“I’ll do it,” offered Ross.
Demi thanked him. He wandered off with his phone pressed to his ear.
“I’m fine,” insisted Willow.
“I know,” Demi reassured her, tucking a strand of Willow’s hair behind her ear.
Ross came back into view. “It’s on its way.”
“Do you want to share?” asked Demi.
“Ah, no. I’m just off to Woodlane and it’s a nice evening.”
Demi got up and guided Ross outside the hotel. She kissed him on his round, rosy cheek then once on his round nose. “Thanks for understanding.”
“Don’t be daft,” he replied, giving her firm butt a playful spank.
Demi caught herself shrieking and then giggled. She reached into Ross’s pocket and took hold of his phone. “Want me to put my number in there?”
“There will be trouble if you don’t!”
“Ooh! I like the sound of that.”
Morning of Sunday 19 th April – at Trelissick Gardens
Willow was running well. The ground was soft but not soggy – just the way she liked it. The beauty of the woodland route, with bluebells decorating the budding undergrowth and the taste of mist in the air, exhilarated her.
She could see one of her teammates ahead. Claire was the faster runner, but Willow wondered if she might use her aptitude for cross country to her advantage when they hit the slope.
She neared the beach. At low tide it was just a shingle patch next to a muddy estuary, but her mind painted a glittering tide on the surface as she mentally prepared herself for the hill.
Willow was approaching a sharp bend, when someone stepped onto the path straight ahead. At first she thought it was one of the marshals, but she quickly realised that the figure was actually standing in her way.
Getting closer, she recognised that it was the man from the hotel – Nat. Dressed more casually, yes, but his tall, striking figure was unmistakable. What was he doing here?
Willow had been psyched for the hill, psyched to catch up with Claire. But now she felt distracted. She tried to focus but questions about Nat came unbidden.
Had he come to offer support? How did he even know where to find her? She couldn’t remember mentioning the location, but then she had had a bit to drink.
“Morning,” she chirped, as elegantly as she could, altering her course so that she would avoid smacking into him.
When it was clear she wasn’t about to stop, Nat called, “Hey!”
Willow slowed and was surprised when Nat took her gently by the arm. He pulled a pen from his pocket and plucked the top off with his teeth. It was a thick, black marker. He began writing on her arm. At first Willow was confused, but then she saw that it was a phone number – his, presumably.
“Thanks,” she gasped and began running again, but she’d lost her momentum. The hill felt like a massive challenge. She never got close to catching up with Claire. By the time she reached the finish line her head was all over the place.
Willow was not familiar with overblown romantic gestures, such as tracking a girl down and inking a phone number onto her body. She had no idea how she should react. She supposed she should feel flattered, even privileged that he had wanted to track her down; but mostly she felt baffled.
Evening of Sunday 19 th April – at Five Degrees West
Demi could see Ross’s solid figure perched on the wall outside the pub, Five Degrees West. There was no mistaking those broad shoulders; he was like the Incredible Hulk but shorter.
She kissed him immediately. She couldn’t be bothered with any of that ‘will we, won’t we?’ nonsense. As far as she was concerned she was meeting somebody she’d pulled the night before for a drink, so why regress to an awkward exchange of hints and guesses? Ross returned her kiss eagerly, running his fingers through her bobbed blonde hair. He wrapped his hands around her shoulders to keep the kiss going for as long as was decently possible in public. So that was that settled.
Taking his hand, Demi led Ross into the bar. She liked the atmosphere in the place. It had kept the essence of a traditional pub but felt less poky, having pastel walls adorned at intervals with pictures of local scenery. The window was set up for a band, although there was no sign of them yet.
“Have you eaten?” asked Ross.
“Not yet. I was hoping we could have some dinner together?”
“Booyaka!”
They took a table beneath a painting of Porthleven. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture of that tower when it’s not being drenched in waves.”
“It is one of those iconic storm photo spots. Porthleven’s great for surfing, though.”
“Not when the waves are crashing over that building?”
“No,” laughed Ross. “Not when it’s quite that bad.”
“Phew! I don’t want you drowning already. I’ve only just met you.”
Ross chuckled. “Nice to hear you don’t want me dead.”
“Depends how well the date goes,” replied Demi, with a twinkle in her eye. “Would you like a drink or shall I grab a menu first?”
“Ooh, grab the menu!”
Demi already knew what she was having but it was a treat to watch Ross read the menu – his enthusiastic, green eyes lit up with every single item.
“By the way, thanks for telling Nat about Willow’s race. She was really chuffed that he came along to support her.”
Ross’s brow crinkled. “I didn’t.”
“Oh. That’s odd. I did wonder why he went all the way to Trelissick to give her his number when he could have just got you to pass it on.”
“As far as I know, Nat doesn’t even know that you and I hit it off.”
“Then how did he know where she was racing?”
“You sure she didn’t tell him herself?”
“She doesn’t think she did.”
“He must have checked it out online then. There can’t have been that many races in Cornwall this morning.”
“Must have done.” Demi felt briefly troubled before smiling. “At least he’s keen.”
Evening of Sunday 19 th April – inside the Gylly Beach Café
The beach café was one of Willow’s favourite bars. It was light and airy with panoramic views of the bay. The sun had set, casting a veil over the landscape. She could hear the wind getting up, agitating the low tide as it poured over the flat sand.
When Nat walked in, she pinched herself. His smouldering look was reminiscent of Colin Firth’s portrayal of Mr Darcy, though Nat was slightly cleaner cut and markedly taller. Hers was not the only head that turned.
“Good evening, Miss Cassidy.” He looked at Willow’s pot of Earl Grey. “I was going to offer you a drink but looks like you couldn’t wait.”
“I was early,” mumbled Willow, but Nat had already turned away and started heading towards the bar.
He turned back. “I’ll get you a decent glass of wine. Tea is no drink to be having on a first date.”
Willow smiled to herself. This was definitely a date; that was a good start. She snuck a look at him while he waited to be served. His relatively loose jeans were snug around his hips and she could make out the shape of his bum – narrow and pert. Nathaniel Gordon looked as though she had designed him herself.
He returned from the bar with two glasses and a bottle of white. “Let’s move outside.”
Willow looked out the window. “Won’t it be cold out there?”
“They have heaters,” he replied, looping her handbag over his arm but leaving the unfinished tea behind.
Willow topped up her cup and put her coat on. What a shame that she had to cover up the dress she’d worn especially – a patchwork wiggle dress made from prints of her favourite flower, the daisy.
The wind bit her immediately but she was pleased to find that once she got around the corner, the glass panels shielded the decking from the worst of the elements. The air was nicer out here – crisper – and you could hear the waves charging up the shore.
“It was too crowded in there. I want us to be alone.”
Willow looked around them. They were certainly alone now. She could only see one other person – a waitress having a secret cigarette beyond the decking.
“I know you like white,” he said, pouring her a glass.
“Thank you.” She took a few more sips of her tea – she needed the warmth.
“I was surprised that you used my number so quickly.”
Willow flushed. Had he not meant for her to call right away? Ordinarily she wouldn’t have done, but she’d known he would be going back to London soon. Had he meant for her to call him after he moved to Falmouth? Was she appearing too keen? But then she remembered that he was the one who had sought her out at Trelissick to make sure they saw each other again.
She rolled up the sleeve of her jumper. “I can’t get the ink off!”
“Good,” he said, with a wicked grin. “I want you to think of me whenever you are naked.”
Willow blushed. The fact that she was a virgin popped into her mind and not for the first time. Would he be flirting with her like this if he knew?
“Tell me, Miss Cassidy, do you like Beethoven?”
“Um …” Willow felt as though she’d turned over an exam paper and realised that she didn’t know how to respond to the first question.
“Do you know what a flash mob is?”
Good God – it was an exam. At least this was one she could answer with confidence. “I actually saw the Beyoncé flash mob at Piccadilly Circus a few years back.”
“Beyoncé?” he laughed. “No, I’m talking about real music.” Willow thought for a moment he was being an arse, but he took her hand and held it gently. “There’s something I want to show you later.”
Later? What did he have to show her that he couldn’t show her here?
“You’ve got something most women I date do not.”
Willow stared back.
“Don’t look so worried. You’re … how do I put it? Gentle, that’s it. Lots of women are feminine but they’re so ‘in your face’ with it. You’re softer. I like that.”
So that was why a man who could have anybody he wanted was on a date with her. It wasn’t because she was better looking or more interesting than other women; it was because she was different. Different was good. She liked being thought unique.
“Your voice is soft. Your perfume is soft – is that peach? Even your smile is soft,” he said, taking her other hand. “Tell me more about yourself, Miss Cassidy.”
“You can call me Willow, you know.”
“I like Miss Cassidy. It has a certain Frank Sinatra feel to it.”
“And what should I call you?”
“‘Sir’ should do,” he said with no visible signs of irony. “But we can work towards that.”
Willow smiled, assuming humour. “What do you want to know about me?”
“Do you live on your own?”
“I share with Demi.”
“Your sister, right?”
“You must get on well if you’re still living together.”
“It’s the family home. Demi moved in after my mum died.”
This seemed to stop Nat in his tracks. He let go of her hands suddenly.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. Sorry, you just took me by surprise. You’re too young to have lost your mother.”
“I know.”
“And your father, does he live with you too?”
Willow shrugged. “I don’t really want to talk about him.”
Nat grasped her hands once more. “It sounds like you’re a girl in need of love.”
“Well, I’ve got Dem–”
“Whenever I look at you, I just want to scoop you up in my arms and wrap a duvet tightly around the pair of us.”
Willow smiled. She didn’t need protecting but could hardly object to being held tightly and swathed in blankets by a beautiful man. This date was confusing. One moment he appeared to be berating her music knowledge and the next, showering her with compliments. Was he enjoying himself or not?
“So what else is there to know about Willow Cassidy? How is your course going?”
“Not bad. I’m hoping to get a spot at an exhibition in May. It’s a local craftsmanship event.”
“What do you need to do to get a spot?”
“Impress them, I guess. I took some photos of my hats today.”
“You make hats, too! Are your talents endless?”
“No,” she muttered, embarrassed. “I just design hats and dresses.”
“Have you got the photos with you?”
“I have, actually. I took them on my phone – not ideal, but it’s the best camera I’ve got.” Willow took out her phone and chose a picture of her favourite item – a squishy top hat made from bubble-wrap.
Nat took the phone and studied the picture, turning it around to view it from all angles. “You have skills.”
“Thank you.”
Nat passed the phone back to Willow and stood up. “Let’s go and look at the waves.”
Willow could hear the wind rattling the glass panels that enclosed them. Still, she would prefer to walk along the beach with company than have to stay here alone. She followed Nat out onto the sand and down the beach towards the sea edge.
The waves seemed fiercer out here. With no barrier between them and the wrath of the ocean, she could taste the spray on the air.
“I love it when waves roar forwards like that,” said Nat. “They’re called dumping waves.”
Willow felt sure that they were spilling waves, but decided not to comment.
“Of course, in Cornish ‘Gyllingvase’ is ‘An Gilen Vas’, which means shallow inlet.”
“Really? I love the Cornish language.”
“And Falmouth used to be called Aberfal.”
Willow was going to have to correct him on that one. “Actually, I think that’s what Cornish language enthusiasts called it later, as a rejection of the English word. Kernowek enthusiasts are not fond of anything Anglo-Saxon.”
Nat stopped walking and faced Willow front on. “I like you! You’re brave, you’re bold and you know how to stand up for yourself!” He leaned forward and his voice grew softer. “You fascinate me.” He placed his lips on hers.
Willow took a moment to process what was happening. She’d been kissed suddenly before, but not usually when such a small amount of alcohol had been consumed.
Nat moved his lips an inch or two from hers and whispered, “You will kiss me.”
He pressed his lips against hers again. This time, she pressed back, opening her lips and allowing his tongue to slide along her lower lip. For a good three minutes, she forgot that she was freezing cold.
“You smell gorgeous,” she said, when finally their lips parted.
“Thanks. It’s Jean Paul Gaultier ‘Le Beau Male’.”
That figures.
“Come with me,” he said, taking her hand and leading her up the beach. She assumed he was taking her back to the café’s decking but he tugged her straight past, ignoring their bottle of wine.
“Where are we going?” asked Willow. She knew Falmouth well enough to know that there weren’t any other pubs or bars along this stretch of seafront, apart from hotel bars … Was he taking her back to his hotel?
“I want to show you something.”
“The thing related to Beethoven?”
“No. Something else. Although I will play you the Beethoven masterpiece as well.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two shiny keys joined on one loop.
“What are they for?”
“My new apartment.”
“I thought you were staying at the Falmouth Hotel?”
“Yes, but only because I haven’t got my furniture yet. I picked up the keys on Friday.”
Willow thought carefully about his proposal. If he didn’t have any furniture yet, then he was probably not presuming sex. He probably just really wanted to show her where he was going to live. She
walked alongside him for two or three minutes, but then slowed to a halt. “I’m not sure …”
“You’re not interested in seeing the apartment I’m going to be living in?”
“No. It’s just that … you know … first date and everything. They say you should stay somewhere public … somewhere neutral.”
“And who exactly are ‘they’?”
“Common sense?”
Nat laughed. “And where was your common sense when you joined me down on the beach?” He started walking again.
Willow didn’t follow. They were just outside the entrance to Gyllyngdune Gardens where the pavement was wide and well-lit.
Nat returned to Willow, and put his hands on her shoulders, guiding her backwards. The quarry garden with its shell grottos and iconic, stone archway had been one of her favourite places to play as a child, but it was no place to be at night.
Playfully, Nat pushed Willow backwards until her back jammed against the grid that sealed what had once been the entrance. He kissed her again. This time it was different – much more frantic and passionate. At first she was taken aback, but then she began to feel desired – desired like she’d never felt before.
She kissed him back. He lifted her up, pushing her against the gate to support her back. With her feet clean off the ground, Willow had no choice but to wrap her arms and legs around him. She found the position electrifying, and surprised herself by using her ankles to snap his pelvis towards her.
Hungrily they explored each other. Abruptly, Nat lowered her to the floor. “Don’t you see? If we’re going to let our passion consume us, being out in public won’t stop us.”
He really wanted to take her back to his flat. “I’m a virgin!” she blurted.
Nat took a step back. “What?” he whispered.
“I’ve never had sex. I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong idea. I didn’t mean to.”
Nat sat down on the squat granite wall. He dropped his head and massaged his temples with his hands.
Willow hovered awkwardly.
Nat looked up. “So what? You’ve got something against sex?”
She shrugged, uncomfortably. “No, it’s not t—”
“But you took part in the slut walk! How can you be a virgin and take part in a slut walk?”
Two Shades of the Lilac Sunset Page 2