by Zoe Cook
‘Luce, sorry, just out the water – are you still free?’ He sounded so happy.
‘Yep, free as a bird,’ she said.
‘Shall I meet you at the café?’
‘No,’ she said, slightly too quickly. ‘I’ll walk up to the house. I’ll be half an hour,’ she said, trusting that Kristian wouldn’t have read much into her tone; she could count on him for that.
She walked so quickly back up to the house that she was out of breath halfway up the hill. She stopped to catch her breath, finding herself needing to bend over, as if she’d run it. Kristian appeared behind her, wetsuit on and a huge grin plastered on his face.
‘Wow, need to work on your fitness,’ he said, waiting by her side. ‘You okay?’
‘Fine,’ Lucy said, her breath returning. ‘Just took the hill too fast.’
‘I just need to jump in the shower,’ he said. ‘I’m really sorry. I was going to come straight back after I spoke to you, but then –’
‘You went back in? Don’t worry.’ Lucy smiled at Kristian’s sincere face, still so boyish.
‘Give me a knock when you’re ready,’ she said. ‘Are we going to Truro? We need to be careful. You know that’s where Nina’s gone shopping don’t you?’ she asked him.
‘How did you know I want to go to Truro?’ he said, looking genuinely perplexed.
‘Because I’m guessing you want me to help you pick a ring and despite this being the ‘Champagne Coast’ we aren’t exactly spoilt with jewellery-shopping opportunities around here.’ Lucy looked at him, so sure she was right.
‘You haven’t mentioned it to her, have you?’ She looked a bit disappointed, ‘I really don’t think she’s expecting it.’
‘She’s not,’ Lucy said. ‘She’s pissed off with you acting all strange – she thinks you’re nervous about the move. She doesn’t have a clue.’ She loved seeing Kristian’s face light up with the affirmation. Still such a nice boy, a gentle giant – he was huge, she noticed all over again, six-foot something; a big beast of a man.
In the car Kristian quizzed Lucy about just how sure she was that Nina didn’t suspect his proposal was on the cards. Lucy was glad of the distraction from what she’d seen at the café and genuinely thrilled by the prospect of Kristian asking Nina to marry him. She knew from their late-night conversations that Nina had all but given up on the idea – she’d always been uncharacteristically un-pushy about the whole thing. Lucy had noticed it before. It turned out it was one of a very small number of things Nina cared so deeply about that she didn’t want to meddle with it. She really wanted the magic of a genuine proposal, not one of those ‘oh go on then’ marriages, where the guy finally relents – she wanted the fairytale. Lucy loved that about Nina. She knew people could find her abrasive, hard even, but she wasn’t, not at all really. She had a wicked sense of humour and a bit of a mouth on her when cross, but she was a good person. That’s what she’d learned about her old friends, being back in Cornwall, maybe about the town itself. There was a sense of wholeness and goodness that she’d missed in London. Maybe she was simplifying things, buying into the Corny-ishness of the place, but she didn’t think so. There was something special down here.
‘That one,’ Kristian said firmly to Lucy, pointing at a single sapphire on a gold band. ‘That’s it.’
Lucy leant in to look closer. It was beautiful, although not your typical engagement ring, she pointed out to Kristian. But certainly undeniably beautiful.
‘Nina’s not your typical girl, I guess’ Kristian said, pride in his voice. ‘She’ll love this.’
He was right. It was totally Nina’s style; almost vintage-looking, but new – and expensive. Bloody expensive.
‘Three thousand pounds? Kristian, are you serious? How minted are you guys?’
‘That’s okay,’ he said, quietly. ‘She’s worth far more than that to me and I’ve planned this for a long time.’
Lucy carried on inspecting the ring; its ornate settings glittered in the jeweller’s bright display lights.
‘Will you try it on?’ he asked her, taking her by surprise.
‘Um, yeah, course,’ she said. ‘I think we have the same ring size, actually.’
She slipped it on to her finger and suddenly thought she might cry. Kristian looked at her with something between confusion and sympathy on his face. This was probably up there with his worst nightmares, a girl about to cry in front of him and no one else to help.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘She’ll love this – you should get it.’ She slid the gold ring off her finger and placed it carefully back on the velvet stand, which the assistant whisked away silently.
‘Are you okay?’ Kristian said. ‘I mean, I can see you’re not. What’s wrong? It’s Tom, right? London? What is it?’ He looked like he might cry himself, the earnest expression enough to make Lucy almost want to laugh.
‘It’s Tom,’ she admitted. ‘It’s not a big deal. I just, I saw him with Tara earlier, I knew already, really, but, you know, seeing it, knowing for sure, it was just weird. I am being ridiculous.’
‘Are you sure?’ Kristian said, looking confused. ‘I really don’t think there’s anything there. I mean, I’ve asked him and he said there isn’t.’
‘Maybe it’s not a big thing, just a fling, whatever,’ Lucy said. ‘But I saw them – it’s something.’
‘I just thought it was you,’ Kristian said, looking straight at Lucy. ‘It was always you. He never got over it. I do know that. He never got over you.’
Lucy didn’t know what to say. It was sweet of Kristian to try and make her feel better, but it wasn’t going to work.
‘I am seriously not going to let this become about me and Tom,’ she said, pulling herself together as the shop assistant returned to speak to Kristian. ‘I’m so sorry. Do what you need to do – buy it, it’s perfect. I’m so, so happy for you. I’ll just be outside.’ She walked out of the store, refusing to let tears fall, mortified that, yet again, she’d made a bloody scene.
What a fucking train wreck.
21
‘Last day, huh?’ Stefan was loading pallets of fish from the market in through the back door of the kitchen.
‘Yep, that’s right,’ Lucy said, picking up a bag of mussels and lifting it onto the work surface.
‘Who’s covering your shifts, do you know?’ he asked.
‘Jen, I think,’ Lucy said. ‘I was just helping out. Tom always knew I was going.’
‘Sure, yeah, I know. We’ll miss you, though’ Stefan said, beginning to prep the shellfish for his increasingly famous lobster special. ‘Pass me that butter, will you?’
Tara was due in, but there was no sign of her yet. Lucy walked from table to table, slotting the freshly printed daily menus between the wooden salt-and-pepper shakers. She hadn’t seen Tom last night, he’d not been there when she and Kristian got back from Truro; she hadn’t heard him come home at all, in fact. She thought back to the sight from the steps, the image making her stomach drop. She was glad it was her last day working here, glad to be going back to London now. Claire was collecting her keys from Anna today; she said she’d get the flat ready for Lucy’s return on Wednesday. Lucy tried to tell her she didn’t need to do anything, but Claire had been characteristically insistent about ‘airing’ it out or something; Lucy hadn’t listened properly on the phone last night.
‘So sorry,’ Tara looked flustered, her hair loose around her shoulders. ‘Overslept,’ she said without looking at Lucy.
‘Don’t worry,’ Lucy said. ‘I think we’re all set, I just need to go and pick up the scones.’ She walked through the café towards the large glassy entrance, and out onto the street. Walking through town she smiled at the guys at the fruit-and-veg shop, and exchanged ‘good mornings’ with the ice-cream girl, whose name she really should’ve asked by now. It was strange, being surrounded by so many vaguely familiar faces. So many people from school had stayed, you couldn’t take more than five steps without bumping into them, or
their parents, or someone you half-recognised from childhood. She wasn’t sure whether she felt more like an outsider here or in London. It was strange how neither was really home. She’d not let Claire book her train ticket back to London, despite her protests. Tom had paid her for all the hours she’d worked in the café, and it had ended up being a fair sum of money, not London money, but enough to pay for a standard-class train ticket and enough left over to get through the first week or so back in the flat. Lucy felt newly determined to not depend on Claire when she was back, not in the way she had before, at least. Lydia hadn’t discussed salary with her. She assumed she’d be on the same wage as before, and maybe she’d be able to get an increase in six months or so.
The smell of freshly risen bread cloyed in the air of the bakery, unpleasant in the heat of the day. Martin recognised Lucy and dipped behind a counter to retrieve a tray of fruit and plain scones. Lucy could feel the heat coming from them as she thanked him and carried them out of the shop. Late August always saw an influx of university-age students descend on the town, staying at their parents’ holiday homes, partying on the beach late into the night. Lucy passed a group of hung-over-looking girls in tiny shorts and bikini tops, drinking from coconut-juice cartons, all big shades and long limbs. At the entrance to the campsite, cars were pulling up to sign in at reception. More people than looked feasible, given the size of the car, piled out of an Audi TT. The driver, a young, good-looking brown-haired guy smiled at Lucy. She remembered how much promise this place had offered when she was young, how full of hope their summer evenings had been. So carefree. There was something about the beach that brought that out of everyone, made everyone young. She pictured her family home, sitting above them at the top of the valley, its stark white walls and dark-brown floorboards aching with years of emptiness. She wondered whether she should walk up there tonight, take one last look before she went home.
Tara was at the counter when Lucy got back to the café, folding napkins and enjoying a rare quiet moment.
‘Tom’s on his way down,’ she said. ‘He’s just at the cash and carry.’
‘Oh right,’ Lucy replied, she hadn’t realised she was going to see them both today. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
‘There’s something I want to talk to you about, actually,’ Tara said, continuing to pile navy napkins into a wicker basket.
Lucy felt her pulse rate rise slightly. You don’t need to do this, she thought. She felt sorry for Tara – it wasn’t her mess, she hadn’t actually don’t anything wrong. The thought was interrupted by a hand on Lucy’s waist. She turned to see Annabel.
‘Hey,’ Lucy said. ‘How are you doing?’
‘I’m good,’ Annabel said. ‘I just wanted to pop by. Tom said it’s your last day today.’
‘Yep,’ Lucy said. She’d forgotten what it was like to live somewhere where everyone knew your news – and where they seemed to care.
‘You make sure you come back and see us again soon, okay?’ Annabel said, pulling her into a hug. ‘And bring that sister of yours next time.’
‘Let me get you a coffee,’ Tara said. ‘On the house.’Annabel shot her an unmistakably filthy glance and looked back to Lucy. ‘I need to open up the shop. You take care Lucy, look after yourself.’
‘What was that about?’ Lucy turned to Tara. ‘Do you know Annabel?
‘Yeah,’ Tara said. ‘She doesn’t like me. She’s been the worst of everyone – ever since I moved here.’
Given her previous conversations with Annabel and Tom, Lucy was contemplating asking Tara what had been going on when Tom arrived with boxes piled under his arms. He looked exhausted.
‘Are you okay?’ Tara asked him. ‘Do you want some help bringing stuff in?’
‘No, no, it’s fine, cheers. Hey, Luce,’ he turned to her and smiled.
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘We missed you last night.’ It was true. They’d waited around for him and hadn’t cooked dinner until 9pm in the end. ‘No one could get hold of you.’
She felt Tara shift her weight awkwardly next to her.
‘Anyway, I need to sort these out’ she said, nodding towards the scones on the side. ‘And there’s loads to get ready for tonight.’
Tom was hosting the late-summer Sundowner party at the café for the first time this year. It had always been at the campsite until now. It had been Stefan’s idea, the chef himself told Lucy proudly. He was going to run a huge barbecue stand on the terrace, people could take food down to the beach from there and he was making toasting sticks of strawberries, marshmallows and chocolate for kids to toast on the enormous bonfire that they lit for the event on the beach.
Tom dumped pile after pile of outdoor fairy lighting at the back door of the kitchen, ready to be strung around the decking and down to the sand. A van was unloading DJ equipment around the front, whilst Tara moved tables and chairs to try and make space for the sound desk. Lucy was glad she was here for the Sundowner; it had always been her favourite night of the summer. The town heaved with a younger crowd than usual in the days before the event – there was more of a buzz about the place, a sense of excitement. Tom looked nervous about it all, she couldn’t help but notice. He could have done with his parents around to help him sometimes, she thought. It was a bit much carrying all of this on his own. She looked to her left to see Tara joining Tom at the strings of lights, helping him to untangle them, laughing together now. Or not on his own, she thought.
Her last day in the café went quickly, with the preparations underway for the evening’s festivities. Stefan closed the kitchen at 2pm, so the rest of the afternoon was just a scone-fest; easy-peasy compared to the past few weeks. An astonishing amount of alcohol continued to arrive throughout the afternoon: mini champagne bottles, crates of beer, pitchers of gin cocktails. Lucy served her last customers and joined Nina and Kristian outside as they hooked multi-coloured paper lanterns from the wooden banisters.
‘I think he’s mental,’ Kristian carried on talking to Nina as Lucy sat down on a chair beside them.
‘It’s a great idea,’ Nina said. ‘It’s going to look great out here when the sun goes down.’
‘Do all the shops still put stalls outside?’ Lucy asked, remembering how the streets used to fill with trestle tables, bunting zig-zagging from the shop roofs.
‘I think so,’ Nina said. ‘We’ve not been here for the last few years, though.’
When she was a child, Lucy’s dad had always brought them out to the Sundowner and bought them a bag of fudge each to eat as they watched the bonfire spit embers into the sky. The same lady who had always served them still ran the sweetshop. Lucy had been so pleased when she spotted her in the shop, behind the same counter, the old rickety model of a farm girl still churning an urn of butter in the window. It was funny how, despite the massive leaps certain parts of the town had taken, the café being a prime example, so much of it was exactly as it always had been.
‘Have you told Tom about Spectrum yet?’ Nina asked, passing Lucy a pile of plastic cups to go on the table.
‘No, haven’t had a chance yet,’ Lucy said. ‘Have you told him you’re sticking around for a few more weeks? He’ll be made up.’
Nina and Kristian’s new house wouldn’t be signed and sealed until September, which meant they were effectively homeless, Nina had informed her last night. Another few weeks at Tom’s wasn’t a particularly hard life, as Kristian had pointed out, but Lucy could see that Nina was enjoying the drama of being pregnant and homeless. This development had put more pressure on Lucy to stay around for longer too, but everything was set for her return to Spectrum and she was starting to actually look forward to it – especially since seeing Tom and Tara with her own eyes. It had been helpful, in some ways, at least.
Lucy looked around at the café, the decking was covered in a canopy of tiny bulbs now. Nina was right, it was going to look spectacular tonight. The sound of the DJ checking his equipment boomed from inside and more and more young girls and guys in dark-blue
polo shirts with white-stitched ‘Beach Café’ logos assembled at the tables inside, ready to take their instructions for the evening from Tom.
Lucy finished helping Nina and Kristian with the lanterns – hundreds of tiny coloured paper balls now hung around the decking. She needed to go back and get ready for the evening. Her hair felt limp, the back of her neck slightly damp with sweat. She wanted to enjoy her last few nights in Cornwall, to relax before going back to work. She’d tell Tom this evening about her job – he’d understand. In the storeroom she collected the few bits of clothing she’d accumulated over the past weeks: a cardigan she’d brought down in case it got cold in the evenings, never needed; a dress she’d thought she’d change into if Tom had asked her out for a drink after work, unworn. As she walked out into the warm evening air, towards Tom’s house, she realised they’d not had the chat Tara wanted. She hoped the pair of them weren’t going to make some formal announcement tonight in front of everyone, confirming their golden-couple status to the whole of the Champagne Coast.
34
The air was thick with the smell of barbecued food, hot bodies and after-sun lotion. Music played from the café; Lucy could feel it through the boards of the terrace under her feet. Stefan was in his element; she watched him dashing from the kitchen back to his barbecue, loading more and more meat and fish onto the huge grill. The place was heaving. Waiting staff delivered individual bottles of champagne to tables of locals; groups of tourists drank beers on the sand beneath the restaurant. The effect of the lights, so artfully installed by Tom, was stunning. Looking up, it appeared as if the entire sky was stitched together with fairy lights.
Lucy was wearing her coral dress, pulling at its hem from time to time, concerned that it was too short. Nina was eating a lobster roll, leaning on the banister next to her, giving a running commentary on the fashion choices of the people making their way from the beach to the café.