Chapter Nine #2
I put my hand in his and our fingers wrap around each other.
His hand is warm and his grip gentle, and I don’t want him to let go.
Although only our hands are touching, I can feel the whole of him next to me and butterflies sweep into my stomach.
The feel of the squidgy wet sand is alien and I scrunch up my toes as my feet sink.
I’m not sure I like the sensation, and I definitely wouldn’t call it relaxing.
I pull my foot out to reposition it and the sand releases it with a plop.
‘The sand’s not great when it’s like quicksand,’ says Jackson, shifting his own stance. ‘It’s the water I like.’
His words redirect my attention towards the sea and I automatically tighten my grip on his hand.
A wave rolls and breaks and its white foam top creeps towards us.
Instinctively, I pull back, but Jackson’s hand doesn’t release me.
Instead, he pulls me forwards until our bodies are touching.
His touch seeps through my T-shirt and it’s both safe and familiar.
‘It can’t hurt you. Stand still.’ His gentle voice mimics the rhythms of the intense blue sea rolling and it’s hypnotising.
As the next wave creeps closer, my heart notches up a gear. I lean into him, not caring if it makes him uncomfortable, but he doesn’t falter.
As the water tips my toes, I take a sharp intake of breath and screw my eyes tight shut, but almost as soon as the water has arrived, it’s retreated.
‘See, not that bad, is it?’
The sand beneath my feet is disintegrating, and I move to get a new footing. ‘Maybe.’
The next wave is already rolling in and this one is bigger. It comes a lot further in before it breaks out its foamy white top. Jackson anticipates my need to run. ‘Breathe,’ he murmurs.
I look up at him, but he’s staring out at the sea.
This time the water rushes at us. It’s cold and swirls around my ankles, splashing up onto my lower calves.
I let out a high-pitched squeak. I hadn’t expected it to get that high.
It stays around longer this time, and Jackson nudges me.
‘Wiggle your feet around.’ And as if to demonstrate, he waves a foot around in the water.
‘I can’t.’ Even if I’d wanted to, my feet are rooted to the spot.
The water retreats and the sand disintegrates under my feet quicker this time. My balance goes and I stagger backwards, breaking our contact.
‘Woah. I told you to move your feet.’ He chuckles and puts his hand on the small of my back to steady me. ‘Still don’t take advice then?’
I choose to ignore that statement and search out his hand to grab it, determined to move my feet this time when the incoming water hits.
The wave dashes straight against my calves this time and the spray hits my rolled-up jeans.
I kick out my foot and send water droplets spinning through the air.
I swap feet and try it with the other one.
There’s something freeing about the action, and a giggle erupts from me before I can stop it.
‘Fun, huh?’
I look up with a big grin to find Jackson smiling back down at me, and my heart somersaults.
The next wave comes in and I squeeze his hand tight for support and take a small step forwards once the water has reached us. There’s more to kick at if I’m a bit deeper in. I misplace my kick and water sprays sideways, catching the front of Jackson’s shorts.
‘Really?’ But I can hear the smile in his voice.
‘I didn’t mean to.’ I laugh and then cheekily splash him again on purpose this time.
‘Oh, you’re so going to get it with the next wave.’
I twist my hand out of his. ‘No way.’ I giggle as I run away from him, grabbing my socks and shoes as I go.
He laughs behind me and the dozen butterflies from earlier erupt in my tummy and flutter through my chest. Running through the dry sand takes its toll and I have to stop and lean forwards, hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath.
He catches up to me and gives me an affection-filled push. ‘Chicken,’ he teases.
We fall into step alongside each other as if it’s the easiest thing in the world to do.
‘Is it good to be home?’ I ask.
He fiddles with a ring on his little finger as if he’s trying to find the right words. ‘Mum being ill gave me the kick up the backside to get over here. I should have come sooner.’
‘How is she?’
‘Really well. We were all out eating ice cream yesterday and she loves what Milo’s done to the camper van.
She keeps threatening to get behind the counter.
’ He grins at the memory. ‘It’s been good bumping into friends from school days, too.
’ He takes a quick look at me and when I meet his eye, we both look away sharply.
‘What’s it like being a café owner?’
I sigh. ‘Honestly? I don’t know if I’m cut out for it.
I’ve given it a good go, but maybe it’s time to move on to something else.
’ I shrug. ‘I don’t know what though. And if I give up the café, I’d lose my home by the beach.
’ I look around me. Even in the lowering light, as long as I keep my toes out of the water, this place is so peaceful and beautiful and very hard to imagine leaving.
A tiny terrace or flat in the middle of a housing estate is never going to feel the same.
‘What is it about running the café you don’t like?’
‘It’s harder and harder to get and keep customers these days.
’ I dig at the sand with my toes and the dry grit gives way to darker, damp sand.
I feel like I’m being interrogated to expose all my failings, and it’s making me feel raw and vulnerable.
Emotions that are horribly reminiscent of our history.
‘Really? The Camper Café is going great. There’s no shortage of customers.
Maybe you could think outside the box and try to add something different to bring people in?
’ He gestures up the gap in the dunes to the café.
‘You have a great spot here. You should be teeming with customers.’ He cups my elbow gently and I can feel every fingertip against my skin. ‘Come on. It’s not like you to quit.’
I’m not sure where it comes from, but my mind flashes red.
I’ve been battling falling customer numbers for months now and tried to think outside the box, and he comes along with his exciting life and two brilliant businesses and tries to tell me where I’m going wrong.
All my work pressures, confusion about how I feel about him, and hurt welling up from our past explode inside me.
‘It’s not me that quits,’ I spit out.
For a split second he looks confused, then his eyes harden. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ But he knows exactly what I mean. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens.
‘You quit on us, Jackson.’ The words hang in the air between us. ‘You gave up.’
He turns away abruptly, his eyes locked on the horizon. The muscle in his cheek jumps once then stills. He hasn’t moved away, but the distance between us now feels massive.
I want to ask him why he gave up so easily? Why didn’t he stay? Didn’t fight harder? Why did he not believe in us enough?
But I don’t.
I stare at his profile instead, my eyes tracing the curve of his jaw, his perfectly proportioned nose and the hoop of the ring through that damn eyebrow. I swallow, hard.
At this point, the silence is deafening, then he shifts his feet, but his eyes don’t leave the sea.
‘You’re not talking about now,’ he says quietly. ‘You’re talking about back then.’
‘Of course I am.’ My fingers twist my white-and-yellow bracelet round and round my wrist. ‘You walked away.’
He whips around, his eyes full of something fierce, but not anger, not quite.
‘You think I gave up? I was drowning. You wouldn’t talk to me.
Wouldn’t let me in. I was only bloody fifteen.
I didn’t know how to fix something when I wasn’t even allowed near it.
’ He swallows, his Adams apple bobbing in his throat.
‘But I never quit on us.’ Those last words are intense and rip through me.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. He’s right, or at least he’s not wrong.
A heavy silence drops between us again. He finally begins to move and anticipation shoots up my spine, but he’s turning away from me.
‘You’re home. Mr Suit and Tie is waiting for you.’ He jerks his head towards the path off the beach.
I look over. Greg is heading this way, and he doesn’t look happy. I’m torn. I want to run to safety and meet him, but I want Jackson to understand my pain.
Jackson still hasn’t moved. He’s standing a metre away from me and his last words might have been flippant, but his expression betrays something more complex.
I’m searching for the words to explain, but before I can order my thoughts into a reply, he’s walking away. I want to watch until he’s disappeared, but have to drag my eyes away from him to turn my attention to Greg, who is now at my side.
‘Hey, I know I’m early.’
‘Early?’ My brow creases, my head still full of Jackson. ‘Oh. Shoot. We’re supposed to be going out, aren’t we?’
‘Don’t sound so enthusiastic, will you?’ Greg’s tone is tense and it’s accompanied by a scowl. He throws a look at the disappearing figure of Jackson, who is now halfway back to the beach huts. ‘I thought you’d be looking forward to going out.’
‘It’s only the bloody pub. It’s not exactly riveting. Couldn’t you have come up with something better?’
Greg takes a step back as if I’ve slapped him. ‘I thought you’d enjoy it. It’s new and got great reviews.’
He sounds like a puppy that’s been kicked, but I’m a ball of tension. ‘You could have put the effort in. It’s not exactly thinking outside the box, is it?’
‘And you don’t have to be so bloody ungrateful,’ he bites back. ‘Maybe we should take a rain check. I want to do this, but you obviously don’t.’
He turns to walk away and guilt swamps me. Shit. My problems with Jackson are not Greg’s fault.
‘Greg, wait. I’m sorry,’ I call after him. ‘We can still go. I need to get changed. I’ve picked out what I’m wearing and everything.’ I know I’m babbling.
I should run after him. Make him accept I am sorry, after all, I do mean it. However, there’s a huge part of me that simply wants to curl up on the couch and stick my head under a blanket and block out the world. So I stay exactly where I am, half hoping I haven’t called loud enough.
Hearing me, Greg stops. ‘I don’t think either of us will have a good time with the mood you’re in.’ He pauses as if he’s wrestling with what to say next. ‘Do you even want to go out with me?’
Those words propel me forwards. ‘Of course I do.’
He looks at me long and hard, before saying quietly, ‘Maybe you need to get him out of your system first then.’
Without waiting to hear my reply, he spins around and for the second time today I’m left watching the back of a man walk away from me. And it’s all my fault.