Summer at Blue Sands Cove

by Chris Ward

  Grace shrugged. Small gains. She checked her email, and found that a handful of other blogs and online magazines had promised to stop by. Clicking on one to have a look at its details, she stared in astonishment.

  South West Secrets, an online magazine with more than ten thousand blog followers, and another twenty thousand on Instagram. A proper big gun in the industry, which offered a yearly summertime dining award. Now that she thought about it, Grace was sure she had seen a notice up in the window of the Gourmet Garden. Clicking through previous winners, she confirmed what she had thought. A Highly Commended, awarded a couple of years ago.

  Highly commended. It would be sweet to get one over on Sophie Baker by winning it. Quite how Joan’s ham sandwiches could compete, Grace wasn’t sure, but on her pseudo date with Jason she had been left unimpressed with the Gourmet Garden’s supposed fine cuisine. Perhaps if they added a little more pepper and stuck a sprig of parsley on the corner of the plate?

  She pushed back from the computer, mind reeling with ideas, and almost fell off the chair when she found Paul standing nearby. With a pained look on his face, he held up a mug.

  ‘Coffee?’ He gave a guilty shrug. ‘You’re not supposed to drink over here, but, well, no one’s around to be offended. As long as you don’t spill it on the computer.’

  Grace smiled. ‘Thanks.’

  Paul handed her the cup and started to turn away, pausing at the last moment. ‘This is going to sound weird,’ he said, but I was wondering….’ He trailed off. Grace noticed his cheeks redden and a shine of sweat appear on his brow. The confidence she had seen in the Masked Surfer was nowhere apparent, but, she remembered, that was an act. Clark Kent had been a total nerd. The costume was everything.

  ‘What?’ she said, as he started to turn away again. She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

  ‘Ah, I just wondered … if you’re not busy sometime this week, do you want to, you know, get some food or something?’

  She studied his face for a few seconds, waiting for the butterflies to stop their merry dance in her stomach. What was wrong with her? She tried to picture him spearing through the waves with the wetsuit mask over his face, strong hips and thighs cutting the board back and forth. It was nearly impossible to imagine, but the evidence was there. His height, his shoulders, the set of his jaw; it was him. It had to be.

  ‘Sure,’ she said.

  30

  Lost boy

  ‘O.M.G. You’re going on a date with Paul Davis? You can’t seriously think he’s the Masked Surfer?’ Joan sniggered. ‘Where’s he taking you? For a picnic on the rocks off Sharker’s Point, or out to the back of a whale?’

  ‘Don’t take the Mickey.’

  ‘It was a genuine question. I mean, I’d love to have dinner on the back of a whale. Just don’t sit over the blowhole.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  Joan leaned against the counter. ‘Come on, Graceful. No way it’s Paul Davis. He’s like … a nerd.’

  ‘Jason used to be a nerd,’ Grace said, just as the shop’s bell went. ‘And look at him now. He’s buffed as anything.’

  ‘Thanks,’ came a voice from behind them. Joan started laughing as Jason, carrying a bag from Haddock Enough Yet?, began to flex his free arm. ‘Been working on my tri curls this morning. Can you tell?’

  Grace rolled her eyes. ‘What do you see in him?’

  ‘I like a man who treats his woman well,’ Joan said. ‘Chips on the promenade for lunch. How can you beat that?’

  ‘I’ll even give your chair a push,’ Jason said.

  ‘My knight in lycra armour,’ Joan said. ‘Look after the shop for me, Graceful. Don’t burn it down.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ came a voice from the café counter. ‘Is this where you order a free reviewer’s lunch?’

  Joan rolled her eyes. ‘Not another one. That’s three in the last two days.’ She stared at Grace. ‘I appreciate your efforts, but can you please stop giving our food away?’

  ‘Excuse me? I’m from South West Secrets.’

  ‘If you want free food, come back half an hour after closing time,’ Joan shouted. ‘The bins are round the back.’

  ‘Shut up!’ Grace hissed. ‘That’s—’

  ‘The squirrels and hedgehogs usually make a queue, but if you get in there quick you can get first dibs.’

  ‘Joan, no—’

  ‘Well!’ came the customer’s voice. ‘Well I never. In all my time—’

  ‘She’s special needs!’ Grace shouted. ‘Ignore her. Please take a seat and I’ll be with you in two minutes.’

  She looked back at Joan, who was glaring at her. Jason was sniggering behind his hand.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Grace said.

  ‘I can’t believe you pulled the special needs card,’ Joan said, narrowing her eyes. ‘Only I’m allowed to do that.’

  ‘She has twenty-thousand followers on Instagram!’ Grace hissed. ‘She’s huge.’

  ‘Is that good?’ Joan glanced at Jason, who shrugged.

  ‘J’s Surf Shack has ninety-four,’ he said. ‘Was ninety-five last week but my dad decided to go on an internet blackout and closed his account. Twenty grand is pretty good.’

  Joan’s eyes flared at Grace. ‘Well, get in there and serve her! What are you waiting for? She has twenty-thousand Instagram followers!’

  Grace ran back behind the counter, scrambling for her apron. She glanced back at the sound of the door’s bell to see Jason wheeling Joan out of the shop.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  Joan looked back and grinned. ‘I’m going for lunch with my boyfriend. I’m special needs, remember? I can do what I like.’

  The damage had been done. The woman from South West Secrets ate her sandwich and cake, then slapped a ten pound note down on the counter and told Grace to keep the change.

  ‘Oh, and as another tip, I’d suggest you train your staff in some manners.’

  Grace muttered an apology, her cheeks burning as the woman left. A couple of other customers had overheard, and muttered underhand comments as they got up to leave. Grace leaned over and thumped her forehead on the counter top.

  It was futile. Perhaps it was time to give up. Maybe fate had set itself in motion and the café couldn’t be saved. Joan was happy now with Jason and was losing interest, and everything Grace had tried had failed. They were losing money, and she was losing her resolve. For the first time in weeks, she felt Bristol calling her.

  The last customer had left the café, so she went into the shop to potter around. It was just after three, and the mid-afternoon lull had kicked in. With the sun shining, people were getting in their afternoon swim.

  Feeling at the end of everything, Grace went outside and sat down on one of the café’s outdoor tables. She rubbed her temples, took a deep breath, tried to calm down. It would be all right in the end, one way or another. Out over the beach, a seagull suddenly cried out, followed by a shout of ‘Bugger got my ice-cream!’

  Grace smiled. Things could always be worse.

  A couple of people were heading towards the shop. Grace stood up, about to head back inside, when a little whimper came from behind her. She stood up and walked over to the shop front to investigate.

  Standing between a rack of polystyrene surfboards and a stack of buckets, as though using them for protection, was a little boy.

  He had fair hair and blue eyes filled with tears. He couldn’t have been more than five or six. His brightly coloured Toy Story swimming shorts were still wet from the sea, and he had a towel dusted with sand wrapped around his shoulders.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Grace asked, squatting down in front of him. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Ben,’ he whimpered. ‘Where’s Mummy? I can’t find Mummy.’

  ‘You’re lost?’

  Grace looked around. The promenade was nearly empty, most people on the beach. At the far end, Joan was sitting on a bench beside Jason, the chips on the seat of her wheelchair in front of them. Gr
ace gave them a frantic wave. When Jason pointed, she waved for them to come back.

  ‘We’ll find your mummy,’ Grace said. ‘Let’s get you an ice-cream and we’ll sit you down until your mummy gets here.’

  She led the little boy into the shop, and had him point out an ice-cream flavour. To her amusement he chose honeycomb. Grace scooped him out a child-size portion, then for good measure stuck a fudge stick in the top. Then, she led him outside to the tables and waited for Joan and Jason to make their way across the street.

  ‘Get the word out,’ Grace said. ‘This is Ben. He’s lost his mum.’

  Jason nodded. ‘On it.’ He started running back up the promenade in the direction of the beach and the lifeguard hut.

  ‘Go and check the pub,’ Joan said. ‘His mum might be in the family room. I’ll stay here with Ben.’

  ‘Can I have a ride in your car?’

  Joan grimaced. ‘It’s a chair, but, ah, sure.’ Glancing at Grace, she said, ‘Hurry up.’

  Grace ran for the Low Anchor. As she reached the main doors, she felt a little uneasy. She hoped one of the staff was on, but what if it was Daniel? She wasn’t sure if she could face him. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, then pushed inside.

  The pub had that mid-afternoon lethargic feel. A couple of kids in sandals were playing darts, while a group of old ladies sat drinking coffees by the window overlooking the beach.

  Both Daniel and Isabella stood behind the bar, standing close to each other, talking quietly. They looked like a perfect couple, and for a moment Grace felt the familiar pang of regret. Then she remembered her mission.

  ‘Hi, Grace,’ Dan said, noticing her as he looked up. ‘All right?’

  ‘Dan, sorry. We’ve got a lost kid. His name’s Ben. Can you ask around?’

  ‘Really? Oh, sure. There were a couple of families in earlier. I’ll go and ask in the other bar.’

  ‘Is he all right?’ Isabella asked as Daniel went through a door behind the counter.

  ‘I think so. Hopefully we’ll find his mother in a minute.’

  Glancing through the windows at the beach, she saw Jason standing outside the lifeguard hut.

  ‘No luck,’ Daniel said. ‘We’re not busy, though. Me and Izzy will come and help you look.’

  ‘That would be great.’

  ‘Ben, wasn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Got it.’

  Grace headed back outside. Over on the beach, the speakers from the lifeguard hut were relaying the information, but facing the beach, it was impossible to hear clearly for anyone in the streets behind the promenade. Grace ran down the steps from the pub, cupped her hands around her mouth and began shouting out for Ben’s mother. Behind her, she heard Daniel and Isabella doing the same.

  Joan was still outside the shop with Ben, now playing a game of Connect Four with the little boy, a couple of bags of crisps open on the table. Grace ran past them into the narrow streets back from the promenade and called out again.

  She had gone no more than a couple of doors when a woman in her mid-thirties, wearing a wide-brimmed sunhat and sunglasses, came running out of a little souvenir shop.

  ‘Ben?’

  Grace waved and she came running over. ‘Are you Ben’s mother? He’s fine, don’t worry. We’ve got him over at the shop.’

  ‘Oh, thank heavens. I turned around for just a moment—’

  She started to cry. Grace put an arm around her and led her back to the shop. Ben jumped up at the sight of her and ran into her arms.

  ‘Ben, there you are!’ the woman said, pulling her sunglasses off and tossing them aside as she scooped the boy off the ground and hugged him close. ‘What did you have to go wandering off for?’

  Joan looked up at Grace and sighed. ‘Nice one,’ she said. ‘Kid’s a gun at Connect Four too. Beat me three times in a row. I was really trying, as well.’

  Daniel and Isabella had reappeared, and a few other locals who had belatedly joined the search had also gathered around. Grace waved, and over by the lifeguard hut, Jason gave them a thumbs up.

  ‘Thank you so much for looking after him,’ the woman said, hugging the boy to her. ‘That’s a mother’s nightmare. I’m so glad you were looking out for him.’

  Grace smiled. ‘We’re just happy to help.’

  ‘This is such a lovely place,’ the woman said. ‘Everyone’s so friendly. Really, I mean it. I’m so glad we came here rather than going abroad.’

  ‘Stop by anytime,’ Grace said. Squatting down in front of Ben, she said, ‘If you promise to stay near your mum, you can have another ice-cream.’

  ‘Can I play games with the car lady?’ he said, pointing to Joan. ‘She’s not very good.’

  Grace smiled as Joan rolled her eyes. ‘Any time you like.’

  Jason came running over with one of the lifeguards. As people asked after Ben, Joan turned and lifted her hands.

  ‘Ice-creams for everyone!’ she shouted.

  A couple of minutes later, with everyone standing around outside with ice-creams in their hands, talking and laughing in small groups now that the tension of the search was over, Ben’s mother asked if she could take a photograph. She balanced her camera on the bottom of an upturned bucket, then everyone gathered around, holding up their ice-creams.

  ‘Would it be okay if I posted it on Instagram?’ she asked, looking down at her camera’s screen a few moments later. ‘It’s come out so well.’

  Most people shrugged or nodded. Joan started to laugh. ‘If you really want,’ she said. ‘Make sure you give us a tag. I think we have about ten followers.’

  ‘Eleven,’ Jason said. ‘I followed you with the Surf Shack’s account yesterday.’

  ‘And that’s why you’re so wonderful,’ Joan said.

  ‘Doing my best.’

  As the woman led Ben away, Daniel wandered over to where Grace stood at the edge of the patio.

  ‘Good work,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I imagine you get used to these dramas when you live in the big city.’

  ‘It’s a minefield,’ Grace said.

  ‘Come up for a beer sometime,’ Daniel said. ‘We’ve not really caught up since you got back. I’d love for you to get to know Isabella and the kids.’

  Grace smiled. ‘Sure.’

  As Daniel wandered away, Grace caught a look from Joan. She pouted back, raising her eyebrows. Joan frowned, shaking her head, giving Grace a quizzical look. Grace just smiled.

  As she headed into the café, she realised something. For the first time since her return, she’d been able to hold a conversation with Daniel that felt natural. No butterflies, no awkward silences, no uncomfortable concern about whether she was standing too close or too far away. No broken sentences or trying to talk at the same time, and no aching hole in her heart as he walked away.

  ‘Huh,’ she muttered, shaking her head.

  It seemed she was finally over him.

  31

  Date night

  Paul had dressed up for the occasion. Grace, feeling a little casual in a summer dress and sandals, smiled as he held out a small bag.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Just a little gift.’

  She lifted the flap of the bag and peered inside. A star-shaped cactus, a single flower blooming on the top.

  ‘Um, thanks.’

  ‘I figured if you had a rubbish time, you could just put it on my car seat or something, save you having to slash my tires.’

  ‘I see.’ Grace smiled. ‘Now that you’ve charmed me with the gift, where are you going to take me for dinner? Haddock Enough Yet?’

  ‘I would but it’s closed on Tuesdays. I did try to reserve the two plastic seats by the counter for next Thursday, in case we made it to a second date, but the owner told me they’re exclusively for drunks.’

  ‘A shame.’

  ‘I was heartbroken.’

  ‘So you were already thinking about a second date?’


  Paul shrugged. ‘I figured you’d be so disappointed by tonight that you’d want to punish me by making me go through it all again.’

  ‘Who says I’m going to be disappointed?’

  ‘It depends how windy it is.’

  ‘Really? So where are we going?’

  Paul smiled. ‘I figured everywhere would be crowded with tourists, so I decided we’d have a picnic.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I made sandwiches.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘And I baked a cake.’

  ‘A cake?’

  Paul smiled. ‘A cheesecake. With honeycomb in it.’

  ‘Uh, honeycomb?’

  ‘That crumbly stuff you get in the baking section of Tesco.’

  Grace just nodded. She wasn’t sure whether to be stunned more by the obvious clue to his secret identity, or that he’d prepared them food.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Uh, yeah.’

  Paul drove them down Melrose Hill and turned on to the road leading out to the cliffs above Sharker’s Rock.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, as they crested the hill. ‘I have it on good authority that the weather will clear up. We’ll get a beautiful sunset, and it’s a full moon tonight.’

  ‘Are you good at reading the weather?’

  Paul shook his head. ‘But I know someone who is. Someone who spends half his life staring at tide tables and weather reports.’

  Another hint. Grace wasn’t sure whether to be excited or disappointed. Part of her was thrilled that she was on a date with the Masked Surfer, but another part was growing to quite like Paul just as Paul. He had a quirkiness to his personality which gave her a warm feeling inside.

  Paul stopped the car in a little car park on the cliff top. He switched off the engine, then peered up at the sky. He grimaced, then looked at his watch, before turning to Grace.

  ‘I think we’d better take torches, just in case.’