by Heidi Swain
‘Probably for the best,’ he said. ‘From what I can make out, they’re still a popular courting spot in the evenings so perhaps not the most relaxing place to be.’
‘Unless of course you’re courting,’ I pointed out.
My heart began to leap as I grasped that what I really should have said was that I didn’t know the huts were a popular courting spot. The last thing I needed now was to accidently reveal that this wasn’t my first time in Wynmouth and that I knew all about the huts and their romantic – for want of a better word – history.
‘I suppose that’s true,’ he agreed.
‘And what do you mean, still a popular place?’ I asked, trying to throw him off the scent he might not have even picked up. ‘Have they always been the place for romantic assignations?’
‘Well, I don’t know about romantic,’ he smiled. ‘But the local kids and teens on their holidays have always come down here to get out of sight of their parents.’
‘Including you?’ I blurted out.
‘Me?’
‘Yes,’ I swallowed, risking a speedy glance at him and finding he was looking at Hope, ‘you.’
‘I may have had a memorable moment down here,’ he admitted, his cheeks colouring a little, but probably nowhere near as much as mine.
‘Just the one?’
With his good looks and alleged popularity with the local female population I’d bet it was a whole lot more than just one.
‘Yes,’ he confirmed with real conviction, ‘just the one.’
There was no doubting that he was telling the truth. I wondered if that was because, like me, the moment had been so sweetly perfect that it couldn’t possibly be bettered or if because the crash and his lengthy recuperation from it had put a stop to him coming back.
‘So, why . . .’ I began, turning to face him as I grappled for the right words to frame the question, ‘when . . .’
He turned at the same time to look at me, his eyebrows raised in expectation as my words trailed off and I suddenly found myself back in the room, or in this case back on the beach, with the distinct impression that I’d missed something.
‘Well, go on then,’ he said, pointing at Hope, who was now beckoning to me. ‘You’re up.’
‘What?’
‘Look alive,’ he said, ‘you’re supposed to helping, aren’t you?’
‘Oh my god, yes,’ I muttered, ‘yes, I am.’
I quickly made my way through the crowd to the front.
‘Sorry,’ I said to Hope as she jumped down to join me on the sand, ‘I was distracted.’
‘You could hear me though, couldn’t you?’ She frowned. ‘I probably should have borrowed a megaphone or something.’
‘No, you were fine,’ I reassured her. ‘Clear as a bell. It was all perfect and you were brilliant.’ I smiled, certain that in spite of my inability to listen to her and Sam at the same time that she had been. ‘Now pass me the gloves and buckets and I’ll start dishing them out.’
The plan was to work from the beach huts to the rockpool area, then to the café – where Sophie was providing free refreshments for everyone who was taking part – and finally, if there was still time, further along the stretch under the cliff to the third groyne. As the time progressed, and because the tide was still rushing out, more and more beach was exposed and everyone was shocked by the amount and variety of rubbish they picked up.
As expected, there were plenty of things made from plastic such as straws, bottle tops and bottles, but wet wipes, food wrappers and cigarette butts made up an alarming amount too.
‘Would you just look at all this,’ said Sophie in dismay.
Everyone had convened at the café to drop off what they had collected next to her bins and stock up on her fortifying snacks.
‘The most depressing thing is that lots of these things haven’t even been washed up,’ she said crossly. ‘It’s all rubbish that folk have been too lazy to take away with them.’
‘I can’t believe how many cigarette butts we’ve found,’ said one young woman who was with the local parent and toddler group. ‘They were the last thing I was expecting to find.’
‘Especially in these numbers,’ said another, shaking her head as she peered into her half-filled bucket.
‘It’s really disappointing,’ said Hope.
‘And all these plastic water bottles,’ said Sophie, ‘there’s really no need for them to be a one-use wonder. I’m going to get on to the water company next week and find out how I can register to become a water-filling station.’
‘Won’t that put your bill up though, Mum?’ asked Hope. ‘If everyone who visits the beach decides to ask you for a refill, you’re bound to see an increased cost in your water bill.’
‘I’ll find out,’ said Sophie. ‘I’ll ask how it works because the world can’t carry on like this.’
It was a truly sad state of affairs but we consoled ourselves with the fact that all the rubbish we’d collected was no longer littering the beautiful stretch of beach and Hope already had a list as long as her arm of people who were promising to come back on a regular basis now the scheme was finally off the ground.
‘I should have done this months ago,’ she admonished herself.
‘At least you’re doing it now,’ said Sam, giving her hand a squeeze from where he was sitting at one of the tables.
‘Are you all right?’ Hope asked him, noticing how tired he looked.
‘Just about,’ he said, stretching his legs out in front of him, ‘but it might take me a while to get back.’
‘I’ll run you up in the car,’ Sophie offered.
‘No need for that,’ he said, looking even more uncomfortable. ‘I’ll manage.’
The area of beach the other side of the café was in an equally bad way. Most people had gone by this point, but a hardcore few pushed on, mindful that the tide would soon be turning. Sam had stayed at the café, ostensibly to help Sophie, but really because it was too difficult for him to carry on.
‘Walking on sand is bloody hard work,’ he had told me, as he thumped the bottom of his prosthetic leg in frustration. ‘But it’ll be easier when I get my new one fitted.’
‘You’ll outrun us all then,’ I told him.
It didn’t even cross my mind that I would most likely be long gone before he had it.
‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ he smiled, ‘but it will be nice to be able to keep up.’
There was a storage shed next to the bins behind the café and we lugged all the rubbish in there, sorting it as best we could, ready for it be collected the next week. The local councillor Hope had been in touch with hadn’t been able to make the inaugural clean, but she had pledged to post the photographs Hope had taken on the council website and social media accounts to raise awareness, as well as promising everything would be correctly disposed of. She had also said she would come along to the next event and bring a local journalist with her.
‘Not bad for one day’s work,’ said Hope, standing back to look at the unsavoury array of what had been gathered. ‘I’m hoping it won’t take anywhere near as long next time.’
‘And I’m hoping there won’t be anywhere near as much stuff,’ Sophie tutted.
I looked back along the beach towards the rockpools.
‘Oh damn,’ I said.
‘What?’ Sam asked.
‘No one got that barrel out, did they?’
It was the biggest piece of litter I’d seen anywhere along the stretch of beach, and because I knew I couldn’t deal with it on my own, I’d completely forgotten about it.
‘Too late now,’ said Hope, looking at her watch. ‘Maybe we could have a go at it tomorrow.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘it’s probably going to need digging out.’
‘Oh, come on,’ said Sam, rallying himself as well as us. ‘Let’s give it a go now. There’s still time if we hurry.’
Hope drove us back along the seawall as far as the groyne where the barrel was wedged and the
n carried on to the pub to say Sam would be back soon to take over from the lad who had been holding the fort. Sam had tried to call, but there wasn’t a strong enough mobile signal so he opted to let Hope rush back so he could stay and help me.
‘I really don’t think we’ll be able to do anything if it’s just the two of us,’ I told him.
‘Oh, ye of little faith,’ he muttered, walking down to where we could see the barrel sticking out of the sand. ‘We might as well at least give it a try.’
But as loath as he was to admit it, within a minute, it was obvious that I had been right. Even with our hands encased in thick gloves, we couldn’t get enough purchase on it to move it even an inch and I could see the sea was making a rather rapid approach.
‘We’ll have to come back tomorrow after all, won’t we?’ he said, sounding frustrated.
‘Or perhaps not,’ I said pointing to where I could see the beach tractor used by the fisherman to haul the little boats in and out heading in our direction. ‘Looks like reinforcements are on the way.’
I could hardly believe my eyes when Joe jumped off the back and ran over to join us.
‘We passed Hope up the road,’ he said, his face flushing, ‘and Charlie said he’d come and lend a hand.’
I watched the driver climb off the tractor and amble over. He was taller than Joe, thick set and after decades spent bearing the brunt of the brutal coastal winds, decidedly weather-beaten. Close to, he looked like the beefed-up hardcore version of his brother and not really someone you’d want to pick an argument with. Not that I intended to, of course.
‘This is Charlie, your brother,’ I said to Joe. ‘I’ve seen the tractor about, but I had no idea who was driving it.’
‘Yeah,’ said Joe, quickly glancing at Sam, who hadn’t said a word, ‘he’s been helping out a mate who’s had a stroke. Charlie’s more farmer than fisherman, but when a friend is in trouble . . .’
His words trailed off and Charlie stepped forward.
‘Good to meet you, Tess,’ he said, the surprisingly soft lilt of his voice not quite matching his powerful physique, ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
Thankfully there wasn’t time to wonder what it was that he’d heard.
‘Come on then,’ he said, quickly cutting through the silence between Joe and Sam and striding over to the so far immovable barrel, ‘let’s have a go at getting this bloody thing shifted.’
Within minutes we’d secured a chain from the back of the tractor around the barrel and Charlie had revved the engine, slowly moved off and heaved it out. The hefty machine made it look easy, but it had evidently been stuck fast and would have been impossible to dig out by hand, no matter how many of us had committed to the cause.
‘That’s been there a while,’ said Charlie, shaking his head as he secured it to the back of the tractor to take away. ‘It’s falling apart, look.’
The edges which had been buried were rusted and brittle and I wondered if it had been sealed and full when it was first washed up. If the contents matched what was written on the side had leached out into the sand, then I sincerely hoped not.
‘I think we’d better make a move,’ said Sam, as the sea inched ever closer.
I noticed his limp was even more pronounced and his mouth was set in a grim line.
‘Thanks for coming to help,’ he said, addressing Charlie and giving a nod in Joe’s direction. ‘We certainly couldn’t have shifted it on our own.’
‘No problem,’ said Joe, looking at the sand, ‘I’m glad we could help.’
‘Shit,’ I said, jumping out of the way as a freezing wave covered my feet.
I had been so distracted by the guys’ awkward exchange, that I hadn’t noticed just how quickly the tide was now chasing us, but at least I had been on the spot to witness the monumental moment. I wished Hope had been there too, but for some reason she hadn’t come back.
‘Why don’t you hop on the back of the tractor,’ Joe suggested to Sam, ‘and I’ll walk back up with Tess.’
‘Good idea,’ said Charlie, before Sam had a chance to object.
‘You must be needed back at the pub by now,’ said Joe, looking at his watch, ‘and Charlie can have you there in no time on this thing.’
It was thoughtful of him to give Sam a reason for taking up his offer that meant it didn’t look like he was having to give in because he couldn’t manage the walk and I was relieved to see Sam step up to where Charlie directed, telling him to hang on as he turned the engine over again.
‘I’ll have a pint ready for you when you get back,’ Sam said to Joe.
‘Thanks,’ Joe replied. ‘But can you make it a half? I’m off the beer a bit these days.’
They exchanged the briefest of looks and then Charlie was away, leaving the smell of fuel in the tractor’s wake as he headed for the slipway which would get him back on to the path.
‘Thank you for coming,’ I said to Joe as the noise of the engine faded away.
‘And thank you,’ he said, as we hastily left the beach to the incoming tide.
‘For what?’ I asked. ‘Accusing you of something you hadn’t done?’
‘Sort of,’ he smiled wryly. ‘You might have got it all wrong, Tess, but I didn’t exactly go out of my way to make sure you hadn’t.’
That was true.
‘I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen again,’ he told me. ‘I don’t want there to be any more drama in Wynmouth involving the Upton family. There’s been more than enough of that in recent years and it’s time things settled down.’
His words were music to my ears.
*
That evening in the Smuggler’s was one of the best I’d spent since I arrived back in the village. Sam and Joe were ignoring the furtive glances which were being thrown in their direction and if not completely comfortable in each other’s presence they were doing a mighty fine job of making the best of it.
Their conversation was still a bit stilted, but that was a vast improvement on non-existent. I wondered if some of the way Charlie didn’t seem to have a problem being around Sam had rubbed off on Joe, and if Joe hadn’t left Wynmouth in the first place whether they might have been at this point years ago. Not that I could blame Joe for wanting to get away because I myself had made a dash for it when life and work had got too much – and I didn’t have the added complication of seeing the person I was in love with going out with the person I was trying to avoid.
‘Did you, by any chance,’ Hope asked me, when Sam was serving at the other end of the bar, ‘have anything to do with this pair finally finding they could rub along?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘not really. I might have got Joe to have a think about a few things, but to be honest, after my last faux pas, I’d decided I was going to stay out of it all.’
Hope couldn’t stop smiling.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘Whatever the reason behind this positive shift in their relationship, I’m truly grateful for it.’
‘It was a clever move on your part to ask Charlie and Joe to help with that barrel,’ I pointed out.
Hope shrugged, but looked pleased that it had all turned out all right. I wondered if she would be as happy if she knew Joe was still carrying a torch for her.
‘I didn’t think a bit of male bonding over a practical task would be any bad thing,’ she smiled.
I knew that it was going to take a whole lot more than a bit of male bonding to make things properly right, but fingers crossed what we were witnessing was a healthy and long-lasting move in the right direction for Joe and Sam’s relationship, even if Joe was going to struggle to get used to seeing Hope on the arm of his former best friend.
‘Right,’ Joe said to me, just a little while later, ‘I’m going to head home.’
‘What, already?’ I frowned, unable to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
The evening was only just in full swing and even though I knew there was going to be plenty to be getting on with ahead of the party tomorrow night, I w
as keen to keep the guys together and talking for as long as possible.
‘Yeah,’ he said, looking about him, ‘I need to go.’
I could see Sam and Hope talking cosily together and wondered if that was the reason behind Joe’s desire to get away. I could hardly come right out and ask him in the packed bar, but I wished I could.
‘Are you sure you can’t stay just a little bit longer?’ I asked, pulling him out of earshot of everyone else. ‘You and Sam seem to have really turned a corner tonight.’
‘We have,’ he told me. ‘We really have, but you have to understand Tess, that no matter how easy you want this to be, it just isn’t.’
‘Okay,’ I relented, not wanting to push him if he really had reached saturation point. ‘You do know though,’ I carried on nonetheless, trying to make him aware that if he wanted to open up to me about his feelings for Hope then he could, ‘that if there’s anything you want to talk about, Joe . . .’
‘Well, now, good evening you two,’ said George, neatly stepping between us. ‘How are you, Joe?’
‘Good,’ Joe smiled, still looking at me, ‘I’m good, thanks, George.’
‘That’s lovely to hear,’ George smiled back. ‘Now, Tess,’ he said, turning his attention to me, ‘I wonder if I might borrow you for a moment, my dear? I seem to have mislaid my glasses.’
Joe took the moment to slip away and it turned out that George had his glasses all along.
‘Why do I get the impression that you did that on purpose, George?’ I asked as he pulled the case out of his pocket with a flourish and a not altogether convincing look of surprise.
‘Because,’ he said wisely, ‘some things in life simply aren’t meant to be rushed. You have to let them run their own course and allow them to happen in their own time.’
‘Even if that’s taking literally years to happen?’ I asked.
‘Even then,’ he sagely replied, and I knew that he was right, ‘especially then in fact.’
First Sophie and now George. I seemed to be surrounded by people in Wynmouth who were keen to impart words of wisdom at opportune moments!
Chapter 20
That night, I mulled over what George had said. I might have wanted to hurry things along between Sam and Joe now they were finally moving in the right direction, but I knew he was right. It had taken years for the pair to achieve what they had just managed to do, and there was nothing to be gained from trying to force the situation further. As far as repairing their relationship was concerned, and in spite of whatever it was that was still troubling Joe, it would be playing the long game that scored the final victory.