Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 48

It was the best meal she’d ever eaten in her life.
The cool wine and the hot sun were making Polly feel sleepy. She rolled over and grabbed one of the apples from the picnic bag. As she bit into it, she caught Tarnie looking at her. Something in the atmosphere shifted.
‘Apple?’ she said.
He blinked for a moment. ‘Er, no thanks.’ He looked away. Then he looked at her again. ‘Um,’ he said.
Polly realised immediately that Kerensa must have been right. After all, she thought, looking around her: this spot, this lunch, this day. This wasn’t just about friendship, otherwise he’d probably have brought his mates along. This was something else.
They sat in silence for a moment, then Tarnie got up and walked across the sand towards the sea.
‘I’m hot,’ he announced. Without warning, he pulled off his shirt – he was lean, slighter than Polly had expected; all sinew and tight muscle, with a couple of fine scars tracing up his side – and, leaving on his long shorts, he dived straight into the surf.
Polly watched him for a long time. He was clearly a strong swimmer and didn’t surface until she was almost starting to worry about him. Then she saw his dark head appear, like a seal, and he waved.
‘What’s it like?’ she called.
‘Refreshing,’ he shouted back.
‘That always means bloody freezing,’ she said.
‘Burk burk burk burk.’
‘Don’t make chicken noises at me!’ said Polly. She did feel hot, and a bit sticky. ‘You’re not meant to swim after a meal anyway. Or did they disprove that?’
‘Burk burk burk.’
Before she realised what she was doing, she ducked back into the wood and slipped on the cherry-print vintage swimsuit she’d bought online back in the days when buying nice things was simply the kind of thing one did for fun. She wished she had a mirror. On second thoughts, she was glad she didn’t. She would only start picking faults and worrying, and she hadn’t exposed her skin all winter, so of course she was going to be pale. For those reasons too she decided that the best thing to do was just take a run into the sea, charging towards it before she had the chance to consider it and change her mind.
It was not refreshing. It was not even cold. It was absolutely bloody arctic.
‘EEK!’ screeched Polly, feeling her insides constrict as she splashed about in agony. ‘What IS this?’
Tarnie burst out laughing. It was strange to see him so relaxed; he was bobbing up and down on his back quite happily.
‘You get used to it,’ he said. ‘A bit of cold water never hurt anyone.’
‘Yes it does! All the time!’ yelled back Polly, the shock still deep in her lungs. She dived under again. The water was miraculously clear out here, practically Mediterranean. She felt a fish nudge her leg and managed not to squeal.
Finally she felt herself getting used to the water. She surfaced next to Tarnie. The sun felt delicious as she lay on her back and waggled her hands to stay afloat.
‘Well this is lovely,’ she said, smiling.
Tarnie looked at her. His eyes were suddenly very blue, his teeth very white. And it seemed like the easiest thing in the world to bob a little closer to him, to close her eyes to the sun and the bright blue sky; to let him pull her in and kiss her.
It had been the contrasts: the warmth of the sun and the coldness of the water; the roughness of his beard and the softness of her skin; the freshness of the open air and the closeness of being with someone again after so long, someone new, and exciting, and different.
All the way back in the boat, Polly lay replete, slightly giggly, a little sleepy, feeling quite unlike herself. She was in the front, facing him. Occasionally they would share a smile, a glance. Otherwise she trailed her hand once again in the water, just enjoyed the lovely sense of being in her own body, in her own time; not worrying about the future or dreaming about the past, or distracting herself with daily chores, but simply, truly being and feeling. The sun was starting to sink and a few of the clouds were tinged with pink. She was happy, she realised. She was happy.
The boys were already loading up the sloop when they puttered gently back into Polbearne harbour. There was enough good-natured waving and cheering for Polly to realise they were both going to be the object of some ribbing. Tarnie had gone pink too, not just from the sun.
‘Ach,’ he said, grinning at her by way of apology.
‘I’m guessing you can’t come back?’ she said, boldly.
‘I have to work,’ he said. He gently put out his rough, calloused hand and stroked her face. She nestled into it.
‘Soon, though,’ he said, his intense blue eyes meeting hers.
‘Soon,’ she whispered.
‘HELLO,’ said Jayden, helping her off the boat. ‘DID YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY?’
‘All right, Jay, settle down,’ said Tarnie gruffly.
They looked at each other.
‘Um, thank you for a lovely day,’ said Polly.
Tarnie stared at the ground.
‘Er, it was my pleasure,’ he said. Then in front of all the boys, he leant in and kissed her gently on the cheek. Blushing, Polly retreated with her wicker basket.
‘You did what?’ said Kerensa. ‘On an ISLAND? Oh GOD, I am so jealous.’
‘Why don’t you go out with one of the millions of people who ask you out all the time?’
‘Because I have standards,’ said Kerensa. ‘Oh God, I didn’t mean that the way it came out.’
‘You SO did,’ said Polly. She was sitting with her feet up on her window ledge, sipping a beer, watching the sun going down and feeling ridiculously contented. ‘But that’s okay, because today I don’t mind.’
‘Because you have the sex hormones making you crazy.’
‘I don’t feel crazy,’ said Polly. ‘I feel good.’
‘That’s their secret,’ said Kerensa. ‘That’s what they do.’
Polly rolled her eyes. ‘I thought you were the one telling me to get back on the horse.’
‘That’s true.’
Polly remembered something.
‘Oh, that little American bloke is in love with you.’
‘HA,’ said Kerensa. ‘Well tell him from me he’s disgusting.’
‘You know he’s incredibly rich.’
‘Oh well, let me whore myself out to someone I don’t like for money,’ said Kerensa. ‘Thanks for the wonderful advice.’