Epilogue
Soft white sand gives way beneath my feet, little footprints leading their way here. I look back at them now, marking out my route to the ocean. Next to them, much bigger footprints, almost twice the size of mine.
A woosh of foam reaches the tips of my toes and I turn my attention back to the turquoise sea stretching out for miles ahead of us. Another baby wave rolls gently into shore, leaving a fresh delivery of shells in its wake. This time, a pearlescent pink one is uncovered right by my feet and I resist the urge to pick it up because my shell collection is getting out of hand.
But Luke spots it, reaches down, turns it over in his hands. Slips it into his pocket and I just know he’ll be adding it to the bowl I’ve filled with shells when we get home.
Home.
It feels strange and also completely familiar to call the Maldives our home. Even more so to say that I share that home with Luke.
I push my baseball hat further down on my head to shade my eyes from the setting sun. It’s got the words ‘book lover’ written across it and no, I have not taken it off since we landed.
‘This view will never get old,’ says Luke.
‘I know,’ I reply. ‘Tonight’s sunset is pulling out all the stops.’
‘I wasn’t talking about the sunset.’ He grins, and I realise he’s looking at me. The sky, all purple and orange, is reflected in his gaze and not for the first time, I wonder if I should pinch myself, just to double check this is actually happening.
Because it’s mad, really. I’m selling books to holidaymakers in the middle of the Indian Ocean. The white-washed bookshop is nestled in the hotel’s grounds, surrounded by palm trees, just a short sandy walk from this very beach. Sometimes, on my lunch break, I’ll dangle my feet over the nearby jetty, watching the marine life go about their business. Sometimes, if he isn’t taking classes, Luke will turn up with a hamper filled with a picnic lunch under one arm and we’ll eat together in the shade of a coconut tree.
Guests love the shop and my favourite thing is sitting down for a consultation, listening to their current reads and then recommending something I think they might like. It feels right, to be working here. Even on the crazy busy days when I’m racing from one customer to the next and lugging new stock into the shop. There’s this feeling, deep inside, that I am finally doing something for me , something I’ve always wanted to do. I am finally following my dreams. And that is pretty special.
‘Come on.’ I pull on Luke’s hand. ‘Big day tomorrow.’
‘Mm,’ he says, nodding. ‘Remind me exactly how many of your friends are descending on us?’
‘Four.’ I grin. ‘And one of them is your sister so you can pipe down.’
‘I think Stella’s really looking forward to this time away with Fran,’ Luke says.
‘Naturally Dita’s booked the presidential suite,’ I add. ‘I’m dying to see it.’
‘You think it’ll be nicer than our staff accommodation?’ Luke smiles.
I consider this. Our little hut has a double bed, a small kitchen diner and a tiny bathroom. No bells and whistles. No shower where you can choose your mood, or voice-controlled coffee machine, or private plunge pool waiting just outside like at Gurnard Cove. But what it does have, is Luke. That week in Northumberland was going to be the start of my great big escape from life and I realise now, as we pad home across the sand together, that I wasn’t actually escaping from anything. I was starting afresh.
‘Come on.’ I smile up at him. ‘Let’s go make the most of our last night before chaos descends.’
Fallen in love with The Spa Break ? Don’t miss The Pick Up , another hilarious and gorgeous romcom from Hannah Doyle.