One Last Summer at Hideaway Bay

by Zoe Cook

  ‘There has to be something big going on,’ Lucy had said to Nina. ‘His board’s not moved for days. It takes something serious to keep him out of the water.’

  ‘You’re still in love with him,’ Nina said, a statement, not a question.

  Lucy didn’t have the energy to deny it.

  ‘When you talk about him you go all soft,’ Nina said, ‘like you always did.’

  ‘It really doesn’t matter how I feel,’ Lucy said, looking at her friend. ‘I’m going back to London soon. And he has Tara here.’

  ‘You know that doesn’t mean anything,’ Nina said gently. Lucy could see how hard she was trying to be careful with her words.

  ‘It means something to me,’ Lucy replied. ‘I came down here, I don’t know what I was expecting, but I guess I just wasn’t imagining a Tara on the scene. And I really like her, she’s great, I can see why they get on so well. But, I don’t know, there’ve been a few moments where I thought he was going to grab me and kiss me and make everything alright again, but that’s not going to happen. I feel pretty pathetic that it’s been so long and I haven’t really moved on, not like he has.’

  Nina didn’t say anything in reply. What was there to say to that? So embarrassing, Lucy thought to herself.

  Lucy took the long way to work, skipping the shortcut and walking through the winding street past the arcade. The fashion and interior stores were shuttered and dark, and she caught sight of her reflection in the windows. She smiled at the image of herself, after all these years, heading in to the café to work a shift. As she approached Annabel’s boutique she remembered Claire’s words about her old friend and wished she’d asked her what she meant. She’d never thought of Annabel as anything other than one of her sister’s oldest friends, certainly not a bully. She was surprised to see a light on in the shop, so she tried the door and it opened into the shop.

  ‘Lucy, hey!’ Annabel beamed at her from a rack of pastel scarves.

  ‘Morning,’ Lucy smiled back at her. ‘You’re open early.’

  ‘Oh, not actually open,’ Annabel said, turning back to the fabric and beginning to reorder them. ‘Just had some new stock in, so wanted to get that out before the day starts. It’s been so busy that I haven’t done half the things I meant to do. Anyway, what are you doing up and about at this hour?’

  ‘I’m working, would you believe?’ Lucy shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’m helping Tom out at the café.’

  A strange squawk of a laugh escaped from Annabel’s grimacing face. ‘What? How bloody awkward is that!?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Lucy said, feeling slightly uneasy – and remembering Claire’s accusations. ‘I actually really enjoy it.’

  ‘But you must be working with Princess Tamara,’ Annabel scoffed, still pulling a strange expression.

  ‘Tara?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Oh yes, sorry, we’re not allowed to refer to her by her real name. Poor little wounded princess.’ Annabel looked positively venomous now. It shocked Lucy, who’d never seen this side of her.

  ‘I’ve only ever known her as Tara,’ Lucy said, trailing off, wishing she hadn’t come in now.

  ‘Yes, well, you get the official Hideaway Bay press-release version. Everyone’s very accommodating of her precious demands. I don’t know what the bloody fuss is about with her. I find her totally, unbearably smug.’

  Lucy reddened slightly at the memory of her own similar feelings towards Tara. She’d come to really like her. Working together had let her see what a great girl Tara was and she didn’t like hearing her spoken about like this.

  ‘She’s lovely,’ Lucy replied. ‘I really like her.’

  Annabel rolled her eyes. ‘Another convert,’ she sighed, moving to a display of sunglasses and shuffling them around aimlessly.

  ‘I’d better be off,’ Lucy said, pleased to be able to leave.

  ‘Sure, well come in later if you like. We can have a glass of wine and a proper gossip,’ Annabel had cheered up and returned to the version of herself that Lucy had always liked.

  ‘Okay, yeah, maybe,’ Lucy said, knowing she wouldn’t be going back there this evening. She left the store and felt like she could finally catch her breath back out in the fresh air. Annabel’s hatred of Tara had made Lucy realise that she considered Tara a friend. It wasn’t what she’d expected, but it was true. She tried to pick out the content from the spite – it had sounded strange, what Annabel was trying to imply about Tara. What did she mean? Lucy had the distinct feeling she couldn’t ask Tara directly about it – there was obviously some seriously bad feeling there. She’d have to find out what was going on by other means.

  Lucy arrived at the café to find Tom behind the counter examining the glassware.

  ‘Oh, hi,’ Lucy said. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you here.’

  ‘What, working in my own café?’ Tom smiled. ‘Sorry I’ve been MIA for the past few days. I had loads of stuff to sort in Plymouth.’ He placed a smeared wine glass down by the dishwasher. ‘Can’t get the staff,’ he sighed, jokingly, at Lucy.

  ‘It’s fine,’ Lucy said. ‘It’s been fun the last few days. I feel like I’ve really nailed this whole waitressing thing all over again. Maybe I’ve finally found my calling.’

  ‘Well, if you want a job, it’s yours,’ Tom said. ‘We don’t shut ‘til October – I make that a whole two months before you’d need to think about anything else. Actually, we might not shut at all this winter. Tara thinks if we change the menu a bit we could run right through; although she might just be trying to keep herself in a job, now I think about it.’

  ‘Sounds like a good plan, if you ask me. Tara knows what she’s talking about,’ Lucy said.

  ‘A good plan you staying?’ Tom said, with what sounded like a hopeful tone to his voice.

  ‘No, you staying open all year,’ Lucy said, embarrassed by the confusion. ‘I’ve booked my train back to London. I leave next week.’

  It was strange, but fun, working with Tom again in the café. He was so popular with the locals and the tourists, and it was a pleasure to watch him charm everyone so effortlessly, so genuinely. Liv, from the hairdresser’s, came in for a coffee after work. She, like every other person who recognised Lucy at the café, seemed surprised to find Lucy waitressing.

  ‘I’m just helping Tom out,’ Lucy explained again, feeling like a broken record.

  ‘Oh, how lovely!’ Liv said, over-enthusiastically. They both watched Tom take an order a few tables away, making the ladies laugh at something.

  ‘I’m going back to London in a few days,’ Lucy said, turning back to Liv and trying to emphasise, for her own benefit, the short-term nature of the arrangement.

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Liv said, looking at Lucy again now. ‘It’s been nice having you around again.’

  Lucy smiled and walked away to make Liv’s latte. The café was filling up with the afternoon tea rush: old ladies eating toasted teacakes, kids making ridiculous scones piled with jam and cream. They were selling everything so fast it looked like someone would need to go back to the bakery for more cakes.

  Lucy asked Molly to pop out to the baker’s and frothed the milk for Liv’s coffee. She still loved using the coffee machine; there was something so pleasing about the process. Stefan called from the kitchen that one of her tables’ orders was ready. She finished the latte and popped it on the table in front of Liv, who was now engrossed in a magazine. She collected the plates of mussels and fries from the pass and began walking them over to the terrace table that had ordered them, a pair of youngish- looking dads who had offloaded their kids on the beach – just about in their sight from the deck.

  ‘Hello again,’ Lucy turned to see Olly walking through the main door, scanning the café. He was smiling at her, flashing those perfect teeth and looking like something from a surf magazine in his bright board shorts and open shirt.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, unsure whether to stop and chat. ‘Are you looking for a table?’

  ‘Um, hi, no,’ he said
, making eye contact now. ‘Tara’s not here, is she?’

  ‘Nope, it’s her day off’ Lucy said. ‘I just need to run these outside.’ She nodded at the steaming plates of food on her tray.

  ‘Of course,’ Olly said, flashing that perfect smile again. ‘I’ll have a coffee over there when you’ve got a min.’ He pointed outside at the free table by the wall.

  ‘Okay,’ Lucy said, walking towards the decking, cursing herself for blushing simply because she was talking to a good-looking guy.

  ‘What kind of coffee would you like?’ she asked Olly, now sitting leaning back in his chair, looking out at the view.

  ‘Oh, just a normal one, cheers,’ he replied.

  ‘An Americano?’ Lucy asked

  ‘A what-o?’ Olly said, smirking slightly. ‘Whatever you recommend, er, sorry, I don’t actually know your name – I’m Olly.’ His effortless charm reminded her of Tom.

  ‘I know,’ said Lucy, before her brain could catch up with her mouth. She lifted a hand to her face instinctively, as if to hide the embarrassment.

  ‘I’m Lucy,’ she said. ‘Nice to meet you.’ She held out a hand, which Olly shook firmly.

  ‘Very formal. I like it, Lucy. Nice to meet you too,’ he said. Lucy suddenly felt like she’d been standing at his table too long.

  ‘I’ll go and make that coffee,’ she said, turning to walk away.

  ‘Thanks, babe,’ Olly said as she left, and she smiled to herself at the sound of his voice.

  There were no clean mugs at the coffee machine, so Lucy went to the kitchen to retrieve some fresh ones from the dishwasher. Stefan was cursing at something on the hob, so she steered clear of him, heading around the other side, past the storeroom instead. She heard a noise from behind the corner of the door and popped her head around to ask Molly if she needed a hand unpacking the cakes. It was Tom, sitting on a chair, slipping a small bottle into his pocket.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked. ‘What are those?’

  ‘Painkillers,’ Tom said, patting his pocket, which rattled. ‘I picked up an injury in the water last week – nasty ligament tear. It kills, actually. I can’t surf for another week at least. It’s driving me crazy.’ He looked up at Lucy and puffed his cheeks.

  ‘You looked cozy out there,’ he said, turning away.

  ‘What?’ Lucy asked, confused.

  ‘You and Olly. I should have figured you’d like him. The ladies can’t resist Olly, it seems.’ He had a mocking tone to his voice. Is he jealous? Lucy wondered.

  ‘I’ve just met him,’ Lucy said, truthfully. ‘I don’t like him, for God’s sake, Tom, we’re not fifteen.’

  ‘It certainly looked like you like him,’ Tom said, refusing to drop it. ‘Not that it’s any of my business. Anyway, you’re going next week, aren’t you? So it’d just be a casual holiday fling, or whatever. You go ahead, enjoy yourself.’

  Lucy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He couldn’t be serious?

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ she said, looking at Tom sitting there. ‘You’re going to try and make me feel bad about talking to a guy I’m serving at a table? Are you insane?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Tom said, standing up and making to leave the room. ‘I’m pretty shattered and my leg hurts. I shouldn’t have said that.’

  Lucy turned and walked out ahead of him. He had no right to be jealous, but she kind of liked the thought that he was. However unfair that was. God, I need to grow up, she thought to herself as she picked up the tray of clean mugs and made her way back to the coffee machine.

  Molly was practically dragging the large bags of cakes into the café and Lucy went to help her in with them.

  ‘Oh Olly’s in,’ Molly said, looking out at the terrace. ‘Have you texted Tara?’ she asked Lucy.

  ‘No, why would I text Tara?’ Lucy replied, confused.

  ‘Oh, no reason. He just normally asks for her, that’s all. I normally let her know when he’s in.’ Molly replied, looking slightly flustered. ‘I’ll go and get these out,’ she said, rushing away with the cakes.

  Olly was chatting to Tom about the surf forecast when Lucy delivered his coffee. Tom was complaining about his leg and Olly seemed genuinely upset for him. ‘Man, you’re gonna miss some epic waves. That sucks,’ he said, looking devastated at the thought.

  ‘Cheers, babe,’ Olly turned to Lucy, winking at her as she placed his Americano down on the table. Lucy felt embarrassed in front of Tom and didn’t know how to reply.

  ‘So this is the famous Lucy,’ Olly continued, addressing Tom now. ‘I thought it might be, when I saw you around town with Nina and Kristian.’ He looked back at Lucy. ‘You’ve got quite a hold over this one, I gather. Fair play, Tom. I can see why. You’re a beauty,’ he said, smiling again. Lucy had never met anyone with so much confidence.

  Tom attempted a laugh. ‘Yep, she’s going again soon, though. Back to the big smoke,’ he looked at Lucy, holding her eye for a little too long to be comfortable.

  ‘Shame,’ Olly said, ‘I was hoping to get to know you a bit better.’ He seemed to stop himself from saying any more, taking a sip of his coffee instead as Tom and Lucy walked away together.

  ‘So he’s your friend?’ Lucy asked Tom back inside the café.

  ‘Kind of. Well, we both surf every day. I know him. He’s alright.’

  ‘He’s so cocky!’ Lucy laughed. ‘Is he friends with Tara? He was asking for her when he came in?’

  ‘Yeah, they’re friendly,’ Tom said. ‘They were both new to town a few summers ago. Kind of helped each other through, I think. You know what it can be like here – not the friendliest place for new arrivals.’

  ‘Sure,’ Lucy said. It could be a cliquey place, North Cornwall; suspicion of outsiders was an ingrained trait.

  Tom watched Lucy make a coffee, leaning against the counter, looking her up and down. ‘You’re still the best barista we’ve ever had,’ he said to her, playfully. ‘Sure I can’t tempt you to stay?’

  The truth was Lucy was tempted, not so much to stay there, but just to not go back. London life felt so far away after the last few weeks, she’d barely missed anything. She’d certainly not missed anyone, which seemed to say rather a lot. Warren had texted her a couple of times about Emma. He was convinced she wanted her back at Spectrum and he was excited about their trip down to see her in Cornwall – missing his drinking buddy, Lucy guessed. She thought back to the nights she’d spent after work, drinking herself into oblivion, almost always ending up in the toilets doing coke. The mornings afterwards, so hard, so depressing. She’d done it for months and months, years even, she realised. If she was going back, she was going to have to do things differently. And she’d meant what she’d promised Nina – she would stay in touch this time. They had a baby on the way, for God’s sake, she wanted to be a part of its life. She wanted to feel good again. Like I feel now. But, of course, she couldn’t stay. She’d given it enough thought. It wouldn’t be difficult to let her flat go, to move back down here, if she wanted to. But it wasn’t the right thing to do – and anyway, things were so confusing with Tom, it would be pathetic of her to just hang around him now, when he so clearly wasn’t interested in her in the way she was in him.

  Back out in the café she watched him again from the counter; he had the cheeky look on his face that she remembered from school. He was always such a happy person, but he was sensitive too. She knew that about him, but plenty of people didn’t. She began polishing cutlery, ready for the evening service. It was looking like a busy one; they’d taken almost every reservation available already. She was glad she was handing over to Jen for the late shift. She checked her watch. She had one hour until she was due to meet Tara.

  30

  Tara was dressed in a green shift dress as she walked towards Lucy, waving at her slightly manically.

  ‘Hey,’ she called to Lucy. ‘Sorry, I’m late. I couldn’t decide what to wear.’

  ‘You look lovely,’ Lucy said, truthfully. ‘I didn’t have time to change, so I
’m still in my café stuff – bit grim.’ She looked down at her black playsuit and brushed away imaginary coffee grounds.

  They walked together down the street, in and out of the glowing lights of the shops that stayed open for the warm evenings. The town felt calm tonight, as if the cumulative effect of the scorching heat had started to catch up with the visitors and locals. People seemed to be walking slowly around the streets. There were people stopped in groups, talking about their days, their plans for the rest of their holidays. An ice-cream stand was serving what were surely its last customers of the day. The sun was almost setting, Lucy noticed, its orange light beginning to seep across the horizon above the calm sea. They chatted about the café, about the shops; easy, low- key chatter with lots of comfortable silences. It made Lucy start when Tara stopped suddenly, frozen to the spot, her face anxious, gaze fixed straight ahead.

  ‘You okay?’ Lucy said, instinctively placing a hand on Tara’s shoulder.

  Tara didn’t answer. She looked away from the spot ahead and then back to it as if to double-check. Then she turned to Lucy.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘I’m fine.’ She started walking again and Lucy joined her, unsettled.