Page 28 of Starting Over in Starshine Cove
We select a bottle and swipe a couple of glasses, and when I turn to say goodnight to Ella I swear she winks at me. Ah, I think – not too tired to scheme after all. She has learned from the master.
Zack’s room is in the top of the building and is the same one Ella stayed in when she first arrived here. I know that by day it has a spectacular view over the bay, and even at night it’s not too shabby; the moon is reflecting off the dark horizon of the sea, and the stars are putting on quite a show.
I mooch around the place as Zack uncorks the wine. He only pours himself a thimbleful, topping it up with water a bit like French parents do for their teenagers, but glugs out a full glass for me.
I take the glass, nosing at a pile of papers on the dressing table he is using as a desk. It seems to be some kind of plan, an outline of camera shots and filming locations.
“What’s this?” I say, pointing at the sheets as I sit on the chair. I’ll let him have the bed, I decide. “Work, while you’re on holiday? What happened to switching off?”
“Oh, that – would you believe me if I said it’s not really work? Or it doesn’t feel like it anyway. It’s a new concept for a show about refugees. Helping them track down lost family, telling their stories – it’s a bit of a passion project to be honest. The world feels like it’s exploding at the moment, and I wanted to try and do something different. I barely have anything to do with the day-to-day stuff now, and I miss it. One of my interns – originally from Syria – came to me with this concept, and I’m just fleshing it out. He said he wanted to show refugees as real people, not as saints and not as villains. I thought it had some potential.”
I nod and look again at the outline. I don’t understand some of the abbreviations, and the technical stuff is beyond me, but I can see the shape of what he’s trying to do – each person gets anintroductory narrative on camera, and an in-depth look at their home nation and its culture, as well as why they left.
“That sounds really great,” I say after a few sips of wine. “Bit different than some of your stuff, though.”
“I know. Nobody will be wearing a bikini or have veneers, for a start. But like I said – passion project, and early days. I was serious when I said I was considering retiring – well, not retiring, but maybe just slowing things down. Handing over some of the responsibilities and making the most of what time I’ve got left to pursue things that I actually believe in.”
“The time you’ve got left?” I say, smiling. “You’re not exactly old, Zack!”
“Well, I’m fifty-seven, which according to Marcy is round about the time I should start looking into mobility scooters and stairlifts.”
“I suppose she has a point. You’re two years older than me, and clearly ready for the knacker’s yard.”
He snorts out a laugh, and switches on his phone. I know this room gets pretty decent wifi, unlike the rest of the village, and I anticipate losing him for the next twenty minutes as he catches up on vital emails and cute kitten videos.
“I was checking out your profile,” he says after a moment. He looks up and gives me such a fabulous grin that I feel a flutter in my tummy. I am alone in a bedroom with a man who gives me butterflies. What could possibly go wrong?
I gulp down some more wine and wonder if I look as confused as I feel.
“What profile?”
“The one the girls set up for you on the dating app.”
“Oh. Right. I’d completely forgotten about that – and I can’t believe they actually did it! Crikey, what have they said about me…”
He scoots over and I sit next to him, my mind filled with disastrous possibilities. I expect something utterly embarrassing, and I’m quite taken aback when he shows me the screen. There’s a really nice picture of me, if I do say so myself, from the night we all met in London. To be fair, I look a lot more glam on it than I usually do, but it’s definitely me – I wouldn’t be catfishing anybody. My profile name is Connie666 – thank you, Sophie – and all the information is correct, and makes me sound fun and interesting. I’m not sure about her describing me as ‘pocket-sized’ though – I may be short, but it’d still need to be a pretty spacious pocket.
“See?” he says. “It’s not that bad, is it? Youarea fun-loving woman who enjoys cooking, socialising and short walks on the beach.”
“Isn’t it usually long walks on the beach?”
“Yes, so this is better – it shows you have a sense of humour.”
“Do men on these kinds of apps like a good sense of humour? Aren’t they more into, you know, boobs?”
“Well, most straight men are into boobs, there’s no denying it – but this isn’t just a hook-up thing. It’s for making friends as well as dating. A lot of people use it when they move somewhere new, or if they find themselves single, lots of reasons. I suspect your views might be a bit out of date, Mrs Llewellyn.”
“I suspect you might be right. Hang on, I’ll get into it on my phone. Sophie will have set it up with my usual password.”
“Which is?”
“None of your business, but it does involve a combination of animal noises and ice cream flavours.”
I fish out my phone and find that Sophie has also downloaded the app for me. She knows I’m not someone who pays much attention to such things – apart from occasionally messaging the kids, I mainly seem to use my phone as a watch. She’s obviously swiped it at some point and installed theIncredible World of Dating. I remind myself to be annoyed with her – once I’ve stopped being amused, at least.
“What does that little symbol mean there?” I ask, once I’m in.
“It means you’ve got messages!”
