“Of course, shall I bring it with me tomorrow?”
“You could just do it now, if you like.”
Wow. Talk about closing a sale. Jason Wilberforce would love this woman.
“Sure…” I say. I did want to do Pilates, after all. And anyway, even if I fill in the form, it doesn’t mean I have to go to the class. I don’t really like feeling pushed into things, but maybe this is one of those fortuitous meetings; I wanted a Pilates class, and one has come to me without me having to put in any effort.
As I fill in the form, I can feel Sophie getting restless. “We need to go and meet Dad,” she’s saying.
“Look, I can bring this tomorrow…” I start to say.
“No, no, don’t worry. Sophie, you go and put the seahorse back in the rocks… look, the tide’s up to the ones in the middle of the beach now.”
I look and see that the spot where I had fallen asleep is now being licked by the waves. I shiver at the thought I could still be asleep there. That would be a bit of a shock.
“It’s a starfish!” Sophie thunders and storms off to put her exciting find back where it belongs. I suppress a smile. I hurry up filling in the form; I don’t want to be the cause of a family argument.
“There you go,” I say.
Casey, as I guess she is, smiles widely. “Brilliant. See you tomorrow!”
“I guess you will.”
Chapter Seven
When I get back to the flat on Sunday, it’s early evening. After leaving the beach, I’d gone for a long walk along the coastal path and I’d gone quite a bit further than I’d originally intended. It was too beautiful to leave; so many tiny wildflowers, tucked in amongst the waving grasses and spiky gorse. Each time I reached a curve in the path, where I could have turned back, I’d look around the headland and see more of the dry track stretching ahead, and think to myself I would go just to the next turning. It was only hunger that made me turn back.
By the time I get home, Julie has gone out. The thought of having the flat to myself for a while is a welcome one; although being here with Julie is loads of fun, I guess that having got used to my own space back home, it is nice to have the luxury of some peace and quiet. I make myself some sandwiches and eat them on the decking outside the back door. Even though David says he doesn’t mind, I don’t like doing this when he is here; it feels intrusive and like I am taking advantage of his generosity. He’s been over at Martin’s, on the other side of the estuary, all weekend though, so it’s a perfect opportunity to soak up a few more rays. A gull sits on the wall at the end of the garden, hopping slowly from foot to foot, clearly trying to decide whether or not to make a move on my food. I give it my best stare and keep it at bay.
When I go in, there is still no Julie. It’s only early, though. I have a shower, dry my hair, and put the TV on. Before long, I am asleep, and dreaming strange dreams. Sophie, the girl from the beach, is with me, and we’re trying to carry this huge bucket of water but its flimsy plastic handle is breaking. Then I’m by a fire, and then there is Sam. I had a feeling he’d appear tonight. How could he not, when he’s been on my mind all day? “Stay there, I’ll be right back,” he says, but I remain alone, sitting on a wet, rain-soaked beach, just waiting.
Julie is already up in the morning, when I shuffle into the kitchen. She hands me a cup of tea. “Drink me.”
“Thanks, Julie.” I take the tea into the shower – which Julie thinks is a weird thing to do – and come out of the bathroom feeling like a different person. I must have slept a long time last night, and I think it did me a lot of good, despite the weird dreams.
“So where did you get to yesterday?” I ask her, as we hurry along the quiet streets to the Sail Loft.
“God, well, when I woke up it was like two o’clock! I can’t believe I slept so long! I was starving, so I went out. I did text you, didn’t you get my text?”
“I didn’t check my phone,” I admit. “I was trying to escape my hangover. I reckon I fell asleep about eight last night, though!”
“Well, you probably needed it.” Julie smiles at me. She looks really happy. The sea air must be agreeing with her. “Are you still up for going out tonight, with Luke?”
“Yes, of course, it was really good to see him again, wasn’t it?” I don’t mention the fact that he suggested Sam might come. “Oh, and I found out about a Pilates class, which is at six, so maybe we can arrange to meet Luke after that. Have you heard from him?”
“Oh, he texted yesterday. Maybe you need to check your phone! He’s going to pick us up about eight, take us to some place along the estuary.”
“Oh, OK. Perfect,” I’m not bothered that they’ve made these arrangements without me, in fact I’m quite happy to be organised by somebody else for a bit. I wonder if Sam will be joining us. I can’t bear to think about it. It’s not until I’m standing in the hotel dining room, ready for the first guests of the day, that I realise Julie didn’t answer my question about where she was last night.
Work passes quickly; there’s a full complement of guests, and all arrive in the dining room within half an hour of each other. I’m just grateful there are no room service requests to deal with. They are luckily few and far between, and usually couples on honeymoon, or second honeymoon. I find the whole thing a bit awkward, to be honest. The ruffled bed covers, the closed curtains, the guests in their nightwear (or, worse, under the covers). Maybe it’s my fault; I should try to stop my mind wandering.
By the time we’ve cleared the dining room after breakfast, and Julie and I have eaten, there is reception duty to do while Julie oversees the tidying of the kitchen and planning for the following day. I don’t really believe Bea needs a receptionist; it’s not a large hotel, so it’s rarely hugely busy, but I try to make myself useful doing other things, like stock-takes, ordering stationery, etc. I think Bea just can’t be bothered to do it all herself anymore, as she did when we were first here. She’s worked extremely hard to get to this point so I don’t blame her for wanting to take it a little bit easier. As she always tells me, the stress of just owning a business like this is more than enough for anyone. “It all hinges on a good summer, and guests can cancel any time up to a week in advance. And they will, believe me, if the weather’s awful. People believe they need some sunshine on their holidays and to be fair, that’s probably true. Then there’s all the overheads, looking after the building, there’s always redecorating to do, insurance to pay… the list’s never-ending.”
Lunchtime soon swings around and Julie and I head back to the flat then down to the beach for a lazy afternoon reading and swimming. I can’t deny, I love this life. I work from six till one, with not much of a break, really, but that’s a seven-hour day, and it means I have all afternoon and evening off.
It seems to be agreeing with Julie, too. She is so happy and it seems to me that she is calmer than she has been for some time. I eye her from behind my sunglasses; she’s lying propped against her bag and rolled-up towel, reading Emma. She has a small smile around her mouth, and her eyes are heavy-lidded, relaxed; she just looks so… content.
“What you looking at?” she raises her eyebrows at me. Maybe I’m not being quite as subtle as I’d thought.
“Just you,” I smile. “You look happy.”
“I am happy.”
“And you’re really OK… about Gabe, I mean?”
A little furrow passes over her brow, like one of the tiny clouds scudding across the sky. “Yeah. I mean, I do miss him, as a person, you know that. But I really don’t miss that life. God, Alice, it drove me mad. Really, really mad. I thought things were meant to have changed for our generation. I thought he’d be different to my dad.”
“Well, he was probably brought up by a mum who did everything for him,” I say. “He may be progressive, and talented, and politically active; all those things. But when he gets home he still wants to be looked after.”
Julie snorts. “Like a little boy.”
“Yes, I guess so.” I feel a
bit bad talking about Gabe like this, but I also feel angry that he let the side down so badly, and let Julie down.
“I called him yesterday,” she says, “but he didn’t answer.”
“Well, he’s probably angry at the moment. Give him a bit of time. It’ll be OK.”
“I hope so.”
“Anyway, what I was saying was how happy you look! I didn’t mean to bring the mood down!” I grin. “Fancy a swim?”
“Definitely!”
We tuck our books away and lay our towels over our bags then run into the sea.
I can’t convince Julie to come to Pilates with me. She says she’s going to have a bath instead. “Fair enough,” I say. “In that case, I’ll come back, have a quick shower, and should be ready for eight.”
There are not many people at the hall but I guess Casey’s just getting started.
“Hi!” I say to her, and she gives me that wide, open smile which she shares with Sophie.
“Thanks for coming!” she says enthusiastically.
“It’s no problem, in fact I’ve been looking forward to it. How’s Sophie?”
“Oh, she’s good, had a long day at school today, and gymnastics after. She’s with her dad now.”
“I thought she might come to your class,” I joke.
“No, no, she’s not really old enough,” Casey answers seriously.
“No, I suppose not,” I agree.
“OK, well I guess this is it.”
I look round at the four other people in the hall and I feel sorry for Casey, and determined to try and get Julie to come next week. Maybe Bea will come; and David. I feel bad, thinking of the fliers I said I’d hand out, scrunched up at the bottom of my bag.
“Don’t worry, we’ll soon get the word round,” I say, looking at my fellow group members for support. One of them smiles but the others look away.
Casey, her voice echoing round the large, airy hall, soon has us spine-rolling, doing the hundreds, and the oyster, and I think she’s pretty good at this. Because there are not many of us, she is able to look at us all carefully and help us tweak our positions. She clearly takes it very seriously and I can see, as she is dressed in leggings and a vest, that it seems to have paid off for her. “You’re a good advert for this,” I say at the end of the class, gesturing to her physique, and she smiles while I go red, thinking it sounds like I’m coming on to her.
“Thanks! And thanks for coming, I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. I’ll drag my friend along next week if I can, and see if I can muster up some other people, too.”
“That would be great.”
“Say hi to Sophie for me.”
“I will.”
Chapter Eight
My hopes for Sam joining us are quickly dashed when Luke picks us up. He pulls his car up outside David’s house, hazard lights flashing, and I can already see he is alone.
“Sam sends his apologies, he had a prior appointment tonight,” Luke says vaguely.
“No worries,” says Julie, confidently pulling back the front seat so I can climb into the low-slung back of the car, leaving her to sit up front with Luke. I’m struck by her easiness, like this is her car. I wish I had her confidence sometimes.
“Yes, no problem,” I mutter, swallowing my disappointment and at the same time experiencing a slight relief.
From the moment we take our seats at dinner, it feels like I’ve managed to pull up a chair at the table of a couple on a first date. Luke and Julie are clearly so into each other. They are all smiles, and they keep meeting each other’s eyes but then hurriedly checking the menus, or asking me a question about Pilates. As if we are all here as equals; three friends just out for a nice meal. It’s so unconvincing but I play along. “Maybe you should both come to Pilates next week,” I suggest.
“Yeah, I’m up for it,” says Julie. “Are you up for it, Luke?”
“I could be persuaded,” Luke smiles lazily and I feel Julie shifting next to me.
“Great,” I say, determined to ignore whatever is going on here. “Luke, do you think any of your mates will want to come?”
“Erm, maybe,” he says. “Get Julie to pass on some details, will you?”
“It’s OK, I can send you the details,” I say, “I meant to bring some fliers with me.”
“No problem.” Luke looks back at his menu and Julie looks at hers. I take the chance to have a proper look at Luke. He really has grown into himself, if that doesn’t sound too patronising. His big brown eyes, shaded by long lashes, sit comfortably in his well-structured face. Within his thin dark red shirt, his broad shoulders are confidently straight. He doesn’t hunch them like some larger people do, as if trying to make themselves less noticeable. And when I say ‘larger’ I don’t mean he’s overweight; he’s built a bit like a rugby player, only he doesn’t play rugby. I remember he was never great at surfing despite his fervent desire to be, and that’s probably because of his size, I guess, but I remember he was just starting to take an interest in climbing.
“Are you still climbing, Luke?”
He looks up. “Yeah, I am. I can’t believe you remembered that about me!”
“I remember a lot,” I say, smiling. “You were just getting into it, I think, when we were here back then.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s right… I was. I couldn’t ever get the hang of surfing like the other boys. It took a lot for me to admit that. I do mostly indoor stuff now, in London, you know, but it’s good to come back here and have a go at some of the cliffs.”
I glance at Julie, who is gazing at Luke. Oh god. I’m glad I’d already made up my mind not to interfere anymore because I can tell by the look on her face that there would be absolutely no point.
“You do yoga, as well, don’t you, Luke?” she says.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
I could ask how she knows this but I’ve already worked out where she was yesterday, or at least who she was with. I don’t mention this. I want her to tell me, and in fact I want to know when she is going to tell me. “Well, it’s obviously agreeing with you,” I say to Luke and he smiles at me, revealing his straight, white teeth.
I hope Julie knows what she is doing.
Luke has brought us to an upmarket, modern restaurant called Cross-Section, which is built up on an old jetty, above the sweeping sands of the estuary. We are seated by a large floor-to-ceiling window, which stretches the whole length of the restaurant, gifting the diners a view of the sun setting and a whole array of seabirds swooping in, gliding gracefully into the shallow water, or strutting about in the shallows looking for their tea.
The nearby door is open and a warm breeze drifts in, occasionally ruffling the tablecloth.
“This place is great,” I say to Luke while Julie has excused herself to go to the Ladies. (She actually called it ‘the Ladies’ – when she’d normally just say ‘the bog’ or at best ‘the loo’. Who does she think she’s fooling?)
“It belongs to a mate of mine and Sam’s,” says Luke, and he seems to jolt slightly at the mention of Sam, like he hadn’t quite meant to bring him into the conversation.
“Anyone I know?”
“Do you remember a guy called Christian?”
“Oh yeah, he lived above the fancy dress shop.” An image of an auburn-haired, freckly boy comes to mind.
“That’s the one. He’s done really well. Went off to study under one of those TV chefs – one of the less knobby ones – and came back with a business loan; he’s had the whole jetty rebuilt, and the restaurant on top of it. Got his eye on a Michelin star, I think.”
“So you and Christian have both done well for yourselves,” I say. I can resist no longer. “How about Sam?”
Luke looks at me, and swallows. He really doesn’t want to do this, I think, but I have no idea why.
“Sammy?” he says, like he’s playing for time.
“Yes, Sam.”
“Well, let’s see. He still lives round here. Works over at Falmouth now. F
acilities, or something.”
This really surprises me. “But he was so adamant he was going to leave here. He was going to be a…” I quickly revise my sentence so it doesn’t sound like I remember every little detail about Sam; I’m not keen to reveal my obsession, “I’m sure he wanted to be a scientist of some kind; a conservationist, I’m sure?”
I know full well that was what Sam wanted to be. He always loved the sea, and the wildlife, and he thought he might be able to go and work abroad somewhere. He’d thought about marine biology, or zoology. He would retire to Cornwall, he said, or maybe come back when he’d made enough money to buy one of the big houses on the leafy road heading out of town, but he wanted to see the world first, and he wanted to make a difference.
“I know, it was always him that was going to get out first opportunity. I had no intention of leaving, but look at me now. Just shows how little you know when you’re eighteen.”
“I suppose.” I think of myself at eighteen. “You’re totally right, in fact. I was absolutely sure I would never be stuck working in an office. I was going to be out there, actually doing something. It probably used to drive Mum and Dad mad, seeing as they both work in offices.”
“Ha!” says Luke, “I was the same. Scorning them for spending their lives at work, earning money to make sure we had somewhere nice to live, and could afford for me to do stuff like the climbing.”
“I guess that’s what it’s like when you’re a teenager.” I realise I have changed quite a lot over the last ten years. “So sure that you’re going to do things your own way, and not be like your parents. You have no idea what they’re giving up for you.”
“No,” Luke looks sad. “You don’t.”
“But you know what?” I can see he’s thinking of his mum, “My dad says they do it because they want to. And that it’s infuriating when your kids are like that, but he reckons he was the same with his parents – that you have to be like that to keep things moving.”
A Second Chance Summer Page 5
