by Zoe Cook
‘Are you okay to stay with the stuff for a while? I won’t be long, my stamina’s not what it used to be.’ Nina draped the back of her hand over her forehead melodramatically as she said this and then grinned at Lucy.
‘No problem,’ Lucy said, unfolding the pink beach towel from her back and laying it on the sand. ‘I’m just going to chill here and read some trash.’ She pulled Just Life magazine from her bag, picked up en route from the shop where she’d once felt huge achievement when buying Marlboro Lights as a fourteen-year-old.
‘Wow, that is some serious trash you’ve got there,’ Nina barely concealed the disdain on her face.
‘Enjoy the water!’ Lucy called, as Nina headed towards the waves.
The beach was busy but Lucy had the relatively secluded corner almost to herself as she made herself comfortable on her towel. She reached for her magazine and looked at the cover with renewed embarrassment at having bought such junk. It always made her laugh how these boldly coloured, big-fonted, inanely grinning magazines were festooned with such horrible headlines. ‘Sexually assaulted by my dog’, ‘I married my husband’s killer’, and ‘My rosy cheeks were cancer’, blurted the cover – ‘that’s Just Life’ the title seemed to cheeringly shrug back, ridiculously.
The sun was high in the sky, and it was almost lunchtime now. Lucy had spent so long pottering around her room getting ready aimlessly. She found the pain au chocolat she had bought fresh from the oven in the bakery and took a big bite as she flicked through the magazine. She pulled off her top and wriggled out of her shorts, as she felt herself beginning to overheat in the sun. Finishing her pastry, she tossed the wrapper into her bag and reclined fully on the towel, holding the magazine to block the sun from her eyes.
‘Luce… Luce?’ it was Tom’s voice calling her as she opened her eyes in a panic about where she was.
‘Sorry to wake you up,’ he said, leaning towards her and casting a shadow over her body. This handily blocked the sun’s harsh light and allowed her eyes to focus.
‘I must’ve fallen asleep,’ she said – rather stupidly, she thought. That’s pretty obvious.
‘I’ve got someone here to meet you,’ Tom said, stepping to the side, and Lucy became aware of a tall, slim, blonde girl now leaning over her where he had been. ‘This is Tara,’ Tom said cheerfully.
The girl held out her hand in Lucy’s direction as Lucy pulled herself up, cursing internally at having fallen asleep in public. As she leant to meet Tara’s hand, Tara pulled away from her suddenly
‘Oh, you’ve just got something…’ she rubbed an imaginary something away from the corner of her mouth and Lucy rushed to mirror her, looking at her hand and seeing chocolate. She brushed it off onto her bikini, leaving a horrible dirty mark.
‘That’s it, got it,’ Tara said, shaking the non-chocolate-coated hand now and smiling at her with what Lucy took to be pity. Tara was absolutely, sickeningly, undisputedly gorgeous. She had that kind of blonde hair that looked good just twisted up into a messy bun, and her skin looked how Lucy always wished hers would look after a fake tan, and which it never did. Her big almond eyes were flicking up and down Lucy’s pale body and she felt immediately vulnerable and mortified, overcome suddenly with a wave of hatred for this smug stranger hanging around with Tom.
‘Nice to meet you,’ she smiled in what she hoped was a convincing way and pulled her t-shirt over her stomach defensively.
‘Tara’s the café supervisor. She’s the real reason we’re doing so well.’ Tom nudged Tara as she pretended to blush. Lucy groaned inwardly. Such a fake.
‘What are you reading?’ Tara leant down to pick up the magazine at Lucy’s side and she had to stop herself physically restraining her. ‘Nothing,’ Lucy insisted, too fast, and too loud. What a twat I am.
‘Just Life, wow. I haven’t seen this in a long time – can’t believe people read this stuff!’ Tara stopped herself ‘Sorry, I mean, it’s just not my sort of thing,’ she continued cheerfully.
Lucy couldn’t have hated herself or Tara much more in that moment and could think of nothing to say.
‘Well, we’d better get back to the café. Nina mentioned you were coming down so I just wanted you two ladies to meet,’ Tom said, smiling at each of them. ‘I knew I’d find you tucked away here in this corner.’
‘I’ve heard lots about you,’ Tara interrupted, inanely, Lucy thought. There is no sensible response to that phrase.
‘Mmhmm,’ she replied, like a moron. ‘Nice to meet you too.’ She felt a bead of sweat run down her cheek and over her lip. Brilliant.
‘See you later on, Luce,’ Tom called.
Lucy watched as they walked away and saw Tara loop her arm in Tom’s, a sight that made her heart thud into her stomach. She dabbed at her face with her top and realised just how sweaty she was. She recalled the chocolate around her mouth and painted a picture in her own mind of a hideous wet, red face with brown stains around her lips and could have screamed with humiliation at the thought. As a thousand nasty thoughts forced their way in and tumbled around her mind she felt something like horror at the memory of how she’d wanted Tom to kiss her last night, how she’d almost allowed herself to think that he might. What a total fool. She wanted to cry. He’s moved on, he has a girlfriend, I am such an idiot. Thinking I can just come back here and pick up some childhood romance. She still had her head in her hands when Nina returned, dripping and salty.
‘You okay?’ she asked.
‘I just met Tara,’ Lucy explained.
‘I don’t think I’d assume it was poo if I saw a brown smudge on your face,’ Nina pondered seriously after Lucy explained what had happened.
‘How and, more importantly, why, would you have poo on your face? It was obviously chocolate,’ she reassured.
‘Actually, my friend did once walk around with poo on his face for a morning, but that was because of some dodgy night he’d had when he met a guy off some app, got off his face on drugs, did God knows what, and headed home the next morning without looking in the mirror. But I don’t think that’s a normal situation.’
The casual way Nina reeled off this story left Lucy speechless, but slightly less embarrassed at her own misfortune at least.
‘Um, thanks!’ she laughed.
‘Anyway, I don’t care that Tom has a girlfriend – it’s absolutely fine,’ she insisted. ‘It was just a surprise.’
‘Oh come off it,’ Nina looked her straight in the eyes. ‘You are literally never going to be totally fine about Tom having a girlfriend – we all know that. He was your first love. It’s fine not to be fine with it.’
‘So she is his girlfriend?’ Lucy replied, without looking at Nina, her heart beating fast.
‘Actually, no, I don’t think so,’ Nina answered. ‘They’re really good friends, but I don’t think there’s anything more to it.’
Lucy remembered the way Tara had slipped her hand through Tom’s arm and silently disagreed with Nina. If there’s not something going on already, she wishes there was.
‘I’ve heard so much about you,’ Lucy mimicked in a bimbo voice out loud, without thinking about it,
‘Oh yeah, you’re totally fine with it, Luce, that’s really clear,’ Nina rolled her eyes and Lucy rolled her eyes back even wider.
‘I’m going into the sea – your turn to look after the stuff,’ Lucy said. She momentarily considered taking Nina’s surfboard but figured there was only one direction her limited surfing ability could have gone in her six years out of the water and decided she’d swim instead.
‘Swim away the tension!’ Nina called. ‘Deep breaths, poo-mouth!’ She laughed loudly at her own joke and Lucy couldn’t help laughing too as she headed for the water.
19
At the house, Lucy blow-dried her hair and straightened it with her GHDs. She’d forgotten how invigorating it was coming out of the sea into the sun and how glorious a long, hot shower felt after a day in the water. She applied a bit of bronzer on her slightly sun-kissed
skin and swept some mascara over her lashes, pulling on a pair of leggings and a long gold top. She dialed Claire’s number and went outside onto her balcony to speak to her sister.
‘Lucy, it’s so nice to hear from you, how are you?’ It was good to hear Claire’s voice.
‘I’m good thanks, really good,’ Lucy replied. She told Claire about her first few days in Cornwall and Claire asked whether she was taking care of herself, whether she was eating.
‘And how is Tom?’ Claire asked, trying to sound nonchalant, Lucy thought.
‘He’s good,’ Lucy told her. ‘He’s transformed the café. It’s amazing and it’s good to see him.’
‘I heard about the café,’ Claire told her. ‘You remember my friend Charlie who’s still down there? He told me it’s the place to hang out on the North Coast these days. Who knew our home town would become a hotspot, hey?’
‘Yeah,’ Lucy replied, ‘he’s done something special with it – it’s pretty impressive.’ ‘And how does it feel to be back down there, with him?’ Claire enquired, gently.
‘It’s nice,’ Lucy answered truthfully. ‘It doesn’t feel nearly as strange as I thought it would. I’ve hardly thought about London. How is my flat, actually?’
‘It’s all fine here. Nothing for you to worry about at all. Tim’s popping over there tonight to see how Anna’s getting on, actually.’
‘Okay, that’s great. I suppose I’d better get going,’ Lucy said. She could hear music playing, and pots and pans crashing around in the kitchen downstairs. They were cooking together this evening.
‘Okay, Luce. Well I’m really really glad that you’re okay down there,’ Claire sounded a bit emotional. ‘Do you think you’ll go and see Mum and Dad, and Richie?’ she asked.
‘I… I don’t know, I guess so,’ Lucy felt panic rising at the thought of it. ‘I’ve got to go now.’
‘Okay. I understand it’s difficult, but you should go,’ Claire said. ‘It’s been a really long time. You should see them.’
‘Knock knock,’ Tom poked his head around Lucy’s door with a smile.
‘Hey,’ she replied, putting her phone down, ‘You okay?’
‘I’m great,’ he said, walking over to her and opening the balcony door. ‘Have you checked out this view recently? Still special, huh?’
‘It certainly is,’ Lucy said, standing to join him in the fresh, sunny air. ‘I’d forgotten how beautiful it is down here.’
‘It’s why I never wanted to leave,’ Tom replied, looking straight ahead and smiling. ‘I bet you still disagree with that, though.’ He looked at her with a cheeky smile.
‘I don’t know any more,’ she replied. ‘You seem really happy, the café is amazing, so successful, and you live in an incredible house,’ she paused, considering her next words. ‘You’ve got a gorgeous girlfriend. Looks like it’s all worked out pretty well for you, to be honest.’
‘And you’ve had an amazing career in London,’ Tom replied, ignoring her girlfriend comment and confirming her fears. ‘Nina’s told me bits and pieces over the years. It sounds like you’ve lived quite a life up there.’
‘Yeah, if you mean screenings and parties and all that, then yes, I guess so,’ she said, slightly annoyed by his naivete. She wondered how sincere he was, as she knew he’d have hated all that and probably thought it was all pretty silly.
‘I loved my job – in lots of ways,’ she said, feeling defensive. ‘And I’ve got brilliant friends up there. I had a lot of fun.’
‘But there’s something missing,’ Tom said, as a statement, as if he was so certain.
‘What do you mean?’ Lucy asked, looking at him. His face was thoughtful.
‘Well, for all of that, it didn’t make you happy, did it?’
‘It did in some ways,’ Lucy said, trying to sound convincing.
‘Not in the important ways, though, maybe,’ Tom offered, smiling at her again now, trying to be nice.
‘I don’t know. I’m sick of analysing it all, to be honest,’ Lucy said, with a sigh. ‘And I’m sick of feeling like I’ve messed everything up.’
‘Well, you’re here now and you can’t mess this up,’ Tom said. ‘A summer with the four of us all together can only be a good thing.’
‘Yeah,’ Lucy agreed, remembering him and Tara and her heart sinking slightly.
‘I don’t want this to be awkward for you,’ Tom said. Lucy didn’t really know what he meant. Him having a girlfriend? How bloody embarrassing. And yes, it’s pretty awkward, so thanks a lot, she thought.
‘There’s no issue, Tom,’ she lied. ‘I came down here for a break, for a few weeks away from London – with my friends. There’s nothing more to it. So don’t worry.’
‘Okay,’ Tom said, and he may as well have put his hands up in an ‘okay, sorry I mentioned it’ kind of way as he made his way back in to her room and towards her door.
Lucy wondered how he managed to make her feel so stupid by being so nice to her. He’d always had this power over her – he was so stable and steady and confident. It sometimes made her feel like a total mess in comparison. And now here he was being the bigger person, doing the right thing and clearing the air before she could embarrass herself any further by getting silly ideas about him still harbouring any feels for her. She watched him leave her room and wondered whether this whole trip was such a good idea after all.
Tom stopped in the doorway and looked back. ‘I meant to ask,’ he said, ‘if you want to go and see your family, I can come with you. If that would help.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘I don’t think I can face it, but thanks.’
‘Okay,’ Tom said, looking resigned. ‘The offer’s there. Maybe you could think about it.’
20
Despite spending the following days trying to put thoughts of them out of her mind, keeping herself busy drinking wine, eating fish and chips and attempting to swim all the extra calories off, Lucy hadn’t been able to shake the thought of her parents, of Richie. She’d woken this morning at 6am, unable to get back to sleep after another vivid nightmare about them all being stranded at sea together. Her mouth was bone dry and she had tears in her eyes; she realised it might be a better idea to just go and face them.
Once it was no longer too early to make a sound she left her room and went downstairs, creeping as quietly as she could out of the front door. There weren’t really any solid plans for the day ahead. There had been loose talk of a beach day and a barbecue in the evening, but she wouldn’t be missed for a few hours. She closed the door behind her and took the winding path down to the town, the morning air crisp on her face. The town was almost deserted at this early hour; the bakery’s door was open, puffing out the smell of freshly baked bread and pastries, and people were pulling tables and chairs outside their cafés – but there were hardly any civilians up and about, apart from a couple of young dads who seemed to have been woken early by their kids and had brought them down the seafront for croissants and papers.
Lucy decided to walk the forty-minute journey rather than waiting for a bus. It was uphill and exhaustingly steep in parts, but the focus of her footsteps helped to keep her mind steady. The scent of the pink and lilac hyacinths she’d bought for her mum drifted in and out of her consciousness. Each time it took her back to her childhood home and the white vase her mum had always filled with hyacinths, her favourite flowers, in the lounge. She could hear her mum laughing, see her walking into the room with Richie in her arms. At the church, Lucy walked through the mossy, green and grey graveyard to her family’s plot and read the three little names engraved in stone – Sandra, Steven and Richard Templeton.
Richie would’ve been sixteen this year, she thought. She put the flowers down and sat herself on the grass – at a complete loss. She should have come more often, she knew this, but she’d never been able to stand this place. It was so grey and stern and formal, and so unlike her family had been. Had she imagined her childhood into a fantasy of laughter and happiness with too much ti
me and hindsight? She remembered how warm and loved she had felt as a girl, how much her parents had given them all, not just the big house and exotic holidays, but so much love and attention. Even her dad, who worked away so often, had doted on them as children, all of them, but especially Richie – his much-longed-for little boy.
The summer of the accident had been the happiest of Lucy’s life and it had hit her like a tsunami of sorrow. She remembered Sarah holding her hand as they waited for news in the depressing little room at the hospital. How she’d held out a tissue when the doctor explained that not one of them had survived. Lucy remembered the room spinning as she took in those words, Sarah’s grip on her the only thing that held her there and stopped her being sucked into the spinning nightmare and lost forever. The doctor had explained that they wouldn’t have suffered, that it was all so very quick. That it would have been painless. And Lucy had wanted to believe him, but a part of her just didn’t. Wasn’t that just what doctors said to you about these things?
It had taken so long for the details to come out and half of what they learned came from the papers in the end. The local and national media had had a field day with the tragedy. They lapped up the picturesque setting, the glamorous family out on their boat, the fact her dad had been drinking. It felt like it went on and on – each time she caught a report on the TV or an article in the paper it had hit her all over again. And so much of it had been so wrong, or at least so misleading. Her dad wasn’t a drinker – he’d had a couple of beers on the boat that afternoon. He could have legally driven them home. It transpired eventually that it was a ‘freak incident’, that they’d probably hit a wave at a bad moment, at too high a speed and whilst making too sharp a turn. It was a series of shitty judgement calls that led to a random catastrophe. Her mum and Richie had been thrown from the boat and her dad had jumped in to try and save them. Witnesses to the scene reported seeing the boat looping around them, in a tighter and tighter circle, until it struck them. There was nothing anyone could have done. It was a ‘tragic accident’, but that wasn’t as exciting as suggesting it was somehow her dad’s fault, that he’d been boozing at the wheel, and that he’d caused it all with negligence. Knowing the sensationalised reports were wrong didn’t help Lucy at the time – each one hurt her to the core.
