I shoot an awkward glance at Finn, who looks equally nonplussed. It seems like ages ago that we were so prickly at having to share the beach.
“It’s not the hugest priority to be apart …” I begin tentatively, just as Finn says, “I wouldn’t say it’s essential …”
“It’s no trouble!” Cassidy sweeps away our protestations. “We pride ourselves on the personal touch at the Rilston. We want to make our guests as happy as we can, and obviously for you two that means being as separate as possible!” She beams at me. “If you’ll follow me, Ms. Worth? Nikolai will be here presently; he’s just assisting Simon with a very small emergency relating to a fox discovered living in one of the bedrooms.”
Immediately I glance at Finn and have to clamp my lips shut, trying not to laugh.
“I can see how that might not be optimal,” says Finn gravely. “Bon appetit,” he adds to me.
I follow Cassidy over the creaking, carpeted floor to my usual table, which now seems several miles away from Finn’s. As I pass the Wests, I smile at them, and Mrs. West nods once, then looks away, her jaw tight. Mr. West doesn’t seem able to move at all. He looks rigid with wretchedness. Feeling awkward at witnessing such misery, I sit down at my marooned little table, then wave at Finn, who is sitting down at his own little table. A thought occurs to me and I get out my phone to text him.
I feel like we’re doing an exam!!!
Almost at once his response comes back:
IKR? Though if they didn’t want us cheating they should have taken our phones, suckers.
I grin appreciatively, then open the menu, which is familiar to me from room service. There doesn’t seem to be anything extra available except Chef’s Special: saddle of lamb for two people.
That actually sounds pretty good. After a moment’s thought, I get out my phone and text Finn again:
You want to go halves on the saddle of lamb?
It doesn’t take long for his answer to arrive:
Excellent idea.
I give him a thumbs-up, and he lifts his glass to me in reply. No sign of Nikolai yet. I guess the fox is resisting its eviction.
At the table in the center, the Wests are conversing in curt, hostile whispers. Occasionally, they break off to sweep a glance round the room as though checking whether they’re being overheard, and I studiously start looking at my phone, just to indicate that I’m not interested. I search for Kettle Cove, just to check they haven’t closed it or anything, then click on Surrounding Attractions.
“It’s not just the sex!” Mrs. West’s voice rises in distress, and I feel a wave of embarrassment. Okaaay. Do not look their way. I tilt my head even more ostensibly toward my phone screen, trying to indicate, I am far too engrossed in my googling to hear your marital dispute.
And actually, this page I’m on is quite engrossing. It turns out there’s a new zip wire near Kettle Cove, and I read the description with a sudden yearning to try it out. Experience the exhilarating ride of your lifetime as you fly over Kettle Cove, with stunning speed and spectacular views.
I watch the video on mute, feeling a vicarious thrill as a woman in a harness whizzes along a high wire, above a stretch of sparkling water. Not only does this sound amazing, it’s also on my 20 Steps list. STEP 11. SEEK ADVENTURE. JOLT YOUR BODY WITH A BLAST OF ADRENALINE. BUNGEE JUMP, ZIP-WIRE, OR JUST GO SEE A SCARY MOVIE. ANYTHING TO BLAST YOUR SENSES ALIVE.
I could do with blasting my senses alive. On impulse, I get to my feet and head across the dining room to Finn’s table, smiling awkwardly at the Wests as I pass their table. They’ve lapsed into silence now. Mrs. West is folding and refolding her napkin, her thin hands trembling, while Mr. West is gazing resolutely upward, as though fascinated by the ceiling moldings.
“You came to visit!” Finn exclaims as I approach. “Welcome to this side of the room.”
“Very nice,” I say, gazing around as though in admiration. “Now, look at this zip wire I’ve found. It’s right by Kettle Cove.”
Finn studies the page, his eyes widening as he plays the video.
“Awesome!” he says at last. “Is it open?”
“I’ll check. If it is, shall I get tickets?”
“Yes! Let’s do it.”
I head back to my table, trying to tiptoe over the creaky floor as I go past the Wests’ silent table.
“Sorry,” I murmur, although I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for, and Mrs. West gives me a tight half smile.
A few moments later, Finn gets up from his table and comes over to mine. Unlike me, he doesn’t seem remotely concerned about the Wests, who are still in their stony, wretched silence. He strides confidently across the floor, making a thunderous series of creaking sounds, and greets me in a resounding voice.
“OK, additional plan. What about cream tea afterward? Or are you too health-conscious for a cream tea?”
“No!” I say, laughing. “I have to have a cream tea at least once while I’m in Devon. It’s the law.”
“Well, exactly,” says Finn. “It’s compulsory. I’ll see if there’s anywhere near Kettle Cove, shall I?”
“I think we went a few times to somewhere called The Tea Kettle?”
“Yes. I know that place. I’ll see if they’re still open. And when Nikolai shows up, I’ll order the saddle of lamb for us both.” He salutes me, then strides back to his place.
A moment later, it occurs to me that we should order some side dishes. I leap up, and I’m trying to make my way unobtrusively across the room, picking my way over the creaky floorboards, when Mrs. West gives such an obvious huff of annoyance that I pause.
“Sorry if I’m disturbing you,” I say humbly. “I just wanted to ask my friend something else.”
“I have an idea: Why don’t you have our table and we’ll go and sit at yours?” says Mrs. West in short, brittle tones. “It’s not as if we’ve got anything to say to each other, and it’ll save you two getting up and down all the time.” She starts to gather her bag and scarf, while I watch in consternation.
“Hayley!” exclaims Mr. West.
“Well, it’s true,” she says, her eyes suddenly glittering with tears. “What have we got to talk about?”
“You’re being ridiculous,” he mutters.
“We came here to rescue things. How is sitting in silence rescuing things?”
“Well, what am I meant to say?” Mr. West bursts out miserably. “Sorry for everything I’ve ever done, since before I knew you? I’ve said I’m sorry, Hayley. I can’t say it anymore.”
“You say it, but you don’t mean it!” she answers shrilly, then claps a tissue over her face.
“I don’t know what I mean anymore,” says Mr. West in heavy tones. “I’ve lost the will to live.” He gestures roughly at Finn and me. “I don’t care if they hear it.”
He strides out of the room and Hayley stares after him, her face getting pinker and pinker—then she gives a gasp and follows him. A moment later I hear her calling, “Ade! Adrian!”
For a few moments, neither Finn nor I move. Eventually, cautiously, I turn to face him.