Finn and I exchange glances.
“Is that an upgrade?” asks Finn. “Didn’t you always used to get a torch?”
“The torches have been upgraded,” says Neil without flickering. “Long-life batteries. Hardly ever run out anymore.”
“Gotcha,” says Finn, his mouth twitching. “Sounds excellent.” He glances at me. “Shall we?”
Two minutes later, Finn and I are descending the steep stone steps into the caverns, both in hard hats and carrying torches. My earphones are playing a kind of eighties synthesizer music, and as we reach the bottom of the staircase, a voice intones in my ears.
“Welcome to the ancient, mysterious world that is … Stenbottom Caves!”
It’s Neil’s voice, I realize at once. He sounds like someone playing a wizard in Dungeons & Dragons and has obviously turned up the REVERB button to the max. There’s a series of plinky-plonky electronic notes, then he declaims, “I am the Cavemaster!” and I giggle before I can stop myself.
I glance at Finn, who mouths, “Cavemaster?” with such a funny expression that I giggle again.
I press STOP and say, “I’m not sure I need the sound experience.”
“Ditto.” Finn presses STOP too, then sweeps his torch around the rocky space. “Quite cool, though, isn’t it? I’d forgotten.”
I’d forgotten too. As we make our way along the narrow paths into the first big cavern, I feel a kind of awe that I never did as a child. It’s so old. It’s so spectacular. It’s so huge. There are rock formations on either side of me, jutting up in weird and wonderful shapes. Above us, the pale limestone is iridescent, and as I flash my torchlight over it, the surface glitters.
I mean, fair enough. This is a magical illumination experience.
Finn is silent, just looking around, and I’m grateful. I was nervous he might turn out to be the type that lectures, but he hasn’t said a word. For what seems like ages, we just stand there, taking in the view. After a while I can feel my breathing slow down. My brain seems to be clearing. I’m too busy looking at the weird and wonderful rocky shapes to think about anything else. Maybe, finally, I’m communing with nature.
After a long while, as though we’re psychic, we both move forward, picking our way along another narrow path into the Rainbow Cave. This is the best cavern of all, no question. The rock is pink and yellow and forms little basins, into which flows spring water. It’s like a mermaid’s grotto. As I look around the colorful, shining space, I can’t help emitting a happy sigh, and Finn grins.
“It’s quite something,” he says.
“I came here every year,” I say. “But I don’t think I ever realized how special it was.”
“Same. You don’t, when you’re a kid.”
“And no one else here!” I spread my arms around the echoing cave. “This always used to be chocka during the summer. Everyone taking photos.”
“Off-season.” Finn shrugs.
“I like off-season.”
I perch on a metal bench and lean back, watching a stream of rose-tinted water trickle endlessly into a rocky pool. After a moment, Finn sits down too, on the only other bench, on the opposite side of the cave. Again we’re both silent for a while, and I gradually realize that it feels comfortable. We couldn’t share the beach, but we can share this cave.
“I took that bottle of champagne from the beach,” Finn says after a while. “Just so no one cuts themselves.”
“Really?” I sit up.
“Health and safety.” His eyes gleam. “Or maybe I didn’t want anyone pinching it.”
“So you pinched it.”
“No one else has claimed it.” He shrugs. “So I reckon it’s ours.”
“It’s not ours!” I try to sound indignant, but I can’t help smiling, and he grins back.
“I think we should drink it. I’m just putting it out there. We should drink it tonight.”
I don’t reply at once, because I don’t want to capitulate. But maybe he has a point. If we don’t drink it, who else is going to?
After a while, as though by mutual agreement, we move on again, winding our way through the Cave of Statues, the Waterfall Cave, and at last back up the five thousand steps, or whatever it is, to the surface.
“I’m so unfit!” I gasp, as I emerge at the top of the staircase.
“That’s what they all say!” Neil’s cheerful voice hails me. “Enjoy it, did you? Mention us on Tripadvisor, won’t you?”
“I loved it,” I say sincerely. “I’ll give you a five-star review.”
“It was great,” says Finn, arriving at the top of the stone steps behind me. “Tremendous sound. Very atmospheric.”
“Ah well.” Neil looks delighted. “Got to be creative, haven’t you? Now, before you leave, have you seen our new Mystery Grotto?” He ushers us toward a small stone wishing well. “Tessa, why don’t you introduce the Mystery Grotto? It’s a fundraising venture, really,” he adds confidingly. “Save Our Caves!”
A moment later, Tessa lets herself out of the wooden booth and approaches us, looking awkward.
“Welcome to the Mystery Grotto,” she says in a tiny voice, staring at the ground. “Simply throw a donation into the grotto, write down a question you want answered, and the Grotto Spirit will inspire you with the answer.” She hands each of us a slip of paper and nods at a nearby pot of pencils.
“Here’s some cash.” I put a fiver in the grotto. “But I don’t know what to write.”
“Just a bit of fun!” Neil calls over from the booth. “Write anything! I wrote, ‘Why do I always lose my socks in the machine?’ Still haven’t had the answer, though!”
As I stare at the slip of paper, a series of questions runs through my mind, none of which I can possibly write down. I glance over at Finn, and he seems equally perplexed by the task. But then suddenly his face clears.
“I have it!” he says, and grabs a pencil. “I have the perfect question. In fact, the only question: ‘Who does the champagne really belong to?’ ” he reads aloud as he carefully prints. He drops the slip of paper in the wishing well, then winks at me. “If we get an answer by five, we pass the bottle to its rightful owner. If not, we drink it.”
At 5 P.M., I receive a text from Finn, the first since we exchanged numbers at the caves.
No answer to the riddle. Champagne on the beach? I even have glasses. （Plastic.）
I find myself smiling as I read the words and quickly pull on my anorak. I hesitate, wondering if I should put on some lipstick or something—then abandon the idea. There’s no one to see me except Finn. And I’ll only have to take it off again when I go to bed.
He’s already down on the sand when I arrive. The sea is a shimmering navy and the sun is glowing pinkly behind a bank of clouds on the horizon. Above us, the sky is deepening in color, minute by minute.
“Wow,” I say, as I take a seat beside him. “Sunset.”
“Nice one,” says Finn, nodding, and pours me a glass of champagne. “Cheers.”