Page 67 of My Summer of Magic Moments

‘I haven’t seen much of your neighbour lately.’

Claire’s ears pricked up as her heart did a skip. ‘Oh.’

‘You know, that fella in the cottages, the good-looking one.’

Claire knew all too well who she meant. Despite everything, Ed was never far from her thoughts. She nodded.

‘Yes, that Scottish guy. He used to pop in most weekends. Not been about for ages.’

Claire felt her throat tighten. How could she even begin to explain what had happened between them? She could barely get her head round it herself. And she knew that she wanted to preserve his privacy; she didn’t want his dreadful, sad story to become part of the village gossip. He needed to come here to escape. This was his bolt-hole, she was sure.

‘Oh well, I’m sure he’ll be back at some point.’ Claire tried to keep the conversation light, noncommittal. Like she didn’t really know him very well. Like she’d not been in his bed, or held him when he cried.

‘Ah, well I thought he might have had a bit of a soft spot for you. Came in asking after you, that last time you stayed. Which seemed unusual as he never stops long enough to chat normally. He was asking if I knew where you lived, or if I had a contact number.’

‘Oh, right.’ That must have been when he was trying to find her. She didn’t want to start going into the story of his visit to her office and why. Her provisions were ready and an elderly lady came in, so Claire took the chance and said a breezy goodbye. ‘See you tomorrow when I come to pick up my bread. Take care, Lynda.’

‘Lovely to see you again, petal. See you tomorrow.’

Back at the cottage, Claire popped the kettle on, made a mug of strong tea and sat back out on the bedroom balcony to watch the sun fade in the sky. The peace of the beach, the sea and the sky, diffused through her. She was so glad she’d come. It pulled her to it, this place; it felt like home. Her Jesmond flat hadn’t quite reached that status yet. She wrapped a fleece top round her shoulders to keep off the early evening chill, and let the hot mug warm her hands.

Another Labrador was chasing a ball with its owners away down the beach, and reminded her of Bess, of Ed, all over again. She couldn’t shake him from her mind. What a hard hand he’d been dealt. How did you ever get over something like that? Was it even possible? Or did you just endure a shell of an existence and live through hollow days? She so wished she could go and put her arms around him, hold him close to her, tell him that she’d help him, love him … Oh shit, where had that thought come from? Did she love him? A little voice in her head acknowledged her heart. Oh bugger. Bad, bad timing. Far too many complications.

She went inside and fetched her latest read from the bedside table. She’d take her mind off it all by drifting into someone else’s world, a nice easy romance. She settled into the velour sofa in the living room and started reading. Yes, that was better. Enjoy the magic of the melting colours of dusk, she told herself as she looked out at the now cloudless azure sky fading into gold, orange and purple. Enjoy the magic of a storybook world, where dreams come true and love is easy.

Supper was a medley of cheese, pâté and crostini with some salad she had brought with her, and a small glass of red wine. It was a tad chilly, so she added a couple more logs to the fire in the lounge. She was glad she was armed and ready with a portable electric heater to warm her bedroom before going to sleep. She had the measure of this house now. Old Mr H would probably have a fit at the next electric bill, but as utilities were included and she’d paid a decent amount this time, having frozen her butt off in the summer months, she decided to make the most of it. He’d earnt enough from her already.

After supper, she treated herself to some dark-chocolate brownies from her local baker on Gosforth high street and enjoyed the cocoa-meltiness with a cup of tea whilst she sat in her cosy onesie listening to some chill-out music on her iPod, curling up on the lumpy sofa, which she’d evened out by bringing her duvet downstairs to lay over it. The fire crackled and popped, mesmerizing her with its dancing glow.

All in all, life was pretty good. She was so relieved about that bastard lump. She was safe for now, at least, though she felt for those poor souls who were having to face it right now. But that was all we have – the now. This moment, whether it was magic or ghastly. Whether you were apparently healthy or not, you never knew what the next day might bring. Every single moment was precious.

She could hear the soft lull of the sea outside, saw the crescent of the moon over the bay. And here she was, all cosy, tucked up in her cottage by the sea. She’d made the right decision to come back here. Some places suited your soul.

30

The waggy-tailed welcome of a dog

Amie, Newcastle-upon-Tyne

Cradling her cup of tea at seven-fifteen the next morning, Claire was struck by what looked like a little pile of clothes and a pair of trainers on the beach. She’d had an early night, had vaguely heard a car late on, but thought it must have been out on the main road. Could it be? She dashed to the spare bedroom that overlooked the driveway, and yes, there was the black 4x4. Her heart did a little somersault, but then she wondered how he would have felt seeing her vehicle in the driveway? Would her being here spoil his weekend?

She zoomed back to her viewpoint on the balcony, and yes, there out to sea, was a black shape arcing through the water, looking a bit like a seal if she hadn’t known better. Should she stay out here? Watch from a distance? A warm glow filled her with the memory of that very first time. When she’d first watched his beautiful body. But everything had changed since then. She knew that body now. Oh boy, did she know that body. She also knew his past, his hurts …

She decided to keep a low profile, but couldn’t quite tear herself away from the balcony. It would only be a fleeting glance, a lovely silhouette of his physique, and then she’d go in and make herself scarce, keep out of his way. Her reasons for coming had not included Ed, she told herself. To be honest, it would have been easier if he hadn’t come. She didn’t want him to think she was chasing him or trying to push herself back into his life. Whatever she felt for him deep down, she understood his distance, his grief, and respected it.

The dark shape was swimming for shore now. She held her breath. And then he was coming out of the shallow waves, tall, broad shoulders, slim hips and waist … eek. She caught a sexy glimpse of peachy buttock as he turned to pull on his shorts. His top, then his trainers went on, and he started to jog back up the beach, staring right at her cottage. Time to make a hasty retreat. She backed through the open door into her bedroom wistfully.

Well, that was some start to the morning. So, Ed was here …

She’d packed a little rucksack with the two rolls from the deli filled with cheese, a cereal bar and a couple of apples.

She decided to walk up the coast as far as Budle Bay, probably about three miles away. The forecast didn’t look too great for tomorrow, so today, with just a few puffy clouds in an autumn-blue sky and a mild breeze, seemed the better day to take a long walk. Her energy levels had increased again in the past couple of weeks, thank goodness. She must have just been at a low with that infection that had affected her glands. The bump in her groin had disappeared now, thankfully. She’d head off, get out of Ed’s space and do her own thing. Perfect.

There was no rush, no timescale, no deadline, no one to please but herself. It came with a great sense of freedom. On days like this, it was a joy to breathe in fresh salty air, to hear a gull’s cry, the laughter of children, watch lovers holding hands as they wandered the sands. A couple of turns of the bay and there was Bamburgh Castle, as grand and stunning as ever. Ochre sands stretched before her beside a gunmetal sea, the sandstone-pink castle rising majestically against a cool azure sky.

She walked on past the castle today, to the far end of the beach where the rocks started. You could climb them and follow a track around the headland at the base of the golf course, she’d found out, where there was an old whitewashed coastguards’ building. She skirted the base of the grassy dunes and found herself on a wide open bay with a stunning view across the estuary to Holy Island. She sat a while, eating an apple and a bread roll, thoughts of Ed still drifting through her mind. Being so near him was hard, harder than she’d imagined. How she wished things could have been different for them.

She’d called in to the village on her way back and collected her bread order from Lynda, stopping for a quick catch up. Being a Saturday, the village was busy with cars and people. There was a buzz of activity that had pulled her back to real life after her quiet stroll along the shore, where most of the time it had been just her.