Page 71 of One Summer

‘Or more likely brewery,’ I say. ‘A lot of beer products end up in the sea. I don’t know why, but they do. Perhaps from drunkards throwing them off the cliffs? Anyway, this is standard transfer print.’

‘Are you a professional beachcomber?’ he asks. ‘How do you know all this?’

‘I did some mudlarking with my ex-boyfriend. Only a bit as it’s not my thing, but he can recognise every style of pottery, every mark and letter on a coin, and if he doesn’t, he has all the obscure reference books to look it up.’

He glances at the horizon, where an ominous looking oil tanker has slid into view.

‘Are you still in touch with him?’

‘No. The shit sort of hit the fan.’

‘What happened?’ He’s looking right at me, all sensual mouth and high cheekbones.

I shake my head. ‘He moved on.’

We lock eyes for a second and I notice again how nice his eyes are.

‘So, he’s a mudlark?’

‘Yeah. He’s very into the whole “found in the ground” and “luck in the muck” movement. He has a thriving YouTube channel with thousands of fans. Tens of thousands now, in fact.’

Caleb seems impressed.

‘I’ve always wondered about going down to the Thames foreshore and having a look for treasure,’ he says. ‘You need a licence though to pick anything up and I never managed to get around to applying.’

‘Yes, it’s very on-trend,’ I say. ‘But doesn’t really appeal to me. I was happy for him to go off on his own and explore. Although it didn’t end brilliantly.’

‘So how did it end?’ he asks, making another long stretch of eye contact with me.

‘He met another mudlark with a YouTube channel of her own and then dumped me for her.’

I don’t mention that the other woman looks like a supermodel. Or that, even though I was devastated to be dumped, another part of me was quite pleased for Max. I wouldn’t have thought a woman like that would have looked twice at him.

‘That sucks.’

‘Yeah, especially for Nemo.’

He looks confused and I explain.

‘Originally he was actually Max’s cat, but it turns out that his new girlfriend is allergic, so I ended up taking him. It was that or Battersea Dogs & Cats Home.’

Caleb’s eyes widen in disbelief.

‘That seems harsh. I can’t believe he just gave up on him like that. Couldn’t the new girlfriend at least try antihistamines?’

‘That’s what I said, but no, and to be honest I don’t think she wanted to. As well as being allergic, I don’t think she much liked Nemo.’

He looks thoughtful. ‘I don’t much like cats either – and yours does seem like a bit of a handful – but life is a process of toleration, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I suppose.’

‘That’s how you bridge the differences with other people – other species, even. Tolerance.’

I’ve never really thought about it like this, but maybe he’s right. I’ve tried to withdraw from differences that I found uncomfortable or alienating. I was all about retreat.

‘I think I prefer the company of like-minded souls. If I’m being honest.’

‘Who doesn’t?’ he says. ‘But if we only surround ourselves with people who think the same way, and make the same sorts of choices as us, we’d never be able to grow or leave our comfort zones.’

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