Page 23 of Summer at the Cornish Garden Café

‘Ahhh… those ones!’ Lena laughed. ‘I know what you mean.

‘Some of the people in my year seemed to be so mature in their outlook. They were good at everything and I was rubbish academically but good at sport, especially football.’

‘I was good at English and other essay subjects but awful at sport. I used to get into some scrapes trying to play hockey andnetball. And as for long jump and high jump.’ She blushed and buried her face in her hands.

‘What is it?’

‘Oh… well… there was one time when we were in Year 9, and the teachers made us all go out to the fields to prepare for sports day. The high jump was set up and I really didn’t want to do it, but we had this one PE teacher who was positively draconian.’ Lena gazed out at the sea, and she seemed to drift back in time. ‘I warmed up and started to run towards the crossbar but when I got close, I tripped over my own foot. Instead of jumping over it, I headbutted the mat behind the crossbar.’ She turned to look at Thomas, her cheeks glowing red now. ‘It was incredibly humiliating and everyone around me was laughing.’

‘I’m sorry. It must have been awful.’ He bit his lip to stop himself laughing at the picture of Lena headbutting the mat.

‘It was. And whenever we played basketball, my team never passed the ball to me because I was so clumsy. I’d run up and down the court and they’d throw it over my head but never to me. Sometimes I’d just walk off the court and go and sit on the side because there was no point being there.’

‘I’d have passed the ball to you.’

Lena giggled. ‘Thank you. But you might not have, not if you wanted your team to win.’

‘But you have other strengths, so you haven’t done badly for yourself. I mean, I could never imagine writing a book. That’s amazing!’

‘I haven’t written it yet.’ She winked at him.

‘But you will and I’m sure it will be a bestseller, and you’ll get lots of fame and attention for it.’

Lena looked down at her hands that were splayed on her knees as she sat cross legged on the sand. ‘I don’t want fame and fortune. Some fortune would be nice obviously, so I can afford to live but fame has never really appealed to me. I’d have hated to be a footballer’s wife or partner. Being in the public eye would be terrible. Was it awful having your every move scrutinised?’

‘It really was. I only ever wanted to play football, but the fame bit came along with it. Still, it’s not a problem anymore. Well, I know the paparazzi would still like a gory story on me now and then when everything else goes quiet but I’m not big news these days.’

‘I think you’re amazing.’ She smiled shyly.

‘I think you’re amazing too.’ And he meant it. Lena was amazing and not at all the person he’d first thought she would be.

‘How about we grab something to eat and drink?’ He stood and held out his hand and Lenna took it then stood too.

‘You’ve got yourself a deal.’

They wandered up to the village and strolled around the stalls, purchased some Cornish pasties and scrumpy cider and took them to a bench overlooking the harbour. The water lapped gently at the walls of the harbour below them, soft rhythmic whispers that soothed him and he gazed at the water, the late afternoon sunshine turning it to burnished gold.

‘This is so good.’ Lena held up her recyclable cup of cider.

‘Nothing like the real thing, right?’ He tapped his cup against hers then they both drank.

‘And this pasty. I can’t believe it’s gluten free.’ She froze and her eyes widened. ‘At least I hope it is, or my belly is going to blow up like a balloon.’

‘It’s gluten free. I asked specifically for it.’ He smiled and saw her relax.

‘Phew.’

As they ate, he wondered at the fact that he’d told her so much about himself earlier. He never talked to anyone other than his counsellor and his family about the accident and yet he had found himself telling Lena all about it. She hadn’t tried to speak across him like some people did, desperate to share their own stories or to try to make him feel better. She had admitted that what he’d been through was terrible and not tried to diminish it in any way. Not that Thomas liked to seek sympathy. In fact, he hated it because it made him feel less of a man, but over the past three years, some people had been keen to reduce what had happened to him by placating him with cliches likeIt could have been worse. Yes, it could have been worse, and he could have died but what happened to him was still traumatic. Still dreadful. Still life changing. After speaking to Lena, he felt that she had in no way tried to take away from what had happened. Instead, she had tried to understand his feelings and to be there with him as he spoke, actively listening. He was grateful for her compassion and had the feeling he got whenever he spoke about the accident and its aftermath. It was a combination of relief and devastation, of exhaustion and being unburdened. Talking about trauma was incredibly hard, but it was, as they said, good for you.

When they’d finished eating, Lena got them another cider and they sat on the bench, side by side, and watched as boats returned with day trippers. Some were rosy cheeked andsmiling, some carrying small grizzly children who were ready for an early night after all the fresh air.

‘Do you know anything of the myths and legends of Porthpenny?’ he asked her, aware that some of the trips would have taken tourists along the tours of the hidden caves and secluded beaches.

‘Not much, no.’ She turned on the bench to face him and his breath caught in his throat. With the peach glow from the setting sun, her skin glowed and her grey eyes were so pale they seemed almost translucent. She’d removed her baseball cap and shaken out her red hair and it fell in soft waves around her pretty face. ‘Tell me some.’

He swallowed hard, pushing down the urge to tell her how beautiful she was, how much he’d like to kiss her. Once upon a time he’d have been confident enough to do that but now, he knew no woman would want to kiss him. He was scarred, broken, hideous. Like the beast in the fairytale, he no longer looked the way he once had. Unlike the beast, there was no way Thomas was going to be able to transform into his former self. How could anyone love him the way he was now? How could he trust enough in another’s love to give his heart in return? In real life, scars remained inside and outside, and people had to accept that they were forever changed.

‘Thomas?’ Lena’s brows met in concern. ‘Are you all right?’

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