One Last Summer at Hideaway Bay

by Zoe Cook

  Lucy loved her flat and had fought tears when she’d shut the door behind her this morning. But then she’d fought tears most days since leaving Spectrum. With her possessions packed away into cupboards and vacuumed into bags so that Anna had space for her own things, the flat had felt tidier and more organised than Lucy could remember, like someone else’s place. But without accepting Claire’s offer to cover her rent while Lucy looked for a new job, she’d have eaten her savings up paying to live in her flat within a few months. She couldn’t afford London without a salary and spending her days in pyjamas wandering from room to room had begun to make her feel like a psychiatric patient in her own home. It seemed to Lucy now, as the train rolled out of Paddington, metal wheels screeching on metal tracks, that somehow, preposterously, Cornwall had actually become the most sensible option. Like Nina, Claire had unsurprisingly been in favour of the trip, of the time away from London. ‘Healing time,’ she kept calling it. It irritated Lucy how she kept inferring that Lucy was some kind of damaged woman who could be mended with sea air and brisk walks, like a mania-suffering Victorian lady sent to the coast by her desperate husband. But she was right, of course. Lucy did need some form of healing. She had spent day after day in bed, she still couldn’t eat and she had lost more weight. She knew she looked horrible, but food felt like a reward she didn’t deserve and her thin stature felt like a suitable reflection of her weak mind. A mind that had led her to have a mini-breakdown that evening at the wrap party.

  She hadn’t spoken to Tom. Nina was letting him know that she was coming after all. She’d never replied to his email and never asked Claire what he’d said when she’d phoned him that week she was staying with Lucy. The thought of that call still made her cringe with a physical shudder.

  It was a beautiful day for a train journey. Bright-blue sky, vivid greens, sunlight glossing and glinting on houses and cars as they sped past. Lucy took her phone from her handbag and typed a message to Claire:

  On my way, I’m okay. Thanks for the upgrade. I’ll call you later x

  The train driver was making announcements about stations and calling times; Lucy closed her eyes and rested her head against the window. Maybe she should email Tom. How awkward would it be arriving at Hideaway Bay in five hours’ time without having spoken to him, she wondered? But the only way she’d been able to get herself to this point, to this seat on a train headed to Cornwall, was to not really allow herself to think about what she was doing. Images of Tom, the Beach Café, and all the memories she’d tried to pack away in the cobwebbed shadows of her mind, had started to force their way back and she pictured suddenly, with total clarity, Tom’s parents’ living room. Their old Labrador, Molly, spread out on the floor like a rug after a long walk, mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows, made by Sarah, on the table. Neil and Sarah had been like second parents to Lucy. She’d lost them too when she left – not just Tom. They’d stopped writing eventually after she ignored too many letters.

  The motion of the train beneath her in her safe, comfortable seat as she watched the countryside speed past her window was hypnotically reassuring. Lucy closed her eyes again.

  When she woke, the view had changed dramatically. Lush greens had turned to striking reds and blues. The train appeared almost to be travelling through the water, waves lapping at the tracks on her left. Through the windows on the other side of the train red clay cliffs towered out of sight – it was as if a child had drawn this landscape, the colours were so bold. The train twisted through rocky caves and past Dawlish, a seaside town with crazy-golf courses on the seafront, rundown arcades set back from the road and shops selling holographic windmills and buckets and spades. A couple of families were playing on the beach and elderly couples were dotted around on benches eating cones of chips. It could have been a scene from a hundred years before, Lucy thought. Everyone becomes the same at the seaside, whatever their age, whatever the era, there was something naive and simple about these little towns. Checking her phone, Lucy realised she must have been asleep for almost an hour and she felt better for the rest. Her stomach groaned with hunger and she considered a trip to the buffet, but couldn’t think of anything she might eat. She remembered the few times she’d been on the train in first class before, off to see Claire in London when she still lived in Cornwall, and how she’d try and drink as much free tea and coffee, and eat as many mini packets of biscuits as possible, to make the most of the perks.

  She found Nina in a recent calls list and the call clicked through after the first ring.

  ‘How are you getting on, lovely?’ Nina’s voice made her feel safe all over again, and glad to be just a couple of hours away from seeing her.

  ‘We’re on time,’ Lucy told her, ‘so I’ll be at the station in about two hours. If you’re still okay to come and get me? I can get a cab, honestly.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. I haven’t known what to do with myself all day. I’ll be there to pick you up – I’m too excited!’ Lucy smiled at her friend’s enthusiasm. ‘Kristian’s even insured me on the Audi – you have no idea what a big moment this is!’ Nina continued. ‘It’s his baby, you know, honestly – boys.’ Lucy pictured Nina rolling her eyes with a smile at this.

  ‘I can’t wait to see you either, Nin,’ she said, genuinely. ‘Right, I better get off before people in my carriage get cross with me.’

  Lucy picked up one of her magazines: a hefty, glossy fashion publication, and tried to occupy herself. Her eyes kept being drawn back out of the window, to the seemingly endless views of rhythmic, glistening water. She hadn’t seen the sea in five years, she realised suddenly. It was so beautiful.

  16

  As the train slowed into Bodmin Parkway Lucy spotted Nina standing by a black soft-top Audi in the car park. A wave of understanding of what she was about to do washed over her and she took a deep breath. When the door locks clicked off a bearded man waiting to board the train opened the door by Lucy. ‘Let me get that for you, love,’ he said, lifting her case out of her hands and down onto the platform, smiling.

  ‘Thanks,’ Lucy said, smiling back at his kind, tanned face.

  ‘Luuuuuuuuucy!’ Nina called as she walked towards her, arms outstretched. Lucy hugged her friend and felt her arms vice-like around her sides, squeezing her with real force. ‘I’m so happy you’re here,’ Nina said quietly. ‘Come on, let’s get you in the car, let’s get to Hideaway!’

  Nina flicked through tracks on a Jack Johnson album, speaking over the intro to her chosen track. ‘When in Rome,’ Lucy laughed at the naff selection. This was the kind of music that tourists listened to on their campsites, sat around their fires with guitars, being all ‘Corny-ish’ as they used to call it. Music for the people who’d rock up in Hideaway with hundreds of pounds’ worth of brand-new surf clothes and gear, only to spend their week’s holiday on an old hired body board, too frustrated to continue when they couldn’t stand during their first surf lesson.

  ‘It’s an art,’ Tom used to tell Lucy, ‘and I am a master!’ He had always been beautiful to watch on a surfboard. The boys who’d grown up in the water moved differently to even really good latecomers to the surf. Lucy had tried a few times but wasn’t much good and preferred swimming – but she had loved watching Tom. How many early mornings had she walked down the cliff path, still slippery with morning dew, opened up the Beach Café, made a coffee and taken it outside to sit and watch Tom in the water?

  ‘I’m a better driver than Kristian, anyway,’ Nina said. ‘He thinks he’s better, of course, but he just doesn’t anticipate as well as me.’ Lucy looked at her friend in profile. Nina must have cut her hair since she last saw her – it was just grazing her shoulders now and looked like it had lightened in the sun. She had never seen Nina without a tan and her honeyed skin looked radiant today, with the sun on her.

  ‘You look good,’ Lucy thought out loud.

  ‘Ah, thanks,’ Nina replied. ‘You look thin. But good. You always look good.’ She turned briefly towards Lucy.

/>   ‘I haven’t been too good,’ Lucy conceded, with unusual honesty. ‘I haven’t got an appetite and I can’t face eating anyway,’ she admitted.

  ‘Well,’ Nina said, calmly, assuredly, ‘It’s a good job you’ll be yards away from the finest eateries on Cornwall’s champagne coast, my love. We’ll have you eating crab sandwiches in no time.’

  Lucy watched the roads become familiar and began to recognise even trees as they turned closer and closer to the coast, to Hideaway. With the roof down the smells of green and blue came in bursts of air.

  ‘It’s beautiful here,’ Lucy said, still looking out to her left.

  ‘It sure is,’ Nina agreed, ‘I still miss it. I still love it every time we come home.’ Nina had been home at least twice a year since she and Kristian relocated to Bristol a couple of years ago. They were the most adventurous couple Lucy knew and were always travelling in exotic places, only coming back to the UK to work and save for a long enough to fund their next trip. Nina swung the car around a bend so fast that Lucy instinctively grabbed hold of the armrest and the Hideaway skyline unfolded in front of them. Lucy felt herself gasp involuntarily at the sight of her home town. Keeper’s Island sat centre stage in the expanse of bright-blue water underlined with white-gold sand. The road wound down the hill into the town and Lucy looked on, like a stranger, at the same Spar shop she’d bought penny sweets from when penny sweets really cost a penny, the surf shop with the life-size mermaid model outside and the pasty shop with a snaking queue of sandy, damp tourists through its door.

  ‘It’s pretty much exactly the same, huh?’ Nina remarked, looking at Lucy for a reaction, slowing the car to a snail’s pace. Lucy didn’t reply. She took in all the details: the way the sand from the beach had blown onto the tarmacked streets; the groups of children mesmerised by shiny souvenirs outside the ‘tat shop’, as they’d always called it. They turned another corner and Lucy looked to her right to see Sarah’s and Neil’s café in its proud position on the seafront. It looked new amongst these old shops and restaurants. It had been painted bright white and seemed to hold the sun in its walls, gleaming in the light. On the side facing the street, Lucy read ‘Beach Café’ in a large, italic, tasteful black font. To the back of the café, she could see a large area of light, driftwood-coloured decking stretching out towards the water. It looked almost nothing like she remembered – if it had landed in another town she wouldn’t have recognised it at all.

  ‘Ah, yes, now that does look a little different. Tom’s done a lot of work on the place,’ Nina said. ‘He’s gutted the inside too – it’s really something. I couldn’t believe it when I first saw it.’

  ‘When was this?’ Lucy asked, still staring at the café as it disappeared out of sight behind them.

  ‘Couple of years ago now, I guess. Maybe more, actually,’ Nina replied. ‘I’ll let him show you properly.’

  Outside Tom’s parents’ house, Nina lent from the car and pressed the intercom at the gate. ‘It’s us,’ she said to the metal box, which crackled in response. It buzzed and the gate began to draw open. Driving up towards the house, Lucy’s heart began to race again at the prospect of seeing Tom.

  ‘Five years, huh?’ Nina said quietly, anticipating Lucy’s thoughts.

  ‘Yeah,’ Lucy replied, her voice trailing into silence. The car stopped in the driveway – you couldn’t really call it parking, the way Nina did it. The front door of the large Georgian property opened and Tom stood there, smiling at them, at Lucy. The sight of him made Lucy’s stomach loop, her skin fizz. She smiled back at him without making any move to get out of the car. He was tanned, really tanned, and bigger than she remembered. He’d always had a surfer’s physique, slim and toned, but he appeared to have broadened out at the shoulders and his arms bulged beyond the arms of his t-shirt. His dark hair was as messy as she remembered it, and he pushed it out of his eyes as he walked towards her, still sitting in the car. Nina made her way inside and Tom stood at her door, opening it for her.

  ‘Luce,’ he said, almost like a question, ‘I’m so glad you came.’

  ‘Of course, yep, great, good to see you,’ Lucy said, too fast, realising she was still just sitting there like an idiot. Nina was already through the front door, calling to Kristian. She unclipped her seat belt clumsily and stepped out of the car. She didn’t know how to greet Tom. Did they hug? Shake hands? He was the most familiar stranger she’d ever seen. Before she could decide what to do, Tom walked to the boot and took her case.

  ‘I’ll take you to your room,’ he said, walking now in front of Lucy, towards the house. She followed him, stepping in through the front door before she was hit by the unique smell of his parents’ house. It had always smelt like this, of washing powder and sunshine, and grass, Lucy thought. Tom took the staircase and Lucy trailed behind him, running her hand up the twisting wooden banister, remembering the feel of it on her skin. At the top of the stairs, Tom led them down the corridor to the larger bedrooms of the six-bed house.

  ‘Nina and Kristian are in there,’ he said, gesturing to his right, ‘and you’re in here – is that okay?’ He swung the door ahead of them open onto what Lucy recalled as the nicest bedroom in the house. It was as white as a room could be and at the far end the French windows opened onto a balcony from which, Lucy remembered, you could see the sea. It was the balcony they had sat on many summer evenings during regatta week, watching fireworks, wrapped in blankets, drinking red wine. Kissing. Did he remember that?

  ‘It’s amazing – are you sure?’ Lucy spun back towards Tom. ‘I thought we’d be in the pool house?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, no, my parents are away until October – we’ve got the whole place,’ Tom replied. ‘They’ve had enough of summer here, worked too many of them, I guess. They go to France for four months a year now, bought an old farmhouse that they did up.’ Tom stopped himself now, and looked, was it slightly embarrassed, Lucy wondered?

  ‘How lovely,’ she said, quietly. ‘I’d have loved to see them, though.’ And she meant it. She’d imagined sitting with Sarah and Neil drinking champagne in the evenings, just like they used to.

  ‘I’ll let you settle in a bit,’ Tom said. ‘Bathroom’s just through there, you probably remember.’ He pointed to the en suite. He walked away towards the door and stopped, turning back to Lucy, who hadn’t taken her eyes off his back. ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘Thank you for being here.’

  Lucy made her way in to the garden, where the group was sitting around a large wicker table in the garden, reading papers and drinking coffee from a cafetière. Kristian got to his feet at the sight of her and swooped her into a hug when she reached them. ‘Haven’t seen you in forever!’ he exclaimed. ‘How you doing, Luce?’ he asked. ‘I’m okay, thanks,’ Lucy smiled. She figured Nina would have explained what had happened in London and she didn’t feel like going through it all now. She took a seat next to Nina, opposite Tom, who looked up at her from his paper and smiled. Putting his coffee down, he spoke loudly, addressing the group.

  ‘So, what’s the plan, guys?’ he asked, waiting for a response.

  ‘Was kind of hoping you had that covered’ Nina replied, elbowing him. ‘This was your idea, remember?’

  ‘I just wanted a summer with all my oldest friends,’ Tom said, ‘and here you are. It’s brilliant.’ Lucy poured herself a cup of coffee and looked out at the view. From this elevated section leading out from the kitchen you could look down across the rest of the garden. The pool at the bottom glimmered in the late-afternoon light. The view of the sea was stunning. Lucy watched speck-sized boats bobbing across the water; a plane drifting white lines across the sky. The scent of jasmine lifted from the flowerbeds below them. Lucy closed her eyes, feeling the sun on her skin.

  ‘I’ve got four weeks before I need to be back in London,’ she said, to no one in particular. ‘My sister’s friend leaves my flat then and I’ll need to go back and find a job.’

  The thought of looking for a new job gave her a quick stab of pa
nic, which Lucy tried to ignore.

  ‘Well, we’ve got as long as you’ll have us,’ Nina chipped in. ‘Our place is under offer. The sale should go through next week, so we are officially homeless,’ she grinned in Kristian’s direction.

  ‘Will you stay in Bristol?’ Tom asked. ‘Or maybe I can convince you to come back here,’ he jabbed Nina this time and she flinched.

  ‘We’ll see what happens with my job’ Kristian replied, stretching back in his chair, stroking his blonde hair off his face.

  ‘They’ll make him permanent if he wants,’ Nina rolled her eyes. ‘He’s just too stubborn to ask – he wants them to ask him first,’ she laughed. Kristian had been working on short contracts for a management consultancy firm in Bristol. It paid enough to buy him and Nina a house and an Audi, while allowing them the flexibility of months off at a time to go travelling – a sweet deal by anyone’s standards.

  ‘Are you working, Tom?’ Lucy asked. ‘In the café?’

  ‘Sure am,’ he replied, ‘but I’ve got most days covered for the next few weeks, so I’m all yours.’

  Lucy took a sip of coffee and flicked through the stack of papers on the table, looking for a magazine.

  ‘Great,’ she said, almost looking at Tom, ‘I can’t wait to see it properly. We drove past and it looks fantastic.’

  ‘I’ll take you down there later,’ he said. ‘You can meet Tara.’

  17

  The afternoon had seen them slot back immediately into their easy dynamic as a foursome. It was so much like old times, so quickly, that it had really taken Lucy by surprise. Nina and Kristian still bickered and Tom still tried to catch her gaze as they did, smirking a little at their spats. Lucy, however, had barely been able to meet Tom’s eyes. When he wasn’t looking at her, she watched him. His mannerisms hadn’t changed: his laugh was the same, the way his head went back as he grinned. He was definitely more gorgeous than she’d remembered, which she could’ve done without. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to her that he was still just Tom, and yet it was.