Page 31 of Escape to Starshine Cove
“You may be right,” he answers. “Anyway, I hear you’ve been busy.”
“Ah. Word has spread, has it? It was a pretty intense situation, have to admit. I think I’m a bit better at intense than meditating.”
“And how are you feeling now? Did it…”
He trails off, frowning, and I take a guess at what he was about to say: “You want to say ‘trigger me’ don’t you?”
“I do! But I’m worried that makes me sound like I’m 15 and making a TikTok video. I might start talking about journeys and feelings next and then I’d hate myself for all eternity.”
I laugh, and shake my head. “No, it didn’t, actually. I mean, I wish it hadn’t happened, for that poor man’s sake. But I’m glad I was there, and I’m glad I was able to help. It actually made me feel…useful.”
“Well, you’ve definitely become a legend round here. Booking into Starshine Cove for a week, casually winning hearts and saving lives – Connie will live off that for years! They’re probably at the meeting right now, planning to commission some kind of statue in your honour…”
“Meeting?” I say, confused. “I thought it was naked karaoke tonight?”
“Maybe later. But every other Friday, the village elders get together to discuss important matters, like which film to show at the next screening, and whether the yoga mats need replacing, and who gets to bat in Mystery Cricket.”
“Why aren’t you there, then?” I ask. “You run the Starshine Inn; that must qualify you as an elder!”
“I’m 42, thank you very much. And I am invited. I just…don’t go.”
“Why? Are you worried your inner boss man will come out, and you’ll start acting like one of those monsters who deliberately spoils other people’s sets in Monopoly?”
“I am like that when I play Monopoly, and no, that’s not the reason. Maybe it’s because I’m not quite fully assimilated yet. Maybe it’s because I’m usually busy here. Maybe it’s as simple as me being scared they’ll make me play Mystery Cricket.”
I nod, and decide I can see the logic in that. I wouldn’t fancy a faceful of jelly either.
We both sit in a comfortable silence for a while, watching Larry investigate the plant pots, looking on as the sun starts to slide slowly into the sea. I am struck by how easy this feels – how easy it is to be around this man. How easy it is to like him, to talk to him, to be myself around him. Once I’ve wrestled my libido under control, anyway.
I have spent a long time living with a man who felt like a stranger, and a month on the road talking to nobody but baristas and shop assistants. It has taken some time for me to warm up, to dare to peer into the world of others again – and Jake has been a big part of it.
“So, you have the night off?” I ask, as Larry curls up in the shade of a trellis that is covered with tumbles of sweet-smelling pink jasmine.
Jake nods, and I say: “I have a proposition for you.”
He grins, clutches his hands to his chest, and replies: “Already? But I haven’t even had one Starshine Special yet!”
“Ha! Very funny. I was wondering if I could take you out for dinner. Somewhere nice. I’m leaving in a couple of days, and I’d like to say thank you. And don’t worry, your virtue is safe.”
He looks into my eyes, and gives me such a heart-melting smile that I fear I may fall off my chair. Maybe he can read my mind after all.
“Virtue, much like normal, is over-rated,” he replies. “But yes. It’s a date.”
ChapterFifteen
We drive to the nearest big town, and enjoy a very civilised meal together in a small Italian restaurant tucked away on a cobbled side street.
Jake tells me more about his mum, and the summers he spent in Rome as a child, and I show him photos of my parents’ place in Portugal. I tell him stories from medical school, and he recounts his first steps in the business world. We talk about films and music and friends and travel. We talk about everything, and yet nothing, all at the same time. We seem to have come to an unspoken agreement to keep the mood entirely light.
Larry is back at the inn, where his blankets have been set up for him behind the bar and where he is perfectly happy receiving lots of fuss and treats. I feel like a mum having a night off from her kids, even if my kid is furry and has four legs and isn’t that demanding. Even more excitingly, I am wearing a dress.
This might not sound like very thrilling news, but it is nice to feel fancy for a change. Between the travelling and adventuring and the sun and the long hours of driving, I haven’t exactly been living like a princess recently.
That doesn’t bother me, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good to have a long bath in fancy bubbles, to blow dry my hair in a style rather than just to stop it being wet, to put on some make-up and a spritz of perfume. I don’t have high-heels with me, because they weren’t top of my priority list when I was leaving London, but I do have some nice strappy sandals. I have even painted my toenails coral pink, with varnish I found on the shelves on Trevor’s Emporium. It matches the little rosebuds on my new dress, and I feel fit for a royal wedding.
Jake has made a similar low-key effort, in a black short-sleeved shirt and a pair of smart jeans and cologne that smells of wood and spice and exotic places. I suppose, to the staff in the restaurant, we actually do look like we’re on a date.
By the time we finish up our tiramisu, I have had two glasses of red wine, and am feeling exceedingly mellow.
