The Secret Seaside Escape: The most heart-warming, feel-good romance of 2020, from the Sunday Times bestseller!

by Heidi Swain

  ‘I thought this was your first visit,’ Hope said, sounding surprised. ‘You made that sound as though you’ve been before.’

  I certainly hadn’t meant to.

  ‘No,’ I faltered, ‘I just meant that it’s so warm and welcoming, that you can’t feel anything but at home here.’

  Hope linked arms and we started walking again.

  ‘I’m really sorry your boss gave you a hard time,’ she said, ‘but I suppose given the amount of extra time you’re taking off it probably came as a bit of a shock to them.’

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘he did sound a bit surprised. And I’m pretty certain that if I was working for anyone other than my father, I most likely wouldn’t have got away with it at all.’

  ‘You work for your dad?’

  ‘Yes,’ I sighed. ‘He owns the company I work for, so now I’ve not only upset my boss, but my father too.’

  Hope was quiet for a moment.

  ‘At least I don’t have that problem,’ she then shared. ‘I’ve never known my dad.’

  I thought of all the extra complications my relationship with my own father was currently facing.

  ‘At this point in time,’ I said, ‘I wish I didn’t know mine.’

  ‘You wouldn’t say that if you were in my shoes.’

  There was no sting to her tone, but I felt uncomfortable nonetheless.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘that was insensitive of me.’

  Hope didn’t say anything and I realized that it really was a terrible thing to have blurted out, even if I had momentarily meant it.

  ‘Have you and your mum lived in Wynmouth long?’ I asked, keen to make amends.

  ‘Quite a while,’ she nodded. ‘Since I was about thirteen.’

  ‘And you’re obviously here to stay,’ I said, waving to Sophie, who I could see carrying drinks out to customers.

  ‘Definitely,’ Hope agreed, the smile back on her face. ‘We’re going nowhere. This place is our for ever home.’

  I felt a little envious to hear her sound so settled and sure.

  ‘And you want to watch out, Tess,’ she nudged, now also waving at her mother.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If you aren’t careful,’ she laughed, ‘you could end up staying here for ever too!’

  Chapter 10

  I spent that evening alone in the cottage, but not because I was trying to avoid seeing Sam and Hope together. Yes, I might have, mistakenly as it turned out, felt attracted to Sam, but now I knew he had a girlfriend it was all forgotten. Hope was so much fun and I knew that my friendship with her, and in turn her mother, was going to far outlast any holiday fling.

  My self-imposed isolation was more about delving deeper into Mum’s diary. I was already in a temper with Dad so thought I might as well find out a bit more about what had happened in the run-up to Mum’s untimely death. I planned to read the whole thing, but just a few pages in, I decided my stomach wasn’t up to it and banished the lot back to the drawer again. According to what Mum had written, not even her friends were excluded from Dad’s attention. She hadn’t gone as far as naming names but there was enough detail to know that he had crossed the line on more than one occasion.

  I tried to put it all out of my mind again and went up to bed, this time not thinking about Sam, but about something that had really happened during my last holiday in Wynmouth. After such an emotionally mixed-up day, I had decided that tomorrow I would do something cheering. I would retrace my steps to the beach huts and anchor my thoughts in my memories as opposed to the pub fantasy I had cooked up and Mum’s tragically sad autobiography.

  It had been behind beach hut number three that I had experienced my very first kiss, and what a kiss it was! Never to be forgotten and perfect in every conceivable way, it had never been bettered. I had kissed a fair few guys since that initial seductively sweet encounter, but no meeting of lips had ever felt so stirring, so arousing, so thrilling.

  It might have been a self-indulgent trip down memory lane, and I couldn’t put my finger on why it felt suddenly so important to do it, but I truly believed that going back to the place where my life had felt perfect would be a psychological boost, one that would help me untangle a few things and face my future.

  ‘Oh shit,’ I groaned as I flung back the duvet before it was even light, slammed shut the window and traipsed to the bathroom for a towel to mop up the sill.

  Mother Nature clearly had other ideas about my proposed trek to retrace my steps. I snuggled back down wondering if this was a sign. Some portent sent to put me off. Even if it was, I was going to ignore it.

  By mid-morning conditions had improved just about enough for me to venture out. Bedecked in raincoat and wellies I left the cottage but soon realized I wouldn’t be walking to the huts along the sand.

  ‘You can’t go on the beach in this!’ bellowed a voice behind me when I took a step down the lane towards the seawall.

  I turned and found the beach tractor was right behind me. The wind was such I hadn’t heard it approaching.

  ‘I know!’ I shouted. ‘I’m going the other way.’

  ‘Be careful then,’ said the guy as he trundled by. ‘You don’t want to get blown away.’

  It was the first time he’d ever spoken to me and his expression, in spite of the battering it was getting from the wind, was marginally friendlier than when I first arrived. I wondered if he had been in the pub on Saturday night and was feeling more mellow after the evening’s entertainment, but I couldn’t tell. I wasn’t sure if I would have recognized him scrubbed up and out of his oilskins.

  He turned the tractor left up the lane and I followed slowly behind. The weather didn’t feel quite so deadly with the seawall and the few cottages sheltering me from the brunt of it and by the time I had reached the end and was exposed to the view, the wind had dropped a little and it was hardly raining at all.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ I muttered, readjusting my hood and looking at the steeply rising path ahead.

  I would be fine to walk the cliff path and with any luck I would be able to look down at the beach huts from the top. It might not have been what I originally had in mind, but I was still feeling resolute about making the pilgrimage and sometimes in life you just had to adapt.

  I hadn’t trundled much further, however, before it started to rain harder and the wind picked up again, but I kept my head bent low and pushed on, determined not to give in. I knew I was more or less level with the huts and took a cautious step closer to the edge. I could see the roofs and if I took just one step further, I would be able to see behind them, which was exactly where that magical first kiss had happened.

  I was just wondering if it might be safer to lay on my front and peep over the edge when I felt a heavy shove in the back of my legs which made my knees buckle and I toppled forward.

  In a fraction of a second, which must have been split at least a hundred ways, I saw my entire life flash before me, and then I was pulled backwards and found myself in a heap on the grass with something extremely heavy bouncing all over me.

  ‘What the hell were you doing?’ I heard someone holler from above.

  ‘What the hell was I doing?’ I shouted back, scrambling further away from the edge and trying to push away what I now saw was an extremely eager black Labrador. ‘What the hell were you doing, letting your dog run into me like that? I nearly went over.’

  ‘From where I was standing, it looked as if that was exactly what you were trying to do!’

  ‘Of course, I wasn’t,’ I bawled back, ignoring the proffered hand and slipping about in the mud, much to the delight of the damned dog. ‘I was . . .’

  ‘What?’

  Finally, on my feet, I took a moment to catch my breath. My entire body began to shake as I realized that time for me had very nearly ended, never mind just jumped back a decade or so.

  ‘What?’ came the indignant voice again.

  ‘Never mind,’ I said, pushing the hood further back on my head wi
th a mud-encrusted hand which was far from steady.

  ‘You’re shaking,’ observed the man, now sounding slightly more concerned than cross, as he tried to attach his still prancing dog to its lead. ‘Look, my Land Rover’s just over there. Come and sit inside for a minute.’

  He didn’t wait for me to answer but strode off. I followed on, feeling weak, washed out and exhausted. I had no intention of climbing into a stranger’s vehicle, but I did want to distance myself from the edge of the cliff.

  ‘Come on, you,’ the man shouted at the dog, who carried on skittering around his feet, its tail wagging furiously and its face wearing what looked like a soppy grin. ‘Get in, for god’s sake.’

  Had I not just had the biggest fright of my life I would have been amused by the farcical scene, but I was still too wound-up to laugh about anything.

  ‘It’s well behaved, isn’t it?’ I pointedly observed.

  ‘It’s a he,’ the man said defensively. ‘And he’s only a baby. He belongs to my brother and his training has been a bit neglected recently.’

  He wasn’t wrong. The loopy thing was completely out of control.

  ‘Oh, I give up,’ said the guy, scooping the reluctant hound awkwardly into his arms and bundling him in the back. ‘Now bloody stay there,’ he commanded, once he had unclipped the lead and slammed the door shut.

  Feeling slightly steadier on my pins, I went to make my escape, but didn’t manage it.

  ‘Let’s get in,’ he said, before I had a chance to move. ‘I’ve got a flask of coffee, that’ll warm you up.’

  He pushed back his hood once he’d finished bossing me about and I felt my mouth fall open.

  ‘Well . . .’ I breathed, but stopped when I realized he was staring at me too.

  It was hard to be sure, with the rain blurring my vision, but he seemed just as taken aback as I was. For a second, his eyes mirrored the same surprise as mine, but by the time I had blinked again he looked perfectly composed.

  ‘Coffee,’ he suggested for the second time. His voice sounded completely different now and I was much more inclined to accept. ‘Yes?’

  I nodded and slipped round to the passenger door self-consciously ruffling my hair. I was too numb to speak but not because of the resulting shock of my near-death experience. I could hardly believe my eyes. Not only had I finally got around to revisiting the site of my first kiss, I had also managed to conjure up the very person who had administered it. Thank goodness I had ignored Mother Nature’s cyclonic portent! This was my brain’s way of throwing me – quite literally – into fate’s path.

  I licked my lips as I remembered the soft but firm pressure of his and the tip of his tongue which had sent shocking waves of exquisite pleasure darting about my hormonally charged teenage system. I might have been much older, but I could almost feel those very same sensations as I climbed up to sit in the seat next to him.

  I opened my mouth to ask if he remembered me, then closed it again. Surely if he had felt the same glimmer of recognition when his eyes had first locked on mine, he would have acknowledged it, wouldn’t he? It would be mortifying if I asked if he remembered our beach hut encounter and he denied the whole thing. But then I had thought he looked surprised . . .

  I pulled down the visor to check my hair and realized that his surprise, assuming I hadn’t imagined it, was more likely the result of being faced with my Alice Cooper eyes, than recognition. That would teach me for not properly washing off my mascara before bed. I rubbed off what I could with the very damp sleeve of the coat.

  ‘Here,’ he said, handing me a steaming cup. ‘I don’t know if you take sugar, but I’ve added one anyway. It’s supposed to be good for shock.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, wrapping my chilly hands around the warm cup and thinking, given the situation, he should have added two.

  ‘I am sorry about the dog,’ he said. ‘I had no idea he was going to do that.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said, although it very nearly hadn’t been.

  ‘I just wanted to get to you as quickly as possible and didn’t reckon on him knocking you for six,’ he explained. ‘I really thought you were going to jump.’

  I supposed he could be forgiven for thinking that was what it had looked like.

  ‘No,’ I said, by way of explanation, ‘I was just trying to work out where the beach huts were.’

  ‘Far better to take a stroll along the beach to do that,’ he smiled, ‘and preferably not in a force nine gale.’

  I wasn’t sure it really was that windy, but I was no expert and of course, he was right. It had been a rather risky manoeuvre.

  ‘Point taken,’ I smiled back, trying not to stare.

  Years might have flitted by, but it was very definitely him. I would have recognized him, and his kissable lips, anywhere. I had hoped the mention of the beach huts might jog his memory.

  ‘You aren’t acquainted with the area then?’ he asked.

  But apparently not. I was pleased I hadn’t said anything now.

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Well, if you were, you would know just how unstable the cliff edges are around here.’ He added seriously, ‘And you certainly wouldn’t have pulled off that little stunt.’

  I might have been reacquainted with certain aspects of Wynmouth, but I wasn’t aware of that particular change. The cliffs had all been rock solid a few years ago.

  ‘Are you a local?’ I asked, keen to turn the conversation away from my foolish behaviour.

  ‘I used to be,’ he said, staring out of the window, ‘but I wouldn’t go as far as to say that now.’

  ‘I met someone when I first arrived,’ I told him, ‘who said that you have to have lived in the village for endless generations before you’re considered a bone fide citizen.’

  ‘That’s true enough,’ he smiled, pushing his damp, dark curls away from his forehead. ‘And nothing much changes around here, whether you’re talking about the place or the people.’

  Personally, I thought that was no bad thing. Wynmouth as it was, was still perfect in my opinion, but perhaps he didn’t agree. Distractingly, before I had a chance to ask, my brain fell to wondering if the feel of his lips was something else that hadn’t changed. If I leant across and pressed mine against his would they still feel the same? I quickly gave myself a little shake and drained my sweetened cup.

  ‘I’m Joe, by the way,’ he said.

  It didn’t occur to me that we hadn’t bothered with introductions because I already knew who he was. By which I meant I knew his name. I didn’t know anything about him personally, besides the fact that he was a knockout kisser. Which, I suppose, was pretty personal when you thought about it.

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Joe,’ I said, trying to get a grip. ‘I’m Tess.’

  ‘Tess,’ he repeated.

  I thought he was going to say ‘I knew a Tess once . . .’ but he didn’t.

  ‘You were mad to be out in this weather, Tess,’ he said instead, ‘you do know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Well, you were out in it too,’ I pointed out, unable to stop myself feeling a little miffed that he hadn’t recognized me.

  For years I had put our kiss on a pedestal, the benchmark by which all subsequent snogs were gauged and it would have been nice to have it at least remembered.

  ‘Yes, but I have to be,’ he said, ‘whereas you, I would imagine are here on holiday. You could have been cosied up in some cottage somewhere, next to a warm fire with a jigsaw puzzle.’

  I couldn’t fail to be amused by that. Crow’s Nest Cottage did have an impressive puzzle collection.

  ‘I take it I’m right?’ he said, flashing me a smile which made the lines around the sides of his deliciously dark eyes crinkle.

  He had certainly aged well.

  ‘Yes,’ I conceded, ‘you’re right, but you know what they say, what’s life without a little danger?’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s a saying I adhere to personally,’ he said, leaning over to refi
ll my cup. ‘So, where are you staying?’

  ‘Crow’s Nest Cottage. It’s next to the pub, the Smuggler’s. Do you know it?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I know it.’

  ‘The landlord owns both,’ I said, blowing my coffee. ‘Do you know him too?’

  He didn’t answer but climbed back out again and tried to give the dog a drink of water. The mad beast had just started to settle down but lost all common sense when he thought he was going to be let out for another run.

  ‘You didn’t say why you had to be out in this weather,’ I reminded Joe when he got back in. ‘Were you just exercising the dog, or was there something else?’

  ‘I was trying to exercise the dog,’ he said, rolling his eyes, ‘but I was doing some daily checks too. My family have farmed this area forever and some of the fields run practically up to the cliff edge.’

  ‘But not you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘From what you said before, I got the impression that you don’t consider yourself a local now, so I’m guessing you’re not a farmer.’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m not, but I do still muck in when I’m here, even if it is just a flying visit. Hence being out in this today.’

  ‘Are you going to be visiting for long?’ I asked.

  ‘Depends,’ he shrugged. ‘You?’

  ‘Depends,’ I shrugged back.

  Joe smiled again and I felt my face colour.

  ‘Are you going to help with the harvest?’ I asked.

  I knew that happened at some point during the summer.

  ‘I dunno,’ he said. ‘It’s all a bit up in the air at the moment. What about you?’

  ‘I’ve been here a fortnight already,’ I told him, ‘but I’m most likely going to stay for another month.’

  ‘Whatever have you found to do that’s so appealing that it’s made you want to stay for six weeks?’ he then asked. ‘I know why I feel a pull to the place, but it’s hardly a tourist hotspot, is it?’

  ‘Well, I don’t want a holiday hotspot,’ I told him, handing back the cup. ‘I’m happy with the café and beach, and the pub of course. Wynmouth has more than enough for me.’