The Burnout(52)

“Fair enough. I’ll stay out here awhile.” He flashes me a grin. “But don’t worry, I won’t drink any more of the champagne. I’ll stick a spoon in it, keep it fizzy for tomorrow evening.”

“OK.” I get to my feet, feeling ungainly as my trainers catch on the sand, and quite glad that it’s dark. “Well, have a good evening.”

“You too. See you tomorrow.”

I’m looking forward to seeing him, I realize. I’m actually looking forward to having company on the beach.

“Great.” I smile. “See you then.”





Twelve



The next morning, Finn is already in the dining room when I arrive for breakfast, and I give him a friendly wave as I take my seat on the opposite side of the room. Within about ten seconds, Nikolai is by my side, proffering a kale smoothie on a silver tray, and I arrange my features into an expression of delight.

“Wow! Nikolai. A kale smoothie already. That was … quick.”

Nikolai looks delighted and draws breath. “Madame would prefer—”

“Eggs,” I cut him off.

“One boiled egg?” ventures Nikolai. “And melon plate?”

“No, two scrambled eggs, please.” I smile charmingly. “Also bacon, sausages, pancakes with maple syrup, and a cappuccino, please. Don’t bother with the melon plate. That’s all,” I add, since Nikolai seems too confused to move. “Thanks!”

Looking a bit shellshocked, he writes down the order, then heads toward Finn’s table.

“Nikolai!” exclaims Finn with gusto as Nikolai approaches his table. “Good to see you this morning. I hope you’re well. I’d like the melon plate this morning. That’s all.”

“One … melon plate?” echoes Nikolai, his eyes swiveling to me and back to Finn, as though suspecting a trick.

“Exactly.” Finn nods. “And black coffee. Thanks. Detox,” he adds to me as Nikolai heads away, whereupon I raise my eyebrows sardonically.

“Detox? Or hangover cure?”

“What’s the difference?” He shoots me a wicked grin. “Enjoy your kale smoothie. It looks very … amphibian.”

“Thanks.” I smile sweetly back. “I will. So tell me something. Are you using the rock today?”

“Hmm.” Finn’s expression flickers briefly. “Depends if I get there first.”

HIs challenge is obvious, and I feel a little spike of adrenaline, mixed with an urge to giggle. I’m so getting to that rock first. The race is on.

The minute I’ve finished eating, I hurry upstairs to get ready. Finn was lingering over yet another coffee when I left the dining room, so I’m sure I’ll make it down to the beach before he does. I scrub my teeth, grab my iPad, and shove on my anorak as I’m hurrying down the corridor.

But as I reach the beach, I see that Finn is already on the deck outside his lodge. Nooo! How did he do that? Trying to be stealthy, I creep over the sand, then break into a run. At once Finn’s head jerks up—and the next moment, he’s vaulting over the railing from the deck, down onto the sand, and making for the rock.

“Mine!” I cry, sprinting toward the rock, laughing helplessly. “My rock! Get away!”

“Mine!” he exclaims with equal determination. “I got here first!”

I feel like I’m an eight-year-old playing 40–40, as I hurl myself at the rock. I fling out a hand, trying to bar Finn and simultaneously scramble to the top. Bashing my knee, I haul myself up into the hollow, crashing into it with an inelegant flop.

“Got it,” I pant. “It’s mine! I claim it!”

“Look at that!” exclaims Finn, still stuck on a lower jutting level.

“Nice try.” I narrow my eyes, not yielding an inch. “But you don’t distract me that easily. My rock.”

I’m waiting for him to launch another attack, but he seems to have given up.

“Look,” he insists. “Another message.”

“What?”

I raise my head and find myself reading a new set of words carved out on the sand and lined with stones. Next to it is a bouquet of flowers.

To the couple on the beach. Thank you. 8/18

“What the hell?” I say feebly, and move aside so Finn can join me in the hollow of the rock. “Flowers?”

“I know, right? And what does that date mean?”

“Is it art?” I say, remembering what Cassidy told us. “Is it for a new exhibition?”

“Maybe.” Finn shrugs. “But why wouldn’t we see the artist? I haven’t noticed anyone taking photos, have you?”

My leg is feeling squashed against the rock and I shift slightly, trying to think this all through. At once I notice Finn adjusting his own position so that we’re not touching, which is considerate of him.

“OK, August eighteenth. That’s a way off.” I screw up my face, thinking. “Is this about redeveloping the lodges? They’re going to be called Skyspace Beach Studios. Maybe it’s a message thanking the first customers. Or the investors? Maybe a couple on the beach put in some money?”

“You wouldn’t thank them like this,” asserts Finn, typing something on his phone.