A Day at the Beach Hut

by Veronica Henry

  It was easier than she thought. Not that she had a choice, for her phone was completely ruined from its dip in the rock pool. Short of making Reg drive her to the retail park to buy a replacement, Lily couldn’t take a photograph if she wanted to.

  But it was strange, retraining her brain. For a start, this would be brilliant for her Instagram Stories – pictures of all the different ice creams they were ordering. And the girl in the van looked amazing. Lily would definitely have asked if she could take her photo: she was Instagram-ready in her polka-dot dress and her mini-beehive and perfectly flicked eyeliner.

  But she didn’t. Instead, Lily helped Elsie and Zak peruse the poster on the front of the van and choose what they wanted. Old her would have left them to it while she pecked out hashtags. This time, she debated the merits of a Twister versus a Solero with Elsie.

  ‘I reckon a Solero would last longer,’ she told her daughter. ‘But you have what you want. And we’re here all week, don’t forget. You can have something different every day.’

  She looked at the beach. The golden sand, the shimmering sea, the wonky line of brightly coloured huts. Why would she want to be in Ibiza? She shuddered at the memory of the evening at the airport hotel, how out of place and awkward she had felt. Okay, so she wasn’t drifting about in a gauzy kaftan and high heels, sipping on a cocktail, looking forward to dinner at a swanky restaurant followed by a night of dancing. But she had treasured every moment of last night. They’d stayed up until late playing board games, then she and Reg had sat out on the steps with a bottle of wine once the kids had fallen into bed, and they’d talked out what she could do.

  She was going to go back to college. She was going to do a foundation course in art and see where it took her. And she was going to help out with the plumbing business on the side. Reg had wanted to take someone else on for a while so he could get through his backlog more quickly, and if he had Lily’s support it would be much easier. Someone to send out quotes and invoices and keep his Facebook page updated. And do a proper job of marketing. Organise a new wrap for the van. Get him some business cards. All the stuff she was good at. Without falling down the rabbit hole again …

  She was pretty sure she could do that. She had got things into perspective now. She could learn how to use social media without it taking over their lives. She already felt a million times more relaxed. She realised that she had been going through life without enjoying a single moment of it, contrary to what she was displaying on her feed. It had been hell, the drive and the panic, the constant comparisons with other people, trying to get ahead of the game.

  ‘Mum, can we get some bodyboards?’ Zak looked up at her, his little face eager. They’d seen other kids in the water, zooming along, catching the waves.

  Normally, she’d try to figure out how to get them for free. She’d be setting up a photoshoot at the water’s edge, with the brand name in full view. And before they knew it, the day would be gone and there’d be no time left for fun. But now, they had all the time in the world.

  ‘Why not?’ she said. ‘I’m going to get one too.’

  When had she last done that? Spent the day playing with her kids, without checking her phone every two minutes? She couldn’t remember. She felt ashamed. But it wasn’t too late.

  They took their ice creams and wandered up the path to the shops, looking at the kites and buckets and spades and hula hoops. She thought fleetingly of the hotel in Ibiza, with its infinity pool and canopied day beds and twenty-four-hour cocktail service, and realised how very lucky she was to have escaped.

  ‘A salted caramel cone,’ said Anna. ‘With nuts. How’s it going, Jenna? How long have you got?’

  ‘This is my last day,’ said Jenna, digging her scoop into the tub of ice cream. ‘I’m going to be a normal holidaymaker for the rest of the summer.’

  ‘Well, if you want to hang out, this is my day off. Every week.’ Anna grinned. She had the latest Maggie O’Farrell novel in her bag and was going to sit and read for the rest of the day.

  ‘I’d love that,’ said Jenna. The two of them had often compared notes, being in a similar business. They went out to the Ship Aground sometimes, if there was a band on. Jenna handed Anna her cone. ‘Listen, Dino’s back. I saw him last night.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Anna. ‘He came sniffing around yesterday afternoon. I think he expected me to drop everything and come crawling back.’

  ‘You’re not going to, right?’ Jenna looked worried. She’d seen what Dino had done to Anna when he left.

  ‘No way.’ Anna took a lick of her ice cream. Sweet, sticky, salty, creamy perfection. ‘He won’t be staying round here long. Everyone knows his game now. You know how fast word travels in Everdene.’

  ‘I sure do.’ Jenna nodded, and looked around at all the holidaymakers. That was the beauty of it. Everyone here looked out for each other. If you needed something, you only had to say. There was a tight network among the local business owners. Everything could be sorted. She leaned forward to Anna, eyes sparkling. ‘Listen, we’re doing a bit of a barbie tonight at the beach hut. Craig’s got one of his mates coming down from up country. He’s pretty smoking hot.’ She did a chef’s kiss.

  ‘I’d love that.’ Anna smiled her acceptance.

  That was just what she needed. A few beers, a barbecue, a bit of flirtation. The promise of life after Dino was as sweet as the ice cream starting to melt in her hand.

  Later that afternoon, Jenna scraped the last spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream out of the tub. She had completely sold out. She closed the window. That was it. As of tomorrow, she was free to spend the rest of the summer doing whatever she liked. A few weeks to be a lady of leisure. She gave a sigh of happiness, resting her hand on her belly. It was going to be a wonderful place to bring up their child. She had no idea yet whether it was a boy or a girl, but she didn’t mind. It would be a little water baby either way.

  Tomorrow she’d be back, lying on a rug, snoozing in the sun. She couldn’t wait. She wiped down all the surfaces and put everything away. Then she pulled herself into the driver’s seat, stretching the seatbelt over the top of her bump, and drove away, leaving a trail of musical notes drifting across the beach in the late afternoon sun.

  TOP TEN FAVOURITE ICE CREAMS

  Magnum

  Solero

  Mr Whippy 99

  Feast

  Calippo

  Nobbly Bobbly

  Fab

  Twister

  Cornetto

  Zoom

  Stargazing

  She had almost forgotten what it felt like. But now the feeling had come back, she remembered. It was bone-meltingly intoxicating. Her veins fizzed, and there was a corkscrew of lust winding itself deeper and deeper inside her. She could barely breathe, but she needed to, for it was the only way she was going to keep her head and not do something ridiculous. And foolish.

  Radar was standing behind her, his arms around her neck, holding his phone in front of her face so they could see the stars and constellations on the screen. He was murmuring their names into her ear.

  ‘Look, there’s Orion’s Belt. And that’s Cassiopeia, in the shape of a W, look.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Caroline didn’t trust herself to speak. She didn’t care one jot about the stars. Not at this very moment, anyway. In general, she agreed they were something to be wondered at. We are all made of stardust, she thought, so it stands to reason we should be fascinated. And the light pollution here was almost non-existent. The stars shone fierce against the black of the sky. It was spectacular.

  But it was nothing in comparison to the shooting stars she felt inside her. She could feel the heat of his body. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt the leanness of youth pressed against her.

  Was he teasing her? she wondered. Or did he think she was so old that sex didn’t come into it, that he might as well have his arms around a tree trunk? For a moment, she felt tears of self-pity prickle. She was past it. She was never going to make
anyone’s heart beat faster again.

  And then he dropped his head, and she felt his lips on her neck, and he tightened his arms a little. And he gave the smallest sigh, and in it she recognised desire.

  She stood still for two more breaths, revelling in the thrill of it all. And then she put up her hands to remove his and stepped away from him.

  ‘Caroline.’ His voice was low. ‘Oh shit. I didn’t mean to offend you.’

  She turned to look at him. He looked filled with remorse.

  ‘I just …’ Radar stared at her, and she wondered yet again at his beauty, just as she had the day he’d arrived on the steps of the beach hut. ‘I … you … I think you’re amazing.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘You’re so smart and wise and funny and a total fox. I didn’t mean to be …’ He grasped for the right word. ‘Inappropriate.’

  ‘Darling, you weren’t. I’m very flattered.’ She wanted to put him out of his misery. ‘And I think you’re amazing too. But …’ She shook her head. ‘I just don’t think it’s a good idea.’

  It had been a funny couple of weeks. Funny because it had been so right. So perfect. They had got on famously. Caroline had written more than she had ever done. She’d had a clarity and a purpose that was on another level, steaming through to the end of what she had now decided would definitely be the last Tuesday adventure. Radar had found his writing mojo too, and they settled into an easy routine: a five-hundred-word warm-up before breakfast, followed by a swim, then coffee and bacon sandwiches while they discussed their writing plans for the day. Then it was a race until lunchtime to see who could write the most. They seemed to take it in turns to win.

  Then they had a leisurely lunch while they read what each other had written. Radar would encourage her to be braver, indulge in more wordplay, while she helped him sharpen up and focus what he’d written. They balanced each other well. He benefited from her experience, and she from his willingness to take risks.

  ‘I’m dedicating this book to you,’ he grinned at her when she’d made him cut a whole chapter that was stunning writing but digressed from the plot.

  ‘You can save what you’ve written and use it another time,’ she told him.

  ‘Nah. It’s going in the bin.’ He knew you had to be ruthless to be a really good writer.

  Calypso kept phoning to see how they were getting on. Her gamble had paid off. Their fake photo call had hit the headlines, and the publicity had sent their pre-orders through the roof. Their publicists were being bombarded with requests for proofs. They had several interviews lined up with magazines and newspapers. Caroline suddenly found she was being taken seriously, while Radar was the darling of the women’s magazines. Their imaginary affair had captured the nation’s imagination.

  But there was no truth in the rumours, despite what they had led people to believe. Caroline knew it would never work. She would be the one to get hurt if she fell for him. And so she moved away, from his gaze and his grasp.

  ‘I’ll make us hot chocolate,’ she said, and he sighed.

  It was her default setting, to resort to food or drink in order to provide a distraction or cover up her emotions. It had started twenty years ago, during the IVF. Eating gave her comfort every time the treatment didn’t work. In the end, her marriage hadn’t worked either. Nor had the rebound marriage less than a year later, which only lasted six months. She had felt such a fool, to think that someone wanted her.

  That was when she started to write. It was somewhere to pour her emotions, and a distraction from the fact she felt a failure as a wife and a woman. Did her success make up for that failure? she often wondered. Would she have swapped stardom for a family? Yes, she thought. A million times yes. But she had made the most of the cards she had been dealt. She was not unhappy with her lot. It wasn’t the one she would have chosen. But she couldn’t, and didn’t, complain.

  Instead, she’d concentrated on her career – sometimes writing two books a year if the mood took her – and her friends and her love of travel. She didn’t need a paramour. She’d had all the romance she needed. She had flings occasionally, usually abroad, little bursts of meaningless pleasure. She was extremely self-sufficient. She didn’t need anyone else. Or she thought she didn’t.

  But sometimes lately she longed for the comfort of someone else pottering about in the kitchen, or the warmth of a body in bed next to her. Someone to ask how she had got on at the dentist, or to remind her to get tea bags.

  Radar had awoken something else in her. But if she indulged, she knew he would vanish in a puff of smoke afterwards, leaving her with an empty space inside her. He wouldn’t give her what she needed. If anything, he would make the longing for companionship even sharper. For she had become fond of him in the last fortnight. She’d enjoyed peeling away the layers. Discovering the vulnerable, sensitive, caring man underneath the bad-boy image. He was complex, like the best people always are. Surprising. Contradictory. And funny. She didn’t think she had laughed so much in years.

  The perfect recipe for heartbreak.

  Don’t go there, Caroline, she warned herself, as she warmed up a pan of creamy milk and grated half a bar of dark chocolate into it. Then added a slug of Cointreau for good measure. There was nothing that couldn’t be made better with liquid chocolate orange. She poured it into two mugs, carefully squirted some cream on top from an aerosol can and grated a little more chocolate over it all. She carried the mugs outside, where Radar was sitting on the steps with his arms around his knees, staring at the sky.

  All was quiet, bar the whisper of the waves. It was gone midnight, and everyone in the huts around them had gone to sleep. She sat down next to him and passed him his mug.

  ‘This fortnight,’ he said, ‘has changed my life.’

  ‘Me too,’ she said. ‘It’s given me the courage to finish things with Tuesday. Try something new and more challenging.’

  ‘I’m not just talking about writing.’ He took a sip of his chocolate. There was some cream on his top lip. She longed to kiss it away. She looked out to sea instead. ‘I’ve learned from you that I need to be a better person. You’re so wise. And generous. And kind. I’ve never valued those things before. I’ve always gone for glitter and glamour. Not that you’re not glamorous,’ he added hastily, and she smiled. ‘But the women I go for never have anything underneath.’

  ‘It’s just age, darling. I was shallow and superficial at twenty-five. I didn’t know anything. I’m like a good wine. I’ve mellowed.’

  ‘You’re an inspiration.’ He turned and looked into her eyes, his gaze steady. ‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’

  She wanted to laugh, but it would be cruel.

  ‘You’re not. I promise you. It’s just the novelty. And it would wear off pretty quickly.’

  ‘How do you know? If we don’t try?’

  She reached out to wipe the cream off his lip. He shivered at her touch. ‘I just do,’ she said gently.

  ‘Kiss me. I want to know what it would be like to kiss you.’

  Caroline couldn’t think of anything she’d like to do more. But she knew where kissing would lead. Was it fair on him? Was it fair on her, more to the point? He reached out and rested a wrist on her shoulder, twirling his fingers in her hair, gazing at her.

  ‘It’s better left in your head,’ she told him. ‘In your head, it will be perfect.’

  ‘I want to know,’ he insisted, his eyes dark with intensity.

  It would be impossible not to give in. Research, Caroline told herself. It was all in the name of research. She could use this somewhere one day: older woman, younger man. And they were grown-ups. There didn’t need to be damage. It was just a physical experience. Like eating oysters or drinking champagne.

  He kissed to perfection. The assured kiss of someone who knew how to hint at what might be to come. He tasted of chocolate and Cointreau and his hands were gentle as they entwined themselves in her hair and caressed the back of her neck. Her head was filled with his w
arm petrichor scent: familiar, earthy. It wakened something primal in her. She wanted their kiss to last forever.

  The stars above twinkled with the scandal, blinking on and off in outrage, while the more open-minded sea murmured its approval and the cool night breeze skittered around them, making them pull each other closer.

  It would just be a kiss, she reminded herself. That was all. Nothing more.

  Just a kiss.

  Loaded hot chocolate for unlikely lovers

  The perfect nightcap – drink, gaze at the stars and fall in love.

  SERVES 2

  Full-fat milk

  2 tbsp double cream

  100g dark chocolate, finely chopped, plus extra for grating

  50ml Cointreau, Grand Marnier or King’s Ginger

  1 × 250g can squirty cream

  Ground cinnamon

  Fill two mugs three-quarters full with milk and pour into a saucepan. Add the double cream and heat until you see bubbles around the edge of the pan, then turn off the heat and add the chocolate. Stir until the chocolate has melted then add the liqueur of your choice. Pour into the mugs and top with a swirl of squirty cream. Sprinkle with cinnamon and a little grated chocolate. Irresistible!

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Firstly, thank you to Katie Espiner and Sarah Benton for listening to my Negroni-fuelled pitch for this project and making my dream come true.

  Massive gratitude to Olivia Barber for her insight, vision and thoughtfulness and helping me make this book the very best it could be.

  And as ever my heartfelt appreciation to Harriet Bourton and Araminta Whitley for always being there and catching me when I stumble.

  CREDITS

  Veronica Henry and Orion Fiction would like to thank everyone at Orion who worked on the publication of A Day at the Beach Hut in the UK.

  Editorial

  Harriet Bourton