Sunny Days and Sea Breezes

by Carole Matthews

  My plan, such as it is, involves walking down to Ida’s café again and putting my loyalty card to good use. It’s a reasonable distance for a walk, but not too taxing on a body that feels fragile.

  The sky is bright blue and the expanse of it seems so vast compared to Shoreditch, the built-up area of London where I work and where I’d normally be at this time of day. It’s supposedly a chi-chi area now and it’s full of creatives and start-up companies. There are also lots of trendy cafés, bars and restaurants where the beautiful and ‘woke’ people go which is fabulous, but there are precious few glimpses of the sky between tall and close-packed buildings. I walk aimlessly along the sand, hands tucked in my coat pockets. Marilyn is right, if I’m out doing things then my mind doesn’t wander into difficult territory.

  The beach is quiet again, but ahead of me I can see a man doing yoga on the shore. Instantly, I recognise the toned and honed physique. Ned’s bare-chested, so that’s very much in evidence. Hot as butter, indeed, as Marilyn said.

  So what to do? Do I turn round and pretend that I haven’t seen him or do I brazen it out? As yet, he hasn’t noticed me as he’s doing a pose facing the sea which looks particularly strenuous. I’ve never taken a yoga class, so I’m afraid that I can’t tell you what. He’s wearing loose, patchwork trousers and his legs are planted firmly in the sand, arms stretched out towards each end of the beach. As I stand there dithering, he turns his head and sees me. Even at this distance, I can tell that his face lights up and that takes me by surprise. Chris and I were together ten years and it’s a very long time since I saw anything approaching that kind of look from him.

  Ned relaxes his yoga pose and shouts out, ‘Hey. How goes it?’

  Trapped, I can do nothing but walk towards him. ‘I’m good. Thank you.’

  He gives me a look that’s too searching, too searing. And I avert my gaze before he gleans too much, but not before I’ve taken in that his eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue. They’d compete with any summer sky and I wonder why I didn’t notice that before.

  ‘Are you walking down to Ida’s place?’

  ‘Yes.’ What else can I say? I could hightail it back to Sunny Days, but what good would that do? Marilyn will be crashing and bashing about there and I’ll only be in the way or subject to more scrutiny – which I can well do without.

  ‘I’ve all but finished here.’ Ned picks up a T-shirt that’s rolled into a ball on the sand. ‘Can I walk with you?’

  I must hesitate, as he adds, ‘If you don’t want the company, then just say. I’ll leave you alone.’

  But, suddenly, being alone isn’t all that appealing. Perhaps Marilyn is right about that too. She has a lot of annoying habits and it seems that always being right may be one of them.

  ‘I’d be happy to walk with you,’ I tell him and I like the grin he gives me back. It’s easy to smile in return.

  He pulls on his T-shirt – which I’m grateful for, as those abs-on-abs-on-abs were quite distracting.

  ‘I’ve never tried yoga,’ I say as a way of making conversation as we walk. ‘It looks like fun.’

  ‘And very good for you,’ he says. ‘It keeps the body supple and settles the mind.’

  ‘Ah, yes. I could do with a bit of that.’

  ‘I’m here every morning when I’m at home. You should join me. I don’t profess to be any kind of expert, but I could show you some basic moves. It sets you up for the day.’ He glances across at me. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, Jodie, and it’s none of my business.’ Ned holds up his hands. ‘But it’s clear that you’re hurting and if I can do anything to help, then I’m here.’

  The kindness of a stranger makes my eyes prickle with hot tears. ‘I do have a lot on my plate right now,’ I admit reluctantly.

  He gives me that warm grin again and his whole face glows with happiness. He seems like a man who is quick to smile and slow to anger. Which makes a change. I’m more used to being surrounded by alpha males – and females – who are, quite frankly, bloody hard work. Not my colleagues, I hasten to add, but a great deal of our clients who head up their own empires. Whereas Ned certainly appears to be someone who’s very comfortable in his own skin.

  I like that. I like that a lot.

  Chapter Fifteen

  We reach the café and George is sitting on the wall, posing with his hand above his eyes gazing out to sea. ‘Morning!’ he says when he sees us.

  ‘I don’t think statues should chat quite as much as you do, George,’ I note.

  ‘Business is slow again today.’ He changes position. ‘Thought it might be better here.’ He shrugs in a statuey way. ‘Though I’m a bit bored.’

  ‘Take a break. Join us for coffee,’ Ned offers.

  ‘I’ve only just started. I should do a bit more.’ It’s hard to tell beneath all his bronze paint and steampunk gear, but I think he’s torn.

  ‘We’ll be over here if you change your mind.’

  He does a mechanical bow before freezing into position again and that makes me smile.

  Ned and I sit on the same table that I had the other day, sheltered from the breeze. Ida is clearing away crockery in the awning. She’s colourfully dressed again with a full-length crocheted blanket coat over jeans covered in sewn patches – Stop, Love, smiley faces – and a black trilby keeping the ribbon dreadlocks in check. My red woollies seem somewhat twee now that I look at them again. Still, it’s warm enough for me to risk taking them off while we have breakfast.

  When Ida sees us she comes straight over and seems rather surprised to see me with Ned.

  ‘I see you two have met,’ she says and there’s a slight crispness to her voice that wasn’t there yesterday.

  ‘I’m trying to be a good neighbour,’ Ned says.

  Ida leans over and kisses her friend warmly on the lips. There’s a distinct possessiveness about it, as if she’s staking her claim to him. ‘Usual breakfast?’

  ‘I’ll have the veggie sausage bap for a change,’ Ned says. ‘And a flat white, too. Did you try that new coffee I gave you?’

  ‘Love it,’ Ida says. ‘You have impeccable taste in coffee. In women? Not so much.’

  Ned laughs and Ida turns to me with a smile that seems just a little too smug. ‘For you?’

  ‘Bacon bap and tea please.’

  ‘Coming right up.’

  Ned watches her go. ‘You seem to have a very special bond,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah,’ he agrees. ‘We’ve been friends for a long time. We’re like brother and sister.’

  Hmm. I think by the way that Ida acts around him that she views him as rather more than a brother. ‘Have you always lived here?’

  ‘On the island? Yes. Born and bred. Ida’s been here since she came over to go to art college – where we met.’

  ‘When did you move into Sea Breezes?’

  ‘I’ve been there about eight years, maybe more. I inherited some money when my parents died and took the opportunity to buy it. I could never really see myself living in a traditional, two-up-two-down terraced house.’

  I can’t imagine Ned like that either.

  ‘Sea Breezes was a complete wreck when I moved in but I patched it up as best I could. It’s got a sound hull. Nice and watertight. That’s all that matters.’

  ‘I think it looks great. I love the eclectic style.’

  He laughs. ‘That’s a very polite way of putting it.’

  ‘I mean it. The decor says a lot about you.’

  ‘None of it was intentional. It kind of grew organically when I had some money to spare. It suits me – my lifestyle, my work. I like being close to the ocean.’

  ‘I’ve only been here a few days and I can see the appeal.’

  ‘Have you always lived in London?’

  ‘Yes. Until now, I’ve liked the hustle and bustle. You can get anything you want at any time of day.’

  ‘Except peace and quiet,’ he teases.

  ‘Except for that,’ I concede.

  Ida brings ou
r breakfast and puts it down in front of us. She seems reluctant to leave and hangs back as Ned tucks into the food she’s brought for him. ‘Are you playing in the pub tonight?’

  ‘Nine o’clock kick off,’ he says. ‘Coming?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ida says. ‘There’s bugger all else to do round here.’

  ‘See you later, then.’

  She hesitates a bit more, but when there’s nothing else to say, she moves on to another customer, newly arrived from the beach. I’m glad to see that they tipped some money into George’s collection box and he’s able to move again.

  ‘Why don’t you join us tonight?’ Neds says to me between mouthfuls. ‘I play in a band down at the Jolly Roger, the pub further down the other beach that I mentioned. It’s pretty low-key, but there’s usually a good crowd.’

  ‘I’m not sure . . . ’

  ‘You’ll not get a better offer today.’

  ‘You’re probably right about that, but I’m not really in the mood for socialising. I’ll pass. Thanks for asking though.’

  Neds points at the veggie sausage bap on his plate. ‘You have no idea what you’re missing.’

  ‘I’m more of a carnivore.’ I’d kind of expected Ned to be a vegetarian. It goes with the houseboat, the yoga, the arty job.

  ‘Ah. This is a good substitute. Just because I’ve given up meat, it doesn’t mean that I don’t, on occasion, long for the taste of it.’

  ‘I think the sea air must be giving me an appetite, as I haven’t eaten like this in

  weeks.’ I take my time and enjoy every last morsel of my bacon bap.

  At work we have a breakfast meeting at the office every day, eight o’clock sharp. Bill likes to keep on top of all our projects. We put out a hearty spread of cereals, croissants, green juices and fruit platters for everyone to help themselves. Most of my colleagues are early gym bunnies and usually turn up with hair damp from the shower and flushed faces. Most of them are vegan, gluten free, teetotal, non-smokers. Bill and I are definitely the dinosaurs among them – two of the few meat-eating, alcohol-swigging oldies.

  I glance at my watch. They’ll be finishing up now and getting on with the rest of their day and I wonder who’s been tasked with taking on my projects. I must ask Bill when I speak to him. Perhaps they might need my input. If only on the periphery. Then I realise that it’s the first time I’ve thought about work since I’ve been here and I really don’t want to do that.

  Glancing idly back towards the beach hut, I see that Ida seems to be watching us both like a hawk. I’m not sure that she’d be so keen on me joining them at the pub. She seems to be quite possessive about Ned and that’s fine. I’m in no rush to play gooseberry – here or anywhere else.

  Ned and I talk about nothing in particular as we finish our drinks. He’s easy company and, for a short time, makes me forget my pain and that I shouldn’t be enjoying life.

  Despite my protestations, he insists on paying the bill for us both and I hope he gets mates’ rates.

  ‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’ I put my woollies back on as I watch George shoo a seagull away in a very unstatue-like manner.

  ‘Walk back along the beach together?’ Ned asks.

  As I have nothing else to do, I say, ‘Yes.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  The tide is in when we walk back, so we stroll along the edge of the sea. I pick up some pretty shells and, carefully dusting the damp sand from them, put them in my coat pockets.

  Ned bends to skim stones across the waves with impressive skill. I tuck my gloves into my pocket too so they don’t get sand on them before picking up a large rock and tossing it as far as I can into the sea. It makes a big splash and sinks beneath the water with a satisfying ‘plop’. I’m so ridiculously pleased with myself, that I find another big rock and do it again.

  ‘You need to practise your skimming more,’ Ned observes wryly.

  ‘I’ve never tried it,’ I admit. ‘Not a lot of call for it in Islington.’

  ‘Want a lesson?’ Before I get to consider it, he comes over and says, ‘First, you find a nice, flat stone with a smooth surface.’

  Following his lead, we hunt about for a bit and I show him a few possible candidates, but they are found wanting.

  ‘This one’s a good one,’ he finally declares. The stone in his hand is a flat, dark oval

  and he passes it to me. It’s ice cold in my fingers. ‘Come right to the edge of the waves, as close as you can, and crouch low.’

  The sand is wet, sucking at my boots, and I only just manage to dodge a couple of cheeky waves that edge further forward up the beach than the rest.

  ‘This is the throwing action.’ Ned demonstrates. ‘The aim is to keep it low over the water. Real low.’

  Despite my trepidation, I bend down, gripping my perfect stone.

  ‘Right.’ Ned comes behind me and crouches too. ‘OK. Go.’

  I draw back and let go of the stone as instructed. For all my effort, it plops and sinks in much the same way as my rock did.

  ‘Here.’ Ned hands me another stone that’s deemed to be ideal. ‘Let me show you.’ Before I know what he’s doing, he draws me close to him, my back against his chest, and takes my arm, moving it backwards and forwards. ‘Like this.’

  It feels nice being sheltered from the wind in the warmth of this arms and this is the first time that I’ve really missed physical contact with another human. Ned’s body so close behind me feels strong, solid and reliable.

  ‘Nice and low again,’ he says. ‘Right down.’

  We crouch together and my knees, unused to such an extreme position, complain in protest. Though I feel a little unsteady, I stretch my arm as shown and let my stone fly. This time it does two bounces before diving beneath the waves.

  ‘Yes!’ I shout out and punch the air. But, having concentrated so hard on the technique of skimming stones, I hadn’t quite noticed how close the waves were to my feet. The water laps over the toes of my boots and I jump back in alarm, overbalancing as I do.

  ‘Jodie!’ Neds shouts and jumps forward, trying to grab me before I fall and hit the sand.

  But, of course, his timing is off and I go down with a wet splat just as he reaches for me. I grab his arm for balance and manage to pull him down on top of me. To compound it all, a perky rogue wave washes over us.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ I cry out. The water’s freezing. It’s like being up to the neck in ice. The sea finds all the little gaps in my coat, my clothes, and rushes in. My lungs are in such shock that I can’t breathe out.

  Ned, not very helpfully, collapses with laughter. He rolls off me and lies there on his back in the surf, arms and legs spread like a starfish, letting the sea surround him. I struggle to get up, gasping and flailing as the waves still roll in. In the end, I give up and flop down again next to Ned. Another wave buffets us and I let out a part scream, part laugh. Ned grabs my hand and as the next wave comes in we shout out together. Then we lie and let the sea wash over us until I start to hyperventilate as my lungs are freezing.

  When we can bear the icy water no longer, Ned hauls me up and I stand there dripping and shivering, teeth chattering.

  ‘That wasn’t quite the plan,’ he says. ‘But it was fun.’

  And though I’m nearly frozen to death, soaked through to the skin and I’ve got sand in all my important little places, I feel strangely happy too.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ned puts his hand under my arm and ushers me back towards the path to the harbour and our boats. I’ve gone beyond shivering now and am into a deep, internal juddering. I’m pretty sure my organs are shutting down and I can’t feel my fingers or toes.

  ‘A hot shower,’ he advises. ‘I’m used to the temperature of the water – I surf and paddleboard – but you’re turning a worrying shade of blue.’

  I don’t tell him that I’d watched him out on his paddleboard the other day and thought him a lunatic.

  When we get to the door of Sunny Days, I fumble with my key a
s my hands are now completely numb with cold. Ned takes it from me and unlocks the door.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I feel terrible,’ he says. ‘It’s a very poor teacher who nearly drowns their pupil.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me it was extreme stone skimming,’ I say through teeth that I don’t have full control of.

  He puts his hands in a prayer position and gives me an apologetic face. ‘Forgive me.’

  ‘Nothing to forgive, but I must get into the shower before I die.’

  ‘Do you want me to come in and wait to make sure that you’re all right?’

  ‘I’ll be fine. Honestly. But I need to get moving as I can feel icicles forming on my nose.’

  ‘See you later?’ He ventures. ‘Come to the pub. I owe you at least two large glasses of wine by way of apology.’

  ‘I don’t know . . . ’

  ‘We’re all nice. No one bites.’ He makes an imploring face. ‘Don’t stay here alone.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’ I’m regaining the feeling in my toes and fingers and it’s quite painful.

  ‘I need to go down there and set up about seven, you can walk with me or I’ll see you there when you’re ready.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘That will do for now. Go and get in that shower.’

  ‘Thanks, Ned,’ I say. ‘That was kind of fun in a deeply unpleasant way.’

  He laughs and then walks back towards Sea Breezes, raising a hand as he goes.

  I hurry inside, stripping off my soaking coat and wet boots as soon as I’m in the hallway and dumping them on the doormat. I’ll sort them out when I can fully feel my extremities again. Marilyn will be delighted that she’ll have a sandy mark to clean up tomorrow.

  I’m already pulling off my jumper as I head downstairs to the shower. I crank it up to as hot as it will go and hurry out of the rest of my clothes which are feeling colder by the minute. I throw them on the floor and promise to put them straight in the washing machine when I’m thawed out. Then I jump in the shower. I’m so chilled that I can’t tell whether the water is hot or cold. But, soon, the feeling comes back and the water is like scorching needles on my skin. I linger as long as I can and then swaddle myself in a cosy towel to dry before pulling on my favourite snuggly joggers and hoodie with some slouch socks.