’ he tells me.
‘That would be great.’
‘What’s his surname?’
‘Riley,’ I reply. I don’t print surnames on my blog, and in most cases I change first names too. Usually my exes insist on it.
‘See you next weekend.’ He gives me a meaningful look as he walks backwards up the footpath.
Chapter 14
‘Right.’ Charlie restarts the ignition once the tent is safely stored in the back of the pickup. ‘Tintagel.’
‘Thanks for doing this,’ I say as we set off back in the opposite direction. ‘Hermie isn’t the easiest thing to drive.’
‘Hermie?’
‘Herman the German. My dad’s campervan.’
‘Ohhh,’ he says slowly.
‘Do you mind if I turn the radio on?’ I ask after a few moments pass.
‘Go for it.’
‘It won’t wake April?’
‘I doubt it. She needs to wake up in a bit, anyway.’
I feel a twinge of guilt at the memory of her tear-stricken face yesterday. I still want to kick myself for having my music on so loud that I couldn’t hear her wailing. I know it was Pat’s responsibility, but that doesn’t make me feel okay about it. How long had she been awake for her to be crying like that?
I feel like I should confess, but I don’t want to land Charlie’s mum in it. Or me, for that matter. . .
Tintagel is a cheerful village with colourful bunting stretching across many of the roads, and pubs and cafés lively with punters spilling out onto the pavements. After an overcast morning, the sun has broken through and the town is bustling. We park in the village car park and Charlie clips April into her baby carrier before we set off on the footpath towards the castle.
The Atlantic Ocean, cold and blue, stretches out in the distance as we walk along the dusty, stony path, surrounded by grassy plains on every side. The castle itself is a ruin – built in the thirteenth century by Richard, First Earl of Cornwall, after Cornwall had been subsumed into the kingdom of England. It later fell into disrepair.
What remain are walls – crumbling and ragged, with many lying low beneath shaggy carpets of grass. Parts of the ruins allow the imagination to run wild, conjuring up what might’ve been there before. A jagged wall peppered with tiny lookout holes steps down from the steep cliff face, and, across the path below, an arched stone walkway is formed. As I lift up my camera to take a photo, I can easily imagine Kit and Morris kissing beneath it.
Charlie bids me farewell and sets off down the stone steps to the beach, leaving me to focus on my reason for coming: work. I get out my notepad and pen and decide to walk up to the highest point to take some photos of the view.
The colours all around sing out with vibrancy. The deep blue of the sea fades into aquamarine as it reaches the cove. A streak of rusty-red seaweed bleeds into the water that laps the shoreline, and acid-yellow lichen clings to some of the rocks.
Green grassy hills slide into rocky grey cliffs that jut outwards into points, like spears warding off ancient enemies. Everywhere I turn there are ruined walls, the remnants of a castle that stood long ago.
Down in the cove I can see Charlie with April in the baby carrier. He stoops to pick up the occasional small piece of driftwood and puts it into a white plastic bag he’s carrying. The beach is tiny and I don’t fancy his chances of finding many decent lengths, if any.
I think of Adam muttering ‘guilt trip’ and wonder if he’s right. Did Charlie offer to bring me here solely because he felt sorry for me?
He really did seem uncomfortable about me having to come to Cornwall for the summer. I wonder how his initial conversation with Sara actually went – maybe she made the suggestion to appease him, without his actually requesting it. Who knows? There’s no point dwelling on it. I’m here now, anyway.
‘Find anything good?’ I ask Charlie on our way back to Padstow.
‘A few bits and pieces,’ he replies.
‘Can I have a look?’
He seems nonplussed. ‘If you like.’
I stretch backwards and grab the plastic bag resting on the seat beside April. She’s playing with some toys suspended on a cord stretched over her car seat and doesn’t so much as look at me as I settle back into position.
‘What will you use these for?’ I ask Charlie, peering into the bag to see a whole bunch of small twigs and sticks.
‘Something for April,’ he replies.
I think of the seahorse on the wall in her bedroom, formed out of tiny, smooth pieces of wood. ‘Did you make her the seahorse?’ I ask.
‘Er, yeah.’
‘Aah, it’s really pretty.’ It suddenly occurs to me that he may wonder why I’ve been into her bedroom.
‘I heard her wake up from her nap yesterday,’ I explain, trying to keep my voice sounding casual as I dig myself out of a hole.
‘Oh, right,’ he replies.
His eyes are focused on the road, so I’m looking at his side profile. He has a very straight nose.
‘What will you make for her this time?’ I ask.
‘A heart. I was mak—’
‘Sorry?’ I ask when his words cut abruptly short.
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. ‘I was making it for Nicki,’ he says, his expression stark.
‘Oh.’
We fall silent. I wish I were better at this sort of thing. I’m not expecting him to carry on talking.
‘Figured I should finish it,’ he adds quietly. ‘That’s if I can find it. I only remembered it the other day. It’s probably in her wardrobe somewhere.’
So he has kept all of her things. . .
‘How’s the writing going?’ he asks after a while.
‘I’m still researching,’ I tell him. ‘It’s going to take me ages to get through everything. I’ve read through the contents of Nicki’s computer and now I’m onto her notebooks.’
I don’t say ‘diaries’ because the word feels too intimate.
‘Find anything helpful?’ he asks.
I wriggle in my seat. ‘I guess I’m just trying to get to know her. I want to make sure I’m able to write the story that she would have wanted. It helps if I can, I don’t know, get inside her head.’
‘That makes sense,’ he says.
‘Does it? Good.’
‘So you’re reading her diaries, too?’
‘Er, yeah,’ I admit.
He nods, his jaw twitching as he stares out of the front window. ‘Well, if there’s anything else you need to know, you can always ask me.’
‘Really?’
‘Why do you sound surprised?’
‘Er, your. . .’
‘My. . .?’ he prompts, casting me a quick sideways look.
‘Your mum offered the same thing.’
‘Did she?’ He appears alarmed, then shakes his head. ‘Seriously, you can ask me. I’m not as fragile as she thinks I am.’
‘I wasn’t going to ask her anyway,’ I say, then giggle. ‘I’m sorry, that sounded really petulant.’
He smirks. ‘She brings out the teenager in me, too.’
‘I like your mum,’ I say with a smile.
‘Yeah, she’s all right,’ he replies fondly. ‘I’m lucky to have her.’ A beat. ‘Even if she does annoy the fuck out of me sometimes.’
I burst out laughing and he grins.
‘My mum always annoys the fuck out of me,’ I say, then jolt and turn around to look at April. ‘Should we be swearing in front of her?’ I whisper at Charlie.
‘It’ll be a while before we need to worry about that sort of thing. She can’t even speak yet.’
‘Phew.’
When we arrive at the campsite, Charlie parks up by the office and gets April out.
‘I’ll bring the tent over in a bit. Just going to say hi to Julia and Justin.’
‘I’ll take it,’ I offer.
‘You sure?’
‘Yep.’
As he passes me t
he bright-blue tent bag, I wonder if this is goodbye.
‘Be over in a bit,’ he says.
I’m pleased. I’ve enjoyed the company today.
I get back to Hermie and unzip the bag, lifting the tent out.
Hmm. . . Now what?
‘You look like you’re having fun,’ Charlie says a few minutes later, wandering over with April.
‘Do I seem like the sort of person who knows how to put up a tent?’
‘You seem like the sort of person who can do anything she puts her mind to,’ he replies matter-of-factly, putting April down on the grass.
Whoa, was that a compliment?
‘Where are you putting it?’ he asks, getting straight down to business.
‘I’m still undecided,’ I reply. ‘Do I want to step into it from Hermie’s door or have it off to the side?’
‘Well, if you step into it from the door, you’ll be locked within a campervan/tent hole forever. It only has one entry and exit point.’
‘Oh God, what an idiot. Just as well you’re here to help me.’
‘I’d put it here,’ he says, dragging the flattened-out tent – that’s as far as I’d got – to the back left of the campervan. ‘That way, it’s clear of the door, but still close enough for you to not get too wet if it’s raining.’
‘Do you reckon I’m allowed to have a tent as well as a campervan on this pitch?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, Justin said it’s fine. It’s no bigger than some of the awnings other people have.’
‘Did you check with him?’
‘Yeah.’
Aw.
‘What do you think?’ he asks, nodding at the tent’s position.
‘Great,’ I reply. ‘What shall I do?’
He passes me a bag. ‘You can fit the rods together.’
The tent is up in no time – it’s not very big, but it’ll make a huge difference when it comes to my living space. I’m actually excited about the prospect of tidying up a bit. Maybe I could get some more fairy lights to wind around the outside of the tent. Or I could just relocate Hermie’s ones. I’m going to need to take them off anyway if I’m ever going to drive the bloody thing anywhere.
‘Do you want a beer?’ I ask Charlie hopefully. I’m not ready to go back to being Norman No Mates just yet.
‘Erm. . .’ He checks the time on his watch and glances at the tent. The door opening has been tied back and April is crawling around inside. She seems happy enough. ‘Yeah, okay,’ he decides. ‘One won’t hurt. I’d better not stay too long, though. April will be getting hungry.’
