24. Cassie
CASSIE
So it turns out soccer with two children under ten, a novice who had never even watched a game this time last year, and a world renowned player makes for a pretty uneven match up.
Robbie was obviously dumbing down his game significantly to accommodate us, but at least Ffion and Sammy know how to actually kick the ball.
“You’re using your toes too much,” Robbie tells me with a growing smirk. He’s not even sweaty, the bastard.
“Oh, am I not supposed to use my feet in foot ball?” I drawl, resting my hands on my hips.
“Tilt your foot out like this and kick with the side of your foot not your toes.” He dribbles the ball back to my side and lets it roll slowly.
I tilt my foot so I can catch it on the side instead of sacrificing my emerald green toe polish.
Robbie’s hand falls on my hip, twisting my hip until I’m standing in the correct position.
I glance up at him as he hovers behind me, his t-shirt brushing against the delicate skin on the back of my arm.
His other hand gently strokes against my skin as goosebumps erupt in its wake.
“Maybe you shouldn’t play barefoot,” Sian calls from the patio, pulling us from the moment.
They’ve all been watching our game since we started, shouting out helpful suggestions and cheering whenever anyone got the best of Robbie, although I’m woman enough to admit that we’re probably being given a significant advantage.
I clear my throat and step back, letting the ball roll away and towards the makeshift goal. I didn’t notice the kids running back to their parents, but now it’s just Robbie and I in the garden, the grass sinking between my toes.
“I don’t think her heels are more suitable, Mum,” Robbie tells the crowd as he lets the ball roll to a stop under his foot.
Suddenly feeling exposed, I cross back to the group and take a seat on the kitchen chair that was pulled outside to join the patio furniture as soon as more than four adults needed somewhere to sit.
I curl my leg up, brushing off the tiny flecks of dirt and grass stuck to my feet.
“Don’t you have any other shoes?” Gwen asks.
“Uh…” I glance at Robbie as he’s concentrating on keeping the ball in the air with his foot.
I’ve already learned it’s called an ‘around the world’.
He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, still not letting the ball fall.
He’s waiting to see how much I’m going to admit. “I didn’t bring anything with me.”
Gwen turns in her seat, resting her hand on the arm of the chair and pushing her sunglasses up her head. She has a round friendly face, eyelashes to die for, and an adorable gap between her two front teeth. “You didn’t bring any clothes?”
I shrug. “It was kind of a…last minute decision.”
Gwen and Sian glance at each other. “You can borrow some of my stuff,” Gwen offers.
“You definitely brought enough,” Iwan says, resting his head on the back of the chair. “We’re only here for two nights.” Gwen flicks the baseball cap on his head so it’s further covering his eyes.
“You’re welcome to borrow anything, but I don’t have anything spare to swim in.”
“Yay, the beach!” Ffion exclaims. Her earlier shyness has dissipated slightly after we played a bit of soccer together.
“Ffion got a new body board for her birthday so she’s desperate to use it.” Gwen tells me slyly. “We’ve been promising to take her to try it out as soon as the weather got warm enough.”
I smile at the thought that it’s a heat wave when it’s barely 70 degrees but I can’t deny the thrill at the thought of getting in the water again.
I haven’t been since I took Robbie surfing almost two months ago.
I glance up at Robbie, remembering the last time we went out, and he finally loses control of the ball, sending it spiraling into the table with all of our empty mugs.
“Right, that’s enough,” Sian exclaims, jumping to her seat and snatching the ball from the floor and rounding on a laughing Robbie.
“I didn’t mean to!” He laughs, and it's younger than I’ve ever heard him sound as his mum chucks the ball back to him.
“Come on.” Gwen stands up and holds her hand out for me. “We’ll see what fits.”
By the time Gwen and I have rummaged through her stuffed suitcase and I’ve found a flowing strappy dress that looks cute, and the car’s packed with snacks, beach chairs, towels and a variety of toys, I’ve more than forgotten any intention to go home.
It was decided that the children would drive down with their parents, and that it would be a bit less ostentatious to take Sian’s Volvo than Robbie’s Range Rover, so we climbed into the back seat.
Compared to Robbie’s clean and empty car, the Volvo has much more life in it.
A worn umbrella is under my feet in the footwell and a blanket rests along the headrests on the back.
Robbie slides in next to me and immediately rolls the window down.
“Where should we park?” Sian asks Arthur as he pulls out onto the road, the others following in a convoy behind us.
“By the church?”
Robbie leans across the middle seat so he can join in. “No, don’t go there. Last time my car got scratched to fuck.”
“Language, Robert,” Sian chastises.
“That’s why we left your fancy paint job in the garage,” Arthur tells him.
Robbie has leaned over so much that I can smell the sunscreen sticking to his skin. Summer and salt. I tug at the skirt rising up my thighs. I didn’t even shower before we left, too excited at the prospect of jumping in salt water to care about my hair or my lack of makeup.
I must make some sort of noise because Robbie turns to me, blinking at how close we suddenly are to each other.
“There’s a cute little shop just next to the beach, Cassie,” Sian tells me. “You’ll be able to get a swimming cozzie in there, I’m sure.”
I hide my smile at the term. I’ve never heard it before, but it’s already my new favorite phrase.
My accent surely stands out like a bit of a sore thumb around this family.
I thought Robbie had an accent, but I can now recognize it as closer to Danny and Pip than the rest of his family.
They all drop their h’s and all of their words go up at the end as if they’re about to break into song in any minute.
Robbie shifts in the seat next to me, and I glance over to see him staring at my borrowed dress as if realizing for the first time that I’m not wearing anything underneath. I can’t pull my eyes away from his as he sucks a harsh inhale.
“Great,” I tell Sian, slightly hoarse.
I turn to my window and let the cool breeze rush through. I will not get horny in the back seat of a guy’s parents car. I will not.
The drive is slow, full of stop starts and narrow lanes and slow moving traffic. We eventually pull into a crowded parking lot, cars parked haphazardly wherever there’s space.
“Stop here, Arthur,” Sian tells her husband, already clicking her seatbelt open. “I can’t be arsed to sit in this car for a second longer. Cassie and I will go to the shop and meet you down there.”
Arthur sighs as he pulls to a stop.
“Robbie.” Sian pulls open her door. “Make sure you help your brother carry everything out. We’ll meet you at the top of the steps. Come on, flower.”
I dutifully unbuckle and climb out, following Sian as we cross the grass and head towards a row of white cottages.
Behind it, the green cliffs stretch for what seems like miles, with a long strip of sand already dotted with families abutting the sparkling blue sea.
It’s only late morning, but we’re surrounded by people all making the most of the nice weather.
I keep my head down and my sunglasses firmly on my head.
The last thing I need is a fan to spot me and wonder what on earth I’m doing on a West Wales beach resort and not on the West Coast like I should be.
“I can’t be in the car when Arthur tries to park. He’s dreadful at it and he hates when I tell him so,” Sian tells me with a fake shiver. “Better to remove myself, otherwise there’ll be ructions.”
I bite my lip to stop the grin. What the hell does ‘ructions’ mean?
“Here’s the shop,” Sian announces, and I follow her through the doorway of a tiny old fishing cottage.
Trinkets adorn the wall and net bags with a variety of balls, bats and floatables hang from every rack.
It takes no time at all to locate the tiny selection of swimwear along the back wall, and I make a beeline for it.
I’ve seen a lot of clothes in my time, and I have an entire closet at home for bikinis and wetsuits, so I feel like I’m expert enough to say that this is the most unflattering selection I’ve ever seen.
I can't help but giggle at the thought of Pip’s face if she saw what I had to work with.
A leopard print one piece is passable, but probably a few sizes too big and I end up with the only thing in my size: a neon orange and pink string two piece.
I think my mother would have a fit if she saw me in anything other than the highest standard couture, so I pluck it off the hanger with a relish and take a pair of army green broad shorts for the hell of it.
“Found one, love?” Sian asks. I shake it in the air and love the way her brows raise with a wicked grin. “Well, we definitely won’t lose you.”
I snicker as I cross to the counter, keeping my eyes lowered as the elderly woman behind the counter rings it up. I pull out my shiny black card, the only one I actually have with me apart from the cards on my dead phone that I purposefully left back at the house.
“Cash only,” the woman tells me, and I fiddle with the card in my hand.
Who doesn’t take card nowadays?
Sian hands over a handful of notes, and the owner accepts it without complaint, opening the cash register with a ding.
“Sian, you didn’t have to.”
She waves her hand. “Don’t be silly, flower.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, already preparing to pay her back tenfold.
By the time I’ve slipped into the bathroom to pull on the bikini under my dress, the others are waiting outside, arms laden with folding chairs, boogie boards, and beach bags.
“Catch,” is the first thing I hear when I approach, and I raise my arms instinctively to grab whatever the hell Robbie has just unceremoniously chucked at my face.
It’s a faded green hat, the logo just a faint outline of a dragon. I glance up at him, and he shrugs. “I thought you might want it.”
I pull my hair into a ponytail and thread it through the back, settling it on my hair. “Thanks.”
“Have we got everything?” Iwan asks us all, hoisting an umbrella into his arms. “I’m not making two trips up those steps.”
“Let’s do it,” Arthur replies.