“Becoming a nun.” He gives a short, sharp laugh. “Interesting choice. What about … ?” From the upswing in his voice, I know exactly what he’s referring to.
“Sex?” I turn my head briefly. “I’m off sex. Not a problem.”
“Right,” he says after a long-ish pause. “Got it.”
Of course he’s got it. He read my “song lyrics.”
There’s another weird-feeling pause, in which I digest the fact that I have revealed to this guy the most intimate details of my life. On a beach. When I hardly know him.
But somehow I’m not freaked out. Finn feels safe and trustworthy. And most important, he gets it. He knows how I feel. Just to meet someone who’s been through something similar is such a relief.
“So the nun thing didn’t work out?” he inquires.
“They wouldn’t have me.” Suddenly I see the funny side of it and start laughing. “Our empowerment and well-being officer came to fetch me, and I was running away from her when I bumped my head on a brick wall and ended up in hospital.”
“She did her job properly, then,” says Finn, “the well-being officer.”
“You should have seen her chasing me down the street.” I collapse into fresh paroxysms. “She thought I was losing it. I mean, she was right.” I shrug, wiping my eyes. “I was losing it. So anyway, I’m in disgrace.”
“Same,” he says with feeling. “Definitely in disgrace.”
“The two disgraces.” I clink my champagne flute against his, and we both sip again.
“I thought maybe you’d had a bad breakup,” says Finn.
“I suppose I broke up with my work.” I consider. “No, it wasn’t a breakup. It was a big row. We’re still not speaking.”
“Huh.” Finn nods. “But at least you managed not to slam down your coffee cup and alienate all your colleagues.” He looks bleak again. “I think back to how I behaved and I just … I’m like, ‘Was that me?’ ”
“Maybe I didn’t shout, but I bought the same supper from Pret A Manger for five months straight,” I confess. “Every single night. I couldn’t even deal with choosing food, let alone cooking it.”
“Really?” He looks amused. “What did you buy? Wait, I’ll guess. Something hot. A panini.”
“Close. Halloumi and falafel wrap, choc bar, apple, bircher muesli, drink.” I reel off my order. “Every night.”
“Nice.” He pauses a beat. “No kale smoothie?”
“Stop it!” I laugh. “I told you, that’s my mum. She thinks I can transform myself with an app.”
Finn raises his eyebrows. “Some app.”
“I’ll show you,” I say, getting out my phone. I find the picture of Wetsuit Girl and the banner 20 Steps to a Better You. “My aim is to be her,” I explain.
Finn surveys Wetsuit Girl for a while, then frowns. “Why do you want to be her?”
“Because look at her!”
“I’m looking at her.” Finn shrugs. “Still don’t get it.”
“I’m fixated by her,” I admit, taking the phone back from him. “I want to be her, but I slightly hate her too. I bet she doesn’t have a single unanswered email in her inbox. I bet she wakes up with a calm smile on her face and thinks, ‘Which dolphin shall I swim with today?’ ” Abruptly I realize how negative I’m sounding. “I shouldn’t bitch about her,” I add apologetically.
“Why not?” says Finn. “Bitch away. I’ll start. I think she looks like a nightmare. She looks like the kind of woman I thought you were when I first saw you. Sanctimonious and kind of glib. I mean, twenty steps. Really? Why twenty, for a start? Why not nineteen?” He nods at the app. “Is any of this stuff working?”
“Some,” I say, a bit defensively. “I did some squats. Is drinking six bottles of whisky a day working?”
“Touché,” says Finn, after a pause. “Give me time, I’ll let you know.”
“Well, I’ll let you know about the kale smoothie. If I manage to drink any of it.” I raise my eyes heavenward. “It’s vile.”
“Knew it!” says Finn triumphantly. “What else is on the list?”
I hand him my phone, and he reads through the steps.
“I mean, you could do all this,” he says as he reaches the end. “Or you could, you know, enjoy yourself. You’re on holiday, right? Here to have fun?”
“I guess so.” I look around the darkening beach and laugh. “Maybe I should make a sandcastle.”
“Now you’re talking.” Finn sits up with enthusiasm. “That’s what beaches are for. Building sandcastles.”
“And rock castles,” I say, remembering. “We always used to make rock castles at Kettle Cove—have you ever been?”
“Went every year.” He nods. “We had a checklist of things to do.”
“Same!” I say eagerly. “Caves, surfing, cream tea … fish and chips?” I look at him.
“Of course fish and chips! Who doesn’t have fish and chips on holiday?”
My mind is suddenly filled with a memory of eating fish and chips, sitting on the wall outside the fish shop, swinging my legs, and looking down proudly at my new red sandals. I must have been, what, ten? I was with my family, I had saltwater in my hair, the sun was warm, and there were chips. Life was bliss. It was actual bliss.
Was that being here, or was it just being ten years old?
“Can you ever get childhood levels of happiness back?” I say, staring out at the water. “Could we ever be as happy as we were here as kids?”
“Good question,” says Finn, after a long pause. “I hope so. Maybe not exactly the same kind of happiness, but …” He shrugs. “I would hope so.”
“I hope so too.”
It’s so dark now, I can only just catch the gleam of his eyes, the pale line of his teeth in the moonlight. It’s getting cold too, and I shiver. For a moment I wonder whether to suggest we go and eat supper together in the dining room … but no. Too much.
“This has been lovely, but I’m going to go now,” I say instead. “I have an appointment with room service and a long bath.”
“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.