Chapter 17
17
It turns out that being a supply teacher is much harder than being a regular teacher. Most of kids are great, as always – but there are always a handful who are waiting for you to fail. It’s as though they can smell the fear, and plan to take full advantage of it.
I like to think that after the first couple of days the balance of power in the classroom had been re-established and I’d succeeded in snatching back the upper hand. But it hasn’t been easy, and by Tuesday evening I’m wiped out. I slump onto the sofa, lie along its length, and close my eyes.
My mind instantly wanders away from the stresses of trying to tame a class of twenty-odd teenagers, and back over the events of the last couple of weeks. Overwhelmingly, the feeling is of disappointment.
Although I hadn’t expected a call from the skydiving centre – it had already felt like a dead end when no one had known who Jay was on the day – I had hoped something might come of the Look North story. But so far, nothing.
Debs texted me the day after the story went out.
Deb
It’s so weird. It’s almost as though this man doesn’t exist at all.
I stiffened. Did she suspect I wasn’t telling her everything?
But even if all the details of the story weren’t exactly accurate, it did still feel odd. Even if it was simply for the attention, people almost always replied to calls for help on TV. The lack of response to my story spoke volumes.
Could it be time to give up? It feels a little early to admit defeat already, but I’m truly not sure what to do next.
I’m distracted from my thoughts by my phone beeping. It’s a message from Matt. I haven’t heard from him since the Look North interview apart from a brief ‘I hope it works and you find him’, and I feel a warmth spread through me at seeing his name. I click it open.
Matt
How were your first two days at school? Kids behave? X
I reply immediately.
Miranda
Kids were nothing I couldn’t handle although I feel like I could sleep for a week. How are you? X
I add a kiss at the end only because he has. Three dots show me he’s replying straight away, and I wait. But then the dots disappear and nothing arrives. My heart sinks. I put the phone on the coffee table and am about to haul myself off the sofa to make a cup of tea when my phone starts jumping about on the wooden surface.
Matt’s calling me.
‘Hi,’ I say.
‘Hey, I hope it’s okay to ring. Sometimes it’s easier than constantly texting.’
‘No, good. It’s fine.’ I realise I’m smiling at the sound of his voice. ‘So, how have you been?’
‘Good.’ He pauses. ‘Listen, sorry I haven’t been in touch much since we went out. Work’s been a bit mad.’
‘It’s fine. You’re a busy man.’
‘Yes, very busy and important.’ I can hear the smile in his voice. He clears his throat. ‘Anyway, I saw your interview, on the news.’
‘Oh, right. Yeah. Mortifying.’
‘No, it was good. Great.’ He hesitates. ‘So, any luck?’
‘No. Nothing at all.’ I sigh. ‘I’m beginning to think he doesn’t really exist.’
Matt laughs but it sounds forced. ‘Well, I guess it’s hard when you can’t even remember what he looks like.’
‘I guess so.’
The line hums and I listen to Matt’s breathing. I’m about to say something else just to fill the silence when he speaks. ‘I was wondering if you fancied a day out.’
‘Oh! Yes, sure. Where?’
‘It’s meant to be nice at the weekend and I was thinking – only if you fancy it – that maybe we could go to the seaside.’
My mind flashes back to the beaches Jay and I have been on in my dreams, and my heart stutters.
‘I’d love to,’ I say.
‘Oh great!’ He sounds surprised. ‘Gladys will be pleased, she loves seeing you.’
‘I love seeing her too.’
We arrange for the pair of them to pick me up from my flat at ten o’clock on Saturday morning. ‘We’ll take the Metro though, it’s much easier than trying to find somewhere to park on a busy Saturday,’ he says.
When we end the call I feel uneasy. I’m looking forward to the day out, and to spending time with Matt and Gladys, and even to taking the Metro away from the city for the first time since I arrived. But I hate upsetting people, even inadvertently, and I can’t shake the feeling that there was something else Matt wanted to say before we ended our call.
With a huge sigh, I finally drag myself off the sofa and head into the tiny kitchen to make some food. It’s only five o’clock but I’m starving and I’ve also arranged to collect a bike I bought from eBay later. I’m hoping it’s in good enough condition to use straight away so I can start cycling to work again. I’ve missed my exercise since I’ve been here.
Thinking about exercise makes me think about Kirstie and how cross she’d be if she knew how much I’d let my fitness slip. I’ve also been feeling guilty about keeping the Look North interview from them both, and I know I have to tell them eventually. It’s just I know what their reaction will be – especially Kirstie’s – and I’m not sure I’m ready for it.
And yet I also hate keeping things from them. It just feels wrong. So, once I’ve made my pasta I sit on the sofa, pick up the phone, take a deep breath, and tap out a message to them both. Then I switch off my phone and leave the flat.
* * *
By the time Saturday arrives I’m regretting agreeing to a day out. I’m so exhausted after a week of teaching a bunch of kids I don’t know that all I really want to do is collapse on the sofa and sleep. But the day is bright and sunny and I’ve promised Matt and I can’t let him down now.
At ten on the dot my buzzer goes and I grab my bag, sunglasses and a jacket and run down to meet him. As soon as I open the door Gladys wags her tail and barks at me. I crouch down to greet her, rubbing the backs of her ears as she sniffs my leg. Finally I stand and greet Matt. He’s had a haircut and a shave and he looks shiny and clean, like a school boy who’s made an effort for the school disco.
‘Hey,’ he says, and steps forward to give me a hug. He smells lovely and I’m disappointed when he moves away.
‘Hey.’
‘Ready?’
‘Think so. Do I need anything else? Towels? Beach umbrellas? Windbreakers?’
He grins. ‘I think we’re good. I’ve brought some snacks.’ He turns to show me his rucksack, which is bulging.
‘Blimey, how many people are you feeding?’
He gives a rueful smile. ‘I did bring quite a lot. But there is a rug in here too so it’s not all food.’
‘That’s really kind, thank you,’ I say, touched by his thoughtfulness.
It’s only a five-minute walk to West Jesmond Metro station, but Gladys keeps stopping to sniff everything in sight so it takes more like fifteen minutes by the time we get there. Matt buys our tickets, and we spot that a train to the coast is about to arrive so he scoops Gladys up and we run under the underpass, arriving on the platform just as the train glides into the station.
‘Perfect timing,’ Matt says, as we settle into our seats. I’m by the window so I watch as we pass by the backs of houses, rows of gardens and yards with swing sets, lines of washing blowing in the breeze and patio sets, one after the other.
‘So, where are we actually going?’ I say, as Gladys settles on my feet.
‘Whitley Bay.’
I squint at the Metro map printed on the opposite wall to find Whitley Bay just above a place called Tynemouth on the circular yellow Metro line. Just below that is North Shields and, across the river, South Shields, but there aren’t many other places I recognise the names of between here and there.
‘I guess you’ve never been before?’ he says.
‘No, never.’ I look at him. ‘What’s it like?’
‘Whitley Bay’s a lovely seaside town with a massive beach. If you’re not used to the north-east wind though you might be a bit shocked by the chill factor – oh wait, is that flimsy jacket all you’ve got?’
I glance down at the denim jacket in my hand and nod.
‘It’ll be all right. It’s a lovely day,’ I say, but he crinkles his face up and shakes his head.
‘Ah bless, so na?ve,’ he says. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll beat the optimism out of you.’
‘Come on, it can’t be that bad.’
‘I’m not saying another word.’ He nods at his rucksack. ‘I should have told you to wrap up warm, but let me just point out I have a spare jumper in here, should anyone need it.’
‘Point taken and thank you.’ The train is busier now, people standing by the doors clutching blankets and parasols and all kinds of beach paraphernalia, and we rumble on towards the coast.
As we pull into Whitley Bay station, Matt stands and I follow suit. Gladys looks up, disgruntled that I’m moving, then hauls herself to her feet. The doors open and we pile out, emerging a few seconds later onto a residential street.
‘This is Whitley Bay,’ Matt says, trying to wrangle his rucksack back on while holding on to Gladys’s lead at the same time. I take the lead from him and he smiles gratefully.
‘Down this way,’ Matt says once he’s got himself sorted, pointing down a gentle slope which I assume heads towards the sea. Given that everyone else seems to be heading in the same direction I think it’s a safe assumption. We set off, Gladys trotting happily alongside us, stopping occasionally to sniff at walls and fences and hedges.
‘Did you have any luck borrowing a dog yet?’ Matt says as Gladys stops to wee in someone’s geraniums.
‘A possible one, a Labrador called Stanley who’s apparently “a bit of a tinker”, which sounds ominous. I think his owner just wants him to have more exercise during the day so he doesn’t tire her out when she gets back from work. It could work on my days off.’
‘All Labs are like that. They don’t seem to get tired for hours until they finally collapse for the day.’
‘Well, we’ll see. I’m meant to be going to meet him tomorrow, he’s only round the corner.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’
‘Oh, I?—’
‘Only if you want me to. I just thought?—’
‘No, course, that would be lovely. Thank you.’
Any awkwardness is soon forgotten as we reach the bottom of the road and turn the corner and BAM! It’s like being smacked in the face as the wind takes my breath away.
‘Jesus!’ I yell, and when I turn, Matt’s laughing at me.
‘Hey, it’s not funny!’
‘It is a bit funny.’ He wipes his hand across his mouth, trying to be serious. ‘Sorry. No. It’s very much not funny at all.’ The corner of his mouth is twitching.
‘You sod!’
He shrugs. ‘Well, I did try to warn you.’
The gust has died down a bit – for now – and I concede his point with a nod. ‘Fair enough, you did.’ I straighten up, button my jacket and push my hair away from my face. Then I see it for the first time. The sea.
‘Oh look, it’s sparkling!’
Matt turns to face it too, and the smile on his face is as wide as the horizon. ‘It looks lush in the sunshine, doesn’t it? My dad always used to say it was like it was made of diamonds on a day like this.’
There’s a note of sadness mixed with affection in his voice and I look at him. He’s never mentioned his family before and I’m intrigued. ‘Does he…’ I don’t know how to ask. ‘Is he still around, your dad?’
Matt doesn’t meet my gaze but carries on staring out to sea, at a point somewhere near the horizon. He gives a small shake of his head. ‘No, he’s not.’ His jaw tightens and I sense he’s only just managing to hold it together, so I don’t ask him any more. Instead I reach out and put my hand on his arm, and he looks down at me and smiles. But it’s the sort of smile that makes him look sad rather than happy.
‘Sorry,’ he says, swallowing. ‘I haven’t been out here for a while and it just hit me, like, thinking about him.’
We stand looking out to sea for a couple more minutes. I’d love to ask him more about his dad, but I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready.
The moment is broken by Gladys barking at a seagull so we set off again, back towards the seafront. The wind is strong but not constant, coming in gusts and gasps, sneaking round corners and through gaps between buildings as though it’s trying to catch you unawares. My hair is wild and my cheeks feel pink but it’s invigorating, especially with the sun shining to warm us up a little, and I can’t help thinking about my many beach dreams – the wind in my hair as Jay and I wandered along the beach hand in hand, waves whipped into frothy tips. Could this have been the beach from my dreams? Could I be about to walk in the same place as I walked with Jay?
Don’t be daft, I chastise myself. And yet my still heart thumps with anticipation, even as I feel guilty for thinking about it. I should concentrate on right here right now, on being here with Matt.
‘Miranda?’
I realise Matt’s been talking to me and I turn my head to look at him guiltily. ‘Sorry, I was… somewhere else.’
‘I was just pointing out the lighthouse,’ he says, and I look in the direction of his finger. There’s a tiny dot of a lighthouse, like a child’s toy, far in the distance, on a rocky outcrop.
‘We’re not walking all the way there, are we? It’s miles away.’
‘It’s two miles.’ He glances at me. ‘I thought we might later, if you’re up for it? I haven’t been for years.’
Something about the way he says it – wistful – makes it clear it means something to him, so I nod my agreement. ‘Why not, as long as the rain holds off.’
We both glance up at the sky where white and grey clouds hop and skip across the pale blue like children playing hopscotch.
‘Where do you want to go first?’
I glance round and shrug. ‘I don’t really know anything about this place so I’m in your hands.’
‘Why don’t we just head onto the beach for a bit, then we’ll go for a coffee.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’
We head down the slope towards the beach. It’s half sand and half pebbles, and the tide is out. We pick our way along the hard, wet sand, past clumps of seaweed and pools of seawater towards the shoreline. Matt stops and picks up a couple of shells and hands one to me. Its ridged edges are pinkish, and when I cup it in my palm it fills almost half of it.
‘This is beautiful.’
‘It is, isn’t it? I used to love coming here to collect shells. Filled buckets of them but I was never allowed to take them home. “You’ve got to respect nature,” Dad always said. I got it, but I was still heartbroken when he made me replace every single one of them onto the beach before we left to go home.’
I look down at the shell in my hand and close my palm round it, pocketing it, for now.
‘Shall we go and skim some stones?’ I say, then I race off and leave him to catch up, Gladys yapping with joy. When I get to the water’s edge I stop and watch the waves rise and froth, then splash onto the pebbles and the seaweed-covered rocks before racing up the shore towards my toes. My body tenses as the waves creep closer and closer but, just before it reaches me, it stops, then recedes, ready to start the process all over again.
‘The tide’s still going out so you’re fine for now, but you’d have soaking wet shoes if you did that later.’ Matt’s beside me and he bends down and unclips Gladys’s lead. She runs towards the sea, yapping her head off, then turns and races away again.
‘She’s always loved the beach.’
‘She’s got so much energy.’
‘Not as much as she used to, and she’ll be wiped out later.’
I bend down and select a flattish pebble from near my feet, then twist my body and flick the stone into an approaching wave. It bounces once, twice, three times, and then a fourth time before finally sinking without a trace.
‘Impressive,’ Matt says.
‘I used to be much better.’ I glance at him watching me. ‘My dad taught me in the canal near our house. I think my record is about nine bounces.’
‘Nine! Now you’ve set a challenge.’
I put my hands on my hips. ‘Reckon you can beat me do you?’
Matt gives a wonky grin. ‘Probably not but I’m going to give it a damn good try.’ He bends and picks up a stone, then drops down low and lobs it into the water. It bounces twice and disappears.
‘That was just a trial run,’ he says, picking up another and another. Each time it bounces twice or three times, then sinks without a trace.
‘It’s all in the wrist action,’ I say, picking one up to demonstrate.
‘Is it now?’ Matt raises his eyebrows and waggles them.
I ignore him, then turn, position my hand, and flick the stone into the water. This time it bounces five times and Matt claps.
‘Okay, I give up, you really are a master at this.’
‘It’s just practice. Come on.’ I move behind him and reach out for his hand that’s holding a stone. My chest and belly are pressed against his back. I try not to notice my heart thumping, or my skin tingling.
‘Right, you need to angle yourself like this’ – I twist him round to the right – ‘then lower yourself slightly, bring your arm back like this’ – we move our arms together – ‘then quickly twist and flick your wrist and let go before you get to the front.’ We pivot round quickly and the stone goes flying off in the wrong direction and plops onto the sand.
‘Okay, not quite like that but you get the idea,’ I say. I’m still standing very close to Matt and I step away and pick up another stone. ‘You need to spin it, like this.’ I show him again.
‘Right, got it,’ he says, picking up another and trying again. This time he lets go of the stone at the right time and it whizzes just above the water, then bounces, one, two, three, four times before disappearing. Matt throws his arms in the air in celebration.
‘Yesss! I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.’ He looks like a little boy who’s just learned to tie his shoelaces and my heart fills with warmth.
We try a few more times, then start to stroll along the shoreline, the waves splashing happily to our right, the damp sand shimmering, the wind whipping our clothes round us like badly pegged tents. It’s a cool breeze and I shiver as a particularly strong gust almost throws me off my feet.
‘I’m not one for I told you so , but I thought this might come in handy,’ he says, stopping and pulling a pale blue jumper out of his rucksack. He hands it to me with a wry smile.
‘Thank you,’ I say, tugging it over my head and replacing my jacket. I’m instantly warmer and grateful for Matt’s thoughtfulness.
A few minutes later Matt starts to head away from the shore and up the beach. He clips Gladys back onto her lead and we walk in the direction of a large white domed building.
‘This is Spanish City,’ he says as we approach. Tables and chairs are dotted around outside and a few people are eating ice creams and drinking pots of tea, but it’s a little too cold for most.
‘Why’s it called that?’ I glance round. ‘It doesn’t feel very Spanish right now.’
‘I think when it was built over a hundred years ago there were Spanish street scenes painted on it.’ He grins. ‘I’m not sure that would convince anyone they were in Spain to be honest.’
‘Maybe not.’
‘Shall we get a takeaway and keep moving?’ he says. A grey cloud hovers above us, threateningly.
‘It looks like it’s about to rain.’
‘True. But it might be better to get there before it tips it down. The weather changes quickly round here, with this wind.’
‘Fair enough,’ I agree.
Coffees bought, we return to the beach to let Gladys run free just as a few spots of rain begin to dot the sand. As she skids around in the sand chasing her own tail, I sip my coffee and wonder whether to ask Matt more about his dad. Before I can think how to bring it up, though, he does.
‘Me and Dad always loved it here.’ He looks straight ahead, out towards the horizon. ‘Mum wasn’t so bothered, thought it was too cold, wasn’t really one for the outdoors. Dad and I used to bundle up and come out to the coast with buckets and spade and nets no matter what the weather and spend the whole day here until we couldn’t feel our faces or our hands.
‘It was our thing. We loved coming down to the rock pools when the tide was out, like it is now, and catching crabs and fish and all sorts. Dad knew the names of them all, and he often used to stay, turning over rocks and lifting up hunks of seaweed, until we had one of everything. Didn’t feel as though it had been a proper day out if we missed any. I loved the way he was so enthusiastic, and how, once we were done, we’d walk along the beach towards the lighthouse, my bucket full, water sloshing over the side onto my feet, always holding hands with my dad.’
A seagull lands on the sand in front of us, pecking at a dropped chip, until Gladys chases it away and we watch it lift off, wings flapping, soaring into the wind, looking for more food to steal.
‘I don’t come here very often these days. It’s too hard, the memories, you know.’
I nod but don’t reply, and Matt stops abruptly. I turn to look at him, and his eyes are watery but I don’t know whether it’s from tears or the wind. ‘I’m glad I’ve come today though. Thank you.’
‘I… I think it was your idea,’ I stammer.
He shakes his head. ‘But I would never have done it on my own.’
‘Well, then you’re very welcome,’ I say, giving a small curtsy.
Matt holds my gaze a moment, then looks away.
‘Anyway, I think we should get an ice cream then head to the lighthouse. The views are amazing from the top. You up for it?’
I nod, and once again we head away from the beach and towards a square brick building on the promenade where I buy us a ninety-nine cone each. As we stroll along the seafront my hair keeps getting caught in the ice cream, but I don’t care because there’s something simple and wholesome about this entire day that’s giving me a warm glow of happiness, like a fire has been lit in my belly.
‘Anyway, we mustn’t forget to look out for your man,’ Matt says, throwing the end of his cone in a bin.
‘What?’
He looks at me. ‘You know, Jay.’
‘Oh, right. Yes, course.’ It feels as though sand has been thrown on the fire, extinguishing it instantly.
‘So, what sort of dog has he got?’ Matt says.
‘I, er, don’t know.’
‘Right. Any idea at all what Jay might look like? Blond, brunette? Tall, short?’
‘I…’ I don’t know how to answer him. The easiest way would be to tell the truth, but I clearly can’t do that. ‘He’s… quite tall. I think, although I was wearing heels so I can’t be sure. And he’s got short dark hair and…’ I don’t want to make too much up in case I do ever find him and it’s all completely wrong.
‘Right. So a tall, dark-haired man with a dog.’ Matt looks round, across the beach and seafront where there are dozens of men walking dogs. ‘That narrows it down.’
I bury my face in my hands. ‘I know. This is ridiculous, isn’t it? Perhaps I should just give up.’
Matt doesn’t reply for a while and I look up to find him watching me. ‘Do you want to give up?’
‘No. Yes. I don’t know.’
‘Okay good, so that’s lovely and clear.’
I shake my head and smile. ‘I know, I’m sorry. I can’t help thinking I’m wasting my time here.’
‘Well, only if you think spending time with me is wasting time.’ He shuffles his feet.
‘Oh don’t fish for compliments. You know what I mean. I’m very much enjoying spending time with you?—’
‘Well, good.’
He scoops Gladys up and she wags her tail and sniffs his face. ‘We’re enjoying spending time with Miranda as well, aren’t we, Gladys?’ She barks and we both laugh and I try not to think about what he’s just said.
We carry on towards the lighthouse. The wind has died down now and the rain is still light, but clouds the colour of flint hurtle across the sky, threatening a downpour. Soon, the path narrows and flattens out and there’s a row of benches lined up along the edge of the path, facing out to sea. Each one has a small plaque stuck to the back, some have flowers in little cones hooked to them, and one is a sea of black and white stripes. I stop and read the messages. One of the benches is dedicated to a young lad who died before he left his teens, who loved his family, and his beloved Newcastle United. Tears well behind my eyes.
‘My dad has a bench here.’
I whip my head round to look at Matt. ‘Really? Where?’
He nods. ‘Just up there. I haven’t visited it for ages.’
He swallows, staring at the photo of the young man I’ve just been reading about.
‘Do you want to visit it now?’
He doesn’t reply, but a few seconds later dips his chin. ‘It’s just along here. I… I wasn’t sure whether I’d want to see it but now I’m here, I really do.’
He sets off in the direction of the bench and I follow, slightly behind. I don’t want to intrude on this moment, but I don’t want to abandon him if he needs someone there either. From the stories he told me earlier, he was clearly very close to his dad.
The walk is further than I expected, and I glance at the plaques on the other benches as we pass, dodging children on bikes, joggers and tourists at the same time; most of them are dedicated to older people who have died, but the odd one is for someone younger, too young, and the thought makes my breath catch in my throat.
Eventually, Matt comes to a stop, and I hover a little behind him. For a few moments he simply stands and looks at the bench, not saying a word. I can’t read the inscription from here. There are no other adornments, but the bronze plaque is shiny, the sun glinting off it. Matt’s face is stony, his jaw so tight I can see him grinding his teeth, and I know he’s trying not to cry. I want to tell him not to hold back for my benefit; to let it all out. In my head I can imagine what Sophie would say: it’s always better to have a good old cry to clear everything out, otherwise you just get blocked up like a smelly old drain. But I don’t feel I know him well enough for that, so I stay where I am and say nothing.
Eventually, he turns to look at me. He’s smiling, but his eyes are sad.
‘Do you want to sit down?’
I take a step forward. ‘Are you going to?’
He nods, wipes the raindrops off the seat with his sleeve and sits, before picking Gladys up to sit beside him. I lower myself down onto the other end and look out to sea. The water is a flat grey now, but there’s still the odd diamond glint as a slice of sun battles through the clouds. Through the railings the beach has disappeared beneath rocks, some shiny and dark, others covered in a thick layer of green moss. Families pick their way carefully across them, oblivious to the drizzle, bending occasionally to search for something, or to scoop something out with a net, grinning at their catch of the day, and I picture Matt here with his father, doing just this all those years ago.
‘Thanks for coming here with me,’ Matt says, his voice making me jump. I turn to look at him, and he’s gazing out at the horizon, his eyes shining. Even from this angle I can see the pain in them.
He points to the plaque. ‘Dad died two years ago, and I’ve only been here once since then. I feel so guilty but I just can’t—’ His voice catches and without thinking I stretch out my hand and wrap it round his on the wooden slats between us. He looks down at our intertwined fingers but doesn’t move them.
‘You don’t have to talk about it,’ I say.
He shakes his head. ‘No, it’s good for me. I just… I miss him so much. But I feel him here. I really feel him.’
I smile at him and he looks back out to sea. Gladys sniffs our hands, then settles down with her head on her front paws. ‘You tired girl?’ Matt says, ruffling her head with his free hand. ‘Your old legs aren’t doing too badly today, aren’t they?’
‘She’ll sleep well tonight.’
‘She will. So will I.’
We sit like that for a few more minutes, the blustery wind buffering us back and forth. I don’t need to ask Matt any questions, it’s already clear how much it means to him to be here.
The rain is getting heavier and within seconds the heavens have opened and fat drops splatter across the tarmac, changing it quickly from pale to dark grey.
Matt snatches his hand away and we both jump up.
‘Quick, we’ll get soaked if we stay here,’ he says, and we half run, half walk in the direction of the lighthouse. It’s still quite a long way along the walkway and by the time we arrive in the small shop at the base of the lighthouse, we’re both soaked through. Gladys looks less impressed than we do and I can’t help laughing at her disgruntled face as she drips forlornly all over the tiled floor. The windows are steamed up and Matt’s hair is plastered to his head.
‘Well, that was fun,’ he says, swiping ineffectually at the water dripping down his face.
‘I feel like I’ve been in the shower fully clothed,’ I say, as water seeps down my back.
We buy cups of tea and stand watching the rain hammer down on the path outside and trickle down the glass.
‘Shall we climb to the top?’
‘Are we allowed?’
‘We always used to. I loved it.’
‘Go on then.’
The lady behind the counter takes our money, hands us two tickets and points to a small door to the right. ‘Go through there and you’ll find a few exhibits along the way, then you’ll come to the stairs,’ she says.
‘Thank you,’ I say, clutching the tickets.
‘Is it okay to take Gladys?’ Matt says. The woman peers over the counter. ‘Hello, girl,’ she says. ‘Yes, she can go up but you might need to carry her. She looks like she’s had enough.’
‘She does, doesn’t she?’ Matt says, giving Gladys’s lead a tug.
‘Have fun!’ the woman calls out, then we disappear behind the door.
‘God, this place hasn’t changed at all,’ Matt says. ‘I learnt all about St Mary’s lighthouse when I was a kid and I swear these are the same pictures.’ He’s looking at them with wide eyes and I can see the little boy he once was.
‘Did you come here with your dad too?’
‘Loads of times. He loved the view from the top.’ He doesn’t elaborate.
We turn and head towards the stairs. It’s in need of a good coat of paint here, but the railing spiralling up towards the roof and the concrete steps look sturdy enough.
‘Come on, girl,’ Matt says, scooping Gladys into his arms. ‘Ready?’
‘Ready.’
We climb up, and up, and up. About halfway I feel breathless and stop to look down. I’m out of shape since I moved to Newcastle without Kirstie to go running with. The last steps up to the very top are steep, and we both duck to avoid smacking our heads. But then we’re out – and Matt’s right. The view from here is amazing. On one side is the beach, stretching out for miles along the coast. It’s still lashing down and there are a few hardy dog walkers scurrying across the sand, heads down, but otherwise it’s deserted.
‘If you look down there,’ Matt says, from the other side, ‘you might be able to see some seals – although if they’ve got any sense they won’t be sitting out in this weather.’
I cross to stand beside him, and squint down towards the rocks. It’s hard to make anything out through the rain and without my glasses.
‘Dad and I used to come here with our binoculars and spend ages trying to spot as many as we could.’
‘What sort are they?’
‘Grey seals. They’re quite rare. It’s mostly the babies who sit here, then when the tide comes back in again they float off somewhere else.’ He pauses. ‘Maybe we’ll see them better when we go back down again.’
We stand looking out at the sea for a while longer, Gladys sniffing round our feet. I’ve started to dry off now but my trousers are still stuck to my legs and I feel a bit chilly. Heavy clouds still hang in the sky, but there’s a slice of blue along the coast, bringing with it the hope of sunshine.
I’m conscious of Matt standing right beside me, the tops of our arms touching, and I’m overcome with an urge to move closer to him, to warm myself up. I glance at him and he must do the same because now we’re looking at each other, and there’s no one else here. I can feel his heartbeat pulsing through his arm against me. Neither of us moves for a moment, as though not sure which way this is going to go, and my heart is hammering in my chest and?—
A clattering on the steps below us breaks the moment and we spring apart. Seconds later a head appears in the gap where the stairs are and a man in his late sixties climbs into the space, followed by a woman the same age, who I assume is his wife.
‘Oh, hello,’ they say in unison.
‘I’m absolutely puffed out,’ the woman says, and Matt nods and says, ‘I’m not surprised, those steps are very steep, we weren’t much better, were we, Miranda?’ I shake my head and smile back at them.
‘Oh, but you two are much younger and fitter than us,’ the man says.
‘Gosh, Jeremy, look at this view,’ the woman says, and Jeremy throws us an apologetic look and hurries over to where his wife is pointing at something in the distance.
‘Maybe we should go back down,’ Matt says.
‘Yes, good idea,’ I say, keen to try and forget whatever that moment was that we just had.
By the time we’ve got to the bottom of the steps and re-emerged into the gift shop, the rain has stopped and the sun is already drying the ground. Matt wasn’t wrong about the weather changing quickly. We set off back along the walkway in the direction of the town, hopping over puddles and dodging children, just pausing to say goodbye to Matt’s father.
We chat all the way along the beach back to the Metro station, and all the way home to West Jesmond, but the conversation feels a little more self-conscious somehow, and neither of us mention Jay or my hunt for him again, nor do we talk about the moment at the top of the lighthouse.
Was there even a moment, or am I imagining it? I can’t be sure any more.
By the time we arrive back in Jesmond, things seem normal between us again, and I’m relieved. I don’t need any more complications in my life. Besides, I do still need to remain focused on the point of coming here in the first place, otherwise I’ve turned my life upside down for no good reason.
We’re about to say goodbye at the end of my road when I remember something. I rummage in my bag as Matt and Gladys watch me in confusion. Finally, I find what I’m looking for and pull it out triumphantly – the copy of A Clockwork Orange I’d bought Matt on a whim the week before.
‘Is this for me?’ Matt says, incredulous, running his finger over the beautiful embossed cover.
‘Yes,’ I say, suddenly shy.
‘It’s amazing, thank you so much.’
‘I just wanted to say thank you for… you know. Showing me round. Helping me.’ I look down at the floor and shrug. ‘Making me feel so welcome.’
Matt doesn’t reply straight away and when I look up at him he’s watching me, a serious expression on his face. ‘You know it’s been a pleasure, don’t you, Miranda?’ he says.
‘I…’ I nod. ‘It has for me too.’
He tucks the book carefully into his rucksack. ‘Well, thank you for my book, and thank you for a lovely day. It’s been so nice to go to Whitley Bay again and… and see my dad.’
‘You’re welcome. See you soon?’
‘I’ll text you.’
And then he’s gone, and it’s not until I get home and strip off my still-damp clothes that I realise I’m still wearing his jumper.