by Jill Mansell
Belle puffed a strand of hair out of her eyes, keeping her arms clasped around her knees in order to hold her skirt in place and remain decent. It was one of those weird beach-etiquette things; if you were wearing a tiny bikini, fine. But if you happened to be dressed in a collared shirt and stripy knee-length skirt, you wouldn’t dream of flashing your knickers. Even if they were super-expensive pink silk ones from La Perla.
The dogs were chasing after a ball now, barking with excitement as they cavorted through the waves. A toddler, his face splashed by their antics, let out a wail of protest. An athletic-looking young woman in a slate-grey bikini skipped and swerved to avoid the two dogs as she ran along the shoreline. Seconds later, she passed a group of teenage boys, one of whom wolf-whistled in youthful appreciation. The young woman ignored the whistle and jogged past them, her blond ponytail bouncing jauntily with each step.
Belle closed her eyes and pictured Ronan the first time she’d ever seen him. It had been soon after he’d moved to St Carys in order to take up his new job with Gavin Barton. Word had spread rapidly around town, of course it had, that the new arrival was a twenty-four-year-old with looks, charisma and a decided way with the ladies. Belle, however, had assumed he wouldn’t be her type; apart from anything else, he was from a working-class background, and why on earth would she be interested in a boy like that?
Until she’d seen him for the first time a week later, playing a game of pool at the Mermaid, and against all the odds her interest had been piqued, because he was pretty and he exuded fun and sometimes your brain chose not to care about working-class backgrounds and simply thought: Ooh, he’s nice.
Which had been embarrassing in one way and confusing in another. But at the same time it had been a complete thrill. A fresh challenge was always good.
As an attractive twenty-one-year-old from a wealthy family, Belle had been accustomed to getting any boy she wanted. She’d expected to get Ronan. But it had never happened, which had been both puzzling and annoying. For some reason he hadn’t been interested in her. Which had, naturally, had the effect of keeping her interested in him.
Belle knew perfectly well that if they’d gone out together for a few weeks, the novelty would have worn off and they’d have drifted apart – because that had been the recurring pattern of her relationships up until then. But it hadn’t had a chance to happen, which was why the weird crush had continued unabated. She’d never had the opportunity to get it out of her system.
And now this.
Taking out her phone, she texted Clemency. Where are you?
As soon as the text had been sent, she was overcome with impatience and scrambled to her feet. Collecting up her bags, her discarded shoes and the bunch of lilies in their tissue paper wrapping, she dusted the sand off her palms and made her way back up the beach to the stone steps that led to the Esplanade. It was only five minutes from here to the estate agency, so she may as well head over there now.
The text arrived less than thirty seconds later, and she stopped in her tracks, fumbling for the phone she’d tucked into the narrow side pocket of her handbag. In the struggle to reach it, the bag’s leather strap slid off her shoulder and the expensive lilies slithered sideways, causing her to double over in order to catch them before they landed head-first in the soft, dry—
Woomph! Something thudded into Belle’s side, knocking her off balance and sending her crashing to the ground. She let out a shriek of alarm, the lilies went flying and so did her shoes as she sprawled on the sand. For a split second she thought it was a mugger, about to make off with her bag and everything in it.
‘Oh God, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Are you OK?’
It wasn’t a mugger. It was the girl in the slate-grey bikini, who’d careered straight into her. Mortified at how idiotic she must look, Belle said furiously, ‘Well that’s the stupidest question I ever heard. Do I look as if I’m OK?’
‘I meant are you hurt?’
Was everyone watching? Were they all laughing at her? Belle stumbled clumsily to her feet, shrinking away as the girl reached out to try and help her up. ‘I’m not hurt.’
‘Oh thank goodness. Sorry again, it was all my fault.’
Belle glanced at her in disbelief, because of course it was all her fault; who else could possibly be to blame?
‘I was timing myself, you see.’ The girl tapped a gadget on her left wrist. ‘Trying to beat my record. It’s harder to run on soft sand, so I checked the coast was clear, then put my head down and just went for it.’
‘You didn’t see me at all?’ Still furious, Belle dusted sand off her skirt then watched as the girl hastily retrieved her scattered bags and handed them back to her.
‘Of course I saw you, but I thought you were heading for the steps. I thought you’d be long gone by the time I reached this bit; I didn’t know you were going to stop dead … but of course I should have been looking where I was going. I’m an idiot.’ As she handed over the lilies, the girl fixed her steady light-blue gaze on Belle. ‘I’m really sorry.’
Belle looked away first and gave the kind of angular, dismissive shrug that signalled their unwelcome encounter was at an end. ‘OK. Bye.’
Clemency was on the phone to a client when she saw Belle coming into the office. Once the call was ended, she said, ‘Oh how lovely, you shouldn’t have!’
‘They’re not for you.’ Belle dumped the lilies on her desk. ‘So, how is everything?’
‘Fine. The sale went through.’ Clemency looked puzzled. ‘I gave Sam the keys hours ago. I thought you’d be helping him move into the flat.’
‘They don’t need me. And I wasn’t talking about the flat. I just wondered how everything’s going with you and Ronan.’
Unexpected. Clemency hesitated. ‘In what way?’
‘Well, in the shagging-each-other way, I imagine.’
‘Oh.’ How on earth had she found out? ‘Look, I was going to let you know …’
‘But you didn’t.’ Belle raised a sceptical eyebrow.
‘Did Sam tell you?’
‘Are you serious?’ This time both eyebrows shot up. ‘Sam knows?’
‘I just mentioned it to him,’ Clemency hastily explained. ‘But I said I’d rather tell you myself. How did you find out, then?’
‘Oh trust me, you’re the talk of the town. Some girl was telling Laura in the chemist’s shop.’
‘How did she know?’
‘From what I can gather, Ronan’s been spreading the word. And you know what this place is like for gossip,’ said Belle. ‘Once they start, there’s no stopping them. So how long have you two been an item?’
‘Not long. Just … a couple of weeks.’
‘And why didn’t you tell me before now?’
Clemency shrugged. ‘Probably because I knew you’d be like this.’
‘I’m fine.’ Belle’s voice had gone a bit high-pitched. ‘It’s just … I suppose I never thought you’d … go there.’
‘Look, I know you used to like him, but nothing’s ever happened between you two.’ Clemency stayed calm, kept her tone gentle. ‘He’s never been your boyfriend. I’m allowed to go out with him. And now I am.’
‘Clearly.’ Belle exhaled.
‘And you’ve got Sam.’
Belle nodded. ‘I have.’
‘Are you not happy with Sam?’ Clemency’s heart rate began to quicken.
‘Of course I’m happy! Sam’s the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. He’s perfect.’
‘That’s all right then. And now that you know about me and Ronan, everything’s great. So we’re all happy!’
Belle hesitated, then nodded, clearly aware that she didn’t have a reasonable argument. She managed a brief smile. ‘We are.’
Phew, she was mellowing with age. Clemency touched one of the calla lilies and said teasingly, ‘Are you sure these aren’t for me?’
‘Quite sure, thanks. They’re for Sam’s new flat.’
‘Why are they all sandy?’
‘Be
cause some blasted jogger crashed into me on the beach, sent me flying. There are so many idiots out there. Clem, it’s really hot and my shoes are hurting. Can you give me a lift back to Sam’s flat?’
Clemency said, ‘I’m on my own, so you’ll have to wait until five thirty.’
Belle looked pained. ‘Couldn’t you just close up half an hour early?’ It was what she would do without stopping to think twice about it.
Clemency said, ‘You see, this is why you get sacked from jobs and I don’t.’
‘So pedantic.’ Belle wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘Fine then, I’ll go and get myself a coffee and come back at five thirty.’
Half an hour later, Belle returned. Her shoes were really pinching now. She waited whilst Clemency closed up, then they left the office. On the way over to Sam’s, they passed by her sister’s flat and Clemency pulled up outside.
‘Oh God.’ Belle heaved an impatient sigh; were they ever going to get to Sam’s? ‘What now?’
‘Won’t be a minute, I just want to pick up my other sunglasses. The lens fell out of my tortoiseshell ones this morning.’
‘That’s because you buy cheap sunglasses,’ said Belle.
Clemency disappeared and Belle waited in the car. Within seconds, the front door adjacent to Clemency’s was pulled open and the jogger from the beach emerged. No longer in a bikini, she had showered and washed her hair, and was wearing a fitted delphinium-blue dress. Surprised by the sight of her, and by the transformation, Belle leant forward and inadvertently caught the girl’s eye. Recognising Belle in turn, the girl hesitated, then gave a brief nod of acknowledgement before heading off down the street.
A moment later, Clemency was back, wearing her unbroken sunglasses.
‘Who’s that?’ Belle pointed to the figure in blue, now thirty or so metres away.
‘Who? Oh, it’s Verity.’
‘Does she live there?’ Belle indicated the front door adjacent to Clemency’s.
‘She’s Meryl’s niece. Meryl who runs the newsagent’s. Verity’s staying with her for the summer. She was down here last summer too … Oh, you wouldn’t have seen her then, that was when you were in Monte Carlo.’ Clemency restarted the car and pulled out. ‘Why?’
‘She’s the one who knocked me over on the beach this afternoon.’
‘Really? Oh, but she’s nice, though. Proper fitness fanatic. She runs an aerobics class every day, over on Mariscombe Beach.’
‘What, with everyone watching? God, how awful.’ Belle shuddered. ‘How very Hi-de-Hi!.’
They were overtaking Verity now. Clemency buzzed down her window and waved as they passed her, and Verity waved back.
‘Well don’t you worry,’ Clemency told Belle. ‘Verity’s class is at seven in the morning, so it’s not as if you’re ever going to see it.’
Clemency hadn’t planned on going in, but Belle said, ‘Oh come up, just for five minutes. You can help me with my bags.’
As they were plonked into her arms, Clemency said, ‘Just call me Cinderella.’
But once they’d climbed the stairs, the view made it all worthwhile. The glass doors leading on to the balcony were wide open, and Sam was out there, shaking the pale blue seat cushions and placing them on the outdoor sofas. A zing of adrenalin shot down Clemency’s spine, because she’d been mentally prepared for seeing Sam, but not for seeing him naked.
OK, half naked. He was still wearing his jeans, but the shirt had come off. And her mouth had gone dry, because his tanned torso was every bit as impressive as she’d thought it might be. Oh goodness, what a sight to behold.
‘Hi, I’m back! You’ve been busy!’ Heading out to greet him, Belle casually rested the flat of her hand against his bare chest as she planted a kiss on his mouth. ‘I bought you some gorgeous flowers as a flat-warming present, but some complete dipstick crashed into me on the beach, which is why they’re all battered and sandy. Still, maybe they’ll perk up once we stick them in water. Here, smell them, aren’t they divine?’
‘Thanks.’ For a split second, as Clemency watched, he seemed to flinch away from the lilies. The next moment he turned and spotted her. ‘Oh, hello.’
‘I can’t believe the difference,’ Belle continued, gazing around at the kitchen and living room. ‘All those crates unpacked!’
Sam said wryly, ‘It’s amazing how much work you can get done if you set your mind to it.’
‘Plus you actually stayed around to do the job,’ Clemency told him, ‘instead of going shopping. That probably helped too.’
‘Oh very funny.’ Belle rolled her eyes. ‘I’m going to put these in water. Did you find the vase?’
‘It’s under the sink.’
‘And is there champagne in the fridge? Shall we have a glass to celebrate?’
‘Not for me,’ said Clemency. ‘I’ve got the car.’
‘I didn’t mean you,’ Belle replied airily. ‘I was talking to Sam.’
‘I’ll have a Peroni.’ As he said it, Sam reached for his discarded shirt and pulled it back on.
‘You don’t like lilies,’ Clemency murmured while Belle was in the kitchen, filling the vase in the sink.
Sam looked at her. ‘Not much,’ he said in a low voice.
He didn’t need to elaborate; she knew why. Just as she could guess his reason for putting on his shirt. She hoped he hadn’t noticed the way she’d taken one final glance at his torso before the last couple of buttons had been done up.
Pop went the cork in the kitchen.
‘Here we go.’ Rejoining them, Belle handed Sam his bottle of Peroni and raised her own fizzing glass. ‘Cheers! Here’s to the new flat and lots of fun in the sun!’ She clinked the glass against Sam’s bottle, then mimed a clink with Clemency, whose hand was empty.
Clemency’s phone began to ring. ‘It’s Ronan,’ she said.
‘Hi,’ said Ronan. ‘Just wondered, have the Mastertons called back yet? Did they raise their offer on the Port Isaac farmhouse?’
‘No … no. I won’t be long. See you in a bit,’ said Clemency.
‘What? Why?’ He sounded startled. ‘Have I forgotten something?’
‘I know.’ Half turning away and lowering her voice a bit, Clemency said, ‘I love you too.’
‘Oh, right, I get it now.’ Ronan sounded amused. ‘Well I love you more, Snugglewuggle.’
‘Of course you do. And if you think I’m going to say something like that in front of other people, you can think again. I’ll be over soon.’
‘Is that a promise?’
‘No. Bye!’ Clemency ended the call and turned back to the others. ‘I must go.’
Sam was taking a gulp of Peroni. He nodded. ‘Have fun.’
Belle, accompanying her to the front door, bent her head close to Clemency’s. ‘Only two weeks and he’s already told you he loves you?’
Which, from the note of jealousy in her voice, suggested that Sam had yet to say it to her.
‘I think we both realised we’re perfect for each other. Sometimes it just happens, doesn’t it?’ Enjoying this rare moment of sisterly one-upmanship, Clemency gave Belle a parting kiss on the cheek. ‘When you know, you know.’
Chapter 17
The sky was layered with clouds, the air temperature had dropped over the course of the last few days and there were fewer people in the sea than there had been for weeks. But once Ronan had made up his mind to go for a swim, he went through with it. He was unstoppable.
‘Brrrr.’ Clemency shivered, wishing she’d brought something warmer to wear than a thin cotton sweater. ‘Rather him than me.’
Marina, as always when she found herself between customers, was painting the view of the beach. She sat back. ‘He’s such a good swimmer. I do like watching him in the water.’ She added with a smile, ‘All going well with you two?’
Word had spread. Everyone knew now. Weirdly, most people were delighted they’d got together. To think that they’d got together, Clemency amended, because during the course of the last couple o
f weeks she’d occasionally forgotten it wasn’t real. In public, they held hands without a qualm, hugged each other, flirted and generally behaved like a real couple.
‘It’s going great.’ The fact that she was lying to people she liked was the only drawback, but at least it was a harmless lie. Clemency took a sip of hot chocolate. ‘Everything’s good.’
‘You’re well matched. It’s lovely to see you together. Whoops.’ Marina grabbed the box canvas as a gust of wind caused it to judder on the easel.
Clemency smiled and watched Ronan power through the swell like a dolphin, with impressive butterfly strokes. He was wearing red board shorts, and his brown shoulders gleamed with each rotation of his arms. She knew just what Marina meant about it being a pleasure to watch someone who swam so well. As she shielded her eyes with her hand, Ronan changed direction and dived head-on into the next wave just before it broke, disappearing from view before popping up again several seconds later. She turned to Marina. ‘How about you? Heard any more from that ex-husband of yours?’
‘I have, as a matter of fact. He’s emailed me a couple of times, telling me how much he misses me and asking if I’d like to go away with him, maybe on a cruise to the Norwegian fjords, seeing as it might be his last chance to have a holiday, what with him being so close to death and all.’ Marina sighed. ‘Oh dear, I shouldn’t make fun of him … What if he did die? Imagine how awful I’d feel if—’
‘Look at that,’ Clemency interrupted, pointing as a figure in a wetsuit roared into the bay on a jet ski. ‘What a prat … does he think he’s in a Bond film?’
‘That’s so dangerous.’ Marina winced as the man narrowly missed the outer edge of the harbour wall and swung the jet ski into a tight circle. The next moment he collided with an early breaking wave and lost his balance, sliding sideways on the seat. Somehow he managed to hang on, rodeo-style, and haul himself back upright before swinging back round in a much wider circle in order to head across the bay.
‘Oh God.’ Clemency clapped her hand to her mouth as the jet ski accelerated, heading directly for the patch of sea where Ronan was swimming. Why wasn’t the rider changing direction? Her heart thudded ominously as she realised he hadn’t seen Ronan, didn’t know he was there; the swell of the wave had hidden him from view. There was an awful inevitability about the next couple of seconds. Time slowed down as the jet ski bounced across the rough water, zoning in on Ronan like a shark …
