Meet Me at Beachcomber Bay: A delicious Cornish romance

by Jill Mansell

  ‘Hang on for just one minute,’ Ellis said calmly. ‘Now, George, I want you to listen to me. Everything’s fine, but we need to slow down your breathing. While I count to twelve, you exhale slowly. Then I’ll count to six and you can slowly inhale. Through your nose, not your mouth. Pay attention and concentrate on me, OK? Here we go …’

  Like magic, within a couple of minutes George’s breathing pattern was back to normal.

  ‘There you are, feeling better now? You’re absolutely fine,’ said Ellis. ‘Let’s get you up, shall we?’

  But as he was being helped into a sitting position, George’s eyes rolled and he said weakly, ‘I can’t, I can’t … oh Marina, help me …’ Then his eyelids closed and he slumped back down to the ground.

  Marina let out a gasp of fright. ‘George! Oh God, what’s happening now?’

  ‘Open your eyes, George,’ Ellis instructed. Nothing happened, there was no response at all. This time George was unconscious.

  The fear was overwhelming. Marina watched as Ellis carried out the series of checks for a second time. Why wasn’t he telling them to call for an ambulance … was it because he already knew it was too late? Beside herself, she cried out, ‘George, wake up! Please …’

  Nothing, not a flicker. He was out cold. In a flash, Marina knew he was going to die.

  ‘Right,’ Ellis announced. ‘There’s nothing else for it. Stand back, everyone – I’m going to have to start mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.’

  Oh God, oh God …

  ‘What? No you bloody don’t.’ George’s eyelids promptly snapped open and he ducked sideways, raising his hands to fend off Ellis’s approach. ‘Don’t you dare try that with me!’

  Ronan said, ‘Now that’s what I call a miraculous recovery.’

  Marina’s mouth fell open as she watched George bat away Ellis’s efforts to help him up. He scrambled to his feet unaided and furiously brushed himself down.

  ‘You old fraud,’ Josephine exclaimed. ‘What was all that about then? Trying to win Marina back by going for the sympathy vote?’

  ‘She still loves me, I know she does,’ said George. ‘Didn’t you hear her just now? She was worried sick!’

  ‘Is he really OK?’ Marina needed to double-check.

  Ellis nodded. ‘He’s fine. The hyperventilation caused the dizziness and the numbness in his hands and feet. The rest was just … well, nothing to worry about.’ His tone signalled what he was too professional to say.

  ‘Manipulative and attention-seeking,’ Marina supplied. ‘I don’t know how I fell for it. You’d think I’d have had enough practice by now.’ She turned to address her ex-husband. ‘I was only worried because I thought you might die and I’d end up getting the blame. Other than that, I’m really not bothered what happens to you.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘George, don’t waste your breath.’ Which, under the circumstances, was quite funny. But Marina didn’t smile; she just shook her head at him. ‘Go home, leave me alone and get on with the rest of your life. I don’t want to see you again. I have everything I’ve ever wanted here in St Carys.’

  ‘Marina—’

  ‘No, you’re still not listening,’ she said firmly. ‘This is my family, George. They’re all I need. Thanks to these people … these lovely people …’ her sweeping gesture encompassed Ronan, Clemency, Josephine and Ellis, ‘I’ve never been happier in my life.’

  As he stormed past her out of the cottage, taking the cellophane-wrapped flowers and the Godiva chocolates with him, George hissed, ‘I thought you deserved one last chance. Just shows how gullible I am. You always were a selfish bitch.’

  The front door slammed hard behind him and Marina experienced a tidal wave of relief. It was over, once and for all; she knew she wouldn’t see him again.

  Good.

  When she returned to the living room, Clemency said with a grin, ‘Well I can’t imagine why you turned down such a generous offer. What a catch.’

  Chapter 35

  ‘What?’ said Clemency. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘I wondered if we could have a chat.’ Even as he said it, Ronan was wondering if this would turn out to be a brilliant idea or the most terrible mistake.

  ‘A chat about what?’

  He switched off the car’s engine. ‘Invite me in for a coffee and I’ll tell you.’

  It was Thursday evening. They’d been invited earlier to the opening night of an extensively renovated hotel in Bude, and had bumped into two of his ex-girlfriends there. Both were beautiful, desirable and still single. Both had subtly – and separately – indicated to him that if only he were still single, they’d definitely be up for a rematch.

  ‘I think I can guess what this is about,’ Clemency said when they’d climbed the stairs to her flat.

  Could she? Ronan hid a smile, because he seriously doubted it. ‘Go on then, tell me what you think.’

  ‘Lauren, tonight. And the blonde girl … I’ve forgotten her name. Julie?’

  ‘Julia.’

  Clem nodded. ‘Anyway, those two. Both pretty keen on you. I mean, they were trying not to be obvious, but …’

  ‘You noticed.’

  ‘Of course I did. I’m good at stuff like that. I mean, how could I not notice other girls being interested in my boyfriend?’

  Ronan shrugged and smiled.

  ‘Except you’re not my boyfriend,’ said Clemency. She studied his face. ‘It’s OK, I know what you’re going to say. I asked you to do me a favour for a couple of weeks, and it’s been way longer than that. Poor you, you haven’t complained once, but enough’s enough. You want your life back. There are girls out there waiting to be slept with.’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘It’s fine. I understand. Let’s face it, these last few weeks can’t have been much fun for you. This must be the longest you’ve ever been celibate!’

  Ronan hesitated, then nodded. If she only knew the truth, Clem would die laughing. Since that evening with Kate, there hadn’t been anyone at all. It sounded completely crazy, even to him, but that was the way it was. If he couldn’t have Kate, he simply wasn’t interested in finding anyone else.

  Although having said that, the absence of a sex life had been bothering him; he was only human after all. Hence the reason for the conversation they were about to have, any minute now.

  Because if he wanted sex but not a relationship, he’d be happier doing it with Clem than with either of the two girls they’d encountered earlier this evening. Or if it came to that, anyone else he knew.

  Plus, Clem was in the same sex-free boat.

  ‘It’s fine.’ Clemency was shaking her head to show she understood. ‘Seriously, you’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty. You’ve been a fantastic boyfriend and all the girls are going to be thrilled to bits when they find out you’re back on the market. We’ll just say we broke up because we decided we’re better off as friends. And if anyone asks for a review, I promise to give you five stars!’

  Ronan exhaled. ‘Or we don’t have to break up.’

  ‘Meaning what?’ Clemency looked puzzled. ‘I thought that’s what you wanted.’

  ‘And as usual you jumped to conclusions. I like being your boyfriend. I’m just wondering if you’d be interested in … well, maybe getting a bit more out of it.’

  ‘You what?’

  OK, actually coming out and saying the words was a bit trickier than he’d anticipated. Ronan shrugged pseudo-casually. ‘Come on, use your imagination.’

  ‘You mean you want us to be a real couple?’ Clemency’s eyes were like saucers. ‘Like, for real?’

  ‘Well, maybe.’ He hadn’t considered that possibility, but why not? You never knew, it could happen.

  ‘Oh, I get it.’ Her expression cleared. ‘You’re after sex.’

  Ronan winced. ‘God, you’re brutal.’

  ‘But am I right?’

  ‘Don’t cock your eyebrow at me like that.’

  ‘Am I right, tho
ugh?’ Clemency’s eyebrow remained cocked.

  ‘Yes.’ Witch.

  ‘You’re suggesting we should be friends with benefits.’

  ‘Look, it’s just an idea. You can always say no. I thought a harmless reciprocal arrangement might be … nice.’

  ‘What with neither of us currently having anyone else to do it with.’

  ‘Well, yes. But it’s fine, we can forget it.’

  Clemency thought for a couple of seconds, then said, ‘OK.’

  ‘Does that mean OK, let’s forget it? Or OK, we’ll give it a whirl?’

  Her eyes sparkled. ‘We could try it, if you like.’

  ‘Have you thought about this before?’ Ronan tilted his head.

  ‘Maybe.’

  He smiled. Of course it was something they’d both considered; the issue had just never been raised, that was all. ‘Shall we give it a go then?’ he said playfully.

  ‘Do you think it’ll be weird?’

  ‘Only one way to find out.’ Ronan moved closer and drew her towards him; he’d wondered about the weirdness too. But they’d managed the kissing thing without any trouble, so …

  Less than a minute later, he realised she was shaking. Not with emotion, sadly, but with pent-up laughter.

  After a few more seconds, she pulled away and the suppressed hilarity exploded out of her. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry, it’s just so weird …’ she gasped.

  ‘We haven’t even done anything yet.’

  ‘I know, but it’s just knowing it’s on the cards. It’s making me feel all prickly and strange …’ She held her hand over her mouth and did her best to stifle the next wave of laughter. ‘It’s like being given a massage and wanting it to stop, but having to let it carry on because it’s supposed to be nice.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Ronan. ‘That’s what I call an ego boost.’

  ‘I’m sorry! Doesn’t it feel weird to you too? OK, let’s delete that one and go for another take. This time I won’t laugh, promise.’

  And she didn’t; he could feel her valiantly holding it in. This time Ronan was the one who laughed first, because Clem was right, it did feel all kinds of wrong.

  ‘Oh God, why can’t we do this?’ He leant against the kitchen worktop and rubbed his hands over his face. ‘If we could just get past the beginning bit, maybe the rest will be easier.’

  When they’d finally composed themselves once more, Clemency drank a glass of water and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘OK, we’re giving this one last go, and this time we’re going to get it right. So we’re going to concentrate really hard and neither of us is going to laugh, and even if it feels strange, we just keep going until it stops feeling strange.’

  ‘OK,’ said Ronan.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ Clemency instructed. ‘We’ll both keep our eyes closed and we won’t open them.’ She nodded determinedly. ‘I think that’ll help.’

  He smiled briefly and closed his eyes. Maybe she was right; this way he could pretend she was Kate. Good plan.

  It’s Kate. Honestly it is. Not Clemency. Kate. He kissed her, then stroked the back of her neck and ran his other hand over her shoulder and down her arm … except it was no good. How could his brain believe for one second that this was Kate when it knew perfectly well it was Clem?

  Who was starting to shake again with the effort of holding in that uncontainable laughter.

  And then they were both laughing and holding on to each other, partly because it was the craziest situation and partly with relief that it was over.

  ‘Ah well, we tried.’ Clemency wiped her eyes on a torn-off sheet of kitchen roll.

  ‘We gave it our best shot,’ Ronan agreed. ‘God, though. Who knew it would feel that wrong?’

  ‘I know you have a great body,’ said Clemency, ‘but the thought of seeing you naked was completely freaking me out.’

  ‘Me too, exactly the same.’ Ronan’s keys were on the worktop; he picked them up and gave her a hug. ‘Anyway, at least we gave it a go.’

  As she was letting him out of the flat, Clemency said, ‘I even tried to pretend you were someone else, the last time. In case it made things easier. But it didn’t.’ She paused, then said curiously, ‘Did you try that too?’

  ‘No.’ Ronan shook his head; no way was he admitting it.

  ‘Oh. Sorry. I feel bad about it now.’

  ‘Go on then. Who did you pretend I was?’

  She looked at him. ‘Chris Hemsworth.’

  Ronan broke into a teasing grin. ‘That’ll be why it didn’t work. You should have come up with someone better-looking than me.’

  Chapter 36

  Belle’s birthday was still seven days away, but this evening had been the only date her old girlfriends from school could get together. They’d met up at the Mariscombe Hotel for dinner, then moved on to the terrace afterwards to drink, chat and mingle with the other guests and visitors to St Carys.

  Now Belle sat back in the taxi and gazed out of the side window as Clemency, next to her, said, ‘Well that was a good night. Everyone had fun, didn’t they? Nice to bump into Riley again. And isn’t Dot amazing?’

  ‘She is.’ Distracted by her own thoughts, Belle nodded.

  ‘God, my toes. These shoes are killing me. I don’t know how you do it,’ said Clemency.

  ‘That’s because you always go for cheap ones. If you bought designer, they wouldn’t hurt so much.’ But Belle smiled as she said it; the difference in their spending habits had been a standing joke between them for years. Impulsively, she reached out to clasp Clemency’s hand. ‘Thanks for coming tonight. I know they weren’t your friends, so I appreciate it.’

  ‘Hey, no problem.’ In return, Clemency gave her fingers a squeeze. ‘I’m glad you had fun.’

  For a moment Belle’s throat tightened. On the surface it had certainly looked that way: seven attractive young women laughing and drinking champagne on the terrace of one of the most glamorous hotels in Cornwall.

  But had she really had fun?

  They reached Clemency’s street and the taxi pulled up outside her flat. Clem leant across to give Belle a bit of a wobbly kiss on the cheek. ‘Night. Happy pre-birthday. Don’t forget to drink a pint of water before you go to sleep.’

  ‘No need.’ Belle managed a faint smile as her often exasperating but essentially good-hearted stepsister wrestled with the wrong end of the door handle. ‘You’re the one who’s going to wake up with a hangover.’

  The remainder of the journey involved the cab snaking down into the centre of St Carys, then turning right and taking the road along the seafront. As they made their way along the coast road, Belle rested her head against the cool glass of the window and gazed out across Beachcomber Bay. The stars were out, the sea was glassily smooth and dark, and at that moment there were no other cars in sight.

  Which didn’t, naturally, prevent the upcoming temporary traffic lights from turning red at their approach.

  She sat up. ‘Couldn’t you just go through them?’

  ‘No I can’t,’ said the taxi driver.

  Typical jobsworth. Belle sighed, slumped back in her seat and gazed out at the bay once more. A flicker of movement caught her attention, and for a second she thought it was two seagulls having a tussle on the sand. The next moment she realised it was someone jogging along the beach, the soles of their trainers showing up as flashes of white with each step they took.

  It was eleven o’clock; how many people in St Carys would be out running at this time of night?

  The traffic lights turned green.

  ‘Stop.’ Belle sat upright.

  ‘No,’ said the taxi driver. ‘Red means stop. Green means go.’

  ‘And the customer is always right.’ There was a charge of seven pounds on the meter; Belle handed over a tenner and said, ‘Keep the change. I’m getting out here.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘For a walk.’

  ‘Blimey, in those shoes? Good luck.’

  He drove off chu
ckling to himself, and Belle strode back down the road for all of ten seconds before stopping and kicking off her stilettos, then making her way over to the steps that led down on to the sand. The little white flashes were no longer visible, having been swallowed up by the darkness, but that didn’t matter: these stone steps were the only way off the beach.

  She reached the bottom, moved past the pebbly section and sat down on a patch of dry sand. In a crystal-embellished shell-pink silk dress from Harvey Nichols that had cost £675.

  As she waited, she breathed in the faint mingled scents of ozone, seaweed, and fish and chips from the takeaway up on High View Road. With the sea this calm, the tiny waves breaking on to the beach resembled frilly-edged crochet. And the night was still warm, almost tropically so, with just the merest hint of a breeze to stop it being muggy.

  Finally she heard the rhythmic tap-tap of returning footsteps. As they came nearer, Belle shook back her hair and turned to look in the direction of the sound. Moments later, Verity came into view, saw her and slowed down.

  ‘Hi.’ She came and sat beside her. ‘You look like a mermaid in that dress.’

  ‘You’re out late,’ said Belle. ‘I was just on my way home when I spotted you down here.’

  ‘Wasn’t tired, couldn’t sleep.’ Verity shrugged. ‘Doesn’t bother me, though. I like running at night when there’s no one else around.’

  ‘Less chance of bumping into people on the beach,’ Belle said with a faint smile. ‘Carry on if you want to. Don’t stop on my account.’

  ‘It’s fine, I’ve done enough. That’s a very nice frock you’re wearing. And nice shoes you’re not wearing.’ Verity picked one up and admired it for a couple of seconds. ‘Look at that heel. Are they comfortable?’

  ‘No. Agony. I just pretend they don’t hurt.’

  Verity laughed. ‘And where have you been? Out somewhere nice with Sam?’

  Belle shook her head. ‘Sam’s at home. It’s my birthday next week, so I met up with some old school friends for the evening. Clem came along too. We had dinner at the Mariscombe Hotel.’

  ‘Sounds fab. Happy birthday for next week!’