Chapter Nine
My bed is a mound of blouses and shirts all piled one on top of the other, which I’ve discarded for a variety of reasons.
One makes me look so pale I look ill, wrong time of year for long sleeves on another, the material is irritating (I don’t know why I haven’t got rid of that one), I’ve lost weight so the navy one hangs off me and one that has a vibrant multicoloured pattern that I love, with little scalloped wings for shoulder straps, but it might be a bit flamboyant for Greg.
I’ve settled on my safe purple blouse for our date.
Buttons up the front so I don’t have to show too much cleavage and it’s comfy enough to wear, and I think I look OK in it.
It’s hanging on the back of my wardrobe door, along with my favourite pair of jeans and my comfy pair of Converse, all ready for our date later.
First, I’m going to get some fresh air and evict the café from my head.
I pull on a hoodie and head off outside to wander along the sand towards Thorbridge.
Walking along the dunes’ edge is hard work as my feet shift in the loose sand.
I glance towards the sea. It’s a calm and brilliant blue this evening.
The small waves rolling onto the shore break softly, spilling the crystal-clear water onto the beach.
The salty air is a great head cleanser and there’s a particular sound to the sea as it moves too.
It’s gentle music. If I wasn’t so scared of the sea itself, I’d probably find it relaxing, but the only reason I’ve moved closer is the dark golden sand which is firmer to walk on.
I often fantasise about walking barefoot in the shallow water and feeling the sand squidgy between my toes, but dreaming about it is as close as I ever get.
There’s a calmness to concentrating on what’s around me instead of the nightmare that is presently my life.
As the tide retreated, it’s left hundreds of bits of treasure behind.
Shells, rocks, seaweed and something which looks like a blob of coral-coloured slime, but is, in fact, a dead jellyfish.
The seaweed takes on different forms, from long trailing fronds of deep green to rubbery bulbous-looking clumps which are more reddy brown in colour.
I make it a game of not stepping on the strands that are strewn in my path to keep me occupied.
It’s my equivalent of not stepping on the cracks in the pavement.
Something I did all the time as a child, praying that if I managed a whole day without messing up, then Dad wouldn’t be angry with me when I got home.
Silly superstition, but old habits die hard.
As I round the curve on the shore, the beach huts come into view, the yellow hut closest to me. My breath catches in the back of my throat and I shake my head, dislodging memories before they take hold.
A figure appears, and I squint, trying to focus. I’d swear it came out of Daisy although it could have been from the red hut next to her, but … I strain my eyes and before I can make up my mind, someone’s out-of-puff voice grabs my attention.
‘Hello dear, have you seen Oscar?’
I swing around, the beach hut forgotten. A small dumpy lady in a bright yellow gilet and green wellies is heading my way. She has a baby-blue lead with an empty collar attached dangling from her hand and it bounces as she does her best to run towards me.
‘He got away from me. He’s black and brown and about this big.’ She’s gesturing to something that looks to be the size of a baby elephant.
‘No. Sorry.’
‘Damn,’ she says, tutting, having got her breath back. ‘He’ll be the death of me. But I do love him.’ She looks around her, searching.
‘I’ve got him, Mrs Levens.’ Jackson is walking towards us, holding on to the scruff of a large shaggy dog that’s trotting along at his side quite happily.
‘Oh, you gem, Jackson.’ The old lady beams, buckles the leather collar back around the dog’s neck, and then ruffles him behind the ears.
‘Are you popping in for breakfast as usual tomorrow? I’ll have Oscar’s three sausages ready, along with your bacon butty.’
‘That’ll be lovely.’ She takes a firm hold of the lead. ‘I’ll see you then,’ the lady gasps over her shoulder as she’s towed away, Oscar zigzagging along the shoreline.
I let out a chuckle. ‘Oscar’s nearly bigger than Mrs Levens.’
After our encounter the other day, Jackson does the one thing I never expected him to do. He smiles. A proper, genuine smile which lights up his face and reaches his eyes. ‘He eats twice as much as her, too.’
‘I’m sorry about Tippi,’ I burst out. ‘I feel so guilty.’
‘It wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I let her off her lead.’ There’s a crack in his voice. ‘Sorry about the vet’s and journey home. I should have thanked you. I was so worried about having to tell Mum what happened.’
‘I bet she understood.’ I can say that because I feel like I understand Sophie as well, if not better, than my own mum. ‘How’s Tippi?’
There’s a glimpse of relief on his face. ‘Going to be fine. She’ll have three legs when we get her back, but the vet says she’ll cope.’
‘No.’ My hand rushes to cover my mouth.
‘Don’t worry. She’ll be swimming again in no time apparently.’ He reaches out and his hand brushes my arm. ‘I was out to clear my head. Fancy walking along the beach?’
I don’t answer, but pivot to walk alongside him. The whoosh of the sea breaking on the shore and the odd seagull call filling the space around us makes it feel strangely normal, if a little tense.
We speak at the same time. ‘Do you enjoy living in Australia?’ … ‘So, what’s it like being a café owner?’
‘I asked first,’ I say quickly, as the last thing I want to think about now is the café. ‘How did you end up there?’
He takes a deep breath. ‘With Dad being from Oz, I’ve got a passport and I needed to do something exciting, spontaneous after … everything.’ His steps falter a little, almost as if a memory has hit him sideways, but he recovers himself quickly.
‘I know that feeling,’ I say, so quietly I think the wind has whipped the words away before he heard them, but he leans into me for a split second, so I know they didn’t. ‘Except I got a boring job I hated. I bet Oz is fab.’
‘The weather and surf are great. And outdoor living is a blast. I started off washing up and surfing in my spare time. That morphed into giving lessons which eventually led to renting a little yellow hut that came up for rent and the Jaffle Hut was born. It’s a far cry from the swanky restaurants around Byron Bay, but it has its own niche and is successful with the surfing crowd.
We normally have a queue down the beach at the weekend for a table.
I don’t really cook anymore, just give the surf lessons.
Milly runs the hut, and we help each other out when we need to.
It works a treat.’ His phone rings, interrupting us.
He pulls it out of his pocket, and it has the same picture of the blonde surfer girl I saw the other day.
I kick at a rogue strand of seaweed. ‘Take it. It’s fine.’
We continue walking while he answers the phone.
‘Everything OK? … Walking on the beach with …’ he glances towards me, ‘… an old friend … It might be … I’m not getting into this now, over the phone …’ He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. ‘… I’ll speak to you later. Bye.’
I wait for him to explain who was on the phone, but he simply pushes it back into his shorts pocket. I could ask him, but I don’t think I want to know. A wave washes in, its foamy head racing towards us. It comes too close for comfort and I step back, almost stumbling in my haste.
‘Still scared of the sea?’ His brow creases as he studies me.
I nod.
‘I thought you’d be over that by now?’ He’s now wearing the tiniest of grins and his gold eyebrow ring glints in the sun.
‘No.’
For a split second I’m angry at him. There are some things you simply don’t get over. Does he really think I’m that shallow?
‘It won’t eat you.’ He nods towards the vibrant, deep blue water.
With a rush I realise he’s in the here and now, not reliving the past. I take a breath and the knots consuming my insides begin to loosen. I need to do the same and leave the past where it belongs.
He tilts his head at me and it’s incredibly sexy. ‘Take your trainers and socks off.’ He’s already bending to do exactly that.
‘No way. I have to go,’ I say glancing at my watch.
‘We’ll be quick.’
The glint in his eye is mischievous, magnetic and very persuasive. I reach to pull my right trainer off.
‘Hurry up.’ He swings around to step into the sea and kicks out at the water lapping around his ankles.
Footwear off, I walk forwards and stand near enough to him that I can smell his clean spicy scent when I breathe in, but far enough away that I’m safe from the waves. He pats his foot on the soggy sand the last wave has left behind and I flinch as droplets splatter my calf.
‘Do your feet not get cold?’ I say, trying to focus my mind somewhere else.
‘No. I love the feel of the water on my skin.’ He grins and kicks the water towards me from a tiny puddle to his right.
He’s in sky-blue shorts and the water clings to the tanned skin of his leg in between the blond hairs, the droplets glistening in the lowering sun. ‘It’s relaxing. You should try it.’
He studies me, but I stay out of reach of the water.
‘Come here.’ His eyes soften as he looks over. ‘Come on.’ He holds out his hand towards me. ‘It’s not that scary. I’ve got you.’
I take a breath and try to work out which is worse … coming into contact with the sea or not taking the opportunity to touch him. It doesn’t take me long to decide.