Page 53 of Finding Love at the Magical Curiosity Shop
‘Once a week during the summer holidays, we run an evening for our young guests to meet and socialise. This week, we’ve got a film screening ofSplashin one of the function rooms, and there will be snacks and games and prizes. It’s only five pounds, and it’ll give Mum and Dad a chance for somepeace and quieton their holidays too. Dinner out, a romantic walk on the beach…’
She puts an intonation on the words that suggests ‘peace and quiet’ is very much a euphemism and I quickly say, ‘Oh, we’re not?—’
‘We’ve got a few teens staying at the moment.’ She ignores my correction. ‘And eighties movies are retro-cool, so I’m told. There’s a candyfloss machine and you can pop your own popcorn!’
‘That sounds ah-maze-zing! Can I go, Dad?’
He shrugs, looking like he’s not really sure what’s happening. ‘Sure, if you want to. Mickey and I will…’
‘…go mermaid hunting?’ I suggest, which is definitelynota euphemism. ‘I want to know what I saw splashing in the harbour last night. Even if it was a dolphin, I’ve never seen a dolphin in real life before.’
Ava looks torn for a split second, but at that moment, a teenage boy walks past with his parents and from the look on her face, he’s the hottest teenage boy she’s ever seen, and as Caryl waves them over and accosts them with a flyer too, she yanks Ren’s arm enthusiastically, obviously hoping the boy will be roped into teen night too.
‘Fine, fine.’ He gets the money out of his wallet and hands it to Caryl. ‘But if that candyfloss gives you a sugar rush that keeps you awake all night, you can sleep in the hallway and I’ll have yourcomfortableside of the bed.’
‘Nothing could be better than the ice cream Mickey bought me! It wasmountainous!’
‘Was it indeed?’ Ren ruffles her hair and she tells him off for messing it up after the hairdresser has straightened it, and then he grins at me. ‘See? You can always rely on this one to drop you right in it. There are no secrets with a thirteen-year-old about.’
* * *
‘We’re not really hunting for mermaids, are we?’
Far from the romantic meal for two that Caryl implied, Ren and I have had fish and chips on the seafront while Ava is at her teen night, and after sitting and watching the lights of the boats in the harbour for a while, now I’ve dragged him down onto the sand for a walk further around the coast, leaving the harbour and the hotel behind us as our toes squidge into wet sand and the edge of the waves lap at our feet.
‘There’s no harm in seeing what we can see. You saw something from the window last night too.’
‘Isaw a dolphin playing. The issue is that not everyone agrees.’ He glances over at me. ‘However, there’s no harm in walking on the beach with you. It’s actually quite a pleasant way to spend an evening.’
I can’t help giggling at how formal he sounds, and it seems like a good time to bring up something I keep thinking about. ‘Speaking of doing things with me, this is the first chance I’ve had to ask you – the old man on the bench – why didn’t you correct him when he assumed we were a family? Or, more specifically, why did you go out of your way tonotcorrect him?’
‘And there was me hoping you hadn’t noticed that.’ He looks at me with a raised eyebrow, and then shakes his head and looks back out to sea. ‘I don’t know. I liked it. I liked the thought of someone believing that a livewire like you would look twice at an old curmudgeon like me.Iwanted to believe it too, just for a moment.’
‘Curmudgeon, really?’ I look at him curiously. ‘I didn’t realise people still used words like that in this land of the twenty-first century.’
He laughs, but I can tell he’s trying to put a jokey spin on something that there’s a hint of truth behind. His ex made him feel inadequate for enjoying a quiet life, and when he says things like that, it emphasises how deeply those scars run.
‘Firstly, you’re only forty-one, you haven’t reached curmudgeon status yet, and secondly, looktwiceat you? I can barelystoplooking at you. You must have noticed that…’
His eyes are twinkling with mischief as they flick up to look at me again, but he doesn’t give me a proper response. Instead, he says, ‘I also wanted an excuse to put my arm around you.’
‘You don’t need an excuse for that.’ I hold out the hand that’s not carrying my shoes and he tangles our fingers together, and then I lift our joined hands so his arm loops over my head and settles around my shoulders, and he squeezes me closer to him, and then leans over to rest his head against mine for a moment. He rubs his chin against the top of my head so his stubble catches on the dark roots of my hair, and I breathe in his subtle orangey aftershave with every step, but he doesn’t try to put any space between us, and every so often, his fingers give mine a little squeeze, and I can’t remember the last time anything felt as nice as this feels.
We’ve walked far enough away from the town that it’s absolutely silent this far down the beach, and it feels like we could be the only two people on the planet, and I’m enjoying every moment of simplybeingwith him.
‘Look at that.’ His voice is rough when he goes to speak after being quiet for so long. He disentangles our fingers and bends down to collect something from amongst the seaweed gathered at the tideline, and when he stands back up, he’s holding a beautiful pearly white conch shell. He holds it out to me, clearly remembering what I said so many weeks ago about how my dad and I used to speak into them, like Mum really was a mermaid and could hear us somehow.
He nods encouragingly when I don’t take it from him. My eyes have filled up at his thoughtfulness and if I release my lip from where it’s held between my teeth, it’s likely to unleash a swell of tears, and I see the moment he realises, closes his hand into a fist and hides the shell inside, and then holds his arms open, silently asking if he can hug me. When I nod, his arms encircle me from behind and tug me back against his chest without a word, and it feels like he’s giving me a moment and protecting me from the rest of the world while I take deep breaths and force myself not to cry again, although I’m not sure if it’s the memories of my mum, or if it’s the sheer gentle kindness of this gorgeous man.
Eventually I cover his hand with mine and open his fingers and he lets the conch shell drop into my palm. I brush my fingers over it and then hold it up to my mouth and whisper ‘I miss you’ into the opening, and then I step out of his arms so I can throw it as hard as I can and watch it plop back into the ocean, far out in the waves. ‘I like to think she’s still out there somewhere. I feel like she is sometimes.’
I stand with the waves lapping over my toes and he comes to stand beside me. He doesn’t say anything, but I appreciate the calm, reassuring presence of his height next to me, and without a word, his fingers tangle with mine and he squeezes my hand, and then holds it, his thumb brushing my skin, and we stand there, right at the edge of the waves, looking out at the ocean, for an endless time, and he makes me feel like nothing is more important than just appreciating nature and the magnificence of the ocean. ‘It feels like we’re listening for the sound of mermaids singing.’
‘Maybe we are.’
I glance up at him, but he keeps looking forwards and his face doesn’t give away whether he’s joking or not, but it doesn’t feel like he is.
It’s darker when we walk off again, and more glittering lights have come on in the houses on the shore. Boats are heading into the harbour behind us, making it look like the ocean itself is sparkling with moving fireflies, and the summer breeze rustles through the grasses on the dunes.
