‘Yes.’
Oh yes, she thought as the waves thundered up the beach. A few people were surfing and a couple had let their dog off the lead. It was barking as it chased the waves.
‘This is where Huw proposed.’
‘And you think it was a good idea to come here?’ said Matt.
‘I don’t know if it was a good idea, but I do know there’s something I have to do.’
‘Do you want me to come with you or wait here?’
‘I don’t mind,’ she said, but she had already started walking onto the sand. The truth was, she really didn’t mind whether Matt was there or not. He’d already melted away, and all she could see now was Huw.
Huw racing her along the beach, slowing down until she’d nearly caught him, then setting off again. Teasing her. They’d come to Devon on a rare weekend away from the farm. She’d booked them into a gorgeous country manor hotel and they’d walked to the beach before they’d even unpacked.
She smelled the air again, sharp with the tang of seaweed. She tasted the salt on her tongue. She saw Huw lose his footing as he glanced back at her. He’d tripped on a piece of rock and hit the sand like a falling tree. When he hadn’t moved, she’d rushed to his side, gasping for breath. He’d lain so still, she’d thought he’d really hurt himself but as she’d leaned over him, he’d opened his eyes, grinned, and pulled her down on top of him.
‘I thought you’d knocked yourself out!’ she’d told him.
‘After tripping over on a beach? What d’you take me for. A bloody wuss? Carrie, I’ve played front-row forward for Packley.’
‘Then I should be angry with you for making me think you really were hurt.’
‘But you aren’t angry with me. You love me.’
She’d thrown back her head and laughed. ‘You hope I do.’
She could feel his arms around her now, pulling her face to his, kissing her deeply, with little finesse but loads of enthusiasm. When he’d finally stopped starving her of oxygen, he’d kept his arms round her and said: ‘You’d better love me, because I want us to get married.’
And she’d said yes.
She’d hesitated over bringing Matt here because she’d thought she might make a fool of herself. Yet strangely enough, now that she was here, she felt calm. Slipping her hand inside the pocket of her jeans, her fingers found the smooth circle of her engagement ring and drew it out. She’d collected it from the farm along with all her other worldly goods and kept it ever since, not knowing what to do with it. She’d taken it on the trip hoping to find some place to get rid of it. She’d thought of chucking it off the Eiffel Tower or into some Italian lake. Anywhere that took her fancy at the time. Yet now she was here, back in this place, there was only one option.
She heard footsteps on the shingle and felt Matt beside her.
Twisting round, she stared at him. He held her gaze steadily but she tore her eyes away. She walked towards the waves, lifted her arm, and threw the ring high into the air. The instant it left her hand, it disappeared against the sea and sky and didn’t even make a splash.
‘Was that supposed to be symbolic?’ he asked as she picked her way over the shingle towards him.
‘I’ve no idea,’ she said, watching the surfers laughing as they came out of the water, dragging their boards behind them. ‘I know you think I’m certifiable, but I had to do that. I can’t expect you to understand.’
‘Then I won’t try to, but I do know this. I’m bloody starving, and if I spend much more time in that van, I’m the one who’s going to need certifying.’
She scanned his face. Even though he’d been asleep, he looked tired. There was stubble on his chin, and though it was no business of hers, she hoped he wasn’t thinking of regrowing the beard. Without it he was… she could admit it to herself because she had no connection to him… he was actually very handsome. Like a dirty Mr. Darcy, she thought.
‘What’s so funny?’ he said as she caught her lip in her teeth, trying not to laugh.
‘You are. Where’s your stamina? We’ve only been together half a day and you can’t cope,’ she teased.
‘What I need is some food and a place to stretch out. I’m six foot four, if you hadn’t noticed.’
‘Then we’d better find a campsite and you’d better hope you can get the cooker working,’ she said, laughing inwardly at the expression on his face.
***
After rejecting one or two places, they finally pulled into a small site next to a hideaway beach.
‘It seems a bit basic. What do you think?’ Carrie asked at Matt surveyed the field.
‘Have you ever lived in the jungle?’ he said.
‘Right. I see what you mean. It’ll do fine then.’
They managed to fix the awning to Dolly and Matt started getting out the camping gear. Carrie was struggling to light the gas on the stove when she heard his mobile go off. She tried not to listen to the conversation, realizing there were going to be a lot of moments like this over the next few weeks. Moments of intimacy.
After a few minutes he popped his head inside the van. ‘You managed to get it going?’ he asked, seeing the old-fashioned kettle hissing merrily.
‘Easy peasy,’ she said, covering the pile of spent matches by the stove. She wondered if it was Natasha he’d been speaking to on the phone.
‘Matt? What does Natasha think about you coming away with another woman?’
When he answered, he sounded faintly annoyed, and she almost wished she hadn’t asked.
‘Natasha doesn’t think anything. In fact, she doesn’t know yet. I didn’t know myself until this morning, remember.’
‘And will you tell her?’ she said carefully, pouring water into two mugs. She turned to find him standing in the entrance to the van, hands resting on either side of the frame.
‘Next time I speak to her. But she’s far too busy with her job to worry about stuff like that.’
He took the mug with a gruff thanks and they stood drinking their coffee, talking about the site. After a while, Matt drained his mug and said, ‘I’d better fetch some food. We passed a shop up the road on the way here. I’ll only be ten minutes. What kind of beer do you drink?’
‘Anything will do,’ she said, surprised and amused at his domesticity.
An hour later, when he still hadn’t returned, she was just pissed off. Slamming the door of the van, she headed off towards the sea.
Chapter 19
The lifeguards were just packing up their pickup ready to leave when Carrie walked down the sand. It was a glorious evening, with a scarlet sun slipping into the sea. The surf was pounding the beach and a few hardy types were still making the most of the waves. She rolled up her jeans, kicked off her flip-flops, and walked into the sea, flinching at the water temperature. Then, enjoying the sensation, she dared herself to go in a bit farther. An unexpected wave caught her and her jeans were soaked.
‘Why don’t you just strip off and go for it?’
One of the surfers was watching her, an amused smile on his face. He was standing in waist-high water, holding on to a surfboard as if he’d been born with it, while she was paddling around like a little kid.
‘God, no. It’s freezing,’ she said, embarrassed.
He laughed out loud. ‘In the buff, yeah, but if you’ve got a wetsuit on, it’s fine. You and your bloke should try it.’
‘What bloke?’
‘The tall dude you were with at Combe Strand. Unless you just picked him up off the beach. Your splitty’s pretty hot, by the way.’
If it was a chat-up line, she thought it rated high on the scale of originality. His interest is Dolly made her wonder if he might be something to do with the green VW that had been parked by the sea earlier that day.
‘She’s called Dolly and she’s not mine, only
borrowed,’ she said, as he tugged his board into shallower water.
‘And what about your boyfriend?’ he asked.
Carrie pulled a face. Still, she supposed it was a reasonable thing to assume; she and Matt had been together in the van. She shook her head firmly. ‘My boyfriend? Oh, you mean Matt. He’s just a… total prat. Some bloke put on this earth to torment me.’ She smiled. ‘He’s just a mate.’
‘Okay. I’m Spike, by the way.’
‘Carrie.’
‘Hi, Carrie,’ he said, wading out of the sea like some kind of hippie Neptune. Carrie pushed her feet into her flip-flops and grimaced as her wet jeans hugged her thighs.
‘You two must get on pretty well to share a van together,’ said Spike as they crunched up the shingle beyond the tide line.
She smiled and shook her head. ‘To be honest, we hardly know each other.’
‘Am I missing something here?’
‘No. I was supposed to be coming on this trip with my friend—a girl.’ Spike raised his eyebrows—which was interesting, as he had a couple of piercings through one of them. ‘A girl friend,’ she added.
‘It’s no business of mine what you do. Girlfriend, boyfriend, bit of both. Each to their own, I say.’
‘Matt’s just someone I went to university with. He had some time on his hands and Rowena—my friend—thought I’d like to have some company.’
‘And do you? Want some company, I mean?’
Did she? She didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound desperate or smart. She wasn’t sure what she wanted from this stranger on the beach, so she just shrugged.
‘I’ll take that as a “don’t-know-and-wondering-if-this-weirdo-in-a-wetsuit-might-be-an-ax-murderer.”’
‘Maybe, but I just don’t know about anything right now, full stop.’
‘Going with the flow, eh? I can buy that.’ He flipped a thumb in the direction of the camping field. ‘That’s cool. How d’you feel about meeting another guy? He’s a lot better looking than me.’
She saw the green VW at the other side of the field. ‘That your splitty?’
‘Sure is. He’s called Ron. After Ronald Reagan.’
‘I’ve never been introduced to a president.’ She laughed.
He winked. ‘Then maybe there should be a first time. If you plan on sticking around for a few days, maybe you and Ron can get better acquainted.’
‘Hey, Spike!’
At the shout he twisted and waved at a group of surfers dragging their boards along the edge of the waves.
‘See ya then,’ he said, picking up his board.
‘Yes. See you again soon,’ replied Carrie.
Spike loped away down the beach. For a while Carrie watched him surfing, thinking of his lazy smile and casual confidence. She wondered if he and his mates lived down here on the beaches or whether they were only here on holiday. They seemed to be catching waves effortlessly, and she found herself envying them. They were drifting farther and farther down the strand and she watched until her eyes ached, before turning for the site.
When she got back, Matt was leaning against the van, chatting to two girls, both with beers in their hands. A shopping bag of groceries lay at his feet.
‘Hi there,’ he said, raising a bottle of beer to her. ‘Cara, Siobhan, meet Carrie, my traveling companion.’
The girls shot brief smiles at her then turned back to Matt. Gazing adoringly up at him, the taller of them said, ‘Bye then, Matt. See you around?’
He nodded. ‘Sure.’
‘You got the groceries then?’ Carrie said lightly.
‘What I could find. Which wasn’t much. Baked beans. Canned beef. Pasta.’
‘And the beer?’
He glanced down. There were three bottles left in the eight-pack. ‘I met the girls in the shop and we got talking. Then we realized we were at the same site and…’ He paused, leveling his eyes at her. ‘You were nowhere to be seen, so we had a drink together.’
‘I guess I’ll have to use up whatever’s left in the crate then. I went for a walk to the beach. I got talking too,’ she said meaningfully.
Matt picked up the groceries. ‘Really?’
‘Yes. To some of the surfers.’
‘Good. Glad to hear you’re settling in. Now, shall I cook dinner or are you going to do the honors?’
***
That night, Matt slept out in the awning while Carrie took the roof bed. Despite being six feet off the ground under a roof that flapped like a demented crow in the wind, she slept better than she had done for weeks. She put it down to fresh air and finishing the beer with Matt. When she woke, he was already up, showered, and lying outside the awning in his shorts writing a letter.
‘Do you mind if I go for a walk?’ she said.
He hardly even glanced up from the page. ‘Fine by me. I might go and find an Internet café later. I need to send some emails to the base in Tuman, so don’t rush back.’
That was plain enough, she thought. She’d stay out as long as she wanted, not that she needed Matt’s permission. It was a fine if breezy day; if she found a sheltered spot on the beach she could do a spot of sunbathing and get her head together. She might even see Spike. He’d certainly intrigued her and she wanted to speak to him again. She knew nothing about him, and in a way she didn’t want to. You’re free now, she reminded herself. You can talk to sexy strangers on the beach and no one will care.
She’d been lying on the sand for an hour, trying to get into a bonkbuster novel, when Spike arrived with his friends. He waved immediately, then trotted down to the water almost directly in front of her. The tide was coming in so she didn’t have to move to find herself closer to them. The wind was strong now and the roar of the surf was louder. She sat up and hugged her knees, catching snatches of their shouts and banter on the breeze. Spike caught a wave almost immediately and stood up.
‘Respect, mate,’ called one of the guys paddling out to him. Even to Carrie’s untrained eye, Spike was by far the best surfer, catching the waves cleanly and riding them for longer than anyone else.
After another hour, she’d pulled on her T-shirt as the wind gusted more strongly. The waves seemed massive to her now and there were fewer people out in the surf. Spike’s gang was standing at the edge of the water; all of a sudden he peeled off and strode towards her. Pulling off his wetsuit hood, he ruffled his hair and said, ‘Awesome.’
It was not a word Huw had used very often and Carrie felt like laughing but managed to nod nonchalantly. ‘Looks great.’
‘Do you surf?’ asked Spike, shaking water from his face and hair.
‘Not as such. I’ve done a bit of body-boarding once or twice.’
Once actually, she thought. When she was about thirteen.
Spike winked. ‘Then you should have no trouble progressing. Maybe I can persuade you to try something a little more adventurous?’
The surf thundered onto the shore. The waves looked as big as trucks.
‘Hey. I don’t know. Those waves look very big to me.’
‘Big? Man, those waves are tiny. You should see some of the surf at Thurso or off the Atlantic in France. This is baby stuff, Carrie.’
One hell of a baby, she thought, eyeing the waves. No way was he getting her out there, no matter how cute he was.
‘No need to look so petrified. I know what I’m doing but I won’t force you if you don’t think you can do it,’ he said with a look that left her in no doubt that he thought she was a prize wuss if she didn’t at least try. ‘So. If you won’t come surfing, are you ready to meet Ron yet?’
‘Oh yes,’ she said, a bit too quickly.
‘Then come on.’
Back on the campsite, Carrie stole a glance across the field towards Dolly but there was no sign of Matt. Spike proppe
d his board up against the camper van and unzipped his wetsuit. He wasn’t very tall but he was sturdy and fit looking. He also had a silver ring through his left nipple. Carrie found her eyes drawn to the ring, then realized he was checking her out too, but far more unself-consciously. She felt the warmth rising from her neck to her roots. With her chestnut hair and fair skin, there was no hiding a blush. She wasn’t used to flirting, and the cast of Packley Drama Society, gloriously campy to a man, didn’t count. She was used to being Huw’s partner. Used to Huw’s hand on her bum, telling the world she was his.
Spike didn’t look as if he was bothered about owning anything except his surfboard. He ran his hands through tangled, sun-streaked hair, mussing it up even further as if to say, ‘You see, I don’t care about convention.’ She laughed at herself. For all she knew, he could be a chartered surveyor from Surrey who ironed his underpants.
‘After you,’ he said, showing her into the awning.
If he did iron his underpants, she’d be very surprised. Even she could see that Ron hadn’t been as lovingly cared for as Dolly. The awning was ripped in a couple of places and must have let the rain in at the slightest shower. There were cans and fast-food cartons littering the ground among a couple of crumpled sleeping bags. Ron’s bodywork was rusting, and inside the cabin he smelled of neoprene, stale beer, and something sweet and sickly.
‘Sorry about the whiff. It’s Sex Wax,’ Spike said.
‘Sex Wax?’
‘You put it on your board to help your feet grip.’
‘Oh. I see.’ My God, now she was blushing again. ‘Um… do you come here often? I mean, do you surf here—in Devon—a lot? If you see what I mean.’ No, she was crap at flirting. She was ten years out of practice. Spike let her keep digging the hole, his blue eyes appraising her as she sat on the bench seat. ‘I think I should be getting back. Matt has no idea where I am,’ she said at last, feeling embarrassed.
‘Whatever,’ he said. ‘And the answer to your question is yes. We do come here often.’
‘We?’
‘Me and the guys.’
‘Where are they?’
Carrie Goes Off the Map Page 11