Chapter 26
26
‘OK, this is probably the best place to start,’ Cameron tells me as he leads me towards a stand. I’d imagined clay pigeon shooting would involve standing in a muddy field with lots of other people, but this seems positively high tech. There are neat paths between the stands, some of which are occupied by people dressed similarly to us. At Cameron’s suggestion, I’ve swapped my gilet for the one he brought which, as well as the padding he mentioned, seems to have a ludicrous number of pockets.
‘I’m going to release a clay and I want you to watch what it does,’ he continues as he inserts the device he was given at reception to activate the trap. ‘It’s going to fly more or less straight up, pausing briefly before it falls to the ground. When it pauses, I want you to imagine it’s got two little legs hanging off the bottom, and I want you to shoot those legs off.’ He presses a button and a clay disc shoots up, doing exactly what he described.
‘Don’t I just point the gun at the clay and fire?’ I ask.
‘You could do that, but you’ll never hit it. Because it’s moving, you need to shoot where it’s going to be when the pellets reach it rather than where it is when you pull the trigger. Trust me.’
He hands me a pair of ear defenders and carefully loads one of the guns.
‘Keep it pointing at the ground and away from your feet until you’re ready,’ he explains. ‘Then, if it goes off accidentally, you’ll make a hole in the ground but nobody will get hurt.’ He flicks a button on the side of the gun. ‘Now press it firmly into your shoulder and look along the barrel. When you’re ready, say, “Pull,” and I’ll release the clay, OK?’
I’m definitely not ready, but I do as he says and try to remember everything he told me. The first clay catches me by surprise, but not as much as the kick of the shotgun as I pull the trigger. Unsurprisingly, I don’t hit it.
‘That was your practice,’ Cameron tells me with a smile as he reloads the gun. ‘This time, you should be prepared. Remember, wait for it to pause and then shoot its imaginary legs off.’
He hands back the gun and I repeat the process. This time, I know what to expect and I focus on keeping the clay in sight down the barrel. As soon as it pauses, I shoot just below it and it shatters into tiny pieces.
‘Well done! Now do it again.’
Somehow, I manage to hit eight out of the next ten clays and I have to admit that it’s supremely satisfying. The recoil of the gun when I pull the trigger is still a bit of a surprise, but it’s not putting me off any more.
‘Right. Time to move on to something a little more challenging,’ Cameron suggests when I’ve demolished another ten clays. ‘Let’s go and try one that goes from side to side. You’ll need to put your gun a decent distance in front of the clay and keep swinging as you pull the trigger.’
If the first stand was fairly straightforward, this one seems impossible, to begin with at least. I just can’t work out how far in front of the clay I need to be, and I only hit one of the first ten. Cameron is endlessly patient, suggesting different ways of looking at it.
‘It’s impossible!’ I complain as another clay pigeon escapes my gun unharmed.
‘It’s just a different technique.’
‘You do it then.’
He shows me how to operate the trap and loads the gun he brought for himself.
‘Pull!’ he calls, and I press the button. Irritatingly, he hits it square on, as he does with the following nine I give him.
‘Show off,’ I grumble as he loads my gun for me to have another go.
‘It’s just practice,’ he tells me encouragingly.
‘Can we go back to the other stand? I was good at that.’
‘You’ll be good at this one too. You just need your brain to have its Eureka moment. I tell you what. We’ll do another ten here and, if you still don’t get it, we’ll move on and try something else. OK?’
Incredibly, something does seem to have clicked while I was watching Cameron, and I hit just over half of the next batch. By the time we pack up to head off for lunch, I’ve tried five different stands with varying degrees of success.
‘I think I get why people enjoy this,’ I say to Cameron as he slides the guns into their cases and loads them into the boot of the car. ‘Although I’m going to have a bruise tomorrow.’
‘You might be a little tender, but hopefully you won’t bruise. You did really well. Would you come again?’
‘Absolutely, if I’m invited.’
‘Oh, you’re invited.’
I’m in a good mood as he pilots the car into a nearby village and pulls into a pub car park. To my surprise, he pulls the cased guns out of the boot and hands one to me.
‘Are you planning to hold up the pub?’ I ask, slightly bemused. ‘Most people find it easier to simply pay for their lunch. It involves less jail time on the whole.’
‘Very funny. We’re not allowed to leave these in the car, so we have to take them with us.’
I feel incredibly self-conscious walking into the pub with a gun over my shoulder, even if it is in a sheepskin case. I’m half expecting the lady behind the bar to take one look at us and demand that we leave but, to my surprise, she doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid as Cameron leads me over to a table and we lean the guns against the wall.
‘This is quite a popular pub with the people who shoot down the road,’ Cameron explains quietly. Sure enough, as I glance round, I notice that a number of the other patrons also have gun cases stacked neatly by their tables.
‘Let’s just hope nothing kicks off,’ I murmur back. ‘With all these people packing weaponry, it could get ugly really quickly.’
‘I think we’re quite safe,’ he replies with a smile. ‘This is Kent, not the Wild West. Plus, the guns should be empty so, unless they were planning on beating each other to death with them, they’re pretty harmless. What would you like to drink?’
‘I’ll have a glass of white wine, please. I think I’ve earned it.’
I watch him as he wanders up to the bar to place our orders. He seems completely at ease in this environment, and it’s obvious this isn’t his first time in here from the friendly banter he’s exchanging with the woman behind the bar. A few minutes later, he walks back with two glasses and a couple of menus.
‘How many other people have you brought here?’ I ask suddenly, surprised by the pang of jealousy that just shot through me.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You obviously come here a lot,’ I tell him. ‘I just wondered if this was somewhere you brought many people.’
He thinks for a moment. ‘Actually, I don’t think I’ve brought anyone here before. I’ve met people here, and groups of us have come up here for a bite to eat after a morning’s shooting, but you’re the first person I’ve actually brought here as a guest. Why?’
I feel foolish. What does it matter who he’s been here with, and why? He’s just a friend; I don’t have any claim on him.
‘Sorry. I was just curious,’ I murmur, burying my head in the menu to hide my embarrassment. ‘What’s good then?’
‘It’s all good,’ he says, seemingly unperturbed by my sudden inquisition. ‘The fish and chips is excellent, as is the burger. It’s made on the premises and the meat comes from a local farm. However, I’m going to have the steak and kidney pie, because it’s my absolute favourite.’
‘Hmm. Not a huge kidney fan. I’ll try the burger.’
‘Good choice.’ He returns to the bar to place our order, and I take the opportunity to tell myself off for overstepping the boundary. When he returns, I make a point of keeping the conversation on neutral topics and, by the time the food arrives, everything feels back to normal. Cameron hasn’t undersold the burger, which turns out to be delicious, and I surprise myself by letting him talk me into a sticky toffee pudding for dessert. As he turns the car back towards Margate, I feel full and pleasantly drowsy; the monotone humming of the engine and tyres on the motorway soothes me even more, and it’s not long before I’m fast asleep, dreaming of confidently shattering clay pigeons coming at me from all directions.
‘Wake up, Ruby,’ Cameron’s voice says gently. ‘We’re here.’
I open my eyes with a start to see that the car is stationary outside my flat. I do a quick, and hopefully subtle, drool check before turning to face him.
‘Sorry,’ I tell him. ‘All that excitement this morning and then a big lunch.’
‘No worries.’ His eyes crinkle as he smiles.
‘Did you want a cup of tea or something before you head back?’ I ask.
‘I would,’ he says. ‘But there’s something I need to say before we get out of the car.’
His suddenly serious expression unnerves me and I can feel my heart starting to thud uncomfortably in my chest. My usual response to situations like this is to defuse them with a joke, but nothing is coming. I raise my eyes to meet his and there’s a fierce intensity there that I haven’t seen before. I can’t maintain the eye contact, and I let my gaze drop to my lap. I feel incredibly uncomfortable all of a sudden. The silence feels oppressive. I want him to speak, but I’m also afraid of what I think he might be about to say.
‘What is it?’ I breathe eventually. My mouth is completely dry. Please let it not be what I think it is.
‘The fact is, Ruby, that I can’t carry on like this,’ he says bluntly. ‘I know what you’ve said about friendships, and I know what Sam said about never mentioning the D word, but I can’t help the way I feel. Do you remember what I told Barry, after we won his Bonanza prize?’
‘No.’ My worst fears are coming true, and I can’t wait to escape.
‘I said I’d spotted you at the Singles Mingle event but was too shy to talk to you. I said how much I’d enjoyed spending time with you and that I was excited to see where things might go.’
‘Yes.’ I seize the lifeline. ‘But we were hamming it up, to give Barry what he wanted.’
‘I wasn’t,’ he says simply. ‘You blew me away from the moment I first set eyes on you, and I couldn’t believe my luck when you agreed to spend time with me. The better I got to know you, the more I liked you.’
‘I like you too,’ I say lamely. Please, God, make this stop.
‘And then, of course, we missed the ship. I know it was stressful, but it was also one of the happiest times of my life, because I was with you. I meant what I told you about not looking for another relationship, and part of me hoped today would go differently, I promise. I wanted the attraction I felt towards you on holiday to have faded so we could just be friends, but spending this time with you has just reinforced the way I feel. The fact is, Ruby, that I’ve fallen for you. Hard.’
He stops speaking and the silence falls like a dark cloud. My mind is in turmoil, trying to work out whether I’ve led him on in some way. Yes, there was the whole massage thing, but I managed to keep that PG in the end. I’ve always been perfectly clear with him that friendship was all I had to offer. Why is he doing this? I can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks and dropping off my chin. This has been such a lovely day, and it’s all ended in flames.
‘I’m so sorry, Cameron.’ I gulp through my tears as I reach for the door handle. ‘I can’t.’
Before he has a chance to say anything else, I yank open the door and get out of the car, shutting it firmly behind me. I’ve already got my key in my hand by the time I reach my front door, but a quick glance shows that he hasn’t followed me. Once I’m safely inside the flat, I watch through the net curtains as he sits there for what feels like an age, before starting the engine and driving slowly away. Only once I’m sure I’m alone do I allow the full floodgates to open, collapsing on the sofa and sobbing my heart out. I feel exactly the same as him, of course I do, but I can’t let myself go there. I just can’t.