Chapter Six
I’m staring straight ahead, although acutely aware that Jackson is right next to me as we walk back to the pub.
My mind is in free fall and I’m guessing Jackson’s is doing the same.
It’s a release to push open the beer garden gate and see Olly rolling around in the ball pit. Not a care in the world.
‘Hey champ,’ I say, breaking away from Jackson to squat down next to the toddler to ruffle his hair.
‘Aunty Elly Welly,’ he says brightly and then quickly turns his back on me to throw an armful of multicoloured plastic balls up in the air.
Reeni, Aaron, Dillon, Milo, his mum and a couple of other people I don’t recognise, and now Jackson, are sitting in a group to the left of the ball pit at one of the picnic tables with a few extra chairs pulled around to accommodate everyone.
‘I knew he’d be found. Where was he?’ I ask, sitting on the end of the bench next to Reeni, across from Jackson.
‘Only about ten metres from the camper,’ says Dillon, shaking his head with a grin. ‘Tucked into the dunes keeping quiet with his library book. Milo spotted him. Probably recognised a fellow deep thinker.’
Milo snorts. ‘More like he was hiding from you while you thundered up and down the dunes like an elephant.’
‘Fair.’ Dillon bumps Milo’s shoulder. ‘At least I was trying to find him.’
‘I actually did find him.’
‘And I’m very grateful you were both searching.’ Reeni gives a little chuckle. ‘He heard me shouting his name, so thought he was in trouble and kept quiet, the little terror.’ She pushes a glass of lime and lemonade towards me. ‘Sorry I panicked.’
‘We all would have done. At least he’s safe. That’s all that matters,’ I say.
‘My wife does like to panic.’ Aaron prods Reeni in the side playfully. ‘And stress about things she doesn’t need to stress about.’
The second statement is a little more pointed and I catch Reeni giving him a sideways look, her eyes narrowing. ‘You would have too. I couldn’t find him anywhere,’ she fires back. ‘And stress isn’t good for my cycle or my hormones.’ She glares at him.
‘Little ones love to disappear,’ Sophie says, throwing out an olive branch. ‘Jackson gave me the fright of my life one year. When I found him, he had pinched a bag of buttons from the local shop and was hiding at the bottom of the garden with the evidence all over his face.’
Jackson’s face goes pink. ‘Thanks for that, Mum.’
Their easy exchange breaks any tension at the table and Sophie starts chatting to the couple next to her while Aaron talks to Jackson.
‘Reeni tells me you’re living out in Australia. How do you find it?’ asks Aaron.
‘Warm.’ Jackson grins and reaches for the bottle of Peroni in front of him. ‘With great surf.’
‘I’ve often fancied going for a year or so. They’re always advertising for oncology consultants. Where are you living?’
Olly runs over to Reeni, his arms full of plastic balls.
‘Roll. Mummy, roll.’ He dumps the balls at his mum’s feet and runs and dives back into the pit.
‘Milo, tell me again how you found him.’ Reeni twists in her seat and bends to roll a bright yellow ball across the grass back to the waiting Olly.
I zone out and watch Jackson as he continues to chat with Aaron.
I find myself staring at the dark curve of his tattoo, peeking out from beneath his sleeve just above his elbow.
There’s a vague outline of it visible through the white fabric and I follow it up his arm to where it comes to a stop at his collarbone, the tip of it poking out from his T-shirt onto his smooth tanned skin.
I fantasise about running my fingertips over the ink, tracing its path from start to finish.
‘Have you ever visited Oz?’ asks Jackson, looking over at me.
‘W-what?’ I say, flustered at where my mind had wandered to.
‘Ever visited Australia? Travelled?’
Olly has arrived with another armful of balls, this time for his dad. Aaron leaves the table as he’s dragged across to play in the ball pit.
‘No, not really.’ I study the rough weathered ridges etched in the tabletop.
I know what he’s hinting at. We’d often planned out backpacking routes through Europe for our year off before university.
Once my life had been thrown upside down, all those plans of beaches and surfing seemed out of reach and stupid.
‘I got a receptionist job at the local spa straight out of sixth form and then ended up working at an insurance company.’
‘An insurance company? You’ve always been creative.’
I shrug. ‘Dad wanted me to get a proper job.’
‘What happened to uni and an art degree?’ His eyes connect with mine and he rubs at his jaw again. A shiver runs down my spine as I know exactly what his stubble feels like under my fingertips and I have a flashback to sitting on the beach at dusk, a campfire lit in the background. ‘Ellie?’
I drag my focus out of the past. ‘After everything that happened, it never felt right,’ I mutter. The thump of my heart quickens in my chest. ‘What about you? Did you go to uni?’
In the days before the baby changed everything, we’d had dreams. I loved watercolours and had begun experimenting with the camera I’d been given for my birthday, and Jackson had wanted to study law.
Looking at him now, so at ease in ripped denim jeans and a slim-fitting V-neck T-shirt with his chin-length wavy blond hair and that sexy eyebrow ring, I can’t imagine him in a formal wig and gown.
‘Nah.’ His voice is tipped with emotion, as if he’s tapped into my thoughts. ‘I didn’t do uni either. Quit A levels halfway through and did all sorts, but could never really settle at anything. I ended up at a seafood restaurant in Devon.’
‘Cooking?’ I say, surprised. He could burn baked beans when I last knew him.
‘Washing up. I only lasted there about a month. Cooking came later.’
‘Is that why you’re at the Camper Café? Are you back for good?’ Is it bad that I’m beginning to think I want him to say yes?
‘I’m helping out for now, while I’m around.’
‘Look who I found wandering around,’ says Aaron, arriving back from the ball pit with Olly held on his hip. Greg is walking next to him carrying a pint of beer.
‘Hi everyone. Jill said I’d find you all here.’ Greg dumps his laptop bag on the floor next to the table. ‘Shift up, Ellie.’
I shuffle along closer to Reeni to give Greg a space on the bench that would hardly fit a toddler.
He sits down and squeezes himself right up next to me, our legs and bodies touching, even though there are plenty of spare chairs around.
I catch Jackson watching us and grab my glass to take a large gulp of fizzy drink.
‘He’s keen,’ Reeni hisses in my ear.
‘Who?’ I hiss back, still watching Jackson out of the corner of my eye.
‘Greg, who else?’ Reeni looks at me puzzled, then follows the direction of my focus.
‘Of course, Greg.’ To distract her, I waggle my nearly empty glass. ‘Must have gone to my head.’
I give a really fake laugh and shuffle my bottom awkwardly on the bench. I want to put some air between Greg and me, but I’m hemmed in tight. Aaron’s back and takes his seat next to Jackson to resume their Australia conversation.
‘The café was quiet again when I called in. Have you taken that photo yet for Instagram?’ asks Greg. He takes a slurp of beer and I grind my teeth.
‘No, I was going to do it later,’ I say quietly. I know he’s being supportive, but does he have to ask me here?
Instinctively, Reeni knows I don’t want to broadcast how difficult things are. She starts talking to Greg about how social media is changing advertising and promotion. I tune out and look across at Jackson again.
‘Anyone special back at home, then?’ I catch Aaron asking, and my ears are on strings, waiting on the reply.
Jackson’s phone rings and instead of replying, he picks it up. It’s impossible to miss the picture of an attractive blonde girl holding a surfboard on the screen.
‘Better get this,’ Jackson says, and he leaves the table.
Reeni claps her hands. ‘Talking of the café.’
I look at her expectantly.
‘Aaron is organising a fundraiser for the Lilypad Hospice. You should take a stall.’ She beams at me. And if I had more funds available to me, it probably would be brilliant, but I can barely make ends meet as it is. There’s no way I can gamble money on a stall that might not make it back.
‘Isn’t that next week? I’d never be ready in time,’ I say, coming out with the best excuse I can think of.
‘I know you don’t do mobile catering as such, but Jill could cover the café, and I’ll help you man the stall. I might not be able to help you bake, though.’ She pulls a face. ‘I’d give everyone the runs.’
‘Maybe Milo will bring the Camper Café too. The more the merrier,’ joins in Aaron.
‘We’re charging a flat fee for the pitch and any further donations are always welcome.
The lily pool out the back of the hospice is a mess and we want to renovate it so the patients can get some time and space outside. ’
‘I think it’s a wonderful idea,’ says Sophie. ‘Appreciating outside is so important and often underrated.’ She sends Aaron a gentle smile and Milo squeezes her hand. ‘The Beach House and the Camper Café will be great additions.’
‘Great additions to what? What did I miss?’ asks Jackson, coming back to the table.
‘Ellie’s taking The Beach House on tour,’ Greg says, overdoing the enthusiasm. ‘I think it’s a fab idea.’
‘It’s a fundraiser for the hospice. Aaron thought Ellie might like to take a pitch and we could bring the VW too,’ says Milo in a much more measured tone.
I leave them to talk and turn to Reeni.
‘I can’t afford to do it,’ I say under my breath and even I can hear the urgency in my voice.