Chapter Thirty-Six
Thirty-Six
Him
It’s the man from the harbour, the one who told me off for collecting shells, even though I was actually picking up sea glass.
How has he not recognised me?
I was wearing shades and a hat, that’s how. We’ve been foiled by each other’s unintentional disguises.
He freezes, his whole body goes rigid, and for a second, I think he’s realised too, then he does the most enormous sneeze into his elbow.
‘Bless you,’ I say, and he turns and walks back to the steps leading down to the beach house, exhausted again and dragging his feet like a toddler after a particularly exhausting playdate.
‘I’ll just pack my bag and get out of your way,’ he says. ‘If I’d known you were coming today, I’d never have taken a nap in the bed and subjected you to the sight of me half naked.’
‘Don’t sweat it,’ I say, even though he is sweating it. Copiously.
‘I never make a great first impression, but this must be one of my worst ever.’
It’s true: he hasn’t made the best first impression. He’s proven himself to be a snotter, a snorer, a panicker and a pedant when it comes to the ecology of beaches.
He’s also very worried about infecting other people with his viruses, which speaks to a considerate nature. And he’s wildly protective of a tiny Ewok dog that doesn’t even belong to him – a dog that appears to adore him.
And finally, and perhaps most significantly in my impressions, he has, and I hate myself for noticing this, a bum that perfectly fills out his jogging bottoms.