And to prove it, Chloe had had to suffer the ignominy of Jasmine’s smug presence in the office while she worked out her notice. Maybe she should have worn a see-through white lace shirt to the interview? The job might be hers now.
Well, the summer was hers now instead, while she decided what to do with the rest of her life. She was going to have a clean break and six weeks of total freedom while she took stock. There would be no one to answer to. She could do what she liked, thanks to a timely stroke of luck. Swapping her one-bedroom flat in Peckham for a beach hut in Everdene? It was a no-brainer.
She’d gone onto the house-swap site tentatively, not expecting to find anyone wanting to spend the summer in an inner-city high rise. But the email had reached her almost straight away: it was from an older couple who wanted to spend time near their daughter, in Dulwich, as she’d had a premature baby and was struggling for help.
She had looked at the details of the hut with glee, unable to believe her luck. It was about the same size as her flat, with a living area, a sleeping platform, a fully equipped but compact kitchen and a tiny bathroom, but instead of looking out over a school playground, it was about twenty yards from the sea. She could almost smell the ozone and hear the waves crashing onto the sand as she replied to their email confirming the swap.
Now, in her boot, she had a wetsuit, a pile of the books she hadn’t ever had time to read, and an empty notebook from Muji for brainstorming what she might do with her life. She wanted to rediscover her brain, retrain it to think for itself instead of spoon-feeding it bytes of information gleaned from Facebook and Twitter and Gawker and Buzzfeed.
Already, she could feel bits of her brain that had lain dormant reigniting. Before, she would have looked at the stars and not seen them. Now, she began to pick out the constellations she remembered from her childhood. She would buy herself a telescope, she decided. And a book, a proper book, to help her decipher the cosmos.
Excitement fizzed through her, and for the first time she felt grateful that she hadn’t got the promotion. Otherwise she would still be at her desk, compiling notes for the next pitch, going over it and over it until it was word perfect, trying to second guess what would make the client pick them over any other agency. She never had to do that again if she didn’t want to …
Although a small voice inside her told her she did want to. She had loved her job. The campaign director’s role would have been a dream come true for the girl who had started out in Admin only five years ago, making tea and binding documents. Howard had picked her out, told her she was going places, encouraged her, promoted her. Only to choose that talentless airhead over her just as she had nearly reached the pinnacle. Why had she trusted him? She hadn’t expected any favouritism. Just recognition.
Forget it forget it forget it, Chloe told herself. But the nagging doubt still nibbled away at her. If she’d slept with him, like he’d wanted her to, would the job be hers now? Surely that wasn’t how the world worked any more? Surely that wasn’t how he worked? She’d admired and trusted him, right up to that night at the dreamy Cotswold hotel where they’d had their annual Christmas getaway because the company had done so well.
His eyes had been wide with Merlot and sincerity when he’d told her, at two o’clock in the morning in the bar, when everyone else had finally trailed away, that he loved her. That he always had, since the day she’d walked in wearing her crop top and her combat trousers, with the pink streak in her hair. Now, of course, she was groomed and polished and Zara-ed up to the nines.
She’d jumped up, away from him, spilling her wine all over the table.
‘You’re married!’ she cried, and he laughed at her.
‘When’s that ever stopped anyone?’ he asked, and in that moment she saw him for what he was, and all her admiration for him crumbled to dust, and she felt a bitter disappointment combined with a crushing sadness. By that time he’d stumbled towards her and grabbed her clumsily, pulling her to him and whispering in her ear, stroking her hair.
‘You know you want to,’ he mumbled. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at me.’
And she’d wriggled away from him and pulled her arm back and given him the biggest crack across the side of his head that she could manage. The barman had looked over in alarm, putting down the glasses he was wiping.
‘You all right, love?’
Chloe couldn’t speak. Howard was looking at her with a glare of such malevolence it made her stomach turn.
‘You stupid cow,’ he told her.
‘Yep,’ she replied. ‘Very stupid. Very stupid indeed.’
She gathered up her bag with as much dignity as she could muster. She knew she’d had too much to drink, and that her words would probably slur, so she chose them carefully.
‘I respected and admired you,’ she told him. ‘You gave me ambition. I wanted to be like you.’
He was lying back on the sofa, legs slightly apart, an arm along the back, smirking up at her. The rest of her words stuck in her throat, and she realized it was because the words had melted into tears.
She wasn’t going to let him see her cry.
It was all behind her now, she kept telling herself. She wasn’t being manipulated any longer. She turned off the motorway and along the road that would lead to Everdene. It would be late when she got there, but it didn’t matter. She could have the biggest lie-in ever tomorrow, and she would be waking up by the sea, with the rest of her life in front of her.
She woke at dawn, as she hadn’t bothered to draw the curtains in the beach hut when she crashed into her bed at nearly midnight the night before. As she stepped out of the door onto the sand, the scenery outside took her breath away. The pearliest dawn was creeping over the bay, drawing a veil of early morning mist over the sea. A pale yellow sun hovered on the skyline, tentative at first, but after an hour it had found the confidence to shine as brightly as a buttercup. The air was sweetness and light and danced on Chloe’s skin. She breathed it in, feeling the thrill of the new, barefoot in her nightdress on the sand. She wanted to run to the water’s edge, and turn cartwheels. The nightmare was behind her.
For five days, she barely moved from the hut, except for the occasional swim. Her skin lost its London pallor and her freckles came out. She read a book a day, and the stories pushed away the memories of the stress and the frustration.
On her first weekend, she walked into Everdene. She went to collect a seafood take-away from The Lobster Shack – a dressed crab, half a dozen langoustines and a handful of prawns. While she waited at the hatch where the takeaways were dispatched, she saw an advert:
‘Seasonal staff wanted:
waiters/kitchen porter/bartenders.’
Why not? she thought. She loved the feel of the place; its casual buzziness, and it would be the perfect way to get to know a few people. It would give her some cash, and some structure to her day. And if she didn’t like it, she could walk away. She went in and asked for an interview. She had plenty of experience – she’d done her fair share of waitressing at uni.
She was just what they were looking for. Someone bright and informed who could interact with the customers and contribute to the general feel-good vibe.
‘You don’t think you’re a bit overqualified?’ the owner, Murphy, asked her. He interviewed her over a heart-stopping Americano in the restaurant window.
‘Totally,’ she told him. ‘But I don’t care.’
She didn’t. She longed to work here. Every two minutes somebody stopped and spoke to him. She got the feeling that The Lobster Shack was already the place to be, the beating heart of Everdene, even though it had not long opened.
‘As long as you don’t do an amazing job, then walk off because you’re bored,’ Murphy warned her. ‘I can see you’ve got talent. You’re not really waitress material.’
‘I won’t,’ she promised. ‘But if you want any PR doing, I’m your girl.’
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He pointed a warning finger at her. ‘You won’t be here long. I know you won’t. But I’m going to take a risk, because you’re just the kind of person we need.’
Chloe put on her Lobster Shack apron on with a frisson of excitement the morning of her first shift, not quite able to believe she had gone from frazzled and burned-out to chilled in such a short space of time. But Everdene had worked its magic. She knew it was a bubble, and that this life couldn’t last forever, but she was determined to make the most of it while it lasted.
And her life got even better. Waitressing was hard work. The Lobster Shack was crammed from midday till midnight, turning tables as quickly as was humanly possible. Rave reviews in the Saturday papers only pumped up the waiting list, making it the must-go-to eating venue of the summer. And Chloe found herself with a new crowd of friends, youngsters who dragged her to Tallulah’s, the local nightclub that had been in Everdene since the dawn of time. There, she danced till dawn, grabbing a few hours sleep before her next shift, but somehow she never felt tired. The air and the sea gave her energy.
And one day she took a delivery from the fisherman who supplied the lobsters. As she took the huge blue crate from him, crammed with the latest catch, she felt a jolt as she looked into his eyes, admiring his rumpled hair, the tattoo on his arm, his shy smile.
‘So who is he?’ she asked Jenna, the girl with the ice-cream van, who gave her a knowing grin.
‘That’s Chris. The boss’s brother.’
‘Murphy’s?’
‘No, Vince. His partner. They’ve got a fishing boat in Tawcombe and they supply all the seafood. Vince keeps a low profile, though.’
‘He’s cute.’
Jenna nodded. ‘He is.’
Something in her tone made Chloe suspicious.
‘But?’
‘He’s absolutely lovely. But he was a drinker until recently. He’s on the wagon. So you need to be careful. That’s all.’
‘Oh.’
‘His dad drowned at sea and he never got over it. He was drinking himself into a stupor. But he’s a top bloke. He renovated my van for me.’ Jenna looked at her. ‘I just thought you should know the truth, that’s all.’
Chloe took on board what Jenna had told her. For the next few days, she observed Chris from a distance. She didn’t want to throw herself into a relationship that was fraught with problems, after all. But he seemed together. The next time Chris came in to make a delivery, Chloe engaged him in conversation.
‘So, how many of these guys do you catch a day?’
He told her all about how they caught them, regaling her for a good ten minutes with his anecdotes, and she watched him go with interest. He was cute, and funny, and he had made her laugh.
Before she had the chance to take things any further, though, she had an email from Howard. She picked it up at two o’clock one morning, after dancing the night away, and suddenly the past seemed as if it was not so far away after all. She felt sick as she opened it. He still had the power to unsettle her, it seemed.
Dear Chloe
This is a very difficult email for me to write. I hope you will take it in the spirit in which it is meant, although I wouldn’t blame you if you pressed delete. But please take the time to consider my words, and think about what I am going to say.
I think you are extraordinary. I think you are an enormously talented person, and a fantastic human being. I realize that admiration took a wrong turn that night in the Cotswolds, and I did a very stupid thing. I blame the red wine and my stupidity for making the biggest mistake of my life.
Or maybe the second biggest. Giving the creative director’s job to Jasmine instead of you was an immense error of judgment. At the time I convinced myself that you didn’t have the experience. That you weren’t mature enough to handle the job. I realize now that I was wrong.
I want you to know that if you want to come back, there will be a role for you. And if, in time, Jasmine moves on – which I am certain she will do – then that job will be yours. Please give this offer a lot of thought. I need you on my team.
I need you in my life. I miss you. I miss your spirit and your laughter and your energy. If you can see your way to forgiving me, I would be the happiest man in the world.
Yours ever,
Howard
Chloe stared at the screen. What on earth was he trying to say? Obviously he was offering her a job, but what else was between the lines? Was he saying that he loved her?
Did she love him? It was the one question she had never dared ask of herself. She suspected she might. That her admiration of him went further than was professional. Was that why his betrayal had hurt so much? She wished he’d never sent it. It made her feel unsettled. It tainted the new life she had made for herself. Bloody Howard, still pulling her strings from hundreds of miles away, when she had worked so hard to erase him. It was scary, knowing that she could send an email and step back into her former life.
She had to take evasive action.
The next day, when Chris came in with his box of lobsters, Chloe signed for them, swallowed, smiled and took a deep breath.
‘I wondered,’ she said, ‘if you’d like to go for a walk one evening.’
She was careful not to ask him for a drink. She didn’t want him to feel awkward or too pressured. A walk seemed the perfect compromise.
He looked surprised. He thought for a moment. She panicked she had been too forward and he was groping about for a polite get out.
‘When have you got your next evening off?’ he asked after what seemed like an endless wait.
She knew without looking at the rota. ‘Tonight, actually.’
She gave him a sheepish smile. There was no point in pretending.
He scratched the back of his head, grinning. ‘Tonight it is, then.’
‘Great.’ She nodded. ‘I’ll see you by the slipway? Six o’clock?’
‘Sure.’ He walked away, one hand raised in a farewell, but he was smiling.
Chloe wasn’t sure how she was going to get through the next few hours. The restaurant was fully booked, so hopefully the time would fly. And that would give her just enough time to rush back to the hut, get changed and prepare herself for her date.
Jenna teased her. ‘You haven’t stopped smiling all lunchtime.’
‘I’m going for a walk with Chris.’
‘Seriously?’ Jenna punched the air. ‘I have such a good feeling about you guys.’
Chloe put her hands in the pocket of her apron. ‘I’ve never asked someone out before.’
The two girls looked at each other.
‘Jeans, T-shirt, hair down, barely-there make-up, small piece of statement jewellery,’ said Jenna.
Chloe laughed.
‘Exactly what I had in mind,’ she said. ‘Exactly.’
He was waiting by the slipway. As soon as she saw him, Chloe felt her heart lift a little. She knew she had barely anything to base that feeling on; nothing but instinct. Chemistry. Yet she could see something in his eyes too.
‘Where do you want to go?’ he asked.
‘I haven’t really explored the area much. So I’m in your hands.’
‘Great,’ he said. ‘Well, if you don’t mind a hike, and you’re OK with heights …?’
At that moment, Chloe would have followed him anywhere.
He took her along the coast path that went from Everdene to Mariscombe. It was a tough walk, right on the cliff edge; the path was narrow and the drop to their right hand side was vertiginous – but he chivalrously held her hand whenever the going was too rough. Even though he didn’t really have to.
Eventually they turned a corner, and there, thirty feet below them was a tiny lagoon. A steep set of rickety wooden steps led down to it.
‘Everdene’s best-kept secret,’ Chris told her. ‘Most people can’t be bot
hered to come here because it takes such a lot of effort.’
‘It’s stunning,’ breathed Chloe. ‘It’s like something out of the Famous Five.’
She took his hand as he helped her down the steps. And at the bottom they sat on the sand and looked out to sea, their arms around their knees. They might as well have been the only people left on the planet. There wasn’t another soul to be seen. The sea and the sky seemed to merge into one and the cliffs stretched up around them. They were alone with just their thoughts.
‘They never found his body, you know,’ said Chris.
Chloe reached out her hand and picked up his. She didn’t have to say anything, or do anything.
‘I suppose Jenna told you I’ve got baggage? The good old Everdene tom-toms.’
‘We’ve all got baggage,’ said Chloe. ‘But it doesn’t mean you have to drag it round with you.’ Howard suddenly seemed a million miles away.
Chris turned to look at her. ‘I’ve never thought of it like that,’ he said.
They linked fingers, two virtual strangers who had an instinct that they might come to mean something to each other. The tentative start of something special. Something they both needed to help them heal the past.
That night, Chloe sat down in the beach hut with her laptop in front of her. She knew she had a decision to make. Whether to go backwards or look forwards. Just a fortnight ago, she suspected she would not have given the decision a second thought; she would have dropped everything and rushed back to London. But now all that had changed.
It was amazing, the difference in her mindset. She loved the restaurant. She knew she was only earning a pittance, and that eventually she would feel the financial bite, but she was confident that she would work out her future. And she needn’t be a waitress forever. She thought she might try setting up her own agency. There were probably plenty of small businesses down here that could benefit from her expertise. She’d start sounding people out tomorrow. Maybe Vince and Murphy would take her on? She could give them a good discount for being a guinea pig. Obviously she’d never be able to command London prices, but then she wouldn’t have London overheads. She could sell her flat and buy something down here; use whatever was left over to set herself up a little office …
The Beach Hut Next Door Page 17
