Chapter Two
T illy slipped back inside her car and shoved her key in the ignition. It didn’t matter, she’d soon have her car straightened up, and then she could get back out and start exploring the bay her aunt had so loved.
Placing her foot on the clutch, she slid the gear stick into reverse, pushing past the point it usually stuck on, and hit the accelerator. The car lurched, and an unmistakable thud sounded. Slamming her foot on the brake again, she felt her breath quicken as she pulled up the handbrake.
Drat. She’d knocked into something. How had that happened? She’d only moved a few inches back, and she’d checked her rear-view mirror before she’d reversed.
Biting down on her bottom lip, she forced herself to look in the mirror, her heart sinking as she watched the reflection of a man jumping up and down behind her.
She’d not just hit something . She’d hit someone . He must have walked behind the car after she’d checked her mirrors.
Closing her eyes for a brief second, she took a deep breath in, willing her rapid breathing to slow. She needed to appear in control. She needed to get out and check he was okay and not look as though she’d been driving haphazardly. Which she hadn’t. She’d looked.
Gingerly, she cracked open her door, and she was met by the noise of the man groaning. He was hurt. What if she’d broken his foot? His leg? Damaged him irreparably?
As though her body was only just catching up to the situation at hand, the adrenaline kicked in, and Tilly jumped out of the car and hurried around the back.
The man was holding one foot and jumping up and down, a bag of shopping lying on the tarmac next to him, a bottle of orange juice having rolled to a stop next to the tyre, and a pack of eggs cracked open. ‘I’m so so sorry.’
Coming to a standstill, the man laid both palms on the metal of the boot and closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath.
She watched as a lock of mousy brown hair fell across his forehead.
Stepping forward, she raised her hand, ready to place it on his shoulder before thinking better of it and letting it drop to her side.
What was she supposed to do? She’d never been in this situation before.
Did she call the police? Hand herself in for dangerous driving?
That would look great on any potential job applications, wouldn’t it?
She shook her head. She shouldn’t be thinking about herself.
She should be focusing on the man in front of her.
The man she’d just run down with her Fiat 500.
‘I’ll take you to the hospital. I’ll drive you there.
Get you checked out. You might have broken something. ’
Holding his hand up, palm forward, the man grimaced before answering. ‘No. No, thank you.’
‘But you might be hurt. You’ll need an X-ray.
Your toes might be broken. Or the bones in your foot.
..’ She let her voice trail off as her stomach churned, the greasy fast food meal she’d had for lunch threatening to resurface.
It was her first few minutes in the bay, and she’d already made a total mess of things. Just as she always did.
Pushing himself away from the back of her Fiat 500, the man leaned down and pressed against the top of his foot before standing again. ‘I don’t think it’s broken.’
‘Are you sure? Shouldn’t you get it checked out anyway?
’ She clenched her keys in her fist, the angular metal sticking into the flesh of her palm.
What if he sued? She only had enough money to limp by for a few weeks as it was.
Or would her car insurance pay it out? Glancing towards her open car door, she resisted the urge to jump back in, speed away and put this sorry mess behind her.
‘Yes, I’m sure. These have steel toe caps.’ He nodded towards his foot. ‘Still flipping hurt though.’
‘I bet it did. I can’t apologise enough. I just didn’t see you coming. I looked...’ She shrugged. What other explanation could she offer?
The man shook his head, his hair flopping into his eyes as he did so. ‘No harm done. I should have looked better. I didn’t notice your reverse lights.’
‘Oh, right.’ Was he apologising to her now?
Kneeling down, she picked up his shopping bag and tucked the runaway orange juice inside.
Carefully, she picked up the egg carton and checked the eggs inside.
Miraculously, only the two that had made a bid for freedom from their cardboard container had smashed, the remaining four having survived the fall. Standing up, she held the bag out.
‘Thank you.’ Taking the bag from her, his fingers brushed hers, and he rubbed the dark stubble on his chin as though he were contemplating something. A moment later, he stuck his hand out towards her. ‘Isaac. Isaac Mockett. I’d add it’s been a pleasure but...’
A small burst of laughter erupted from her throat before she gulped it back, the resulting sound a cross between a cough and a gurgle.
She swallowed as she felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment.
Taking his hand in hers, she noticed his grasp was surprisingly strong for such a slight but tall man.
‘Tilly Matthews. Do you need my insurance details?’
‘So I can sue?’ Taking his hand back, he spotted a packet of biscuits beneath her car and picked them up, slipping them into his bag.
Tilly widened her eyes. Had she just given him the idea? Why had she even offered her details? She looked down at her hands and squeezed the keys a little tighter.
‘Sorry, I’m only joking. As I said, no harm done. I’m sure everything will be back in working order once I’ve had a chance to rest my foot.’ He grinned at her, his hazel eyes taking on a sparkle.
‘Right. Of course.’ She should have realised he was joking. She indicated her car. ‘Let me give you a lift then. That way you don’t have to be walking on your foot.’
He glanced towards her car, his eyebrows raised as though he’d only just spotted the sheer amount of stuff in there. ‘I’ll be okay, thanks. I’ll call a taxi.’
Tilly nodded. It was probably a sensible decision.
Even if he wasn’t worried about her lack of driving skills, being as she’d just run his foot over, he likely wouldn’t be keen to sandwich himself between a laundry basket and a bin bag of clothes whilst balancing a kettle on his lap. ‘Again, I’m sorry.’
‘Easily done. See you around.’ Holding his hand up in a half-wave, Isaac turned.
Watching him hobble across the car park towards the restaurant, Tilly raised her hand to her forehead and massaged her temples.
How hadn’t she noticed a fully grown man walking behind the car?
She groaned. She needed to get away from here.
From him. And from anyone else who may have noticed the incident.
She looked toward her car. She was in no state to get behind the wheel again.
Nope, she’d likely bash into someone else or knock a car wing mirror off or worse, her hands were shaking so much.
A walk though? Yep, she could cope with that.
Stepping forward, she opened the boot before shifting the boxes and bulging bin bags until she wrapped her hands around the strap of her handbag.
The word handbag was over- glamourising the tatty old over-the-shoulder bag she used on her rare trips out, but it had been her mum’s and she was proud it was still in use.
After closing the lid of the boot and locking her car, she turned and leaned her back against the hot metal of the side of the car and ran her fingers over the cracks and pen marks in the old leather of the bag.
She’d love it to tell her its story, to tell her where her mum had used it, the adventures they’d been on.
She might have even worn it here in Penworth Bay.
Pulling at the clasp, she opened it and slipped out the photo wallet her aunt had given her.
Taking the first grainy photograph from the stack, she turned towards the beach and held it up.
She grinned. Yep, this was definitely where someone had taken the photograph.
Well, not the car park, but judging by the red and white striped lighthouse to her left, which matched the one in the picture, she’d guess they had taken it not far from here.
It felt strange standing here in the bay where her parents had met, where her parents had fallen in love. Strange but wonderful, all at the same time.
Replacing the picture, she slipped the photo wallet back into her bag, securing the clasp to make sure there was no chance they could fall out.
Because her parents’ relationship had been short-lived, the photos she had of her mum’s time in Penworth Bay were the only pictures she’d ever seen or possessed of her dad.
Yes, she had more of her mum, somewhere buried in a tin in the back of her car, but these were the only ones she had of the two of them, of their time together.
She looked around the car park. Thankfully, there was no sign of Isaac; he must have gone into the restaurant to wait for his taxi.
Now what? Now that she was here, what was she supposed to do?
Apart from trying to put the whole sorry incident of reversing into someone behind her?
She guessed the first thing she needed was to secure a place to stay for the night.
In such a lovely place as this and at the height of the summer season too, there must be a pub with rooms or a bed-and-breakfast somewhere, if not a few.
All she needed to do was take a wander around the village and see what she could find.