As we enter, Flick barrels into us.
‘Darlings!’ she cries. ‘I thought you’d got lost in this godforsaken place!’
Behind her Ella rolls her eyes at me.
‘I’ve been trying to phone, but this place is like outer fucking Narnia,’ Flick expounds. ‘I didn’t think there was anywhere left in the world that didn’t have mobile reception.’ Flick sweeps me into her arms. ‘Where the bloody hell have you been, woman?’
‘On the beach,’ I tell her from the depths of the crush.
‘Good God, you could have been swept out to sea!’ Her long blonde locks go flick, flick, flick, and that’s partly how she got her nickname. Also because she was always quick to give her men the flick. And, of course, her given name is Felicity.
‘I’ve been having a lovely time playing in the rock pools.’
‘Really?’ She wrinkles her nose, looking at me as if I’m mad.
‘You still can’t get a phone signal down there,’ Harry informs her.
‘That’s because we’re on the far edge of civilisation.’ Then she says, ‘Come here, you gorgeous thing,’ and wraps her arms and legs round him. Already the calm and cosy cottage feels as if a whirlwind has blown through it.
Harry smiles at her indulgently. He knows the form by now. I’m just hoping that he lasts the week with Flick’s excesses as he’s normally twitchy in her company after ten minutes. She’s brash and bossy and drives us to distraction, but Ella and I both love her dearly.
‘Art says the barbecue is ready to cook,’ Ella says. ‘Shall we go outside and keep him company while he does man things?’
‘My God, I’m famished,’ Flick announces. Flick who barely eats a thing. Flick who can make a three-course meal out of lettuce.
‘You might need a sweater out there,’ Ella warns. ‘The sea air can be cool at night.’
‘Good journey?’ I ask Flick as she slips her jacket back on.
‘Dreadful,’ she says. ‘Thank Christ I didn’t have to drive all the way.’
Harry frowns. ‘You didn’t?’
‘No,’ she says. ‘Noah did.’
I exchange a glance with Ella and, behind Flick’s back, she shrugs. As far as Ella was aware, Flick was coming alone. Although I’ve prematurely met Noah on the beach, he is yet another boyfriend on an ever-growing list who we haven’t heard of.
‘Who the hell is Noah when he’s at home?’ Harry asks.
Then a voice from behind me on the stairs says, ‘I am.’
Spinning on my heels, I see him standing there, grinning back at me.
Harry’s jaw drops open and stays that way.
‘Harry,’ Flick says eventually, ‘you’re catching flies.’
Flustered, he clamps his mouth shut, steps in front of me and shakes Noah’s hand. Robustly. I don’t think he plans to let it go. ‘And you are?’
Noah shrugs. ‘I’m Flick’s… er… companion… for the week.’ He glances anxiously at our friend, clearly unsure quite what his status is.
Harry’s head spins round and he stares at Flick. ‘I thought you were coming alone,’ he blurts out.
Now it’s Flick’s turn to shrug. ‘Change of plans.’
Typical Flick.
Eventually, Noah extricates his hand from Harry’s. ‘Grace and I have already met on the beach.’
I feel myself flush at the memory. There’s the crackle of electricity in the air between us again, so strong that I can almost see the sparks. Can no one else see this? Is it really just between me and Noah? I hope to God that it is.
‘Everyone ready?’ Ella says.
Which is just as well, because I feel I might have been happy to stand and gaze at Noah, unmoving, for the rest of the evening.
‘Darling!’ Flick snakes her arm round Noah’s waist and steers him away from me. The bubble bursts. ‘Come outside, look at this place.’
I catch Noah glancing back at me as they leave.
On autopilot, I go to the fridge where Ella is lifting food out. I take a couple of dishes of chicken to carry outside.
‘What do you think?’ she whispers to me in a slightly breathless way. ‘Is he not fifty shades of flipping fabulous?’
‘Yes.’ I can only agree. I’m glad that it’s not just me and that Ella has been similarly struck by the presence of Flick’s New Man.
‘God, we are seriously going to grill her about him later. Has she said anything about this one to you?’
I shake my head. ‘No. Not a word.’
‘Hmm,’ Ella says. ‘Why the big secret? She told me she was coming on her own.’
‘Perhaps she picked him up en route.’ And all I got at Magor Services was a dreadful cheese sandwich.
‘I wouldn’t put it past her. Lucky bitch.’ Ella rolls her eyes at me. ‘More likely there’s a Mrs Noah in the background who might have put the brakes on their little tryst at the last minute. That’s probably why she kept him quiet.’
‘It’s a necessary side effect of dating married men,’ I concur. ‘They’re unreliable.’
I must hold on to this thought. Noah is probably married and having a torrid affair with Flick and is, therefore, not a nice man at all, but a total ratbag.
We troop outside. The wind has dropped and it’s a beautiful, balmy evening. Ella’s made it really pretty out here, with candlelit lanterns all over the terrace and a string of white fairy lights stretching the full length of the back of the cottage. It’s a truly magical setting.
Art starts to cook and the scent of smoky barbecue fills the air, competing with the tang of sea salt. Ella brings out an iPod and the sound of Caro Emerald’s mellow voice wafts into the night.
There’s much laughter as we all sit down together at the big picnic table. Someone pours me wine. I think Harry takes hold of my hand. Flick leans close to Noah and whispers in his ear. His eyes meet mine. I try not to stare. My mouth has gone dry and I gulp my wine and all I can think about is Noah’s lips on mine and how it might feel. He gives me a slow smile and I know, instinctively, that he can read my mind. I feel as if I have to hold on to the edge of the table to steady myself, otherwise my whole world just might topple over.
I remember reading an interview with Johnny Depp in a trashy magazine – probably while I was at the hairdresser’s. He said he knew he was in love with Vanessa Paradis when he caught a glimpse of the back of her neck across a crowded room. When she turned and he saw her eyes, he knew instantly that he was going to give up his hell-raising ways and devote himself to her. I thought it was total rubbish at the time.
‘All right?’ Harry asks.
I gulp. ‘Yes.’
But I’m not and we both know it.
Chapter Nine
Having dinner with friends used to be such an easy affair. Pre-Noah. That’s how I think my life will be from now on, split into two sections. The day Noah came and then the rest.
Art piles up the chicken and sausages on the table, all beautifully cooked. We tuck in.
Noah’s sitting opposite me and I try very hard not to look at his fork as it travels to his mouth or at his lips as they curve to smile at something Flick says. Occasionally, he glances over at me and our eyes meet and his smile is just for me, I’m sure. I wonder to God how I’m going to get through this week without spontaneously combusting.
I can’t move naturally any more. Every move I make seems amplified. I nearly knock over my glass. My fork clatters on my plate. My garlic bread hits the floor. My sausage, more than likely, will squirt grease in my eye.
‘Everything OK, Grace?’ Ella whispers.
My friend has noticed. Everyone has noticed.
I try a smile. ‘Fine. Too much wine.’
‘You’ve only had a glass.’
‘Not enough wine.’
‘Here, let me.’ Noah tops up my glass.
Oh, Lord. I don’t want to be crazy in love and pissed up. That is a dangerous, dangerous combination.
Flick slings an arm casually round Noah’s shoulder an
d I feel hot coals burn inside my stomach. Jealousy. The first time I have ever experienced this emotion too. And, as well as irrational love, it’s one that I feel quite uncomfortable with. This is not normal. I sneak glances at him and try to work out exactly what it is about his presence that’s reduced me to this gibbering wreck.
He’s tall. Possibly taller than Harry. Six-two? Broad shoulders, straight back. It looks as if he does something physical or works out a lot. I really hope he works out a lot as I hate gym bunnies. Thankfully, his shirt is now buttoned so I can’t see the smooth, flat lines of his chest, his stomach. His hair is dark, mussed up, trendy. I’d guess that he’s in his early thirties, about the same age as me. What else can I tell you? His mouth looks eminently kissable. His brown eyes are kind and smile as much as his mouth. He looks the type who would help old ladies to cross the road. He looks the type who would be happy to tear buttons from your blouse in the heat of passion. Oh, Christ. What is wrong with you, Grace Taylor? Stop it. Stop it now.
I don’t know how we get through dinner, other than that most of us seem to sail through it on a sea of alcohol. I have more than my fair share. At least it has stopped me counting how much Harry has to drink. I notice that Noah doesn’t have any wine and that Ella sticks to water as well. Should have made that my policy too. Everyone’s laughing and joking, but I feel as if I’m floating above everything, disconnected.
When we’ve eaten the shop-bought lemon tart and polished off the last of the cupcakes, we all compliment the chef on his excellent cooking, and Ella and I begin to clear the table. The breeze has picked up again and it’s time for us all to retreat inside.
Harry and Art retire to the sitting room to light the fire. Flick follows. She’s never been one for tidying up after other people. On the other hand, Noah hangs back and helps Ella and me clear the table and stack the plates in the dishwasher. I go outside and blow out all of the candles. I stand there, with the only light coming from the moon and the glow from the fairy lights. There’s a footstep behind me and I turn to find Noah there.
‘I’m not disturbing you, am I?’
‘No. I was just taking a moment to be still.’
‘Me too,’ Noah says. ‘I wanted to listen to the sea. I can’t get over what a fabulous place this is.’
‘Yes. I love it here too. We could sit on the rocks. It’s nice there.’
He nods and follows me off the terrace. I climb over the rocks, looking for a suitable place. ‘Here looks good.’
I try to act normally and, of course, end up turning too fast and he bumps straight into me. My life has descended in an instant from disgruntled order to a cheesy Carry On film. He holds out his arms to steady me, but I duck away from his touch.
‘I’m fine. Thanks.’
It’s clear that Noah can sense my awkwardness at being alone with him. When we sit down together, I’m thinking that this was really a bad idea. Why didn’t I just retreat to the safety of the kitchen as soon as he came out and leave him to it? I hug my knees and, at Noah’s proximity, a shiver runs through me.
‘Cold?’
‘No. Just a shiver.’
‘I’d offer you my jacket…’ He laughs and indicates the thin shirt he’s wearing.
In an attempt to deflect attention from my embarrassment, I say in a voice that sounds too bright and half-strangled, ‘So, how did you meet Flick then?’
Ignoring the fact that I’m talking like Beaker from The Muppet Show, he says, ‘A film company were using my estate as a location shoot. It happened to be one of Flick’s authors.’
Flick works as a film agent for a big literary agency in London – though, in reality, she’s rarely there. She jets all round the world – LA, Cannes, wherever there are film festival-type things going on. As well as a pretty chi-chi place in London, she now even has her own apartment out in California, she’s there so much. Flick keeps saying that we three girls should go out there together, but, well, we never quite have.
‘David Stevens,’ Noah adds. ‘Do you know him?’
‘I don’t.’
Ella and I know all about Flick’s work – she tells us enough. But we’ve never got to go to any of her authors’ events or anything.
‘Well, it’s his book. The Best of May.’
‘Who’s starring in it?’
Noah shrugs his ignorance. ‘I have no idea. I’m afraid that I’m no celebrity watcher, but I don’t think there were any big names. It seemed like a pretty low-budget affair to me.’ He winces. ‘Just don’t tell Flick I said that.’
Already, he has the measure of my friend.
‘I won’t. Your secret’s safe with me.’
He looks at me as if to say he knows that.
‘Flick came up for the day to see how the filming was going and well…’
Noah doesn’t need to say any more. Most red-blooded men who see Flick fall instantly at her feet. That’s pretty much where she likes to keep them throughout her relationships.
Flick is tall, willowy and extraordinarily pretty, although she’s not got Ella’s endearing looks. Flick is glamorous, stunning and damn well knows it. Her face is a perfect oval, flawless, her mouth pert. She’s blonde – naturally – with wide baby-blue eyes. Only the hardest of hearts could resist her. Only the most confident of men can keep up with her. And, though she could have her pick of them, Flick invariably goes for ones who are married or ‘complicated’. She likes alpha males and actors. Men who are either too young for her or twice her age. Multimillionaires, commitment-phobes or penniless spongers.
Given her track record, Noah looks way too normal to be one of Flick’s boyfriends. I do hope he’s not in the multimillionaire, commitment-phobe category.
‘So you have a country estate?’ I enquire, sounding as casual as I can.
‘No.’ An easy laugh. ‘I’m the operations manager for one. That’s corporate-speak for dogsbody. I do everything from fixing their leaky cisterns to cooking breakfast for shooting parties.’
‘Which house is it?’
‘It’s just a small place. Relatively speaking. If you call seventeen bedrooms and six reception rooms small.’ Another laugh, which clearly comes more readily to him than a frown. ‘It’s not one of the famous grand houses, though. We open to the public only on high days and holidays. Just enough to secure our government grant. Melbray Hall, in the Midlands, not far from Birmingham. You probably won’t have heard of it.’
‘You’re right.’ I give him an apologetic smile.
‘It’s a charming place,’ he adds. ‘The grounds were designed by Capability Brown.’
‘Then I’ll have to come and visit you one day. We could go out for lunch or something.’
Oh, good grief, what am I saying? He’ll think I’m flirting.
‘I’d like that,’ he counters. ‘I could show you round the estate. You’d love it there.’
Oh, good grief. So is he.
This is my best friend’s man. Remember that! I hate it when Flick comes on to other people’s husbands. I must not do this.
Then we’re awkward with each other, so I pick up a couple of pebbles and toss them, half-heartedly, towards the sea.
‘It was a last-minute arrangement,’ he adds. ‘To come here. Flick asked me just yesterday. We’ve had only a handful of dates. We hardly know each other really.’
‘I’m sure we’ll all get on just fine.’
‘I hope so. I don’t want to intrude.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that you won’t do that. We’re a pretty friendly bunch.’
Then Ella opens the back door and comes out on to the terrace. ‘Coffee’s ready,’ she shouts at us.
‘I guess that’s our cue to go back inside and join the others,’ he says. But, again, Noah seems as reluctant as I do.
‘Yes.’
We stand and Noah holds out his hand to help me, but I don’t take it. I can’t. Instead, I wobble my way back towards the terrace.
‘Have you two been putting the world to rights out
here?’ she jokes.
‘Something like that.’
‘Well, you both look very cosy.’
Too cosy. ‘I should get back inside,’ I say hastily. ‘Harry will be missing me.’
And, without even glancing in Noah’s direction, I scurry back indoors.
Chapter Ten
A Cottage by the Sea Page 6