As the sun began to dip on the horizon the others strolled up to the beach shack with its strings of white lights glowing against the pink-tinted sky and the sardines sizzling on the grill. Everyone except Amy, and even Graham, had had a go on the skimboard in the shallows. Everyone falling over. Rosie the closest to mastering it. People had started gathering on the beach now, building a bonfire for the full-moon party. Music drifted up from the sand backed by the melodic crash of the waves. The evening yoga practise was coming to an end up on the hill, all of them standing tall like silhouettes of trees reaching for the dusky sky.
Gus and Amy were at the bar. Sonny was playing pinball. Jack, Stella, and Graham were talking.
Graham was sitting back, relaxing into being with the family, ankle crossed over his knee, greying curls a bit wild from the sea salt. ‘You know the Pemberton farm is for sale,’ he said to Jack. ‘If you’re looking to change jobs for good.’
Gus came over, plonking a tray of beer bottles down on the table. ‘Don’t do it. A farm is a nightmare.’
‘I reckon I could be a farmer,’ Jack said, rolling his shoulders, testing it out for size. ‘Get a dog. I like tractors.’
Stella frowned but didn’t say anything, just listened.
Rosie was hovering by Sonny at the pinball machine, hopping up and down for her turn.
‘You’re chained to a farm,’ Gus added, picking up his beer. ‘You have to be there all the time to make sure everything’s OK. And get up at four.’
‘Oh no, I wouldn’t like that,’ Jack backpedalled.
Stella held in a smile. Amy appeared with her tomato juice and a small colourful bowl of olives.
‘Or what about a pub?’ Graham asked.
At that point Moira arrived, trotting down the wooden steps, fresh from yoga and a little glammed up in white jeans and an off-the-shoulder striped top. ‘The Coach and Horses is for sale,’ she said, picking up the thread of the conversation as she came to the table.
‘You took the words out my mouth,’ said Graham, immediately standing up to get her a chair, clearly trying to be on his best behaviour.
Moira settled herself down like a movie star, relishing the attention.
‘A pub!’ Jack sat up straight. ‘I like that.’
‘Stella’s not going to live in a pub!’ Amy laughed, popping an olive into her mouth.
Stella shrugged, poker-faced, taking a sip of beer. ‘I’d think about it,’ she said, while inside itching to shout, ‘This is ludicrous!’ But she had sworn to herself she wouldn’t take control and bulldoze any of Jack’s ideas.
‘It’d be fun,’ said Jack. ‘We’d be near the sea, the kids could go to the village school, it’d be perfect.’
Sonny swung round horrified from the pinball machine. ‘I don’t want to go to the village school. I like my school. Mum, tell him we’re not going to the village school!’
They all looked at Stella, who was peeling the label off her beer. ‘I’m not telling him anything. He can do what he likes. Although’ —she paused, unable to stay out of it completely, however hard she was trying— ‘I’m not sure I want to move to the country. I like the city.’
Jack looked at her, beer bottle paused at his lips, first with surprise that she was being so amenable, then with a smile. ‘Me too,’ he said.
‘Me too!’ said Sonny with relief.
Jack sighed. ‘So, what am I going to do?’
‘Do you know, darling, you could start by ordering me a G&T,’ Moira chimed in, still perfectly poised on her chair. ‘If you wouldn’t mind.’
Jack frowned as if that was not the answer he was looking for.
Moira raised a brow. ‘Well, you’re the one who wanted to work in a pub.’
Graham guffawed. Moira looked very pleased with herself.
Jack hauled himself up, despondent, and went over to the bar with his beer.
Stella slipped away after him, leaving Amy sharing cringing looks with Gus over the table about her parents.
The sun was setting now, the waves a strip of white against a vermilion horizon, the sky above still glowing blue. More people had gathered over by the water, building up the bonfire with armfuls of sun-dried wood.
Stella sat on a bar stool next to Jack, their knees touching. She tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘Jack, a rebellion doesn’t mean you have to change completely. It’s just a pause to find out what you really love.’
Jack looked at her. ‘But what do I really love?’ he said.
‘Well, that’s what you have to think about rather than clutching at bizarre ideas offered by my father. Have fun with it. Work out what you enjoy.’
He nodded.
Stella looked back towards the table where the waiter was setting out candles, everyone illuminated in the flickering dusk. Her mum and dad were laughing at something Gus was saying. Amy was gesticulating about something. Rosie was trying to beg a euro for the pinball off anyone who was willing to spare her some cash. Graham dug in his pocket and gave her a handful of change.
Stella shook her head. ‘I don’t know about the Marriage MOT but it’s certainly been a Family MOT.’
Jack glanced to where she was looking, then back at her. ‘What do you mean? I think we were pretty tremendous with our MOT. Look at us, all good as new. Discovered the brake pads were in order.’
‘Jack, please!’ Stella shook her head at the dreadful analogy.
‘What was next on the list?’ he asked.
‘I’m meant to pretend to be your mistress.’
Jack almost choked. ‘Are you serious? How exciting.’
‘Don’t get your hopes up, it’s never going to happen,’ Stella said. ‘I’m just going to make the whole article up I think. It’s easier.’
Jack frowned. ‘That’s a shame.’ The waiter brought over the G&T. Jack was about to stand up when he paused and said, ‘What would it take for you to pretend to be my mistress?’
‘Deadly.’
Stella thought for a while. ‘You have sex with me in that field, I’ll pretend to be your mistress.’
Jack winced.
‘What – you actually want to do it?’ he said, a touch taken aback.
Stella rolled her eyes. ‘Jesus Christ, Jack.’
‘Oh right. Wow.’ Jack stared at the G&T on the bar a little petrified. Then he seemed to warm to the idea. ‘OK. Let’s do it. May as well go the whole hog with this rebellion.’
It was Stella’s turn to look terrified. ‘Really?’
Jack narrowed his eyes. ‘You don’t want to.’
‘Yes, I do.’
He laughed. ‘No you don’t.’
‘OK, maybe I don’t actually want to have sex in a field. I suppose I just wanted you to want to have sex with me in a field.’
Jack looked bemused. ‘Stella, if you want to have sex in a field, I’ll have sex in a field,’ he said. ‘Personally, I’d just prefer it in a fancy country hotel that we could book into instead.’
‘That’s not very rock and roll, though, is it.’
‘Stella,’ Jack reached forward and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Who are you trying to impress with this? We’ve never been rock and roll. Ten years of marriage hasn’t changed that,’ he laughed, shaking his head at her, then he picked up the G&T and stood. ‘Look, this MOT thing was good. It brought us back to us. But I’m sorry to say, I’m proud that I have never had sex in a field and never will be someone who has sex in a field.’
Stella nodded, resigned to agreement.
Jack walked away. Then almost immediately he came back. ‘But if you still want to, I will. If it would make you happy.’
Stella shook her head. ‘No, it’s fine.’
‘Phew!’ Jack did a mock swipe of his brow and went to join the others, delivering Moira her G&T.
Stella stayed at the bar a little longer. Sipping her beer, looking out at the last of the sun patterning the water and the waves as they crashed and frothed on the shore.
Suddenly Jack was back. ‘Now I feel like a real fuddy-duddy,’ he said. ‘Come with me—’ Grabbing her hand he dragged her off past the bar, in the opposite direction to her family, and down onto the darkened beach.
‘What are we doing?’ Stella asked, a little breathless.
‘What do you think? We’re having sex on the beach.’
‘Oh God!’ Stella was laughing as he pulled them behind a huge rocky enclave. ‘Who are you trying to impress, Jack?’
‘You, Stella,’ he said. ‘Always you.’