Sunny Days and Sea Breezes

by Carole Matthews

  We both climb out of the car.

  ‘Thank you for today, Ned. It’s been really brilliant. Just what I needed.’

  He steps forward. ‘I’ve enjoyed it too. Thanks for coming with me.’ He brushes my mouth with his lips, the lightest of kisses.

  And I want more. You know that. I know that. I think Ned knows it too.

  But, before I can get carried away, I step away from him and say, ‘I should go.’

  I think Ned looks slightly disappointed. Perhaps he hoped that this would carry on until the evening. But where would it end? Only this morning Ida was coming out of his houseboat. I haven’t forgotten that.

  I don’t need this kind of complication in my life. So, even though there’s a long-forgotten yearning in the pit of my stomach and I’d like nothing more than to lie down with those strong arms around me, I grab all that’s left of my willpower and say quite firmly, ‘Goodnight, Ned.’

  Before he can answer and before I can change my mind, I turn on my heel and head to the safety of Sunny Days.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I sleep soundly for the first time in months. As I lie awake now, luxuriating in the comfy bed, in no rush to get up, I can still feel the touch of Ned’s lips on mine. It thrilled me right to the core. I can’t deny it. The sand bottle that he made is next to me on my bedside table, alongside the pink teddy, and I smile to myself as I look at them. It might have ended more abruptly than Ned wanted – more abruptly than I might have wanted it to as well – but it was a good day. A very good day.

  I let myself soak in bed and, as I’m drifting in and out of sleep, Marilyn arrives.

  ‘Cooooeeeee!’ she trills.

  Now it makes me smile rather than setting my teeth on edge and I realise how much I look forward to seeing her every day. I must remember to thank Bill for insisting that she stay.

  I shower quickly and, as the sun is streaming through the portholes, I think that I

  might join Ned on the beach for a spot of yoga. With only the briefest of shudders, I pull on my tight silver leggings and skimpy neon pink vest. You know that I’m an avoider of mirrors and I really don’t want to see what I look like in these. I hope Ned has his sunglasses on.

  I head up to the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time.

  ‘Morning, lovely,’ she shouts as I enter the room. Then her smile broadens as she takes in my outfit. ‘Well, someone’s looking a bit lively today.’

  ‘If I can catch him leaving, I thought I’d join Ned for some yoga on the beach.’

  ‘You definitely look the part.’

  ‘You think?’ I smooth down my vest, wishing that it was a little more substantial.

  ‘Oh, yes. That boy won’t know what’s hit him. He’ll be like jelly in your hands.’

  ‘We had a lovely day out together, yesterday. Ned’s a lot of fun.’

  ‘That he is,’ she agrees. ‘If I was twenty years younger – actually make that thirty – he’d have to watch himself.’

  I laugh at that. ‘Poor man wouldn’t stand a chance.’ Marilyn is still a very attractive lady and can certainly carry off her enthusiastic dress style.

  Today she’s wearing yellow leggings – bought from the same shop as my silver glittery ones, I reckon – teamed with fuchsia pink heels and a matching floaty, floral top. There’s a plethora of necklaces clanking on her bosom and her arms tinkle every time she moves due to the amount of bangles she’s wearing. Her earrings are like chandeliers. I tell you, she’s completely wasted as a cleaner. Marilyn should have an altogether more glamorous job.

  She catches me taking in her outfit and says, ‘We look like twins.’

  It’s true to say that my style has changed considerably since she came into my life.

  ‘You look lovely,’ she says, earnestly. ‘They show off that sexy figure of yours that you keep hidden all the time. You shouldn’t hide your light under a shovel. Get a look in that mirror.’ She nods towards the one in the hall.

  ‘I’ll take your word for it.’ If I catch sight of myself, I might never leave the boat.

  Marilyn tuts, but breezes on. ‘I’ve brought you some dinner for tonight.’ She points at a casserole dish next to the stove. ‘Goulash. You need a good meal inside you. I’ve seen more meat on a fisherman’s pencil.’

  I have a quick look in the casserole dish. ‘It smells wonderful.’ There is, however, enough food for about fifteen hungry people. Marilyn is definitely a feeder.

  ‘You’d have been proud of me yesterday,’ I counter. ‘Ned and I had fish and chips at the seaside and I ate every single bit.’

  ‘Good for you.’ She winks at me. ‘It’s definitely given you daisies in your cheeks.’

  I don’t even correct her mentally now. I just accept that Marilyn has her own way of speaking.

  She grips her trusty duster and spray polish. ‘I can’t stand chatting today. I need to get on. I’ve got my three girls coming over today and they’re bringing all my gorgeous grandbabies. It will be bedlam, but I love it. I was up baking a Victoria sponge and the goulash at four o’clock.’

  ‘I do appreciate it.’ I might even invite Ned round to help me eat it – for the next three nights judging by how much Marilyn has brought for me.

  ‘You should come over.’ She says it with a studied nonchalance. ‘They’d love to meet you.’

  ‘Yes, that would be great. But not just yet.’ I sigh at Marilyn. ‘In all honesty, I don’t think I could cope. I’m sure it’s a fun house and it sounds filled with love. I’m just not sure I could handle being knee-deep in kids.’

  ‘It might kill or cure you.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My middle one has got her hands full with three kids under the age of five. She popped them out one after the other. And my littlest grandbaby has cerebral palsy. She’s adorable but she needs a lot of one-to-one attention.’

  Which makes me realise that I only ever thought about having one child and even that looks as if it might be an impossible dream. Having a brood of them just didn’t occur to me. Yet Marilyn’s acceptance of all that life has thrown at her is, somehow, making me feel better about myself too.

  Sometimes I wondered whether I’d ever survive this – and that was before my husband went off with another woman. There were days when I literally thought it would be better to step in front of a Tube train. Some days I don’t know what stopped me from doing it. Now I feel there is some hope shining through. I might not be able to have another child, but I can still have a good and fulfilling life.

  ‘There’s Ned heading off to the beach.’ Marilyn nods towards the window. ‘Off you go. Have some fun. Watch him or he’ll be having you put your legs behind your head.’

  I give her a look. ‘That wasn’t really in my plan, Marilyn.’

  She waves her duster at me and guffaws. ‘Go on, you saucy madam. I’m talking about yoga! I don’t know what you’re thinking of. You’re so cheeky.’

  Marilyn walks off, rolling her eyes at me as she goes.

  So I slip on my trainers and walk down to the beach. As I do, my phone rings and it’s Bill.

  ‘Hey, bro.’

  ‘Hello, little sis. Is this a good time to talk?’

  ‘As good as any.’ I pause on my walk and lean against the sea wall. ‘The weather is unseasonably warm and I’m just heading to the beach.’

  ‘Now you’re making me jealous. I will come out there at some point, I promise. I’ve just got a couple of issues that I need to check with you.’

  ‘OK.’ While he talks and I tell him what he needs to know, I realise how much I miss him. I miss his constant, quiet caring and I’ve probably not fully appreciated that over the years.

  When he’s finished talking about work, I say, ‘I do love you. You know that?’

  ‘Where did that come from? Are you going doolally being out there on your own?’

  I laugh. ‘No! I don’t think I’ve ever been as sane.’

  ‘You’re doing OK?’

  ‘I
am,’ I tell him. ‘Surprisingly well.’

  He sighs before saying, ‘I don’t want to burst your bubble, but I’ve seen Chris. I bumped into him at a restaurant last night.’

  ‘Was he alone?’ It pains me to ask.

  ‘With another bloke. No women.’ Bill pauses. ‘I know this is none of my business, sis, but he’s going out of his mind with worry.’

  ‘I’m sure he is.’ Sarcasm central. ‘You didn’t tell him where I was?’

  ‘No, no, no. I just said you were safe and taking time to relax.’

  That’s true enough. But the very mention of my husband makes me wobble again. I might feel slightly more steady – both physically and mentally – but I realise that I’m still not ready to face real life. ‘I can’t deal with it all yet, Bill.’

  ‘I know. I’m not rushing you. Take as long as you need. That’s what escaping to the Isle of Wight is all about. You’re having a good time, though?’

  ‘I’m loving it. I’m very pleased that you bought your holiday home here.’

  ‘And I’m glad that someone is actually using it.’ I hear the office door slam. ‘Got to go, sis. My Uber is outside. Catch you tomorrow.’

  ‘Love you,’ I say and, as he hangs up, I get another tug of love for my brother.

  What do I do? I miss Bill terribly, but I’m not ready to leave and the longer I’m here, the more I want to stay.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Ned is well into his yoga practice by the time I arrive on the beach. He’s wearing a pair of black board shorts and not much else.

  ‘Hey,’ I say to him. ‘Here’s your most reluctant pupil.’

  He stops mid-pose and his eyes pop out on stalks when he sees me. I feel myself flush under his gaze.

  ‘Marilyn bought them for me,’ I offer by way of explanation.

  ‘You look great,’ he says and carries on staring. It’s certainly having more impact than my usual attire. ‘I thought you might stay in bed after our busy day yesterday.’

  ‘Not much chance of that with Marilyn around. She likes to be up with the pigeon.’

  Ned looks at me, puzzled.

  ‘Lark,’ I correct. ‘Up with the lark.’ Good grief, she’s got me doing it now.

  ‘Ah. Ready to do some yoga, then?’

  ‘Ready but not overly willing.’

  ‘We’ll start you off gently then,’ he says. ‘Just do what I do.’

  Without having to be told, I kick off my shoes and, hesitantly at first, I follow him through some stretches. We’re in the lee of the sea wall, sheltered from the constant breeze from the ocean. The waves are benign today, rolling in gently to caress the shore. The sun is high and there’s some welcome warmth from it. Though the cold never seems to bother Ned.

  I feel stiff, unyielding, as I start to bend and stretch, but Ned is patient with me and I’m sure we’re only covering a quarter of what he would usually do. I’ve become so tense, my muscles so wound up that I can’t even stand still without aches and pains.

  ‘Everything hurts,’ I complain to Ned. ‘I’m sure I used to be more flexible than this. I thought I was reasonably fit. Nearly every lunch time I went to the gym with my best friend, Della.’

  ‘The body holds onto emotional pain,’ he says. ‘I don’t know the details, but I can tell that you’ve been through a lot.’ My eyes fill with tears and he quickly adds, ‘Technique doesn’t matter at all. We should just have some fun. This is just about moving, laughing, feeling good about yourself. See if you can do a handstand?’

  I burst out laughing. ‘I haven’t done a handstand since I was about seven.’

  ‘Then it’s about time that you did.’ With consummate ease he flips onto his hands and walks a few steps before flipping back again.

  ‘Show off.’

  ‘Do it,’ he says. ‘Even if you fall, the sand is soft. I’ll stand here and catch you.’

  I chew anxiously at my lip. ‘I daren’t.’

  ‘You can do anything. I promise I won’t let you fall. It’s all about trust.’

  ‘Trust is something I have very little left of,’ I tell him, cryptically.

  ‘Consider this as you starting to fight your way back.’

  I’m weakening. There is a certain appeal to giving it a go, though I’m totally out of my comfort zone. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Bend forward, hands on the floor – you need a bit of momentum – then kick up your legs one at a time.’

  ‘You make it sound very easy.’

  ‘It’s mind over matter. Come on, try it.’

  I stand, dithering, then against my better judgement, I bend and put my hands into the cool sand. My boobs threaten to break free of their scant neon pink casing.

  ‘Pull in your tummy tight,’ he instructs. ‘Kick up.’

  I manage to kick up one of my glittery-clad legs and then wobble and topple over into the sand. Ned grabs me. I lie on the sand laughing. ‘That was pathetic.’

  ‘No, you were nearly there.’ His face is earnest, encouraging. ‘Do it again.’

  ‘I might not have enough energy left for a second attempt.’

  ‘Don’t be a wimp,’ he says. ‘Come on.’

  So I brush myself off and bend over once more. I plant my hands more firmly and tighten every single muscle that I can.

  ‘Kick up,’ Ned shouts.

  Kicking my legs, I suddenly feel air between my body and the ground and then Ned grabs my ankles, holding me fast.

  ‘That’s it,’ he shouts. ‘Hold your tummy in tight! Don’t sag in the middle.’

  ‘I’m doing it!’ I should triumphantly. ‘I’m actually doing it!’

  Then I think I must sag in the middle or I was too confident too soon as, suddenly, I start to collapse. Ned tries valiantly to grab me before I hit the deck. Instead, we both tumble onto the sand, me pulling Ned down on top of me. We fall in a heap together, laughing.

  ‘High five,’ he says. ‘You did it.’

  ‘Very briefly.’ But despite my reticence to accept praise, I’m quite proud of my handstand, even though I only managed to hold it for a nanosecond and the exertion has left me gasping for breath.

  ‘It’s a start.’ Ned brushes sand from his chest and I become aware that he’s half-naked on top of me. I feel all the blood rush to my face and I’m sure it was already bright red enough from the handstand. We hold for a moment, neither of us seemingly wanting to break away.

  ‘That was fun,’ I say.

  ‘You did well. I think you’ve earned yourself a hearty breakfast. What do you say? Have you eaten yet?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Shall we walk down to Ida’s?’

  ‘That would be lovely.’

  He pushes himself away from me, then offers me his hand and helps me up too. And, as we walk along the beach together, I wish that he was still holding my fingers in his.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  We take what I’ve come to think of as my ‘usual’ table, the one by the wall that’s slightly sheltered from the sea breeze. Even after a few visits it feels like mine and woe betide anyone else who sits here. I’d have to chase them away. As it’s warm and sunny, the café is suddenly busier and I guess as the weeks go on everything will be gearing up for the summer rush of tourists.

  Ida, as always, doesn’t look that pleased to see me with Ned. She’s clearing another table when we turn up and gives me the side-eye. Ned, of course, is totally oblivious. She gives my loud yoga gear a thorough appraisal too and, though I’m growing to love my sparkly silver leggings, I wish I’d brought a cardigan to cover my skimpy top. By the time she comes to take our order, her smile is firmly back in place.

  ‘Hey,’ she says. ‘You two look happy.’

  ‘Starting the day with yoga on the beach, why wouldn’t we be?’ Ned answers.

  ‘Lucky you.’ She pulls a face at him. ‘I’ve been here since eight.’

  ‘Business is picking up, though?’

  ‘Yeah. The madness begins.’
/>   ‘Are you still going to be able to make the Spring Oasis Festival next weekend? You know you love it.’

  ‘As long as I can organise cover for the café. I’m struggling a bit to get someone. It’s deffo in my diary.’

  When I look blankly at them both, Ned fills in, ‘It’s one of the most popular gigs on the island. It attracts an older crowd. Definitely the Waitrose of festivals. The chemical toilets are the best you’ll ever find.’

  That makes me smile. ‘What better recommendation can you want?’

  ‘It’s important,’ Ida says. ‘Never underestimate the sheer awfulness of festival facilities.’

  Ned laughs. ‘You should come. You said you’d never been to a festival. This is your moment.’

  ‘I think I’m too old to start going to festivals,’ I laugh.

  ‘Never. This would be your best introduction. It caters for a more mature vibe.’

  ‘Old!’

  ‘Grown-up,’ he corrects. ‘It’s full of well-behaved people and great street food. I have a spare ticket. Your tent’s big enough to hold another person, isn’t it, Ida?’

  Ida looks torn between agreeing that it is and thus landing herself with an uninvited guest and lying that it isn’t. ‘Yeah, sure.’

  She couldn’t really have said it with less enthusiasm.

  ‘I’m not sure it’s my thing,’ I say, diplomatically – even though it sounds quite appealing.

  ‘There are some good headliners this year,’ he adds. ‘Can’t remember who, but at least I’d heard of them.’

  ‘Philistine,’ Ida mutters.

  ‘It’s great for me as it brings me in a chunk of early money before the festival season starts in earnest. It helps to fill up my coffers after the winter. The band plays there and I do some sculpting demos. I sell a lot of stuff and usually pick up a bunch of commissions too.’

  ‘Isn’t it too cold to be camping at this time of year?’

  ‘The weather has always been very kind. Sometimes it’s been like the height of summer. There’s no Glastonbury-style mud here either. Well, not much.’