by Zoe Cook
‘Did you see something?’ she asked, confused.
‘No, no, I thought I saw someone I knew, but it wasn’t them. I’m always doing it.’ Tara tried to laugh, but it shook slightly. Lucy decided not to pry. She’d speak to Nina about it later. Maybe there was something she didn’t know about Tara. Given what Annabel had said about her in the shop, it seemed that there was a back story that Lucy was not aware of. She knew from her own experience that there are some things not to drag up without being invited to, so she let it go for now.
When they reached the harbour side, Lucy looked around for Louie. She’d known him since she was a girl, working in the café the first time around. He used to come in every day for a bacon sandwich and a ‘proper coffee’, to take out on his glass bottom boat with him. He was a nice guy, Lucy remembered, a proper salt-of-the-earth Cornishman, but one with a real business brain. He’d started with just one boat, as a teenager straight from school, and was now the owner and manager of a fleet of eight that sailed from the harbour each day, for fishing trips, dolphin-spotting and glass- bottom boat rides.
Tara had been so excited when Lucy had suggested they take a trip over to Keeper’s Island, which had taken Lucy by surprise. In fact, it had taken Lucy by surprise that she’d asked Tara to take the trip with her in the first place. Nina had pressed Lucy on what she made of the situation, but the truth was, she liked Tara, it was that simple. And as long as they steered clear of the topic of Tom, something they seemed to have silently, mutually, agreed, they got on really well.
Louie was helping customers into the boat as they joined the small queue at the ‘Princess of the Seas’, their vessel for the evening. The sunset glass-bottom boat tour didn’t promise much in the way of spectacular sea life, given that the light was going, but it would take them to Keeper’s Island.
‘Evening, girls,’ Louie took Lucy’s hand, helping her into the boat.
‘Hey, Louie,’ she smiled at him. He looked so much older than she’d remembered, but then she figured she probably did to him too.
‘This is Tara,’ she looked back at Tara as she struggled with her footing, giggling and reaching for Louie’s arm.
‘I know Louie,’ Tara said. ‘He’s in every day.’
‘Never thought I’d get her out on one of the boats,’ Louie said, looking slightly bemused by Tara’s total lack of coordination. ‘You said you were scared of the water.’
Tara looked embarrassed as Lucy walked back over to try to help her from the boat, offering her arm, which Tara took, nearly pushing them both to the floor as she finally landed on the deck.
‘Not scared, exactly,’ she said, to Lucy rather than Louie. ‘More, concerned.’
‘Well, never mind, here you are,’ Louie said, scanning the harbour for any stragglers before doing a final head count. ‘Think we’ve got everyone.’
Lucy and Tara found a spot at the back of the boat. The tour couldn’t have been even half-full, there was so much space.
As the boat pulled away from the harbour, Lucy watched the town turn first into a picture postcard of itself, and then eventually just a cluster of warm lights. The boat could really move. Her hair blew in the wind, and a slight spray of salt water hit her face when they clipped tiny, choppy waves. It felt exhilarating. Looking over at Tara, Lucy felt like a girl of fourteen again, on her first trip over to Keeper’s Island. She’d gone with her family, all of them, on a rare weekend when her dad was home. Her mum had packed a picnic and they’d taken their own boat over. It had been a brilliant, sun-shining, happy day.
‘How are Nina and Kristian getting on with their house hunt?’ Tara asked, bringing Lucy back to reality. They’d gone to Bristol yesterday to look at a couple of places, and Lucy realised now that she hadn’t heard from Nina yet about how they were getting on.
‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘There was one they were really keen on, so hopefully that’s gone well. I ought to call her later.’
‘So grown up,’ Tara said loudly, over the sound of the wind and the engine. ‘Buying a proper family home. They’re a really good couple, aren’t they?’
Lucy found it a strange way to describe her friends. They’d been together almost as long as she’d known them, but their relationship had certainly not started out with great promise of becoming a real love story. She thought about the endless nights she’d spent counseling Nina about it all, listening to their ridiculous arguments and watching them dramatically make up again – so many times.
‘I guess they are,’ she smiled out at the sea. ‘They certainly think the world of each other. I don’t think anyone else could put up with either of them, so thank goodness they’ve got each other.’
Tara spent the rest of the boat journey talking to Louie about his dog, Minty, a beautiful border collie that went everywhere with him. He was sound asleep by the wheel and Louie rubbed him with his foot as he steered. ‘Love of my life,’ he said to Tara. ‘Never met a woman as loyal,’ he laughed.
‘What about Susan?’ Tara asked. ‘I thought there were was something going on there.’
‘God she’s nosey, this one,’ Louie rolled his eyes for Lucy’s benefit. ‘Bet she’s grilled you non-stop since you got back, hasn’t she?’
Lucy smiled, feeling slightly awkward.
‘I’m not nosey. I’m interested,’ Tara clarified. ‘There’s a difference.’
‘If you say so,’ Louie replied, looking like he’d had enough of the conversation, and of Tara, possibly.
‘Here we are, ladies and gentlemen,’ he announced to the group spread around the boat. ‘Keeper’s Island. If I can have everyone back on board in an hour that’d be grand.’
The island’s landing spot was an idyllic-looking sandy beach. Lucy and Tara walked through the shallows to the shore from the boat, Tara shrieking slightly as the water splashed at the backs of her legs.
‘Are you really scared of water?’ Lucy asked – it certainly looked that way to her.
‘Only a bit,’ Tara said, definitely embarrassed. ‘I know it’s stupid, I’ve just never been around the sea much, until now, obviously, and it’s so bloody big.’
It wasn’t stupid, Lucy conceded. She knew only too well how scary, how dangerous the water could be. Somehow, what had happened to her family had never put her off the water. If anything, in a twisted way, it had made her feel even more in awe of its power.
She held her arm out to Tara, who took it gratefully, as they made their way on to the still-warm sand. The peace of the island was startling. Birds called loudly from the trees and unidentifiable squeaks sounded from hedgerows, but there was no buzz of streetlights, no hum of industrial fridges, no chatter of tourists – it was blissful. Not wanting to spoil it, Lucy and Tara walked in silence for a while, losing the rest of the group quickly, as they took a turn into a more densely forested area. Evening light dappled through the trees, illuminating clouds of gnats that they batted away as they walked.
‘It’s just up here, I think,’ Lucy said, somewhat uncertainly.
‘Ah, yes, here, here it is,’ she said, as the incline began to level off and she recognised the pair of trees that framed the view ahead of them, the finest view of Hideaway Bay. The sight was breathtaking.
‘Oh my God,’ Tara whispered. ‘This is stunning.’
‘Yeah, it really is, isn’t it?’ Lucy agreed.
Stretching out before them the sea glistened and glimmered with orange sparks, and on the horizon the town glittered with street and shop lights, the beach speckled now with freshly lit campfires.
‘This is what I wanted to show you,’ she looked at Tara, who was still totally transfixed by the scene before her.
‘It’s amazing, Lucy, thanks so much for bringing me. I love it,’ Tara’s face was lit by the disappearing, golden sun and she looked beautiful.
‘No problem’ Lucy said, looking back out to the sea. There were a few figures down by the landing spot, congregating for the journey home. The breeze was carrying random words
up the hill to where they sat.
‘Oh and look,’ Tara was on her feet walking over to one of the two huge oak trees that bookended the viewpoint. ‘It’s covered in engravings.’ She stretched a hand out as she reached the tree, tracing letters with her fingers.
‘It’s the finders keepers tree’ Lucy called over from where she sat, watching Tara looking from initial to initial, boxily carved heart to clumsy ampersand.
‘It’s amazing’ Tara said. ‘Some of these are really old, they’re dated.’
‘From World War One,’ Lucy confirmed. ‘That’s when the tradition started, when the men started going to war. Couples came over here and carved their names, for posterity I suppose. To make their mark on the world before they were separated.’
Every inch of the tree was covered in carvings, so many more than when Lucy was last here.
‘I just want to know all their stories, what happened to them all,’ Tara continued, dreamily. ‘Look, J&R 1920 – what happened to them?’ she asked, as if Lucy might know.
‘It’s supposed to bring good luck to the couple’ Lucy said, walking over to join Tara, taking in the carvings at close range now. Tara was right – it was a beautiful oddity.
‘I think we need to make a move,’ Lucy said, glancing at her phone for the time. She had a missed call from a London number.
‘Okay,’ Tara said, keeping her hand on the tree until the last possible moment, as if being drawn to it by some magnetic force.
‘I just love it,’ she said, by way of explanation. ‘I think it’s utterly beautiful. I’m going to come and engrave my initials here some day.’ She stopped, as if she’d said too much.
Lucy watched her finally pull away from the tree. If Tara had just run her hand a little lower, down towards the back of the trunk, she’d have found a tiny L&T, scribed with a compass one blowy, autumnal afternoon when they should’ve been at sixth form. It didn’t bring us much luck, Lucy thought.
The temperature had dropped significantly for their crossing back to Hideaway. Tara looked freezing in her little green dress and Lucy pulled her cardigan tightly around her legs, trying to trap some heat. She had to call Nina, she remembered, to find out how the house-hunting had gone and whether they were back tonight or tomorrow. She took her phone from her bag, remembering the missed call.
‘I just need to phone someone,’ she said to Tara, stepping away to an empty area. Minty was spread-eagled on the boards beside her. She hit ‘call’ and listened to the ringtone give way to a long beep and a voicemail message
‘Hi, this is Lydia Pearce, Office Manager at Spectrum Media. I can’t take your call right now, but if you leave a message I’ll get…’
‘Hello?’ the voice took Lucy by surprise.
‘Hello,’ she replied. ‘It’s Lucy, Lucy Robertson. I had a missed call.’
‘Lucy, hi! It’s Lydia. I thought it might be you calling me back. Did you get my message?’
‘No,’ Lucy replied. ‘I just saw your call. I didn’t recognise the number.’
Lydia laughed, ‘It’s not been that long, has it? Look, Lucy, I know Warren’s already given you the head’s up on this. Emma wants you to come back. She’s asked me to make it happen. All is forgiven, would you believe? You are quite the exception, let me tell you.’
Lucy pictured Lydia, sitting there working late like she did almost every night. She was nice enough, but had that edge of bitterness that some of the older, single women working in TV had about them; that ever-present capacity for casual nastiness to the younger girls.
‘That’s a surprise,’ Lucy said. ‘I thought Warren had probably got it mixed up somewhere along the line.’
‘Apparently not,’ Lydia said, sounding bored now.
‘So?’ she waited for Lucy’s reply.
‘I don’t really know what to say,’ Lucy said meekly. ‘Can I think about it and call you back?’
Lydia made a slightly theatrical spluttering sound. ‘Okay, Lucy, that’s fine. But I seriously wouldn’t push it, if you know what I mean. You are incredibly lucky she’s giving you another chance. It’s only because she can’t find another assistant.’ She paused, registering what she’d said. ‘I mean, look, no offence, but I thought we’d seen the last of you. I think this is one hell of an opportunity, if you’re serious about making it in the industry. She can make your name mud, you know. You won’t get another job, not anywhere decent.’
Lucy knew she was right. It was why she’d been dragging her heels about looking for a new position; the minute they checked her references it would all come out. It was such a small bloody world, run on boozy lunches and the exchange of gossip.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I’ll call you in the morning. Thanks, Lydia, I really appreciate it.’
‘Okay, then, I’ll speak to you tomorrow. I’m not going to tell Emma we spoke tonight, alright? Just call me tomorrow and accept the job, and be grateful, and come back like none of that mess ever happened. Capiche?’
Lucy cringed at Lydia’s vocabulary. ‘Got it, Lydia,’ she replied. ‘I’ll speak to you in the morning.’
31
‘I take it they decided to stay another night?’ Lucy said to Tom as she walked into the kitchen, still in her dressing gown.
‘Yeah, they’re on their way back from Bristol now, but the traffic’s going to be shocking. What are you up to today?’
‘Not much. Warren and Charlie are arriving after lunch so I’m not really doing anything this morning.’ She paused. ‘Hang on, was this a trap? If I say “nothing” are you going to ask me to work?’
‘Nope, if you say “nothing”, I’m going to take you surfing.’
‘Have you forgotten how bad I am?’ Lucy asked, pouring orange juice into two glasses and passing one to Tom.
‘Absolutely not. That’s why you need to be taken out by someone as gifted as me.’ He handed Lucy an apple, which dribbled juice down her chin as she took a bite.
‘Here, let me,’ Tom wiped her face with his thumb, and she didn’t know where to look as he stood so close to her. She felt relief when he stepped back again.
‘So what do you say?’ Tom said, wiping his hand on his neon board shorts.
‘Sure,’ Lucy replied. ‘I’d love to. I could use the exercise.’
Lucy carried Nina’s board under her arm as they walked to the beach, wetsuits unzipped to their chests. Sweat trickled down Lucy’s chest.
‘So what’s going on with your flat?’ Tom asked
‘Oh, Claire’s friend, well, Tim’s friend –’
‘Claire’s husband, right?’
‘Yeah, his friend Anna. She’s staying there for another few days, then she’s back to Manchester. It’s not my flat, really. I only rent it. It’s really nice’
‘I thought everyone in London shared big overcrowded houses these days?’
‘What, like Oliver Twist, you mean? Yeah, it’s a lot like that. You have been to London, Tom. Don’t try the Cornish bumpkin act with me,’ she laughed. He was winding her up.
‘No, it’s cool, I’m just jealous. Sounds much more exciting than life down here. Bit of a change of pace coming back, I should think.’
‘Yep,’ Lucy replied. With the morning sun on her skin, her hair scraped back into a high ponytail and her feet on the sandy grass track down to the beach, she couldn’t help thinking this pace was much more like it.
‘If you sold the house you could buy a flat, right?’ Tom said, stopping to the side to let her go ahead of him where the track narrowed.
‘Yeah, I could’ she agreed. ‘Claire and I, we haven’t spoken about it in a long, long time. She doesn’t need the money and I guess it would mean sorting out the last boxes of things – all that messy stuff we never got around to.’
‘It must cost you, though, to keep it there, empty, all secured and alarmed and whatever?’ Lucy hadn’t really thought about it. ‘Claire looks after it all,’ she said, feeling childish.
‘I think the last person who tried to buy it
wanted to convert it into a hotel,’ she said as they reached the beach. ‘Like this place needs more of those – it’s overrun with tourists as it is.’
The beach was already filling up: garish windbreaks lined up across the sand, families marking their territory for the day.
‘It’s good for me, for business, I mean,’ Tom said. ‘My parents had some rough summers before I took over. We came pretty close to closing down.’
Lucy had wondered, when she was in London, how it was going down here for Tom’s family. Nina had never been great at the details, but she’d got the gist that things were tough a few years back. In fact, she’d just never got the memo that they’d turned around so dramatically. She felt guilty that she’d not been there for Tom when it was hard – never even called him. After everything they’d been through before she left, it suddenly seemed almost perverse to her that they’d stopped talking at all.
In the water Lucy found herself even worse on her board than she’d imagined. Tom was struggling not to laugh at her attempts at standing up. She was useless.
‘Oh stop it!’ she shouted at Tom, catching his grin.
‘It’s cute!’ he shouted back.
‘You patronising prat!’ she yelled back, taking a mouth of sea water at the same time.
‘Come over here,’ he called to her. She paddled over to where he was sitting on his board watching her embarrass herself. She heaved herself onto her board next to him, bobbing on the tide.
‘You really are rubbish,’ Tom said. ‘I had forgotten after all.’
‘Yep,’’ Lucy said, enjoying the sensation of the water lifting and pulling her around.
She wondered suddenly if Tom was going to tell her about him and Tara. It felt like he was about to say something important. But silence hung in the air, pierced by squeals of fun from children on the shore.
‘I thought you couldn’t surf for weeks?’ she said, remembering the painkillers.
‘Yeah, what do they know, hey?’ Tom smiled at her mischievously. ‘How can I not come in the water when the weather’s like this?’
