‘We’ll have to get a taxi at the other end,’ said Edie, tipping out the contents of her purse and extracting a crumpled tenner.
‘I’ve got plenty of cash,’ said Pip, before she got any ideas about stealing a car. ‘Where are we going?’
His geography was terrible, and his eyesight even worse – he couldn’t glimpse the names of the stations as they flashed past.
‘That’s for me to know and you to find out.’ Edie smiled and stretched her arms out over her head, yawning. ‘But you’re going to love it.’
She shut her eyes. Pip wanted to shut his too – he felt sleepy and dry-mouthed after the champagne – but adrenaline kept him awake. He was on a train with a girl he’d only just met, hurtling towards an unknown destination. He didn’t care if it was reckless. It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to him in his life.
The seaside. They were going to the seaside.
Pip had finally fallen asleep in the back of the cab, but felt a sharp elbow in his rib and opened his eyes to see the road snaking down through emerald hills, at the bottom of which he could spy a vast expanse of twinkling turquoise.
‘This is always my favourite moment,’ sighed Edie. ‘The magic never goes away.’
‘Where are we?’
‘Everdene. Everdene Sands.’
The cab pulled up at a slipway that led down between a cluster of shops and cafés and kiosks to the beach. Pip picked up the tab without being asked and scrambled out onto the pavement. The fresh saltiness of the air flung itself into his lungs. He stood next to Edie, who was taking off her shoes.
‘I can’t remember the last time I went to the seaside.’ His mother and he had rarely gone on holiday.
‘Take your shoes off,’ Edie ordered him. ‘We’ve got a bit of a walk.’
Pip obeyed, removing his shoes and socks and rolling up his trousers to follow her across the warm sand. They were at the start of a long line of beach huts. As the sun set, the inhabitants were winding down: lighting barbecues, pouring wine or flipping open a beer, hanging out damp towels, brushing down sandy children. It was like another world to him, warm and bright and colourful. He spent so much time indoors, he realized. In his office or in his lodgings or on the Tube. Now he relished the last of the evening sun on his face, the sea breeze ruffling his curls, and the soft grains of sand between his toes.
They walked three-quarters of the way along until Edie stopped outside a cream-coloured hut. It was battered and faded compared to some of the others, but in a style even unaware Pip recognized as shabby chic. Painted metal letters on the door spelled out ‘she sells seashells’, and a wind chime made of mother-of-pearl tinkled in the breeze.
Edie disappeared around the back and reappeared with a key.
‘It belongs to a friend. I can use it whenever I like.’
‘How wonderful.’
‘It absolutely is.’
She opened the door and stood to one side to let him in.
An hour later, they were sitting on two deckchairs at the front of the hut, eating steaming hot fish and chips from the wrappers, watching the sun edge downwards and plop into the sea. Neither of them had really finished their lunch, so they were both ravenous.
Pip scrumpled up his wrapper and groaned with satisfaction, licking the last of the salty grease from his fingers. He was amazed that Edie had finished hers too – she was so tiny, there didn’t seem room inside her for the enormous portions.
‘So what do you do?’ he asked her, curious to know about her background. He realized he knew nothing much about her except her name.
‘I’m between jobs.’ She didn’t look at him, or indicate what either of those might be. Something told him not to press. ‘Sometimes I write songs, but I don’t do anything with them.’
She was a curious creature, he thought. Nothing like the girls he had gone to university with, or the girls he came into contact with through work. He felt as if he would never know her, yet he had let her know more about him than anyone ever in his life.
They drank a bottle of red wine she found in the kitchen cupboard, and he told her more about his work, which seemed to fascinate her, although he suspected her fascination was just deflection; a way to ensure he didn’t ask her any searching questions. She wouldn’t even divulge where she lived – just gave an airy, ‘Oh, north London. One of the bits that isn’t fashionable.’
Pip wouldn’t have had an idea of which bits were or weren’t fashionable, so that didn’t narrow it down for him. He was living in digs on the top floor of a house in Southfields. Renting out attic conversions had become the new way to plug the financial gap when middle-class people lost their jobs in the city: a couple of hundred quid cash in the back pocket went a long way in Waitrose, and if you found a tenant like Pip it was easy money. He was no trouble. He always put his porridge bowl in the dishwasher before he left for work. He even put out the recycling without being asked. His landlords often said they didn’t know he was there.
Pip often felt as if he wasn’t there. As if he moved through life making little or no impact on other people. If he disappeared, it would be a minor irritation at worst, not a drama. But sitting on the beach with Edie, just sipping wine and feeling the kiss of night settle on his skin, he felt as if he mattered, just a tiny bit. Even though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing here, in this rather magical place. He decided he wasn’t going to question it. He was going to enjoy the moment.
Wow, he thought. He was being positively existential.
As it crept towards midnight, the huts on the beach fell quiet. Lights were turned out, music dimmed, and all that could be heard was the murmur of the waves rocking themselves to sleep.
Edie stood up. ‘Let’s go for a swim.’
‘We can’t.’ Pip looked alarmed. ‘We’ve had far too much to drink.’
‘Don’t be silly. Not that much. And we won’t go out deep. The tide’s coming in. We’ll be fine.’
Pip felt even more alarmed as she pulled off her dress and flung it onto the deck chair. Absolutely no way was he going skinny-dipping. Yet he wanted to follow her. He wanted just an ounce of her abandon. He watched as she peeled off her underwear and set off towards the water.
‘Man up,’ he told himself. He would, he realized, look more of a fool if he dithered. He began to unbutton his shirt, wishing he had the courage to follow her in naked, but he had neither the physique nor the bravado to carry it off. All he could be thankful for was the timely purchase a couple of months earlier of some decent Marks & Spencer boxer shorts.
Edie’s body was as pale as a pearl in the moonlight. She rushed into the water, whooping with delight, throwing herself without hesitation under the surface. Pip edged in more cautiously behind her.
‘Come on!’ urged Edie, flicking water at him. He flinched as the icy droplets hit his torso, then thought to hell with it as he flung himself under. His breath left him for just a moment, then he rather relished the silky-soft cool of the ocean as it wrapped itself around his limbs.
They lay on their backs looking up at the stars.
‘Isn’t it amazing?’ Edie breathed.
Pip pointed out all the constellations, though it was hard to float and point at the same time, so in the end he gave up and they simply stargazed.
He wondered what his mum would think, if she knew what he was doing, floating in the sea with a naked girl. He didn’t think she’d be cross. Or perhaps not even shocked. Perhaps just surprised. Maybe even pleased.
He let himself melt into the water, feeling the tension that had been holding him together for so long diffuse. Relaxation had become so alien to him. Grief and guilt had kept him on high alert; nothing had protected him from the nightmares. There had been times when he had wondered if it was worth the effort of staying alive, so pernicious had been his misery.
Edie stood up in the wate
r suddenly. He could see her in the moonlight, her breasts covered in goosebumps, her hair slicked back, and he shivered.
‘It’s cold,’ said Edie. ‘Let’s go in.’
They waded through the water, then raced back up the beach. Edie, unselfconscious, ran like the wind, laughing and whirling her arms with the glorious freedom of it all, unperturbed by the possibility of someone from a neighbouring hut seeing her. Pip, who hadn’t done much exercise since compulsory gym in the sixth form, lumbered up behind her, panting and breathless. By the time he got to the hut, she had dried herself off and wrapped herself up in a huge tartan blanket.
‘Here.’ She threw a matching one at him. He folded himself up in its softness and hung his wet boxers on the back of a chair.
She lit a portable barbecue, then split open the skins of two bananas, pushed squares of chocolate inside and wrapped them in foil. They sat and warmed themselves on the step while the packages cooked, then gorged on the oozing sweetness.
Edie put an arm round him and pulled him to her.
‘I’ve had a brilliant evening,’ she whispered in his ear.
She dropped a kiss on his shoulder. Pip felt the warmth of it burn his skin. He was all too aware of their nakedness underneath the blankets.
What was supposed to happen now? He wasn’t sure of the rules, or of the state of their relationship. What on earth was this all about? She had a kittenish flirtatiousness about her, but he didn’t think that was reserved for him; he thought it was her default setting. They hadn’t touched in a particularly intimate way. She hadn’t come on to him, but why else would she lure a man down to the seaside if not to indulge in some sexual exploit or other?
Would she expect him to be an attentive and expert lover? Surely she could surmise from everything he’d told her that he was far from experienced? He didn’t want to disappoint her. Yet if it wasn’t expected of him at all, he wished he had some way of knowing so he could stop worrying. It was the kissing that terrified him more than anything. It seemed more intimate than any of the rest of it. If you got that wrong, you were doomed. And it was all in the timing; the moment.
Before he had time to strategize his next move, Edie stood up.
‘We should go to bed,’ she said.
Pip quailed. He pulled the blanket more tightly around him, went to speak, but Edie patted him on the shoulder before he could vocalize anything.
‘I’ll take the top bunk.’
Pip let out a sigh, realizing he’d been holding his breath. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, but at least this outcome meant him not having to make the first move. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to take the humiliation of rejection.
As he snuggled into the bottom bunk, he was still mystified as to why Edie had brought him here. Not for hot, unconditional sex, that was obvious. Which didn’t really surprise him. Nevertheless, he felt they had connected in some way. He felt lighter of heart than he had done for months. Maybe even a little more confident.
In the bunk above him, Edie’s breathing, deep and regular, told him she was already fast asleep.
Pip slept the sweetest and longest sleep he had slept for a long time. Maybe it was the sea air, or the late-night swim, or the unaccustomed alcohol, but he was still comatose at ten o’clock, even though the sun was sneaking in through the cracks in the curtains, as if to remind him that he was missing a beautiful day.
It was someone opening the door that woke him. Swiftly followed by an angry voice.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ It was a female voice, high and indignant. ‘Who are you?’
Pip sat up, still fuddled by sleep, to find a freckled, bespectacled face surrounded by a cloud of fine curls glaring at him.
‘Seriously. What’s going on?’ The angry girl – woman? Pip couldn’t put an age on her – whipped a phone out of her jeans pocket and waved it at him. ‘I’m going to call the police.’
‘I’m awfully sorry. I’m here with Edie.’
He pointed to the top bunk, presuming Edie would give him back-up.
But she wasn’t there. The bunk where she should have been was empty.
‘Who the bloody hell is Edie?’ The girl stepped forward, one hand on her hip.
Pip felt very vulnerable. He was naked, for a start, he realized with horror. He couldn’t hop out of bed to explain himself. He pulled the blanket up around him.
‘We came down last night. She said the hut belonged to friends of hers and they wouldn’t mind—’
‘This hut belongs to my family. We don’t just let randomers in, willy-nilly.’
‘Honestly! I mean, I wouldn’t just break in. I’m not that sort of person.’ Pip looked pained. ‘Look – would you mind awfully if I got dressed so we can sort this out?’
‘I should call the police.’
‘Please don’t. I mean, do if you have to. I understand. You must feel … violated.’
‘No. Just pissed off.’
She scowled. She might be small but she was fierce. Pip pointed to his pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. She gave a heavy sigh with a roll of her eyes and tossed them over to him.
‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I won’t look.’
She turned her back to him and crossed her arms. He tried to get dressed under the blankets as quickly as he could, then emerged, sheepish.
‘I’m all decent.’
She turned back around.
‘So. Where is this mystery girl?’
‘Perhaps she’s gone to the shops? She’ll be back in a minute to explain.’
But even as he said it, he didn’t believe it.
And then a horrible thought occurred to him.
‘My wallet!’
His wallet. Oh hell – where was his wallet? It had a couple of hundred pounds in it, and his credit cards, his identification – everything. His heart started hammering and he felt sick as he looked wildly around.
He turned to the girl, hoping to appeal to her.
‘Look, it’s obvious. I’ve been stitched up. I’ve been lured here and … whoever she was has made off with all my cash. Oh shit – and she’ll have got my address. She’s probably back in London now, pinching the rest of my stuff—’
The girl was looking at him stonily, eyebrows raised. She clearly wasn’t buying any of it. She pointed to the floor behind him.
‘Is that it?’
He looked down and saw his wallet. He grabbed it, hot with relief. Everything was still intact.
‘Nice try,’ said the girl. ‘Now, how did you get in?’
Pip swallowed and tried to remember.
‘There was a key. Round the back. On a hook.’
Something registered in the girl’s face. The merest flicker of a realization.
‘What did she look like, this Edie?’
Pip paused to think for a moment.
‘About your size. Very … slight. Short blonde hair.’
‘Was she a bit … manic?’
‘Manic?’ Had she been manic? She’d been different, certainly. If anything, she’d reminded him of Tinkerbell in Peter Pan. Feisty and busy and slightly unpredictable. ‘Maybe …’
The girl gave a heavy sigh and ran her hands through her hair. ‘OK. This is all starting to make sense.’
‘Is it?’ asked Pip, mystified. And as he looked at her, he felt unsettled, for now he was focusing on her, he could spot similarities. The small, neat nose, the slight figure; a timbre in the voice. Just take away the cloud of curls … A slow realization began to dawn.
‘Is she … your sister?’
‘Yes. Except her name’s not Edie.’ The girl rolled her eyes. ‘It’s Fran. But that wouldn’t be glamorous enough. Not when she’s off on one of her …’
She waved her hands in the air, lost for a word to describe what she meant.
&
nbsp; ‘Her …?’
‘Look. Fran has … issues. She has episodes. When she goes off into the realms of total fantasy. I’m afraid you got swept up in one of her dramas. What did she tell you?’
Pip frowned. ‘Actually, not a lot. Not a lot at all. It was me who did most of the talking.’
‘That makes a change.’
‘She was very kind to me. Actually.’ Pip felt the need to defend Edie. Fran. Whoever she was. Even if she had done a runner and left him looking a fool. Luckily he was used to that.
Her sister smiled a weary, long-suffering smile. ‘God, I’m really sorry. You must think we’re both mad.’ She stepped forward and held out her hand. ‘I’m Mary. This is our family hut but we’re all kind of estranged from Fran. She can be really difficult. There was an incident last summer …’
‘An incident?’ Pip looked alarmed. He didn’t much want to think about it.
‘We haven’t heard from her since.’ Mary looked around the hut. ‘What time did you last see her?’
‘We went to bed about … two?’ Pip was flustered. ‘Not that kind of bed. Sleep bed. We didn’t … I didn’t …’
‘It’s OK,’ said Mary. ‘You’re both grown-ups. You can do what you like.’
Pip went pink at the thought that Mary might consider they’d had a night of torrid passion.
‘I met her in the library. We went for lunch. And she brought me here. It was a spur of the moment thing.’ A thought occurred to him. ‘I’ve never done anything like that before.’
‘That’s Fran for you. She can talk anyone into anything when she’s on a mission. She’s very persuasive.’
‘Yes. I didn’t really get much say. But it was wonderful. In a strange way.’
Mary gave a dismissive snort. She didn’t seem very impressed. Now he was properly awake, Pip could see how very like Edie she was. It was the mass of hair that disguised it, and the glasses, and the hoodie and jeans. He couldn’t help laughing.
‘This is crazy. Twenty-four hours ago I was sitting in the library minding my own business. Now I don’t even know where I am. It’s crazy. No one would believe it if I told them.’
The Beach Hut Next Door Page 13
