The Little Vintage Carousel by the Sea

by Jaimie Admans

  I read over the article again. It’s exactly what Zinnia wants, but I wish I’d never started this. Why did I ever mention Train Man? Why did I tell Daphne so loudly about the dropped phone? Why did I ever agree to any of this?

  As I hit send, Nathan’s phone rings on the dresser, and if that isn’t a sign from the universe then I don’t know what is. I shove my laptop aside and scramble over to reach it, hoping it’ll be him. He always phones me on his phone and I always phone or text him from it too. We’ve never even swapped our real numbers. Pearlholme is so tiny that there’s barely a space where you haven’t got eyes on each other, and you can pop over to say something in less time than it would take to send a text.

  ‘Hello, this is Nathaniel’s phone,’ I say using my regular greeting.

  He laughs down the line. ‘This is Nathaniel, who doesn’t find that name as much of an insult when it comes from you.’

  ‘It’s not, Nath,’ I say, my fingers tightening around the phone. ‘What’s up?’

  I can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks again. ‘I know I only saw you a couple of hours ago, but it’s a gorgeous evening and I’m sitting here alone thinking about you sitting there alone and it seemed wrong not to see if you wanted to wander down to The Sun & Sand and get a drink or something?

  ‘I’d love to.’ I tried to pluck up the courage to ask him the very same thing when we were cleaning up carousel horses this afternoon but I thought he’d be glad to have a break from me because we’ve been spending so much time together.

  ‘Brilliant!’ He sounds so excited that he may as well have just landed a drone on the moon. No one has ever sounded that happy about me going for a drink with them before.

  ‘It’s all right for you. To get ready, I’ve got to brave the bathroom with someone else’s eyebrow pluckings left in the sink … at least, I hope it was their eyebrow pluckings.’ I shudder at the thought.

  ‘Come up here,’ he says instantly. ‘As you can tell, I’ve never plucked my eyebrows in my life.’

  I giggle because his dark eyebrows are unreasonably sexy whether he plucks them or not. ‘It’s all right, I’ll meet you at the pub, if I can avoid the unidentified but extremely unpleasant-looking stain on the bathroom mat that looks like it was last washed around the same time as Ivy’s lover was carving her a carousel.’

  It’s not that it wouldn’t be easy to nip up to the cottage for a wash and change, and to get all the sand out of my hair from the windy beach today, but I’ve been spending so much time there that it’s getting a bit ridiculous. I’ve only been at the hotel for sleeping on the thin mattress and rickety bed that wobbles every time you move on it.

  ‘My door’s always open if you change your mind,’ he says. ‘See you around seven?’

  I glance at the clock on the wall that’s an hour slow because no one’s changed it since March when the clocks went forward. Whether it was March this year is anyone’s guess. That gives me less than quarter of an hour to get ready and brave the bathroom.

  I look at the laptop abandoned on the bed. Articles to fact-check are stacking up and I’d intended to crack on with them after sending off part two. I silently apologise to my inbox. ‘Seven’s great. Can’t wait to see you.’

  I instantly slap my hand over my mouth. I can’t believe I just said that. I saw him literally two hours ago. Daph would tell me off for not playing it cool. Aren’t you supposed to act all aloof and nondesperate?

  ‘I can’t wait to see you either,’ he says. I would’ve thought it was impossible to tell that someone’s blushing over the phone, but I can picture the way he’s looking down, probably poking at the carpet awkwardly with his toe, and imagine the lopsided dimples as he tries to stop himself smiling.

  I’m smiling too as I hang up and put his phone back down on the dresser. I won’t take it with me, because for as long as I’ve got it, I’ve got an excuse to keep seeing him.

  I shut the lid of my laptop and slip it back into the bag. Work will just have to wait. Again.

  Chapter 14

  A few days later, after doing a bit of weeding in the cottage garden, I’ve left Nathan reshaping the rhododendron hedge and come inside to get some work done. I’ve just sat down in the armchair – because the window seat is too distracting and it has very little to do with the scenery – with my laptop on my lap when my phone rings.

  ‘Mum!’ I say in surprise. She usually phones me every weekend but we only texted this weekend because I didn’t want to explain what I was doing halfway up a mountain with Nathan. ‘Is everything okay? I didn’t expect to hear from you on a Wednesday.’

  ‘Oh yes, fine, dear. I phoned you at work and that lovely boss of yours put me onto darling Daphne and she said you were still away in this little Pearlholme place. You’re not far from us, you know?’

  So Zinnia’s just answered one of my personal calls at work. That’s totally professional, isn’t it?

  ‘I’ve never heard of it, but your dad and I know that area of the coast well – we used to go there for our holidays before you were born,’ Mum continues. ‘We didn’t realise you were still there.’

  ‘I told you I was away for work.’

  ‘Yes, but that was ages ago. I thought you were back in London by now. What on earth are you doing up there?’

  ‘Just some research,’ I say, trying to be deliberately vague. I wasn’t joking when I told Zinnia that my mum would go nuts if she got wind of the guy on the train.

  In the garden, the hedge trimmer Nathan was using cuts out. I push myself up on my chair to see out of the window, and he’s standing there holding up two ends of the power lead, having obviously cut through the hedge trimmer itself rather than the hedge. The expression of absolute sorrow on his face makes me have to bite my lip to stop a giggle escaping.

  ‘Why have you gone quiet?’

  ‘I haven’t,’ I say as her question snaps me back to reality. This is exactly why I chose the armchair and not the window seat. ‘I was just about to tell you why I’m here. Just a bit of fact-checking on an old carousel,’ I lie. ‘Zinnia thought it would be more accurate if I came to see it in person.’

  In the garden, Nath swears loudly, sending the family of sparrows that were feeding on the bird table skittering into the sky as birdseed scatters everywhere. He apologises to them and I read his lips as he asks them to come back.

  ‘I can hear you smiling. Why are you smiling, Ness? Are you alone?’

  Nathan puts down the broken trimmer and collects up some of the fallen seeds and holds them skyward for the birds, like some kind of sacrificial offering, and the grin spreads across his face as the little dickies carefully venture back. There’s something about people who care about animals that makes them seem like inherently good people, and I like watching him out there, having a one-sided conversation with a gang of birds.

  ‘What? Oh yes, completely alone,’ I say, trying to stifle another giggle as he hangs his head in shame and shuffles across the garden to unplug the broken trimmer.

  ‘Since when do Maîtresse write about carousels? I read every issue. I adore the romantic tales and those real-life love stories Daphne writes.’

  I thank my lucky stars that she only buys the print issue and doesn’t check the website or she’d know about Train Man by now. I haven’t yet worked out what I’m going to tell her by the time the physical copy comes out.

  ‘There’s a love story behind the carousel.’ I force myself to look away from Nathan and concentrate on Mum. I’m on thin ice here, and I’ve probably told her too much already.

  ‘Oh, how lovely.’ I hear her clap her hands together. ‘Do tell!’

  ‘I haven’t, er, checked enough facts yet. It’s nothing important, probably just an old ghost story. I’m here to find out.’ It’s a terrible lie, but she’ll get completely obsessed if I tell her about Nathan. ‘How’s “poor Andrew” this week?’ I say before she can ask anything else. I hate talking about my ex with her, but it’s her favourite topic of conver
sation, and the only thing guaranteed to steer her away from carousels and love stories.

  ‘I don’t sit on Facebook waiting for his every update, you know.’ She sounds quite offended that I’ve asked her. ‘He’s just on my friends list, like people from my gardening group and my book club. If you want him back, you shouldn’t have to go through me. You could just tell him you made a mistake and …’

  I don’t realise I’ve sighed so loudly until she trails off.

  ‘Or not. If you’re happy being single and alone while your best friend has a handsome husband and a beautiful baby on the way …’

  ‘What’s going on in Daphne’s life has no bearing on mine,’ I start the same old line I’ve said to her approximately 35,389 times in the two years since I broke up with ‘poor Andrew’. ‘I would rather be alone than in—’

  ‘Hey, do you want—’ Nathan shouts, the back door banging behind him as he comes in from the garden. He sees me and instantly claps a hand over his mouth. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you were on the phone,’ he whispers.

  ‘Was that a man?’ I can almost hear Mum’s internal radar start beeping maniacally. She’s like a metal detector but the only thing she detects is men within a ten-mile radius of my ovaries.

  ‘No,’ I lie, throwing Nathan a panicked look. ‘It was an … um … sea lion.’

  Nathan does an impression of a sea lion on cue, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t contain the giggle.

  ‘A really crap one, obviously,’ I say to Mum.

  She ignores me. ‘Vanessa! You’re not there for work at all, are you? You’re skiving off to go on a naughty holiday with your new man! Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone?’

  ‘I’m not—’

  ‘Ness has got a new boyfriend!’ she yells out to my father.

  ‘He’s not—’

  ‘He’s not what? New? Have you been keeping him a secret, Ness?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘No wonder you’re not interested when I try to tell you how “poor Andrew” and his new girlfriend are getting on in Thailand.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with—’ I try to protest but I get the feeling she hasn’t heard a word I’ve said since the sound of Nathan’s voice.

  ‘What’s he like? Is he handsome?’

  No, he’s bloody gorgeous. ‘He’s not my—’

  ‘How long have you been seeing him?’

  ‘I haven’t!’ I say loudly, trying to break through the endless stream of questions. I’m sure I can hear her rustling the pages of a catalogue as she chooses her wedding outfit. ‘It’s not like that, Mum. He’s not my … We’re just …’ I meet Nathan’s eyes across the room and his mouth twitches up at one side, almost like he wants me to label it. What are we? How can I tell my mum when even I don’t understand it? We’re definitely not going out, but I’d feel like I was cheating on him if I kissed someone else. And even if there was any chance of that happening, I wouldn’t want to kiss anyone else. I want to kiss him.

  ‘… friends,’ I say eventually, looking down at the grey carpet. It doesn’t feel like the right description.

  ‘Put him on,’ Mum demands, proving that she’s ignored everything since she heard him speak.

  ‘I’m not putting him on!’

  ‘I want to speak to him. I know he’s there. Put him on.’

  ‘I’m not—’

  Nathan holds his hand out and scrunches his fingers, and I look between the phone and his open palm. This is asking for trouble. I know that, but I stupidly hand the phone over anyway.

  He puts the phone to his ear, crosses his arm over his chest and bows like he’s a prince rescuing me from a dragon. Which is not much of an unfair description when my mum gets onto certain topics, like my ex and the having of grandchildren.

  Maybe it’s not such a bad idea, I think as he introduces himself to her. She’s got so overexcited that she’s not listening to a word I say. He can reiterate that we’re just friends and that will be that. There’s nothing to worry about.

  Even though I want to go and stand next to him and press my ear against the phone so I can hear what she’s saying, because translating Nathan’s one-sided answers to questions I can’t hear is getting a bit worrying.

  ‘Thirty-six,’ he says.

  Well, that’s okay. It’s normal to ask someone how old they are.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure it’s a very good age to become a father.’

  ‘Mum!’ I shriek, even though her hearing seems to have become utterly selective throughout the course of this phone call.

  ‘Yes, my intentions are honourable,’ he continues. ‘No, I don’t think it’s appropriate to discuss our sexual activity with my future mother-in-law either. Yes, I have a clean bill of health. Yes, strong gums.’

  What does she think he is, a racehorse she’s assessing for breeding stock?

  ‘No, I don’t want children.’

  This obviously provokes Mum’s must-have-grandchild emergency response system because he holds the phone away from his ear and winces.

  ‘Yes, one woman can be that shrieky,’ I whisper with a bit of vindictive glee. Serves him right for thinking he can charm my mother.

  His eyes widen as she keeps going and I’m struggling not to laugh at the bewildered look on his face.

  ‘I suppose I might reconsider if I met the right girl,’ he says, looking like words are coming out of his mouth without his permission.

  ‘She might be.’ He looks at me with a cheeky glint in his eyes and waggles his eyebrows.

  I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me melt. I have no intention of having children, with or without Nathan, but I love the fact that he’s willing to field this call from my mother while telling her exactly what she wants to hear. This little trail of breadcrumbs could get me months of freedom from hearing about ‘poor Andrew’ and his new girlfriend.

  ‘Yes, she did tell me you were in Nottingham. No, I didn’t know that was under two hours away in the car. Yes, it would be lovely to meet you too. Yes, there’s a spare room here at the cottage, and it is lovely weather we’re having. It would be a shame to miss it.’

  ‘Nath! No!’ I shout to try to stop him. ‘No, no, no!’ I frantically do the ‘cut’ gesture, slicing my hand across my neck again and again with reckless abandon. I run at him and try to grab the phone, but he sidesteps me easily and pushes himself up on his tiptoes so I can’t reach, the tall bugger.

  ‘Yes, that’s Ness getting excited at the thought.’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ I hiss.

  ‘Oh, that’ll be lovely. See you on Saturday morning!’

  As he hangs up, I sink down in the armchair and bury my head in my hands. ‘Please tell me you did not invite my parents to visit.’

  ‘I don’t know what just happened.’ He looks a bit shellshocked as he stares at the blank screen of the phone in his hand. ‘Does your mum have some kind of hypnotic, mind-bending powers? Five minutes ago, I was a completely rational man. I don’t think I invited anyone. I was making polite conversation and suddenly they’re coming for the weekend.’

  ‘The weekend? The whole weekend?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I panicked. I’m not good with parents – I just want them to like me.’

  ‘You couldn’t have told me that before I handed over the phone?’

  ‘I was trying to help. It didn’t seem to be going very well for you.’

  I go to yell at him, but as I open my mouth, it strikes me how sweet that was. He was trying to help. He was actually lovely to my mum during that conversation, polite and patient, no matter the inappropriate questions she asked him, and none of it seemed false. Unlike ‘poor Andrew’ who would put on the most cringeworthy, fake charm when talking to my mum and then slag her off as soon as her back was turned.

  ‘Sorry,’ he murmurs as he comes over and nudges my phone back into my hand. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  I look up at him and I can’t stop myself smiling at how guilty he looks. ‘You haven�
�t done anything wrong. It’s my fault. I haven’t coached you well enough in dealing with my mother yet. You’re like Bambi learning to walk for the first time. I should’ve known the moment she asked to speak to you that she’d invite herself up here.’

  ‘Maybe it’s not that bad …’

  ‘You don’t know my mother, Nath. She’ll have named our children by Saturday night and started building a nursery for them by Sunday. She’ll probably arrive with a wedding hat and a suitcase full of Babygros.’

  ‘Oh, come on. You said you don’t see much of them.’

  ‘I don’t see much of them because my mum likes my ex-boyfriend more than she likes me.’ I tighten my ponytail with a sharp tug. ‘Where are they going to stay, anyway? Charles said the hotel’s full this week, and I wouldn’t want to inflict that on them anyway.’

  ‘Here. Like I said, there’s a spare bedroom.’

  ‘Here with you? Alone? They don’t even know you, Nath. Isn’t that a bit weird?’

  ‘Not if you stay too.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘No, on a raft in the sea with only a sea lion for company, a crap one obviously. That’ll teach you for making fun of my sea lion impressions.’ His eyes flash with mischief. ‘Of course here, Ness.’

  ‘You only have two small bedrooms. I’m not sharing a room with my parents. You haven’t heard my dad’s snoring yet.’

  ‘They can have the spare room, you have my room, and I’ll have the sofa.’ He nods towards the three-seater sofa along the opposite wall of the room, facing the TV.

  It makes something inside me turn to goo that he’s willing to put himself out that much. ‘You’re six-foot-four, Nath. You’re a lot longer than that sofa is.’

  ‘I’ll squash. Give me a couple of good thumps and I’ll get in there.’ He grins and then his face turns serious. ‘I mean it, Ness. I want you to stay. And not just for the weekend. After your parents go, you can have the spare room and stay here.’

  ‘Nathan, I can’t …’ I say quickly, my usual impulsive reaction without giving myself a chance to think it through.

  ‘All right, let me be honest about it. Your parents are just an excuse. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to ask you to stay here since the first time you walked onto the beach with an ice cream in each hand but I couldn’t find a way to say it without it being weird. Every time I walk you back to the hotel, I walk away and kick myself for not just coming out with it. I’ve got an empty room and a good Wi-Fi signal, comfortable beds, a clean bathroom, and a fantastic view. And the garden to do for the PPP – how are you supposed to help with that if you’re all the way down in the hotel?’