Chapter 32 #2
In latter years, she had spent the odd weekend there with her mother, but they hadn’t been for some time, first because the weather was never good enough to entice them down, and then because her mother was too incapacitated for caravan living.
Claire had missed it, and she was glad to have the opportunity to use it again, possibly for the last time.
She knew her mother had left the mobile home to her, but she wasn’t sure she would be able to keep it on.
The site was expensive, and there were service charges on top of that.
If she didn’t use it, she didn’t think she could justify the upkeep on purely sentimental grounds.
She would have loved her nephews and niece to enjoy it, but her brothers weren’t keen on caravan holidays, and her sisters-in-law even less so.
She felt herself start to relax and unwind as they breezed along with the windows down, summery music blaring from the speakers.
When she caught her first glimpse of the sea, the water sparkling and shimmering in the sunshine, her heart gave an instinctive leap, just like it always had when she was a child.
She turned into a little side road and opened the electronic gates to the caravan park, driving down the soft grass track to their site.
‘Home, sweet home,’ she said, pulling up in front of a large caravan, set on a grassy area, with a picnic table beside it. The garden was neat, a pile of inflatable toys and body boards piled up in the corner beside a threadbare set of goal posts and a covered barbecue.
‘Really?’ Luca looked delighted.
‘I told you not to expect anything fancy.’
‘It’s perfect!’
Claire felt better already as they got out of the car and she took a deep lungful of the sea air.
She opened the door of the caravan and Luca followed her inside.
He stood in the middle of the little living room, then gave a long, luxurious stretch, his T-shirt riding up to reveal the fine black hair of his happy trail against the white skin of his taut stomach.
The living area was roomy enough as mobile homes went, but it suddenly felt very small with Luca in it, and Claire felt a moment of apprehension.
She hoped it wouldn’t be awkward spending the weekend in such close proximity while keeping their distance physically.
Luca was studying a corkboard over the little seating area, pinned with photographs and flyers for local businesses and takeaways. ‘Is this you?’ He was pointing to a photo.
‘Yes.’ Claire blushed. It featured her in a swimsuit on the beach as a gawky eight-year-old, her hair in pigtails, her legs buried in sand.
‘Aw, you were cute.’ He studied the other photographs.
‘And then you were seriously cute,’ he said, pointing to a photo of her as a teenager, all budding breasts and stick-thin thighs in a halter top and frayed jean shorts. ‘I wish I’d bumped into you then.’
‘Come on, let’s get the car unpacked. And then we can hit the beach.’
They unloaded the stuff from the car, and stocked up the fridge and cupboards, finally grabbing their bags. ‘You can sleep in here,’ Claire told Luca, opening the door of the biggest bedroom.
‘Where will you sleep?’ he asked.
‘Here.’ She showed him the other room. There was just about space for the narrow single bed.
‘Looks cosy,’ he said regretfully. ‘I wish I was sleeping here with you.’
She shot him a warning look.
‘I know, I know.’ He held up his hands defensively. ‘I promised to behave myself, and I will.’
‘So, lunch first?’ she said. ‘We can eat up here at the picnic table. For the full nostalgic experience, we should really eat on the beach, so everything gets nice and sandy, but I’m not that dedicated to nostalgia.’
‘Great.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on.’ She dumped her bag on the bed, slipped past him, and busied herself getting lunch ready.
They sat outside with big mugs of tea and picnicked on crusty rolls, cheese, ham, apples and grapes.
‘This is so good,’ Luca said, wolfing down the food hungrily.
Claire was enjoying it too. All the flavours tasted bright and alive, and she had more of an appetite than she’d had all week. ‘Everything tastes so much better outdoors,’ she said. ‘Especially at the sea.’ She breathed deeply, suffused by an enormous feeling of well-being.
‘It’s beautiful here.’ Luca sighed, turning his face to the sun. ‘So peaceful.’
She was pleased that he appreciated it as much as she did. ‘Mum would be glad we’re doing this,’ she said. ‘She loved it here.’
Later they trailed down the wooden walkway that led to the beach, cresting over the grass-covered dunes.
Claire pulled off her sandals, her feet plunging into the warm, powdery sand as they stepped onto the beach.
She turned and looked back at the dunes.
It was hard to believe that once they had seemed so huge, and it had felt daring for her and her brothers to jump from the top into the soft sand beneath, like launching yourself off a cliff.
They spread their towels on the sand, stripped down to their togs and made for the sea.
It took Claire a while to ease herself fully into the water, gradually acclimatising to the cold, but once she did it was wonderfully invigorating, awakening all her nerve endings and bringing her senses to life.
Claire looked at Luca beside her, his hair tangled and curly from the salt water.
He was so beautiful she wanted to cry. Why had their lessons had to end, she wondered sadly.
If only she could have had a few more weeks when he was hers to kiss and touch.
Why couldn’t Mark have waited just a little bit longer?
Later, as they lay on the sand, she pushed on her sunglasses, and took her book out of her bag.
‘Did you bring Pride and Prejudice?’ Luca asked, propping himself up on an elbow and holding out his hand for it.
‘You don’t have to read to me,’ Claire said.
‘Hey, I don’t want you to go on without me.’
‘Okay,’ she said, handing him the book. She had to admit, she loved being read to – it was all the pleasure with none of the effort, like receiving oral sex.
She lay down and closed her eyes, relaxing to the deep tone of Luca’s voice.
She found herself drifting in and out of consciousness as the words washed over her…
‘“… for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming. His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing penis.”’
‘What?’ Claire reared up with a jolt and turned to Luca.
‘Just checking you were still listening,’ he said, with a cheeky grin.
She laughed and lay down, closing her eyes once more. ‘I’m listening. And Jane Austen is spinning in her grave.’
‘“… a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address,”’ Luca continued. When he got to the end of the next chapter he closed the book.
‘Do you think Mr Darcy is really well-hung?’ he asked.
‘You should so be in a book club,’ Claire said drily, turning to face him. ‘I have no idea! What makes you think about that?’
‘Well, all the girls go nuts for him, but he seems like a bit of a git to me. He must have something going for him.’
‘Well, he’s loaded.’
‘Yeah, I got that.’
‘And he’s handsome.’
‘And tall.’
‘Very tall. Anyway, he’s not a git. He turns out to be really nice – you’ll see.’
‘When are we going to get to the bit where he goes skinny-dipping?’
‘I thought you didn’t know anything about Pride and Prejudice?’
‘I don’t. But I remember all the girls going on and on about that scene,’ he said, rolling his eyes.
‘That didn’t happen in the book. It was just in the TV series.’
‘I’m not surprised. He doesn’t seem the type.’ He was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘We could go skinny-dipping.’ His smile faded. ‘Maybe not such a good idea,’ he said. ‘Sorry. This friends thing takes a bit of practice.’
‘No harm done,’ she said, feeling disappointed. He wasn’t the only one who was having trouble drawing the boundaries between friends and lovers.
Later they barbecued steaks and ate at the picnic table as the sun sank in the sky.
‘I’m going to have an early night,’ Claire said, yawning as she cleared the table.
It was only nine, but she was exhausted.
‘I can hardly keep my eyes open. It must be all this fresh air.’ She took an armload of plates into the caravan, and as she was dumping them in the sink, she heard voices outside.
She went to the window and saw Luca talking to a girl as he gathered up the rest of the stuff.
Tall and slender, her blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail.
She looked around the same age as Claire, but she wasn’t one of the regulars she had got to know over the years they had been coming here.
Luca had put down the glasses he’d been holding to talk to her.
Even though she couldn’t hear a word that was being said, Claire could tell the girl was flirting with him – her posture, her smile, the coy way she twirled her hair around her fingers as she talked to him.
She was suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to run out and kick sand in the girl’s face.
So much for feeling numb, she thought. And she’d forgotten all about being tired because she was fantasising about wrestling that girl to the ground, and she knew she’d have the strength to do it.
She was about to go outside, at least to make her presence known, when the girl nodded to Luca, turned and wandered off. He gathered the glasses up again and came back inside.
‘Who was that?’ Claire asked.
‘Her name’s Aideen,’ he said, as he dumped the glasses in the sink. ‘She’s staying in one of the caravans with a friend. She asked if we wanted to go to the pub with them.’
‘We?’
‘Yeah. I told her I was here with a friend too.’
Claire felt knocked back. But, of course, that was all she was to him now.