The Burnout(85)

“Someone’s on our beach?” Finn adopts an expression of mock outrage. “That won’t do!”

“I know!” I join in. “Don’t they realize it’s our private, very exclusive beach?”

“Hi!” he greets the woman, who is now in earshot. She turns to stare at us, and I smile.

“Hi,” I say, but the woman barely registers me. She seems riveted by the sight of Finn.

A possessive, prickly feeling is already rising in me, and I tell myself off. It’s very uncool to be possessive. It’s also uncool to notice that she’s very pretty, with her sleek black Puffa jacket, cropped jeans exposing a hint of ankle, and bouncy ponytail.

But does she have to keep staring at him like that? Even Finn seems to have noticed.

Also—hang on. Isn’t she familiar? Now it’s my turn to stare. I’ve definitely seen her somewhere. But where?

“Finn?” For the first time she speaks, in a husky, sexy voice. “Finn Birchall?”

“Yes.” Finn looks confused. “Sorry. Do we … ?”

“Gabrielle. Gabrielle McLean. Used to be Gabrielle Withers. You don’t remember. Well, why should you?” She gives a kind of incredulous laugh. “This is so weird.”

“Remember what?”

“This.” She points to the message on the beach, and for the first time, I look down. It’s the same as when I wrote it last night. THE COUPLE ON THE BEACH, with a love heart around it. But it’s blurred now, and our mystery beach fairy has added another bouquet of flowers.

“What about it?” says Finn, and Gabrielle laughs.

“It’s us!” she says, gesturing at him, then herself. “It’s for us. It’s about us. We’re the couple.”

What?

I’m sorry … what?

I want to say, Actually, I wrote that message, but my face feels oddly paralyzed. She seems so convinced. So confident. Who is she?

Finn looks dumbstruck, and Gabrielle clearly realizes she needs to elaborate.

“Do you know a painting by Mavis Adler?” she says. “It’s called Young Love. Quite famous.”

“Ye-e-s,” says Finn warily.

And suddenly I know exactly who she is.

“You’re the girl from Young Love!” I exclaim. “I saw the newspaper cuttings. You got married to the guy you were kissing.”

“That’s the story,” she replies slowly, her eyes constantly on Finn. “That’s the story.”

There’s a silent, breathless beat—and then, in a heart-rushing swoop, everything falls into place. I know. I can see it. I can see him. His back. His head. How could I not have seen it before?

But incredibly, Finn still looks flummoxed.

“D’you remember the summer when you were fifteen?” Gabrielle addresses Finn directly. “D’you remember a beach party here? We kissed behind the rocks. Quick teenage snog.”

“Right.” Finn’s brow is crumpled, and I can tell he’s trying to recall. “Sorry, I don’t—”

“Mavis Adler was here that day,” says Gabrielle. “Painting.” She leans on the last word meaningfully, and finally I see comprehension flash into Finn’s eyes.

“It’s us?” he says, looking stunned.

“It’s us.” She nods. “We’re Young Love.”

“Jesus.” Finn breathes out. “You’re kidding. I’ve looked at that painting, what, a thousand times?” He seems dazed. “It was me all the time?”

“So why does the world think it was you and your husband?” I can’t help asking, and Gabrielle instantly looks chastened.

“That’s my fault.” She breathes out and takes a few paces away. “I was already going out with Patrick that summer.” She makes a face at Finn. “Sorry. Didn’t mention that. Anyway, Patrick and I were always snogging on the beach, and he looked pretty similar to you from the back. When the painting was launched and everyone assumed it was Patrick, I just went along with it. Mavis had no idea who we were.”

“Pretty risky gamble,” says Finn, raising his eyebrows.

“I didn’t realize the painting would end up so famous!” exclaims Gabrielle defensively. “It was only after the Tate put it in a big exhibition that it all kicked off. Patrick and I were engaged by then! I’d already said it was us; I couldn’t back down. So we ended up in the Daily Mail. Sorry,” she says to Finn again, biting her lip. “It’s been a bit of a money spinner. Personal appearances, videos, all sorts. I guess that would have been you, if I’d been honest.”

“Really.” Finn lifts his hand, looking faintly repulsed at the idea. “That’s fine. Carry on.”

“But you’re telling Finn now,” I say curiously. “Why?”

“Patrick and I are getting divorced.” Gabrielle juts out her chin. “It’s over. There’s no reason to lie anymore. That’s why I came to tell you,” she says, addressing Finn. “I’ve had enough of lying.”

“So does Patrick know it’s not him in the painting?” I can’t ask help asking.

“He does now.” She looks shamefaced. “I told him a couple of years ago, actually. He was pretty shocked. I don’t know if that’s what started our problems. Or did I tell him because I secretly knew it was over?” For a moment she’s silent, and I see a mix of emotions pass across her face. “Anyway, that’s what this is.” She points at the message in the sand. “It’s fans. I’ll show you. Mavis’s assistant takes photos every year. She calls it ‘Fan Activity.’ ” Gabrielle takes out her phone and starts searching. “You know there are Young Love tours to Rilston?”