‘Hello, again,’ he murmured when they finally broke away from one another, grinning at the friendly round of applause they were receiving from bemused onlookers.
‘Hey.’ Pepper beamed back.
‘I missed you,’ they said in unison, laughing and clinging to each other as Finn led the way towards the train depot.
‘It is very early,’ he said, yawning through his smile. ‘So, I am taking you out for breakfast.’
Pepper gazed up at him, at the ripe-apple hue of his cheeks, his heavy flop of spun-gold hair and his dark-blue eyes. She was barely aware of the scenery flashing past beyond the windows, registering only the odd cluster of parkland and the mink-grey clouds that were scattered liberally across a pale sky.
‘No rain today, hopefully,’ Finn said, hooking his arm around her shoulders and pulling her gently against his chest. ‘I cannot wait to show you my city; it is important to me that you like it.’
He explained that he lived in an area called St Pauli, not far from Freunde, the bar and restaurant he co-owned with his two best friends, Clara and Otto, adding that much of Hamburg’s nightlife was concentrated in and around the Reeperbahn – the so-called longest party street in Europe. Pepper’s face must have registered her concern, because Finn immediately started laughing.
‘I am not planning to take you out to any strip bars,’ he assured her. ‘We can leave all of that to the stag and hen parties.’
Having never been to Germany before, Pepper was not sure what to expect, but in the end she found herself charmed by Finn’s hometown from pretty much the moment they emerged from the underground station. While the buildings they passed were far taller, grander and more imposing than those at home, the attractive little details that she loved so much were the same. Late-spring blooms the colour of jellybeans were packed into window boxes, bold swathes of street art gave new life to exposed brick walls, and everywhere Pepper looked, she saw groups of friends hanging out together. A few were walking their dogs, some rode past on bicycles, while others sat in artful heaps on benches and kerbs with hand-rolled cigarettes and visible tattoos.
Finn seemed to know everyone, and exchanged cheery greetings and waves as they walked, Pepper’s trusty wheelie case clattering merrily over the paving stones behind them.
‘Are you secretly the Mayor of Hamburg?’ she asked.
‘Far more famous than that,’ he joked. ‘Freunde is very popular around here – you will see later.’
Pepper was greeted by people in Aldeburgh all the time, but that was because it was a small town and she favoured an eccentric outfit, not because she was highly rated. On the contrary – she had always felt distinctly average. Finn, by contrast, did not seem to be self-deprecating at all, as far as she could tell, and it was interesting to get a glimpse of the world through his eyes.
‘We are here,’ Finn announced, as they arrived at the door of a cosy, one-room café with a few fold-up tables propped outside.
‘In or out?’
‘In,’ she decided, gazing through the large open window and taking in a clutter of mismatched wooden furniture, threadbare cushions, framed photographs and bedraggled-looking flowers in vases.
‘Guten Morgen,’ Finn said to the two women behind the counter, then launched into a further stream of German. Pepper, unable to follow a word of what was being said, lingered awkwardly in the open doorway.
‘Sit anywhere that you like,’ one of the women urged in English. Then, turning back to Finn, ‘Essen Sie?’
‘Ja, bitte,’ Finn replied, accepting two menus and heading to a table beside the window.
‘I come here on most days,’ he told Pepper, as she stowed her case under her chair. ‘Sometimes for my breakfast, other times to do some work with a cup of coffee, that sort of thing.’
‘It’s nice,’ she said, looking around admiringly. ‘Oh, wow – what an amazing cat.’
There was a large ginger tom stretched out on one of the café’s many cushions.
‘Ja,’ Finn agreed. ‘That is König – it means king.’
The cat twitched its ears and flicked its stripy tail.
‘It suits him,’ she said. ‘I think every cat I have ever met has thought of itself as a royal – perhaps we should all be a bit more cat?’
‘You are purr-fect already,’ he joked, and Pepper groaned in good humour.
‘You are cheesy,’ she informed him. ‘But luckily for you, I am crackers.’
The coffee arrived, thick and creamy and dusted with cinnamon, and after a cursory glance at the breakfast menu, which was fortuitously printed in both German and English, Pepper opted for the intriguing ‘egg in a glass’. Finn made no comment, but when their breakfast arrived ten minutes later, hers consisting of two poached eggs in a glass served with nothing but a sprinkling of salt and chopped chives, he found it hilarious.
‘This is your first German lesson,’ he said. ‘We always mean what we say – and we are very literal.’
‘And my second?’ she asked, jabbing her spoon through the fragile white of her egg and watching the rich, golden yolk ooze out into the glass.
Finn pressed his knee against hers under the table.
‘When we have finished here,’ he said, ‘I will take you home and show you.’
Chapter 22
In all the many fantasies about Finn that Pepper had indulged in, the single common denominator was an urgent, all-consuming passion – one that she had been sure would take hold the moment the two of them were alone together. But there was something about being in Finn’s home that made her come over all shy, and once he had given her a quick tour of his split-level apartment and fetched them both a glass of water, she was not sure what to do next.
She had been brave enough to get herself here, travel to a foreign country for the second time in her life to visit a man she had only met a handful of times, but now she was frozen. In the moment where confidence was most ardently required, it had completely abandoned her. She had no moves, no shimmy, no ‘come hither’ sexy finger-hooks.
Stealing a glance a Finn, she found that he was looking at her intently, and had to suppress a nervous laugh. He was so playful most of the time, light-hearted, if a little stiff on occasion, but he was never serious, as he was now. Pepper reminded herself that he was a man, and a mature, capable and strong-willed one at that. Of course he would not find sex funny; he was too grown-up for that.
She caught her breath as he came towards her, his movements so swift and decisive that for a moment she almost stepped backwards. Finn did not smile until he was standing right in front of her, and then he slid a finger under her chin, lifting it slowly as he lowered his face, kissing first her lips, then her cheeks, her neck, the soft hollow of her throat. Pepper knew it was corny beyond comprehension to rattle on about a ‘connection’, but she couldn’t find a word that better suited herself and Finn. It was as if he knew her in an intrinsic way, and she him, and it wasn’t long before all her worries were forgotten, tossed aside along with their clothes and inhibitions. Pepper let herself go, let herself be taken, and it was bliss to feel so free, so unburdened by anything other than Finn, in this room, in their moment.
Afterwards, he wrapped them both up in his bedsheets and took Pepper from room to room, giving her a more thorough tour of all the paintings, photos and sculptures he had on display. When she saw the portrait she had drawn of him in Lisbon framed and hung up in pride of place in the lounge, Pepper almost buckled with shyness, and Finn was forced to kiss her again to silence her protestations.
Sunshine had broken through the clouds by the time they ventured back outside, and the air felt warm and clean. Finn offered her his hand to hold as they walked along the wide, tree-lined street, and she grasped it with pleasure, happy to be in this bubble with him. She had never been with a man she was so proud to be seen with before, and Pepper found herself relishing the stares that the two of them got as they strolled back past the same groups of people they had passed just a few hours
earlier. In Hamburg, nobody knew who she was, or what had happened to her family, to Bethan – and it was a liberating feeling. Pepper was unshackled from the past and felt able to luxuriate, for once, in the present.
The further they ventured, the more she found herself falling for the old city, for its cleanliness and friendliness, its bespoke themed cafés and pretty resting spots.
‘It is a shame you missed the cherry blossom,’ Finn said, as they passed a churchyard coated in pink petals. ‘We celebrate a spring festival in Alsterpark every year, with performances and fireworks – this time Freunde had a pop-up kiosk, and we did very well.’
‘And here I was thinking that Germany was all beer and bratwurst.’
‘Do not worry,’ he countered. ‘We have a lot of those as well.’
The atmosphere in Hamburg was different from that of Lisbon – which Pepper had adored for its artistic and romantic soul – but it was no less easy to love. She was enthralled by the metal palm tree structures casting irregular shadows in Park Fiction, and found her eye drawn again and again to the glittering sweep of the Elbe River that lay beyond it. The Portuguese city’s winding alleyways had been fun, yet challenging, to navigate, while everything here was laid out in a straightforward way that made exploring on foot a breeze. When they eventually began to tire, Finn took her to StrandPauli, a beach-style bar on the river, where the two of them drank rotund bottles of Astra beer and crunched their bare toes through the sand underfoot.
‘Happy?’ he asked, and Pepper grinned.
‘Very.’
‘I am afraid that Hamburg is not as beautiful as Lisbon,’ he said, almost apologetically, but Pepper shook her head.
‘I was just thinking the opposite,’ she said. ‘Because it is – just in different ways. Besides, variety is such an important thing. Imagine if every place looked exactly the same, and every person – that would be beyond dull. Then again,’ she added. ‘If every person looked like you, it would be no bad thing. I think I could get used to that.’
‘Oof!’ Finn exclaimed. ‘But then, how would you know me?’
Pepper poked him with her big toe.
‘I would know.’
‘Danke,’ he said then. ‘For this weekend – for coming all this way.’
‘Oh, well, thanks for letting me. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever invited myself anywhere. It’s mad. A few weeks ago, I had never even been on a plane, and now look at me. I don’t recognise myself.’
She took a swig of beer to mask her blushes.
‘I like this new Pepper,’ he said. ‘I have thought about you a lot. About the way we met, and then met again for a second time, and a third. This kind of thing does not happen often.’
‘True,’ she agreed, watching a bead of condensation trickle down the outside of her bottle. She wanted to say that it felt like fate, that she had asked the universe to show her an unequivocal sign that Finn was The One, and it had – but something stopped her.
‘I have thought about you a lot, too,’ she said instead. ‘You are very distracting.’
‘Good!’ he declared, his standard grin back in place. ‘It is funny, because I was not trying to meet anyone. I had decided that I must focus on the website this summer, but then – poof! – there you were. And I could not let you walk away.’
‘Although you did – at least at first,’ she reminded him. ‘We have the rain to thank really.’ Pepper drank some more beer and settled herself against the canvas back of the deckchair.
‘If it wasn’t for all that Lisbon rain, I wouldn’t know what egg in a glass is.’
Finn raised his bottle in a toast.
‘That,’ he said, ‘would definitely have been a tragedy.’
Pepper clanked her bottle against his and stretched out her legs. A DJ had set himself up in a booth above the bar, and people were beginning to get up and dance. It was a world away from Aldeburgh, with its cosy tea shops and proper British pubs. What would Finn make of it, she wondered? That was if he ever visited. Pepper liked the idea of spending more time with him, of course she did, but the thought of him in her hometown was oddly troubling. She supposed it was because there were things she had yet to tell him about her life, about those shadowy moments from her past that she was still struggling to come to terms with, even now, so long after Bethan had died. And then there was her art, which she knew Finn admired. How could she explain to a man as confident as he that she simply wasn’t good enough – that nothing she did had felt good enough for a very long time?
‘Another?’ Finn was holding up his empty bottle of Astra, and Pepper realised she must have drifted off for a moment, swept out as she so often was by the rip current of her emotions.
‘My turn,’ she told him, getting to her feet as gracefully as anyone can be expected to when they’re sitting in a deckchair. She had just wriggled her feet back into her shoes when Finn grasped her hand, drawing her down until her nose was level with his and cupping her face in his hands. When he kissed her, Pepper’s knees began to tremble, and she had no choice but to collapse into his lap, her eyes closing as his hands moved into her hair. She kissed him back until her breath became ragged, not caring who saw them or what anyone might be thinking.
Pepper had thought she was destined to stand on the shoreline of her own life forever, trapped by the tides of fear and of loss. Now, however, there was a boat on the horizon.
And inside that boat was Finn.
Chapter 23
Their two beers soon became four, then six, then eight, the last tipping Pepper over into that wobbly stage of drunkenness where everything feels soft-edged and a bit silly. Finn, who was demonstrably less tiddly than she was, kept patting her hand and asking her if she was OK.
‘Fine!’ she told him, sticking out her tongue, then laughing when he pretended to look shocked.
‘Sorry,’ she said happily. ‘I’m not very ladylike, am I?’
Finn gave her a look that made Pepper feel as if all her clothes had fallen off.
‘You are very much a lady,’ he assured her. ‘A perfect lady.’
His use of the word ‘perfect’ made her feel slightly uneasy all of a sudden, and she glanced away, concentrating on the dregs in her bottle rather than him.
‘You do not like compliments,’ he stated.
‘No. I mean, I do. I just . . . I guess I struggle to believe them, that’s all.’
Finn reached for his beer.
‘Why?’ he asked, and he sounded genuinely interested. Not fed up with her, or judgemental, simply intrigued.
‘Because I’m not perfect,’ she said.
‘Ah.’ Finn narrowed his eyes. Pepper could not tell whether he was confused or amused. Then he said, ‘So, tell me – what do you think is wrong with you?’
Was he seriously asking her to list all her faults?
‘Er . . .’ she began, feeling stupid. ‘Well, first of all, I dress like a mad clown most of the time.’
‘I love the way you dress,’ he said. ‘Next.’
‘My chin is massive – from the side it looks like a foot.’
Finn bellowed with laughter.
‘Lächerlich!’ he chorused. ‘Ridiculous.’
‘I am also a really bad dancer,’ she added. ‘And an even worse singer.’
Finn grinned.
‘So?’ he said. ‘I am the same.’
‘But you’re good at everything!’ she said challengingly.
‘Nein,’ he said gently. ‘Nobody can be good at everything.’
‘I bet you’re a better singer than me,’ she continued. ‘We should have a sing-off!’
Finn laughed hard at that, but Pepper had begun bouncing up and down on her deckchair.
‘Let’s do it!’ she urged him. ‘There must be a karaoke bar somewhere around here?’
‘Karaoke?’ Finn echoed. He looked unable to believe what he was hearing.
‘Yeah! Come on – it’ll be fun. Help you loosen up a bit.’
The flicker of so
mething passed across Finn’s eyes, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he reached for his bottle of beer and downed what was left.
‘Come on,’ he said, grabbing her hand and pulling them both up. ‘I think there is a place on the Reeperbahn.’
It was not yet six p.m., but already Europe’s longest party street was pounding with tourists. Pepper knew they weren’t locals, because Finn made that particular fact very clear, explaining that everyone he knew gave the area a wide berth – and she could see why. Stag parties of twenty or more trailed past them in matching slogan T-shirts, scantily clad girls handed out drink vouchers, and everywhere Pepper looked there was a flashing neon sign, or a staggering drunk.
‘I feel embarrassed to be British,’ she muttered dully, but Finn merely shrugged.
‘You make up for it,’ he told her.
The karaoke bar didn’t look like much from the outside. The front window was covered in a dusty plum curtain, and a rather battered sign saying ‘Liederhaus’ flickered above the door. Finn led the way inside and down a dark set of steps, and Pepper followed, wrinkling her nose at the smell of stale beer. The walls, floor and ceiling were all painted in various shades of red, and bass hummed out from underneath a corridor of closed doors.
Once they had paid for a two-hour session at the reception desk, a bored-looking girl with spiky red hair – to match the décor, Pepper wondered – showed them into a booth. As well as a large flat-screen TV, there was a low table, two microphones and a brown leather settee, onto which Pepper tossed her bag and denim jacket while the girl talked Finn through how to use the touchscreen controls.
‘She will be back soon with more beer,’ Finn said, as the girl closed the door behind her. ‘I hope that is OK?’
Pepper, who was now drunk enough not to worry about how drunk she was becoming, nodded enthusiastically, snatched up one of the microphones, and pirouetted on the spot.
Hello, Again Page 12
