One Last Summer at Hideaway Bay

by Zoe Cook

  It was another seriously hot day – this summer would be remembered for its relentlessly scorching temperatures.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re leaving,’ Tom said, not looking at Lucy. ‘It feels like you just got here.’

  ‘It’s been almost five weeks,’ she said, stating the obvious.

  ‘It feels like you belong down here,’ Tom looked at her now and held her gaze.

  ‘It’s been great,’ she said, not wanting to be the one to look away, not wanting to show any doubt. ‘But my life’s in London. I made that decision a long time ago and it’d be a bit pathetic for me to just trot back here and do what, work in your café?’

  ‘Only you know what will make you happy, Luce,’ Tom said. ‘If that’s London, then great, go for it. I’m not asking you to stay for me, you know, I’m asking you to stay for you. I don’t think you are happy up there. But hey, I hardly know you any more, right? So I should just keep it to myself.’

  Lucy had stopped listening. That confirmed it; he didn’t want her down here for him – it wasn’t like that. Whatever they still had between them, because surely she wasn’t imagining what it still felt like when they walked close to each other, when he hugged her, it just didn’t mean the same to him. He didn’t want her, not like that. She felt embarrassed, but also certain; sure of what she needed to do. It had been an amazing month and she’d sorted herself out, like she’d needed to. Hell, it had been five weeks of no drugs and hardly any hangovers, she was practically in rehab. She’d put on a bit of weight and she looked better, even she could see that. Claire will approve, she thought.

  When she got back to London she’d sort out her flat, organise everything properly, and live like a grown-up. It was exciting, the thought of taking control of her life again. She could pick up her career, at least that’s what Lydia and Warren had said, she could go back to Spectrum and work her way back into Emma’s good books; she was good at that job. A few years and she’d get a break on a production; she wouldn’t have to be an assistant forever.

  Nina was right, they were too old to ‘be whatever they wanted to be’ now; it was already decided, all plotted out ahead of them. They could fight it, try and start a new path, do something random, or they could continue on the track they’d already headed down and actually make some progress. The surge of excitement began to give way to, what, acceptance? Her life wasn’t going to be extraordinary; it was just another, normal life and that was fine – she was lucky really. She had a good life in London – she just needed to manage it better.

  Tom stayed in the water while Lucy headed back for the beach, to their bags and towels. She pulled the band from her ponytail, tipping her head forward to shake seawater from her hair. The water had revitalised her, she felt good – and hungry, she realised, really, really hungry.

  Tara was waiting tables when Lucy arrived at the café. She smiled at Jen behind the counter and headed for the terrace, quickly, trying to limit the drips from her wetsuit. Outside she sat at the smallest table in the corner and read the menu like it was an erotic novel – salivating at the thought of all the food.

  ‘Hey, Lucy,’ Tara stood, pen and pad in hand, ready to take her order. ‘What’ll it be?’

  ‘I’ll have “Stef’s brunch”,’ Lucy said, pointing at the boxed special on the menu.

  ‘Cool,’ Tara made a note. ‘How was the surf?’

  ‘Surf was good, so I’m told,’ Lucy said. ‘I was a disaster, utterly crap.’

  Tara laughed as she walked away. Lucy texted Tom to let him know she’d ordered brunch, to see if he wanted to join her.

  A few minutes later he pulled a chair up at her table, sopping wet from the sea.

  ‘You left quickly,’ he said, casually. ‘I didn’t mean to piss you off.’

  ‘You didn’t,’ she lied. ‘I was just hungry.’

  ‘That looks good,’ Tom said, picking up a piece of avocado from her plate and popping it into his mouth.

  ‘Olly!’ he shouted, his mouth full. Lucy grimaced at his table manners.

  ‘Alright, mate?’ Olly walked over and grabbed another chair.

  ‘Can I just – ‘ he leant over and picked up a piece of bacon from Lucy’s plate as if it were totally normal. Lucy gave her best exasperated sigh and pushed her plate into the centre of the table.

  Olly and Tom began analysing the morning’s waves, predicting where the best surf would be tomorrow – Newquay, apparently.

  ‘I’m just going to go and make a call,’ Lucy said, standing up.

  ‘Are you finished with this?’ Olly gestured towards her plate.

  ‘Help yourself,’ she replied, as he tucked into the rest of her brunch. She wondered how she’d found him so attractive when she first saw him. I guess personality really does matter, she thought as she walked away. She looked back at Tom, who looked so handsome next to Olly, and a surge of love for him rushed over her before she could bat it away and lock it up again. She realised how much she was going to miss him.

  She had a couple of hours until Warren and Charlie arrived but she needed to get back and get a shower. She walked up towards the house with her wetsuit peeled down to her waist, sweating in the sun. Tom had said that her friends could have the pool house, so she would check the beds were made in there. She walked to the bottom of the garden and onto the creaking wooden steps. She and Tom had spent so many nights in here after drinking on the beach, scared to wake his parents in the main house. She opened the door and the smell of cushions and sunlight escaped, hitting her with a wave of memories. She pushed them aside, making her way inside. opening the windows in the bedrooms and pulling back billowing white curtains in the open-plan living and dining area. It was so warm in there, the heat of the whole summer trapped within the wooden walls. Lucy stepped out of her wetsuit, now bone- dry from the sun, and hung it over the veranda at the back, the sea view stretching out ahead of her and a cool breeze cooling her scorching skin. She closed her eyes momentarily and took in the scent of the sea, the salty fresh air.

  The beds were made – Tom must have done it already. The place looked lovely. Warren and Charlie would love it, she thought.

  She remembered she needed to make a call and headed into the main house in just a bikini, her bare feet cool on the wooden floors. She ran the shower in her en suite, picked up her phone from her bedside table and stepped out onto her balcony.

  Lydia answered after just one ring.

  ‘Tell me you’re taking the job,’ she said, flatly.

  ‘Yes, I’m taking the job, yes please,’ Lucy said, attempting enthusiasm. ‘When can I start?’

  32

  ‘Luce!’ Warren exclaimed, arms outstretched, as he stepped out of Charlie’s BMW estate.

  ‘Hey hey!’ Lucy called back to him, walking towards him, before being grabbed into a bear hug. Warren pulled away from her and retrieved his aviators from his hair, arranging them carefully on his nose. Lucy stepped back and took in his outfit; he had clearly gone for a ‘beach chic’ look. His short shorts revealed fake-tanned legs and in one hand he clutched a straw fedora.

  Charlie groaned as she got out of the driver’s seat. ‘What a fucking journey!’ She reached into the back seat and dragged out her handbag. ‘Six fucking hours that took, I’m knackered.’

  ‘Didn’t you share the driving?’ Lucy asked, as she helped them take their huge cases from the boot.

  ‘Well, that was the plan,’ Charlie said, glaring unimpressed at Warren. ‘Someone got so drunk last night they were still over the limit this morning.’

  ‘I’m fine now!’ Warren declared, ‘I’m ready for a drink, actually.’

  Charlie shot him a look, then turned to Lucy. ‘Isn’t he a dick?’

  Lucy laughed. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’ll show you around and introduce you to Tom.’

  ‘Bloody hell, nice place,’ Warren said, eyes roaming around the entrance hall and out to the garden.

  ‘Yeah, this is Tom’s parents’ place, but they’re not her
e,’ Lucy said. ‘But you’re out in the pool house. I’ll show you.’

  ‘Oh stick us in the shed, nice,’ Charlie said, only half joking, Lucy thought.

  ‘It’s really not a shed,’ Lucy said, feeling slightly protective. She pointed out the kitchen as they made their way out into the garden.

  ‘Bloody hell, what a view,’ Warren said, stopping at the sight of the sea while Charlie barely paused. ‘Yeah, nice,’ she said, disinterestedly.

  ‘Here we are,’ Lucy said, stepping into the pool house, as Warren and Charlie dropped their cases on the veranda.

  ‘Oh this is great,’ Warren said, visibly impressed. ‘You didn’t make it sound this nice.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s lovely, thanks Lucy,’ Charlie said, as she slumped onto a chair, letting her head fall back, and closing her eyes.

  ‘I’m not sure where Tom is, but I’ll go and find him in a bit,’ Lucy said. ‘Do you want to get showered and settle in a bit?’

  ‘Sounds good,’ Charlie said, eyes still closed. Warren was pacing around excitedly, opening drawers and cupboards.

  Lucy found Tom in the kitchen, sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar.

  ‘Your friends here?’ he asked, looking up at her. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of the shower, wet hair, bare-chested, a towel around his waist.

  ‘Yeah, they’re settling in,’ she said, helping herself to a glass of water and downing it.

  ‘What do you want to do this evening?’ Tom asked. ‘Do they fancy dinner at mine? My treat.’

  ‘Ah that’s lovely,’ Lucy said. ‘I’ll ask them.’

  She sat next to him and he surprised her by resting his head on her shoulder.

  ‘I’m knackered,’ he said. ‘Getting old.’

  Lucy laughed gently. ‘You work too hard,’ she said. The weight of him on her was comforting, making her feel suddenly sleepy too.

  He lifted his head and looked at her, smiling. ‘I’ll come and say hello in a bit. Might just put some clothes on first.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Lucy said, struggling not to look at his naked chest.

  ‘Is Tara okay?’ she asked, surprising herself with the words.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Tom said.

  ‘She just seemed a bit on edge the other day when we went out.’

  ‘Ah, your little girls’ trip to the island? She loved that.’

  ‘Yeah, she was kind of, I don’t know, jumpy?’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She didn’t really say anything. She thought she’d seen someone, but that it wasn’t them or something. It was a bit odd.’

  ‘Shit,’ Tom said quietly.

  ‘What is it? Is there something going on? Annabel said she’s not really called Tara.’

  ‘She’s such a troublemaker – it’s none of her business.’

  ‘What isn’t?’ Lucy was beginning to get frustrated.

  ‘Tara’s ex. He’s a nasty piece of work. Aggressive, controlling. She never wanted him to know she was here. But we think he’s always known.’

  ‘How would he know?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘I don’t know, but I thought I saw him again the other week, and now this. Maybe he does know and maybe he’s actually here.’

  ‘Poor Tara,’ Lucy wondered why she hadn’t told her herself.

  ‘She’s mortified by the whole thing,’ Tom said, as if reading her mind. ‘She doesn’t like the drama and she never wanted everyone knowing. I told most of the younger lot in the town when he first started sniffing around a few months after she moved here. Just asked that they didn’t talk to strangers who asked where she was. Fucking Annabel, she’s such a shit-stirrer.’

  Lucy felt embarrassed again at how much she’d idolised Annabel.

  ‘So she is actually Tamara?’

  ‘She started using Tara when she moved down here, yeah,’ Tom said, reaching for his phone. ‘I’m going to give her a call. Do you mind?’

  Lucy waved him away, shaking her head. He made his way up the stairs and she could hear his concerned tone drifting away.

  ‘Poor Tara’ she thought again. It sounded like a horrible situation. And if she really had seen him that evening then she must be bloody scared. She wondered what the guy was playing at. It couldn’t be that difficult to track her down if he already knew she was here. It was a small place and she worked in the busiest business in town. The thought that he was biding his time was even more sinister.

  ‘Have you got wine?’ It was Charlie, peering around the kitchen door. She’d changed into a beach dress now, her hair tied up in a bun.

  ‘Oh there’s always wine,’ Lucy said, her mind still on Tara. She poured a glass for each of them, and then for Warren as he appeared in a Breton-striped top and white shorts, aviators still on indoors.

  They took their drinks outside and sat by the pool, chairs facing out to sea.

  ‘Hi everyone,’ Tom walked out and joined them, beer in hand, top on now. He shook hands and chatted to them about their drive, about London, about Spectrum. Lucy felt slightly on edge, watching her worlds collide like this, but it was going well. Tom made conversation easily and she could tell that Warren and Charlie both liked him.

  He invited them down for dinner at the Beach Café and they arranged a table for 8pm. Tom made his excuses and left for work. He squeezed Lucy’s arm as he left, causing Warren to give her a look that seemed to convey something between knowing and jealousy.

  ‘He is fit,’ he confirmed, once Tom was out of earshot.

  ‘He’s your ex?’ Charlie questioned. ‘Are you fucking crazy? I would be all over that.’

  ‘That was a long time ago,’ Lucy said, longing to change the subject. ‘I accepted my old job back, by the way. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Oh my days! Amazing scenes!’ Warren had leapt to his feet and was careering towards her to grab her.

  ‘Great news,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

  They’d made their way through two bottles of wine in a frighteningly short amount of time and Lucy could feel her head rushing. The light was beginning to fade and she thought she ought to get changed into something nicer for dinner, but couldn’t find the enthusiasm.

  ‘Fancy a party treat?’ Warren said, mischievously. Lucy’s heart raced at the thought. She hadn’t touched anything since she’d been down here.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she hesitated.

  ‘Oh, what?!’ Warren exclaimed theatrically. ‘Where’s Lucy gone? Who is this imposter?’

  Charlie laughed. ‘Don’t be a drag,’ she said, following Warren back to the pool house.

  Lucy was torn. The thought of the immediate rush was beyond tempting – she’d never turned it down before. But she’d felt a better person these last few weeks, and the thought of doing it in Tom’s house made her feel queasy. It just wasn’t right.

  ‘Honestly, I’m alright thanks. You guys go ahead. I’ll wait here.’

  Warren and Charlie looked back at her in disbelief, then disappeared into the pool house, closing the door.

  At the restaurant Tom had reserved them the same table she’d sat at on her first night back here. Warren and Charlie were buzzing, excited by the place, but even more so by the wine list.

  ‘Let’s get two bottles of prosecco,’ Charlie announced. Lucy wondered if she actually wanted to drink any more.

  She looked at the food menu, trying to decide between crab or lobster. ‘Shall we get a load of things to share?’ she suggested.

  ‘Oh. I’m not really hungry,’ Warren said, and Charlie murmured in agreement. Lucy knew it was the coke and she was pissed off with them. This was Tom’s treat, his way of welcoming them, and they weren’t even going to eat his food.

  Charlie excused herself to go to the bathroom and Warren passed her a tiny parcel wrapped in clingfilm. Lucy couldn’t believe how blatant it was. She cringed at the thought of how many times she’d done things like that, how discreet she’d thought she was being and how many people must h
ave known.

  ‘Well, I’m hungry,’ she said, without looking at Warren.

  ‘You’ve put on weight,’ he said. ‘Maybe you’ve had too many pasties.’

  Lucy blushed self-consciously, mortified.

  ‘You look good, don’t get me wrong,’ Warren backpedaled, seemingly realising what he’d said. ‘It suits you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, her appetite now long gone.

  They talked about work, about Emma’s recent hysterics over a commissioning editor’s decision to rename one of their shows. It was funny hearing about some of her old friends – it didn’t sound like much had changed since she’d been gone. Warren and Charlie took it in turns to disappear to the toilets and as the evening went on they became increasingly poor company, each delivering rambling, self-aggrandising monologues and not listening to anything anyone else had to say. Lucy found herself stifling yawns and checking the time on her phone. Tom kept catching her eye and smiling at her as he dashed between tables, handing over steaming bowls of mussels and bottles of wine.

  ‘Do you fancy a big cliff path walk tomorrow to the next beach?’ Lucy asked Warren and Charlie.

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ Charlie shrugged, looking away.

  ‘Another bottle?’ Warren lifted an empty prosecco bottle and raised his eyebrow.

  ‘Yeah,’ Charlie said. ‘And we ought to buy some drinks to take back with us too.’

  ‘The Spar shop’s shut,’ Lucy said, wondering how they were contemplating drinking even more. She felt drunk and exhausted.

  ‘Oh God. We really are in the sticks, aren’t we?’ Charlie said, unimpressed. ‘It’s 10:30pm and everything’s closed.’

  Lucy chewed her final mouthful of bread and butter and finished her glass of prosecco, the bubbles burning her throat.

  ‘I think I’m done, guys,’ she said, waiting for the backlash.

  ‘No worries,’ Charlie said, looking at Warren. ‘We’ll finish up here and make our own way back. Hang on, do you have taxis here?’

  ‘Yes, we have taxis,’ Lucy said. ‘I’ll ask Tom to call you one.’

  ‘Sure we can’t tempt you with a little pick-me-up?’ Warren pulled a sad face. ‘You just need a second wind.’