The Cornish Beach Hut Café

Chapter 43

43

The Studio, Latitude One, High Tides Hotel

Ninety miles an hour in reverse gear

Monday

T hat first evening Kit and I hung out at the hotel, when we talked about why we weren’t up for attachments, my thinking was chaotic, my head bursting with a million random reasons – and I’d also drunk a lot of Prosecco. But as I walk back along the beach with Shadow and think about this solely in relation to Kit and me, with every footprint I leave in the sand my mind is clearing. This has nothing to do with hangovers from the past. What Dillon and I had doesn’t even come into it. All that’s left in very clear focus here is that if Kit and I ever did get to the stage of considering a future for the two of us, there is an elephant-sized obstacle standing in our way. I inhabit the present because the future is too uncertain to go there. However I look at it, I’d be short-changing Kit to ask for any more than we have now.

It was a completely accidental anomaly that we ever got off the ground at all. If my dating rules had been more rigorous, or even more tested, it might never have happened. I mean, you learn from experience, and reading between the lines this sounds like it could be shaping up to be an all-out catastrophe.

With that decided I go on to think about what Rye was saying about Kit. And when I put Kit’s recent behaviour under a microscope, and look at his actions rather than his words, I have to admit there’s a lot to support Rye’s view. They’re tiny signs rather than huge ones. A laugh here, a smile there. Looking comfortable, when he should have looked appalled. When I think back to the day Milla’s group made rings, or when we talked about things later, I must have been blind not to notice them more. But if there’s any doubt at all, I have to face up to it.

It’s completely possible Kit’s real feelings might be different from what he’s actually said. I only have to think back to all the words of denial I’ve said to him myself, when every time my body was screaming the opposite. I’ve done a pretty good job of deluding myself, because I was selfish, and I liked what was happening, and I wanted to grab as much of it as I could.

When I think of hurting Kit by inadvertently leading him on, by accidentally implying that we could carry on for longer, it’s the last thing I want to do. I’d hate to do wrong by him. Not only that, but the idea of causing him pain is abhorrent because I care about him so much. Which only goes to show how attached I have become, and how these things can grow while all the time I’ve been fooling myself that it’s fine because I didn’t give a damn.

And the final proof is when I turn the spotlight onto myself.

When Rye said that Kit liked me, my tummy plummeted. But in the split second before that, there was a moment when my heart leaped so high it could have cleared the moon. It was as if knowing Kit might like me more than we’d talked about was the most amazing feeling. As if that was all I’d been waiting for to let my own feelings explode. It’s one thing having a rush of blood to the head every time someone appears. Recognising that crazy out-of-control sensation as something huge and real – a substantial, bona fide, straight-from-the-heart emotion – is something else.

What the actual eff have I done here? Falling in lust was fine, but falling in anything more is a total disaster.

Once I’ve thought all this, it’s like fast-setting concrete in my head. I can’t ever go back to how I was before. All I can do is sort it out for good. As fast as I can.

It’s a good three hours before I look across from where I’m siting fixedly on The Hideaway’s veranda, my eyes trained on the studio, and see Kit waving today’s clients off towards the hotel. The second it happens, I have a large box of apricot crumble slices ready. I tuck it under my arm, call Shadow and we race across to Latitude One.

I burst through the door, slam the box on the desk, take a big jump backwards so I’m too far away to slide into Kit’s arms, and open my mouth to deliver the speech I’ve made word-perfect.

‘Is everything okay, Floss?’

I’m laughing inside at the irony. ‘It actually couldn’t be any worse, Kit. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore…’ My voice dries to a croak.

Kit’s blinking. ‘Excuse me?’

I start again. ‘In future we’ve got to stick to work and cake.’ As his jaw drops I rush to continue. ‘The rest has to end. Straight away.’

His brow is furrowed. ‘ What has to stop?’

I’m struggling to make myself clear. ‘The nice bits. We have to go back to being purely professional.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘So we’re still good for supper?’

I need to be more specific. ‘No! No more walks on the beach, no more meals, no more sleeping together, no accidental touching in ice-cream vans, and especially no kissing or sex.’

His voice deepens. ‘Am I allowed to ask why?’

I have to keep Rye out of this. ‘I should have been honest with myself sooner.’ I take a breath. ‘This way no one gets let down, no one gets short-changed and, best of all, no one gets hurt.’

He gives a snort. ‘It’s a bit late for that!’

There’s a twang in my chest, and as I catch the anguished expression on his face I’m kicking myself for all of it. For being to blame. For starting any of it. If only I could wind back the clock I’d never have looked up at the stars. I definitely wouldn’t have given him Coco Pops and custard at seven in the morning. I probably wouldn’t even have come back to St Aidan.

My mouth is sour as I swallow. ‘I’ve majorly messed up, but I’m doing my best to put this right.’ As I push my chin in the air and dash towards the door the tears are stabbing my eyes. ‘If there’s nothing more, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Halfway down the studio he calls after me. ‘I’m polishing the last of the rings for Milla’s friends. We could talk now while I show you them.’

I steel myself and call over my shoulder. ‘There isn’t anything else to talk about, Kit. Show me in the morning.’

And a second later the wind off the sea is whipping my hair across my face as Shadow and I tear back to The Hideaway.

My world is in pieces, but life goes on for everyone else.

I’m halfway up the steps to the deck when my phone rings.

I gulp down a sob and pick up. ‘Mum! How are you doing?’

She takes a second to answer. ‘Are you okay? You sound like Gollum.’

‘I’m outside. It’s probably the wind.’

She carries on. ‘I’ve been chatting with Judy.’

That’s Plum’s mum. I know things move at speed in St Aidan, but I still wasn’t prepared for that circle to close so fast. I’m frantically working out how to play this, but before I get there Mum speaks again.

‘I’m sorry I made you feel you had to go to other people, Floss. You and Sophie are my daughters, and however hard it is for me to look back on my life, it’s still my job to give you the answers you’re looking for.’

My heart goes out to her. ‘Poor Mum, if we’d known you felt like this, we wouldn’t have brought it up.’

She sighs. ‘We should have done it years ago. Let me know when, and I’ll be there.’

We know how booked-up she gets, and if it’s difficult it’s best not to rush her. ‘Shall we do sometime next week?’

‘Friday at yours? After lunch.’

It’s the last possible day she could have chosen, but I’d still say that’s a result. ‘I’ll let Sophie know straight away.’

Two rings later Sophie picks up and I fill her in. I’m thinking she’ll be as delighted as me, but her voice rises to a shriek.

‘I can’t possibly wait ten days ! Ring her back and make it sooner!’

Which only goes to show how different we are. I don’t rearrange. For once Sophie will have to be patient.

For me it matters less because the second I broke things off with Kit it was as if I’d wandered into a time-slip. It’s barely ten minutes since I left the studio and it already feels like a hundred years.