Summer at 23 the Strand

by Linda Mitchelmore

  And Ross. Almost as if by magic – some other hand – she drew his likeness. The way his hair was slipping back over his head giving him a high forehead, and his rather Roman nose. Large brown eyes with very long eyelashes many a woman would kill for. And two-day stubble. What would that feel like against her face if he kissed her? Did she want him to? Was a holiday fling what she needed at this moment? Would Ross want just a fling if she were to give him encouragement? Lucy had a gut feeling that he wouldn’t. He’d been there, done that, as he’d told her. But over supper last night he’d been putting out little hints he was ready to move on, ready to get serious about someone again, and Lucy got the distinct impression he meant with her, although he hadn’t said so in as many words.

  Skinny-dipping at midnight. Another thing on her list. Could she do it? Lucy had seen people skinny-dipping in films and documentaries and had always wondered what it would feel like. It would be another new experience, wouldn’t it? Wrapped in a bath sheet, Lucy hid the key to 23 The Strand under the bottom step and walked across the promenade, down over the sea wall and out towards the sea. No one around. The tide quite a way out and still receding. The moon was casting a beam of light towards her and she knew wherever she went she would still be caught in it. What if someone had night-sight binoculars? Lucy giggled at the thought. She dropped her towel, felt a slight breeze ripple over her shoulders and feather her thighs. Now that was a surprise – how warm the water was as she stepped into it. But it had been a hot day, plenty of time and sunshine to warm it up. Lucy walked on, lowered her shoulders under the water and began to swim a lazy breaststroke. She rolled over onto her back and began a back crawl – slow but measured, her arms breaking the water with barely a splash. How good it felt looking up at the moon and the stars.

  ‘Venus,’ Lucy said as she spotted the planet. She turned over and powered a front crawl towards the town where the lights outside hotels and bars were still shining brightly. She caught the faint sounds of music playing somewhere. How heightened her senses were. How wonderful she felt. Ben would never have agreed to go skinny-dipping, would he? She bet Ross would though. She’d ask him tomorrow.

  Lucy had never painted en plein air. Another first. She was sitting on the harbour wall, legs dangling over the edge, her pad of paper in her hand and the little tin of now vastly reducing watercolours by her side. The tide was in and all the boats moored in the harbour were afloat now. She’d been working on the mackerel-fishing pleasure boat she’d been out on. It would be another memory for her.

  ‘Hey! You’re good!’

  Ross. Lucy knew it was without having to look up.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Ross sat down beside her on the sea wall as she’d guessed he would. Close. She could smell whatever shower gel he’d used and the faint tang of sea on him. She turned to look at him, and saw his hair was slightly damp. How very comfortable she felt in his company now she’d got to know him a little better.

  ‘How was the Round Robin?’ Ross asked.

  ‘Good. Great even. Lovely atmosphere.’ The sketch Lucy had done of Ross shot to the forefront of her mind and she blushed.

  Ross saw that blush and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Meet anyone interesting?’

  ‘Not to talk to, no,’ Lucy said. She felt the blush deepen. Should she show him the sketch she’d done of him? Or not? She decided not.

  ‘That’s my boat over there,’ Ross said. ‘The clinker-built one with the single mast. Its deck covered with a navy tarp. Could you paint that into your picture? I’ll buy it off you if…’

  ‘Consider it yours,’ Lucy said. ‘For your company the other night. And maybe a sail in your boat because sailing in something so small is something else I’ve never done before.’

  She told Ross how she had another couple of ‘firsts’ she wanted to tick off before her time was up at 23 The Strand. And how she’d been skinny-dipping the night before.

  ‘It’s the only way!’ Ross laughed. ‘Now, here’s a proposition for you. A sail in my boat, camping in a secluded cove. Skinny-dipping.’

  ‘I’ve already ticked off skinny-dipping!’ Lucy laughed.

  ‘Ah, but you haven’t sailed to a secluded cove and camped before, have you?’

  ‘No,’ Lucy said. But she knew she would.

  Lucy arrived at the harbour to find Ross already waiting for her, even though she was half an hour early.

  ‘Phew!’ Ross said, grinning at her. ‘You’ve turned up.’

  ‘Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t?’

  Ross shrugged. He’d been let down before, hadn’t he? And it still stung. Well, she knew all about being let down.

  ‘Not in my heart of hearts, no,’ Ross said. ‘Here, I’ve got a Helly Hansen for you, some boots, and a life jacket. It can get a bit splashy out there going round Berry Head. Do you get seasick?’

  ‘I never have up until now but I’ve not been in anything as small as your boat before, or around Berry Head.’

  ‘Two more “firsts” for your list then, Luce,’ Ross said. He picked up all the sailing gear. ‘Come on. We need to catch the tide.’

  There it was again – Luce. A warm and fuzzy feeling spread through her as Lucy hurried along beside him, easily matching her pace to his.

  ‘Gosh, this is rather beautiful,’ Lucy said when they were onboard. The deck was wooden, as neat and polished as a parquet floor. Narrow seats, just as neat and polished as the deck, ran down the other side. Lots of brass fittings that shone like gold. The sail, not pulled up yet, was the colour of Cabernet Sauvignon. Looking up, Lucy was surprised to see how tall the mast was.

  ‘Do you know your “port” from your “starboard”? Ross asked, beginning to pull out ropes ready to hoist the sail.

  ‘Port is left, right?’

  ‘No, just left,’ Ross laughed. ‘Sorry, terrible joke.’

  ‘A groaner,’ Lucy laughed.

  This was a date of sorts that she was on with Ross, but how much easier than a traditional date, when she might have spent hours and hours agonising over what to wear and how to do her hair; a date where they might now be sitting opposite one another in a noisy, crowded bar, making small talk rather stiffly.

  ‘So, sit to starboard and when I shout “Duck!”, duck under the boom. This is this bit here,’ Ross explained, tapping a large, horizontal, wooden pole.

  Lucy sat.

  Ross pulled in the anchor, raised the sail a little, just enough to catch a breeze and get them out of the harbour mouth, before raising it further. And then they were zipping along.

  ‘Gosh, this is so much faster than I imagined it would be,’ Lucy said.

  ‘In a good way?’ Ross said.

  ‘Oh, yes. Is there anything I can be doing? I feel like a spare part just sitting here.’

  ‘Not this time out,’ Ross said.

  Just four little words but they told Lucy he’d like there to be other times when she joined him in his boat. It was a good feeling.

  ‘Right, here we go. Berry Head,’ Ross shouted because the wind had got up a bit and the sound of it in the sail, and the splash of waves against the hull, was noisy now. ‘You’ll need to sit tight. It can get a bit choppy with the currents and a bit wobbly with the crosswinds until we’ve rounded the headland. Get ready to duck, fast, when I say so.’

  Lucy nodded. It was exhilarating. Thrilling even. She was so glad Ross had asked her.

  ‘There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ Ross said once they’d rounded the headland, and were in calmer waters.

  ‘It was fantastic. Thank you. Although I don’t know what the heck I must look like.’

  Lucy had been a bit slow putting up the hood of her jacket, her hair being blown every which way, and her face had taken a shower or two as waves hit the hull. She drew an arm across her face, brushing water from her eyes.

  ‘You look fine to me,’ Ross said. ‘No, scratch that. You look more than fine. You look lovely.’

  ‘Must be in the eye of the beh
older then?’ Lucy laughed.

  ‘It is.’ Ross began to lower the sail and steered the boat to starboard a few degrees. ‘There’s a deepish channel here we can go down. Can you help pull the sail down?’

  ‘I’ll give it a go,’ Lucy said, leaning forward to catch a piece of cloth in her hands. ‘Should I stand up?’ She wasn’t sure she could do that safely at the moment because the boat was rocking a bit now with the change of direction.

  ‘Not unless you want to. You’ll be fine from there. Right. Pull.’

  Lucy pulled, and then the bow nudged the pebbled beach and the boat jolted, and Lucy had to grab the side to stop herself from falling out.

  ‘Sorry. Not a very elegant landing, but at least I didn’t tip you out.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Okay. So, I’ll jump in and pull the boat up the beach a bit and then I’ll tell you when it’s okay to get out without taking a bath as you do it. You’re great crew, by the way.’

  ‘I do my best,’ Lucy said. She tried to imagine Ben risking taking a boat round Berry Head, with the life of someone he’d only just met in the equation, and couldn’t. While part of her was cross she’d allowed Ben to come into her thoughts at this moment, she was also flooded with relief she wasn’t with him any more – she’d never have had that thrilling experience of a first sail if she had been, would she?

  Ross took a funny tin-can contraption he called a Trangia, and a bottle of meths, from something he told Lucy was a dry-bag. He’d put Lucy’s spare clothes in there as well before they’d set off and she’d been glad of that because now she had dry jeggings and a long-sleeved T-shirt on. As the sun went down Ross cooked sausages, wrapping them in the softest, most delicious Italian bread Lucy had ever tasted.

  ‘Olive-oil bread. Made it myself,’ Ross said. ‘Not that I’m bragging or anything.’

  He gave Lucy a mock-humble look.

  ‘You didn’t? Make the bread, I mean.’

  ‘Did. Hot weather is perfect for getting bread to rise and as this has an olive-oil base it means it lasts. I’ve had to be both father and mother to Toby and I figured bread-making was in the remit. It’ll be fine, pan-fried, for breakfast. I have marmalade also!’ He delved into the dry-bag and retrieved a small pot of marmalade, holding it aloft like a prize.

  ‘You’ve thought of everything!’ Lucy laughed.

  ‘I hope so.’ Ross smiled back at her. And then his face went serious. ‘This might come as a bit of a shock to you but this will be the first time I’ve ever left Toby in the house on his own all night. I hope it’s still standing when I get back!’ he said, brightening.

  All night! Alone with Ross all night.

  ‘I’m sure it will be.’

  ‘I’ve been more Mother Hen than, well, a mother hen,’ Ross said.

  ‘You’ve had to be,’ Lucy said. ‘I’ve got friends who are single mums and they find it hard enough so I can’t imagine how it’s been for you.’

  ‘Rewarding in the long run. I think you’d like him,’ Ross said. ‘And he, you. I’ve told him where I am tonight.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He raised a quizzical eyebrow, gave me an arm thump, and just grinned.’

  ‘So he doesn’t disapprove?’

  ‘Seems not.’

  ‘Good,’ Lucy said.

  She watched Ross spoon coffee granules into two mugs, then open a packet of biscuits and arrange four on a flat pebble, using it like a plate. It was the simplest of gestures but it made her feel cherished, that he’d bothered to make the biscuits look special for her. He was a good father. He was fast becoming a good friend. He was a good man. Lucy had a feeling he would be a good and considerate lover too. But could they have a future?

  The water in a second tin can came to the boil and Ross made the coffee.

  ‘So, what’s left to tick off, Luce?’

  ‘Just a couple of things I have to do by myself. Diving into very deep water. I’ve only ever dived into a swimming pool, but I’ve been doing a bit of research on the area and I see it’s safe to dive off Elberry cliffs.’

  ‘It is. I could come with you if you want. Be in the water waiting in case it’s a bit scary and…’

  ‘No. Thanks. I need to do this by myself.’ Lucy patted Ross on the arm in what she hoped was an ‘I’m not dismissing you’ sort of gesture. It was the first time she’d touched him. It made her fingers tingle. ‘And getting my hair coloured. I rather fancy something really funky. Pillar-box red maybe, or blue.’

  ‘Ah, can’t help with that one,’ Ross laughed. He ran his ponytail through a hand. ‘Not been to a barber in years, me. I just chop an inch or two off the end if it gets a bit straggly. So, skinny-dipping while we’ve still got light? I’ll go in first and keep my eyes closed until you’re in and under the water if that makes you more comfortable. And reverse the procedure afterwards.’

  ‘No need,’ Lucy said. Her heart gave a little lurch, and then she acted on her instincts. She’d be an idiot not to have Ross in her life now she’d met him. She reached for him and held his head between her hands and kissed him, very lightly, on the lips.

  ‘Ah, now that’s something a body can’t do on its own – kissing,’ he laughed. ‘Only too happy to be of service.’ And then he kissed her back. Only nowhere near as lightly, and Lucy returned like for like.

  Lucy was still flooded with endorphins from her lovemaking with Ross when she arrived at Elberry the next afternoon. Ross had driven her back to 23 The Strand the next morning, after their night spent under the stars, but he hadn’t come in. He had clients arriving at eleven.

  ‘What time will you be at Elberry?’ Ross had asked. ‘Have you checked the tide-table?’

  ‘Yes to the second question, and about three o’clock. I’ll drive over.’

  ‘Double good,’ Ross said. ‘Okay if I pop round later to see how you got on?’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ Lucy had said.

  And then Ross had held her head between his hands and kissed her very tenderly and gently on the lips.

  ‘Gotta go. Alas and alack,’ he said, before rushing off.

  And now here Lucy was. But not alone. Three young lads and two teenaged girls were wriggling themselves into wetsuits. Lucy already had hers – borrowed from Ross – on, having walked from where she’d parked the car in a road full of bungalows, through a small wooded area, ready-dressed. Her car keys were firmly zipped on the inside of her wetsuit.

  But now the nerves were kicking in. Lucy stepped nervously from one foot to the other. It wasn’t far to the edge, but her feet seemed to be frozen to the spot.

  ‘You gonna jump?’ one of the girls said.

  ‘That’s my plan,’ Lucy told her.

  ‘Have you done it before?’ the same girl asked.

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ the girl said. She turned, giggling, to her companions, as though she couldn’t quite believe someone who was probably the same age as her mother was going to jump.

  ‘Definitely right,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Have you got someone down there waiting?’ one of the lads asked. He looked genuinely concerned and his concern was grounding for Lucy.

  ‘No. I did have an offer but I declined.’

  ‘We’ll go first,’ the lad said. ‘If you like. Then if you do a bad jump and get scared we’ll be there for support. It takes your breath away a bit.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Lucy said. ‘But I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ve boned up on it. Jump and then make a pencil shape of my body as I near the water. Go in feet first, ankles together, hands tightly by my sides. Right?’

  ‘Right,’ the lad said.

  He turned away from her then and began stuffing clothes and shoes into a dry-bag. Lucy presumed he was going to throw that in first and then jump, but didn’t like to ask.

  ‘We’ll be ready in five,’ the second girl said.

  ‘My cue to go then,’ Lucy said.

  She walked as confidently as she could to the edg
e. She knew the theory. She knew the danger. She knew she couldn’t back out now with these youngsters watching her.

  A quick look to take in the beauty of the bay from where she stood, and then Lucy jumped.

  She held her breath and for a few seconds wondered if she would ever be able to let it out again. It was a bit like being on an aeroplane – you know it’s doing six hundred miles an hour or something, but when you look out of the window it’s as though it’s not moving at all.

  Pencil. Pencil. Ankles together. Hands by my sides. Look straight ahead not down.

  Lucy entered the water, felt it close over her head. A short descent, and then she bobbed up again and began to tread water. And then she heard clapping. It was coming from a rocky outcrop close to the cliff edge, but about thirty feet away from where she’d jumped.

  Ross.

  Lucy raised an arm out of the water and Ross waved back, then kissed the tips of his fingers and blew her a kiss before diving in.

  They met somewhere in a melée of arms and legs and splashes, and kisses.

  A great roar and whooping and clapping came from the top of the cliff.

  ‘I met them earlier,’ Lucy laughed, looking up. ‘I don’t think they thought I had the nerve to do it.’

  ‘Well, I never doubted you,’ Ross said. ‘We’ll need to get out of their way now because they want to jump.’

  They began to swim away, front crawl, side by side, in rhythm. How good that felt.

  ‘Not cross I came?’ Ross said when they got back to the pebbly beach. Ross had obviously thought ahead and had a towel ready to put around Lucy’s shoulder, and a picnic box. ‘Cocoa is inside. And Hobnobs.’

  ‘Not cross at all,’ Lucy said. ‘I’m glad you did because I’d still be thinking I’d dreamt it if you hadn’t been. It happens so fast, doesn’t it, and yet in slow motion at the same time?’

  ‘Perfectly put.’

  ‘How did you get here?’

  ‘Toby dropped me off and I’m rather hoping you’ll give me a lift back.’