17
Dancing barefoot on sand in the moonlight
Standing on his step with homemade olive ciabatta, inspired by his cookery book and another lovely visit to Lynda’s deli, Claire felt a little churn of anticipation. Would Mr Grumpy still be AWOL? Would it just be a friendly night, or might there really be something more to all of this?
She’d been spying on his preparations from the cover of her balcony this afternoon. He’d set up a table and two chairs out the back on the grass overlooking the sea, and she’d spotted him bringing out a large storm lantern ready to light later on. She’d approved of the setting, smiling to herself over her cup of tea. Then he was in and out with cutlery, napkins, glasses. It looked like he was making a real effort. Hmm, interesting. After that, he’d disappeared for an hour or so in the car, possibly getting provisions in. She wondered if he’d be a good cook or more of an assembler.
And here he was, opening the door for her, dressed in a pale-blue cotton shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a pair of dark jeans which fitted tightly over his long well-muscled legs and a lovely smile. His dark-blond hair was ruffled, and there was a shadow of stubble on his chin. Sexy or what. Or shouldn’t she be thinking that? Just friends?
She hoped she looked all right. She’d taken a bit more care with her make-up, using a light foundation, some blusher and a slick of red lip gloss as well as a hint of pale-gold eyeshadow; she hoped it wasn’t over the top. And she’d been in and out of three different outfits in the past hour, settling on a strappy dress with a floral pattern that came to just below the knee; she hoped it might look pretty and summery, but not overdressed. On her arm was a cardigan for later; from the setting-up this afternoon it looked like they’d be outside, and she might well need it.
‘Come on in. Welcome to my humble abode.’
‘Not half so humble as mine next door,’ she quipped.
‘No, maybe not.’ He gave her a small peck on the cheek.
He smelt gorgeous, all aqua and citrus notes, fresh, like you could just bury your head in the crook of his neck and sniff. Just a sneaky second then, hmmn.
She pulled herself away.
‘You look lovely.’ He sounded slightly nervous.
‘Thanks,’ she answered, giving a mental air-punch – phew, she’d got the outfit right. She then found herself at a loss for words, feeling shy and wondering what she was doing here. So much for keeping a low profile.
She followed Ed through to a spacious lounge. The room had French doors that opened out onto his garden, overlooking the beach and the sea. The furniture was off-white wood, and the soft furnishings various shades of blues, greys and cream, suggesting the sea and sky – perfect for leading you through to the beach. There were various knick-knacks of boats and shells – all very tasteful, but not quite what you’d expect a man on his own to choose. Mind you, she remembered it was his family’s second home, so maybe a mum and sisters had been involved, or even an interior designer had come in and done the lot. He’d probably be able to afford it, probably had the right contacts through his trade – didn’t architects earn a lot?
‘Right, well, would you like a glass of wine? White, red?’
‘White would be lovely, thanks.’ She settled herself onto one of the stripy blue and cream sofas, sinking into its cosy cushions. His Labrador bounded through, wagging her tail exuberantly and settling down beside her for a rub.
‘Hi, girl. You okay?’
The dog lay upside down for a tummy tickle.
‘She likes you.’ He smiled. ‘She’s called Bess. I hope she’s okay out here. I can put her away if you’d rather.’
‘No, she’s fine. Aren’t you, Bess? Just wants a bit of affection, don’t you girl?’ She knew the feeling.
‘Well, I hope you like seafood.’
‘Sounds good to me.’ She’d try just about anything – she’d never been a fussy eater, except when the chemo stole her appetite. But her appetite had made it back good and strong recently.
‘And thanks for the bread, it will go lovely with the langoustines I got today.’
‘Mmm, I’ve never tried those before.’
Ed headed off down the hall to fetch the wine. Claire heard the pop of a cork. Soon, he was coming back through, his voice getting nearer. ‘They’re like a big prawn really.’
‘They sound great.’
‘Would you like to sit outside?’
She smiled, having seen all the preparations he’d made earlier. ‘Yes, that would be nice.’
He swung open the French doors and Bess followed them out. The sun was low in the sky, making the sea glow gold and pewter. A few last tourists were packing up their wind-breaks, rolling up towels, and a dog-walker was striding by. But soon it would empty. Claire loved this time of day, when everyone went home and it felt like it was just their two little houses left in the whole wide world.
It was a touch chilly in the gentle sea breeze; she was glad she’d brought her cardie and slipped it on as she sat down.
‘Sorry, is it a bit cold out here?’
‘No, it’s fine. It’s lovely, in fact.’ The view was beautiful – she didn’t want to leave it.
He lit the chiminea that was near their table, and it wasn’t long before the warmth of the coals reached her bare legs and sandalled feet. Bess settled down beside it happily.
‘So.’ He sat back in the other chair, resting his long legs out before him. ‘How have you been? Back to work and everything?’
She couldn’t remember how much she’d told him; about the cancer, but she knew he was aware that she’d been off work. ‘Yes, I’ve been fine. I’ve enjoyed going back to work. Luckily, I was full of new ideas and energy, and my column with the newspaper’s going pretty well.’
‘So the break here did you good.’
‘I think it did.’
‘I took a look at your column in the Herald and some of the stuff you’d written before.’
Whoa. So he’d looked her up. Then it wasn’t just she who’d been thinking of him. She’d drawn a blank though: googling Ed from Edinburgh + architect hadn’t given her any clues.
‘Yes, I’ve been reading some of your cancer blogs. You’ve had a lot to cope with, haven’t you?’
So he did know. ‘Well, it’s not been the best of times … But hey, I’m still here to tell the tale.’ She paused, her mouth drying as she thought back to the unlucky ones, the ones who never got their second chance. How arbitrary it all was, how bloody cruel. She stared out across the sea. Sometimes it got to her – the emotions just crept up on her.
‘Claire, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?’
‘Oh … yes, I’m okay. It’s just that some of my friends on the ward … they didn’t make it.’ She had to stop talking as she felt the clutch of emotions at her throat, in her gut.
He looked at her sympathetically, then looked away to sea, giving her a chance to compose herself. They were both quiet for a while.
‘That’s tough.’ He spoke first. ‘But I bet your column’s helped a lot of people. Not just those going through it, but family and friends. It certainly helped me understand a lot more.’
‘I hope so. That was the idea. And I suppose it was good for me too, in a way. Writing it down kind of helped me understand my own feelings better. Even writing down the weird and funny things. I remember my mother sitting with me at the first chemo session, reading all the pamphlets. ‘Oh look, Claire,’ she comes out with. ‘At least you’ll get free pedicures.’ Trust my mum to find a silver lining. I had to smile. And the nice folk at Macmillan Cancer Support offer all sorts of things to prop you up, from headscarf-tying sessions to free massages. People still laugh in a cancer ward, you know.’ Laugh and cry and live and love, she mused.
He nodded, looking at her intently.
‘Anyway.’ She wanted to lighten the mood. ‘That’s all done now, and here I am. A new chapter in my life. I’m one of the lucky ones.’
‘Good.’ He nodded, picked up his glass and
clinked it with hers. ‘Cheers, Claire … to your very good health.’
‘You too – to health and happiness.’ They smiled at each other.
He gave a small sigh. Now he was looking out across the sea, as though happiness was somehow a very long way off. Then he turned back, raised his glass and clinked it gently against hers. She wasn’t sure why, but that gesture seemed significant, made her feel that this might be the beginning of something.
They sat chatting. He told her a little more about his work. He’d been developing designs for the new library building for the university, something quite cutting-edge by the sounds of it. How did you dream up a building? She admired the fact that he could. But when her questions got a little more personal about his home and his life, he brushed them aside.
‘Ah, there’s not much to tell about me. It’s a pretty quiet life I lead. Home. Work. That’s about it.’
She persevered. ‘Do you live on your own, then?’ She was being nosy, but she really needed to find out if there was someone else on the scene. If there was anyone else involved at all, then this was going nowhere. After everything with Paul, she could never do that to someone else. She needed to be clear. No point getting into him, if that was the case. It would just be a polite, neighbourly dinner and she’d be on her way.
‘Yes.’ A one-word answer, and the stony look on his face told her she really shouldn’t ask any more. He got up to his feet. ‘Right well, I’d better do something with the food or we’ll never get supper at this rate.’ He filled her glass. ‘I won’t be long – don’t go anywhere.’ He smiled and raised an eyebrow ironically as though very aware of his own rapid departure last time.
‘I won’t.’ She sipped her wine, relaxing back into the chair.
‘Right … good.’
She sat looking out across the evening seascape. The colours were now beautifully muted from the bold shades of a summer day – a gentle blue with a pale-gold horizon that reflected in a shimmer on the waves, a hint of peach just filtering through. Ten minutes later Ed was back. He added a small log to the chiminea, and then checked on the barbecue she’d watched him set up that afternoon.
‘Starters won’t be long,’ he announced as headed back towards the French doors. ‘It’s nothing too complicated.’
Claire watched a pair of black-and-white oystercatchers wander about at the seashore, dipping their bright-red bills into the sands. The waves hushed as they broke into gentle white froth: the sea was calm this evening. She warmed her toes by the chiminea, gave Bess a pat on the back as she lay there relishing the warmth. Felt the peace of the place. How wonderful it was just to be.
Soon Ed was on his way back bearing two plates. ‘Goat’s cheese – hope you like it. It’s from the local deli.’
Claire had to smile. So he’d been in to see Lynda. She wondered briefly if her friend might be in on tonight’s meal? Knowing how Ed guarded his privacy, probably not.
‘Looks lovely. Thanks.’
He lay the plate in front of her, then sat down opposite. The cheese had been grilled golden and was on a bed of mixed salad leaves with a dressing. She lifted her fork – balsamic dressing by the taste of it. Gorgeous. The cheese was slightly melted, so oozed as she cut into it. Scrummy.
‘This is really good.’
‘Great.’ He looked relieved. ‘Fairly simple, I know, but my culinary skills are limited, I’m afraid.’
Okay, so he was more of an assembler than a chef, but she could settle for that. And with delicious ingredients like this, the end result was great anyhow.
‘It’s so beautiful here, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Especially when you get a day like this. That view …’ Sea and sky and golden sand, so many shades of blues and greys and golds – she’d never tire of it.
‘Yeah, there is something pretty special about this place. Don’t get me wrong, I really like Edinburgh too, but here it’s so different – that sense of space and nature. There’s a little bit of magic about it. It keeps you coming back.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘And every day it changes: the sea, the sand, the sun or the stormy skies. Even when it pelts with rain …’ He stopped, realizing where his words had led them back to … To that day in the rain. They shared a poignant look, but said nothing.
‘You’re so lucky having a place of your own to come back to whenever you like,’ she said, swiftly moving the conversation on. ‘Somewhere with heating and hot water, no less!’ she quipped.
He nodded. ‘Yeah, this is a great place for a holiday home. My parents chose well. I remember playing in that stream as a kid, building dams. Fishing for crabs and shrimps in the rock pools.’
‘Do your parents still come here?’
He didn’t answer straight away. Oh bugger, she hoped she hadn’t put her foot in it. She could be quite good at that.
‘Mum died a few years back. Ovarian cancer.’ He stared out across the bay.
Well done, Claire – shit. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s okay. Dad comes occasionally, sometimes with my brother and his family. But I don’t think it feels the same for him without her.’ He let out a long, slow breath and stared down at his shoes.
Claire was at a loss what to say next. He saved her by standing up.
‘Right, well I’m off to sort the main course. Won’t be a mo.’
So they’d both had hurt and pain in their lives. But she wanted to make the most of tonight. She had a feeling he did as well. Life could roll and punch you, but it could also lift you. Like the flotsam and jetsam at sea, you were tossed about chaotically, but then you somehow made it to shore. And there wasn’t anywhere she’d rather be than this shore right now.
He came back out with a bucket of shellfish that looked a bit like mini lobsters and proceeded to barbecue them over the coals whilst she sat sipping her wine. Life at this moment was pretty good. The smell was delicious, especially when he warmed a frying pan of garlic butter on the barbecue and popped the shellfish into it right at the last. He dished them out into white bowls and served them with a wedge of lemon and some thin slices of the olive bread she had made.
‘Langoustines, madam,’ he announced.
Eating them was gorgeous – messy but finger-lickingly good. Lucky he’d thought of paper napkins.
‘Wow, these are really delicious, thank you. Are they local?’
‘Yes, I picked them up this afternoon just along at the fish merchant in Seahouses.’
She carried on peeling and plumping juicy, garlicky langoustines into her mouth, then mopped up the sauce with her bread. Bowl emptied, she sat back in her garden chair feeling warm, content and full. Ed relaxed too, stretching his legs out in front of him. His jeans clung nicely to his quads beneath. Her mind flitted back to her first ever glimpse of him … of those legs … and more … the early morning swim. She felt the heat of a blush rise up her neck.
They carried on talking and she learnt a little more about his brother and family, who lived just outside Edinburgh too. He didn’t seem quite as closed-off as earlier. And she mentioned her sister Sally and her two boys, and her memories of holidaying here as a child. The sun shifted lower, the pale-blue sky fading to an orange glow, then diffusing to indigo as dusk crept in with the promise of a few early stars. He lit the storm lantern and a couple of tea lights that were on the little wooden table they were sharing. She sighed, feeling utterly content for the first time in ages.
‘Dessert, madam?’
‘Crikey, is there more?’ There might just be a teeny space for something else. ‘What have you got lined up?’
‘Meringues from the local farm shop, with raspberries and cream.’
Lush. ‘Okay, I’m sold.’ She grinned. She hadn’t eaten this much in ages. But her appetite was definitely back – and, looking at his tall, toned physique as he stood to go back into the house, in more ways than one. Oh God, what was she thinking? Especially after the disaster of last time. It was probably the wine sending her brain in weird
directions, though she’d only had a couple of glasses. Still, she’d better ease off it a bit.
The meringues were amazing. He was definitely watching her lips as she licked off the crispy sugar crumbs. So she did it again, exaggeratedly, to test his reaction.
His gaze was intense, his pupils darkening within the green.
She started to feel a touch nervous. Or was it anticipation? Perhaps she’d better not tease any more – she’d better be sure exactly what it was she wanted.
‘That was gorgeous, thank you – the whole meal. Amazing.’
‘My pleasure – and you’re very welcome.’ He gave her a wide, disarming smile.
Hah, there was still a tiny morsel of meringue stuck to his bottom lip. She could just lick it off. And then kiss those lips, which would taste of cream and sugar. Oh my, she remembered his kiss so well. It was making her feel all tingly.
‘You okay?’
Oh God, she must have been staring? The wine had made her drop her guard, mind you she’d only had a couple of glasses.
‘Yes. Fine.’ Her voice came out high-pitched.
And now he was staring back at her … a little too intently. Were they going to go over old ground? Would it work out this time? And if things were going the way it looked like they very much were, she’d have to tell him this time. About her scars. So it would all be out in the open, so to speak, as her bra came off. Forewarned was forearmed and all that. But God Almighty, what would he think?
He leaned forward and softly, surprisingly, touched his nose against hers and then tilted his face so their lips brushed teasingly. Wow, that was sending shivers everywhere. Uh-oh, warning bells were clamouring, as well as the air-punch she was mentally making. Could this really be about to happen? Oh yes … The kiss deepened. Then she forgot to think and just let her lips take her to somewhere else. A longing swirled inside and her hand found its way to the soft curls of hair at the back of his neck.
Wow! As they pulled away, Claire recognized the music playing from the small speaker he’d brought out earlier. It was Coldplay, ‘The Scientist’.
My Summer of Magic Moments Page 13
