Dev stumbled down the cliff path in the dark, which didn’t matter because he was too angry to see straight anyway. Where the hell did that bastard get off, telling Dev he knew fuck all about anything? What the fuck did he even know, with his nice family in Australia, and his sea views, and his comfortable house despite having no fucking job? Dev tried to imagine what his life would be like if for some reason he couldn’t work. He’d be living in some crummy council flat with mould climbing up the walls and shopping in food banks. Christ.
To think he’d even stopped on the way and sat on the cliffs for half an hour so he could look up narcolepsy on his phone. And the other thing, cataplexy, which luckily the search engine had auto-completed for him, because he hadn’t been certain he’d remembered it right. He’d tried, all right?
Unlike some privileged bastards who didn’t even know how lucky they were.
Christ, he wished Mal was here. He was a good mate, Mal was. All right, so he wasn’t the most reliable bloke in the world, but his heart was in the right place. Mostly. And he never let shit get him down for long. Dev wondered how much it’d cost to ring Portugal. But Mal was probably out drinking by now and wouldn’t even take the call.
Now his eyes had adjusted, there was actually a fair bit of light around, which was well weird, out here in the wilds without a lamp post in sight. Dev glanced up at the sky, and then couldn’t tear his gaze away. The moon was either full or near as made sod all difference, a perfect silver disc in the sky—but it was the stars that made him stare. There were so fucking many of them. Dev wasn’t stupid, and he’d looked up before, all right? He knew Orion when he saw it, and the plough. But Christ, there were so many other stars all around and in between that just weren’t there in London. He’d never known there were so many to see. How could there be so many stars out there?
He’d never really understood why people got excited about space flight and stuff. Here on Earth was where all the real stuff happened, wasn’t it? But right now, looking up at, like, a million possible other worlds, Dev couldn’t help feeling . . . something. Awe, maybe. And a bit of a stiff neck.
Hey, maybe on one of those other worlds there was a bloke looking up at the sky right now, thinking all the same stuff Dev was. Except he’d be thinking it in Klingon or whatever the local lingo was, and he’d have six arms and fourteen dicks or something. Which, now he came to think about it, probably wasn’t the best ratio. Dev laughed softly at himself. Yeah, ’cos space travel was all about the porn.
Leaving the path, he headed towards the cliff edge, keeping his eyes on the ground and treading carefully because he’d feel well stupid if he ended up headlining the local news after one false step. He sat down near the edge on the short, dry grass and stared out to sea for a long moment.
The beach below him was empty, its golden sand painted silver by the moonlight. It felt peaceful here—but bleak too. Dev remembered his reading from before the trip. There had been wreckers and smugglers working this coastline, centuries back. Although maybe not on nights like this. They’d be way too easily spotted by the excisemen. A wrecker’s moon was a dark one.
It felt weird, being so alone. Yeah, there were people in the houses up the path, but out here there was literally no one. Dev couldn’t remember the last time he’d really been alone in Balham. It’d probably never even happened. In a strange kind of way, he sort of liked the solitude here.
But it would’ve been better with someone to share it with.
Tasha. She’d be in on a Sunday night, wouldn’t she? Dev pulled out his phone, flicked through his contacts, and hit Call.
It rang several times before Tasha answered. “Yeah?” she said, her voice so loud it was almost a shout. “Dev?” He could hear people laughing and chatting over the phone, like she was at a party or something. Or the party was at her place, maybe.
“Yeah, it’s me. You all right?”
“Yeah, I’m good. ’S up, bruv?”
“Just wanted to give you a call. See how you were.”
“What?” There was loud laughter in the background.
Dev tried again. “I’m in Cornwall, remember?”
“Oh. Oh, right. Hang on a mo.” Dev could hear her talking to someone else, telling them Gotta go, it’s my bruv, and then the slam of a door that cut off a lot of the noise. “How’s it going? You met her yet?”
“Nah. Plenty of time. Met a bloke, though.”
“Yeah? What’s he like?”
“Total wanker.”
Tasha laughed. “That’s blokes, though, innit? You shagged him?”
“Nope. Not gonna. So what are you up to? Ain’t you got work tomorrow?”
“I’m round at Sal and Mick’s. Gonna call in sick tomorrow.”
“Oi, that’s how you lost the last job, remember?”
“So? It’s a shit job anyhow.”
She was working in a call centre at the moment, so Dev couldn’t argue with that. And at least Sal and Mick weren’t as bad as some of her mates. Then again, from the sound of things, most of the rest of her mates were probably there as well. “You drinking?”
“Course I’m fucking drinking.”
“Watching your blood sugar?”
“Jesus, Dev, get off my case, will you?”
“Are you?”
“Yes, all right? Look, I gotta get back, yeah?”
“All right, but you take care of yourself.”
“Don’t I always?”
No, she fucking didn’t, but there wasn’t a lot Dev could do about it from nearly three hundred miles away. “I’ll call you in a day or two.”
They hung up. Dev gazed out to sea a while longer, getting to his feet only when the rising wind made him shiver.
Time to head back to the B&B.
“Are you all right, laddie? Looking a wee bit peaky there.” Val’s voice was concerned. It was also way too bloody loud for this time in the morning.
Possibly picking up a bottle of vodka on his way back to the B&B last night hadn’t been the best move. But the off-licence had been right there, its brightly lit windows looking all warm and inviting. Dev pulled out a chair to sit down at the breakfast table and winced at the sound it made on the tiled floor.
“Had a bit too much fun last night, did you?” she went on.
That was so far from the truth, it was bleakly funny. “If only.” God, he hoped the food came soon.
“Best drink your orange juice,” Carol said kindly. “That’ll help. And if you ever want to talk about anything . . .”
“Cheers, but I’m good.” God, the last thing he wanted to do was to talk. Mrs. Quick brought his breakfast, which didn’t look half as appetising as yesterday’s had. He pushed his hog’s pudding around the plate, not sure his stomach was really up for it. “You ever get sick of it?” he demanded suddenly.
“Sick of breakfast?” Val asked.
“Nah, you know. People looking at you, thinking they know you.” He waved a hand in Val’s direction. With her cropped grey hair, lack of makeup, comfortable figure, and mannish clothes, there couldn’t be anyone alive who wouldn’t take one look at her and think dyke.
Val raised a grizzled eyebrow. “Trouble in town last night?”
“Nah. Just . . . There’s this bloke, right? And he . . . Ah, shit. You don’t wanna hear this.” Dev felt torn in two by the need to talk about Kyle, and the desperate want to forget about the whole shit show. It was doing his head in. He’d checked out some more websites last night, and . . . yeah. Total fuckup.
But sod it. He’d been well out of order, yeah, he could see that now, but why the hell couldn’t Kyle have just explained stuff to him instead of spouting all that crap about Dev’s life? He’d thought . . . Well. He’d thought Kyle liked him. He’d been checking him out and everything. Dev was sure he had.
Carol reached across the table and patted his hand. “There are plenty more fish in the sea for a good-looking young man like you.”
Which was sweet, yeah, but totally missed the point.
Val cut in before Dev could say anything. “Aye, and it sounds like this is one you should throw back in the water. Thank you, Mrs. Quick,” she added, as a fresh pot of tea arrived on the table.
“It ain’t his fault,” Dev found himself saying. “He’s got a lot on his plate.”
“As have you, laddie,” Val said. “As have you.”
Dev was left wondering whether she was some kind of mind reader, or if she was just talking about his breakfast.
Well, at least one of those things he could do something about. He tucked in, and it did help, thank God, although he couldn’t manage more than half the plateful. He felt almost human by the time he’d downed the last of his coffee.
Heh. Maybe if he hit that Turkish place again later on, he’d actually start feeling good.
When he got outside, it was looking set for another warm, sunny day. Dev wondered what to do with it. His feet made the decision for him, taking him down towards the seafront and the Square Peg Café.
Not that he was worried about Ceri, or anything. Just checking in. Being friendly.
Maybe looking for someone to off-load to, if she was in the mood to listen which, yeah, knowing her, he ought to give up on that hope right now. Although if he did manage to get her to listen, she’d probably be up for calling him a stupid tosser when he’d finished. It’d be good to see her, anyhow.
He didn’t realise until he was literally a few feet from the café’s front door that Kyle was sitting at one of the outside tables.