Page 70 of The Seaside Cocktail Campervan

‘Okay,’ Jack said fiercely, ‘so some of my past relationships might have been fly-by-night things. Others, maybe a month or so.’

‘God, you actually managed a whole month, did you? She must have been special,’ Lucy couldn’t resist the dig.

Jack just gave her a look, raising one eyebrow. ‘But I never promised anything, that’s not my way. Anyway, all that was years ago …’

‘Hah, you could have fooled me.’

‘Like I already told you, I was young, Luce. And yes, back then, I probably did act like a dick.’

‘Or was ruled by one,’ she fired back.

He gave a wry smile, at that. God, she looked bloody gorgeous when she was angry.

‘Okay, okay.’ He put his hands up, as though giving in. ‘I was hurting,’ his tone changed, ‘and yes, I was selfish back then. But you know, women do that too. There are lots of women happy with the one-night stand thing.’

‘Well, Becky certainly wasn’t …’ And, she certainly hadn’t been, Lucy admitted to herself.

A moment or two of silence hung between them.

He was so bloody exasperating. But in some ways, Lucy had to begrudgingly concede that he was right. Was it their expectations in the way – Becky’s, hers – not anything he’d in fact promised?

But then Lucy remembered that girl, the tipsy one, the one who Jack shovelled into his campervan at the end of the village wedding do. What had she witnessed that night? She’d been trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. But now, given the way he’d treated her, that really didn’t seem innocent at all.

She launched back in, unable to quell the burning anger in her veins. ‘Okay, so what about that girl who fell over tipsy that night of the wedding event? How did you treat her, eh Jack?’

‘What are you talking about?’ he shot back, angrily.

‘The one you scooped up, bundled into the campervan and took home. That poor girl had had far too much to drink.’

‘Well, that’s just what I did …’ He frowned as he spoke, ‘I took her home.’

Jeez, he was so bloody blasé about it, too. ‘Well, that says it all, doesn’t it? Bet that didn’t last more than one night either.’

‘Luce, what are you banging on about? I just said I took her home. To her home.’ He spelled it out.

‘Oh.’ His tone and the look on his face made her stop her rant.

‘She was an old school friend, Freya. So, what … you thought …? You are joking me, Luce. You think I’d take her back to mine in a state like that, to take advantage of her or something? I can’t believe you think that badly of me.’ It was Jack’s turn to feel affronted, and rightly so. ‘Her so-called friends had buggered off, and I just made sure she got home safely. Not that I have to justify myself to you.’

‘Oh … Jack, I’m sorry. It just looked like …’ Lucy’s voice trailed. She had got this so wrong.

‘Well, if you believe I’m that much of a low-life, that just confirms that there’s not much hope for you and me at all.’

And with that, he stormed off, back to Ruby, slamming the camper van’s door.

Leaving Lucy with an even more battered heart than she’d started with.

Chapter 37

But Jack didn’t go home, not for long anyhow. He parked up on Matt’s driveway, gave Ruby a thorough post-event clean, grabbed a few camping items, and set off again, stopping at the local mini-mart for a few essential food purchases. He headed off for the hills of the Scottish borders, which were just over half an hour’s drive away. Remote moorland valleys, where you could easily find yourself alone. Where you could stroll, letting the mountain air fill your lungs, clear your head, and watch the late-night sun go down in a blaze of gold, dipping down over the magenta crags of the horizon. Well, that was the plan. It certainly had to be better than sitting in his room watching TV or scrolling through Instagram … or dwelling on the bloody row he’d just had with Lucy.

He parked the campervan up at a remote beauty spot in a valley, then walked the hillside with his tent and camping gear on his back. The climb was invigorating, but now he’d stopped and set up camp, his plan not to think about Lucy was failing miserably. She seemed to creep back into the spaces in his head at every opportunity; when he was working, when he was lying in bed trying to sleep, when he was driving, sat here on a hillside in the middle of nowhere. There was no way he was going to forget her, and he really needed to.

He opened a can of ale, set his little stove up to cook the bacon and eggs he’d brought with him, buttered some soft white sourdough bread, and looked out at the sheep grazing in the valley below. He focussed on this simple task, turning the bacon over in the pan; the smell tantalising as the fat crisped golden-brown. At least he hadn’t lost his appetite. He added the egg to the frying pan a minute or so later, listening to it sizzle beside the bacon, waited for it to cook, then turned it all out onto a plastic plate, and ate.

Supper with a view. And what a view it was – rolling hills, deep valleys, rugged moorland with sheep grazing, and the sky, a fading blue turning to gold with wisps of high feathery peach-tinged cloud zigzagging across it, as the sun began to dip.

Did Lucy really think he was such a tosser that he’d take some drunken girl home to sleep with her? Jeez. Or, was she just riled up about everything, much like he still was? The night they’d spent together was special, but he still had to admit it totally scared him too. Being with someone. Giving so much of yourself to them. That ache of vulnerability. When you loved, you lost … He’d been there, and he never wanted to feel that depth of pain ever again. If he took this step back from Lucy now, then at least his head and heart wouldn’t be all over the place like some kind of emotional roadkill.