Feeling an intense gaze upon her, Cara believes Christo watches over her as she dances to one of his favourite Coldplay songs. He used to play this all the time on that guitar of his. It’s painful being here in the centre of the circle on her own, but she knows she’s surrounded by good friends who care deeply for Christo’s family. As Chris Martin’s voice fades away into the cool night air, Ben enters the circle and draws her to him. Reality…
‘Ben, I need to breathe!’
‘Sorry, babe,’ he says, lessening his hold but not releasing her.
‘The barbie’s almost ready,’ Tristan announces. ‘Who wants something to eat?’
Oliver watches. He doesn’t have a choice.
Who’s she with? She can’t be on her own, someone like her!
He doesn’t think it’s that floppy-haired, bumbling, young man. His eyes follow her as she heads towards the barbeque, the feeling in the pit of his stomach intensifying. She’s so lovely. Slowly he finishes his beer.
‘What do you say to some grub?’ suggests Tas, slapping him heartily on the back.
‘Sounds like a good idea.’ Joining the end of the queue, Oliver notices Cara is six people in front.
‘Meat or fish?’ asks Tas. ‘I’m having both.’
Neither. Oliver has completely lost his appetite.
As they help themselves to plates from a stack on a table, Tas instructs Tristan to pile steak, chicken wings, sausages, burgers and mackerel onto his plate.
‘What would you like?’ Tristan asks Oliver.
‘The steak looks good.’
‘Is that it?’ asks Tas incredulously.
‘That’s it, my friend.’
When the two men step up onto the decking, Tristan turns to Stephen. ‘Do you recognise him?’
‘Seems familiar,’ Stephen says, piling meat onto a plate of the girl next in line.
‘He’s that actor, Oliver Foxley.’
‘Really? He’s a favourite of Martha’s. If she spots him I won’t see her for dust!’
Tristan laughs and turns back to the next person in the queue.
Oliver watches Cara work her way along the food tables. The bumbling young man is still at her side, but to his relief she doesn’t seem to be with him. She appears to be part of a larger group. He watches as the young man says something to her and moves away to the top table. He is so busy observing Cara that Oliver doesn’t notice Tas take a step back until too late.
‘Sorry, Ollie,’ says Tas, as they collide, ‘but this lovely young lady needs to get to the bread.’
Oliver looks over his friend’s shoulder. A tall, curvy woman stares at Tas, a blush spreading across her cheeks.
‘Didn’t mean to push in, I’m sure.’ Morwenna’s Cornish accent rings out loud and clear.
‘Darling, you can push in any time.’ Tas gives a small bow and Morwenna’s blush deepens. ‘Perhaps you’d like some of that wonderful-looking cheese over there to go with your bread?’
For once, Morwenna is at a loss, her usual witty repartee abandoning her. Oliver smiles to himself. He’s seen it all before and this woman is very much Tas’s type.
‘And what sort of a cheese girl are you?’ asks Tas, appraising her full figure. ‘Maybe a strong Stilton, no?’
Morwenna stares; a rabbit caught in headlights.
‘What about a Cornish Yarg, dark and mysterious on the outside yet concealing a creamy centre?’ Tas says mischievously. ‘Or how about a soft, yielding Camembert? Yes, I think that’s what you are, soft and yielding.’ Before Morwenna can respond, Tas guides her to the end of the table where the various cheeses are laid out.
Suddenly, there is only one person separating them and Oliver’s mouth turns dry. He watches as Cara stretches across the table and, picking up a pair of metal tongs, helps herself to salad. As her tunic rises up to reveal the neatest backside, Oliver’s stomach muscles contract.
This is ridiculous! Get a grip!
The man standing in front of him steps out of the queue and moves further up the line. Now there is no one between them and Oliver can hardly breathe. Cara straightens up with her back to him. She’s not as tall as he first thought. They are so close; she must surely hear his hammering heart. Her long, blonde hair glistens in the fairy lights and he fights the urge to reach out and stroke it. She has delectable curves in all the right places and she certainly looks good in jeans. Instantly, Oliver wonders what she looks like out of them. He closes his eyes, trying to clear the vision from his mind. When he opens them again she’s turning to face him. Bathed in a wonderful golden light, she is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, but there is deep sadness ingrained in the dark brown eyes that look up into his. Oliver recoils, appalled that this gorgeous girl is capable of displaying such hurt.
Aware of an intense presence behind her, Cara turns. After the initial shock of recognising him, the first thing she thinks is that her mother was right. He is even better looking in the flesh. As Oliver opens his eyes, Cara is amazed to find that the blue eyes gazing down at her speak of love, but then the moment is shattered as he recoils. Why did he do that? Does she have three eyes and a pointy head?
As they face each other, neither saying a word, Oliver struggles to make sense of his feelings. He has to say something, but what? Oh, now he understands. At once he has sympathy for all those women rendered inarticulate in his company.
‘So, is that all you’re having, Oliver Foxley?’
She has him at a disadvantage. She knows who he is. Oliver glances down at the lone steak sitting on his plate. He cannot speak, so all-consuming are his feelings.
‘Why don’t you have some surf to go with that turf?’ Cara points to the plates of lobster halves nestling amongst the bowls of salad. ‘This lobster was probably still in the sea this morning. I expect Rick picked them up from Patrick’s catch first thing.’
Her voice is like music to his ears. Oliver concentrates on breathing.
Think, man! You have to say something.
‘So, you’re Gwyneth?’ he says, amazed at how normal he sounds.
Now it’s Cara’s turn to recoil; the sadness in her eyes deepening.
Shit! What has he said? He wants to take away the hurt, not increase it.
Cara laughs sadly and he can tell his words have taken her momentarily elsewhere.
‘A nickname,’ she says eventually. ‘My name is Cara.’
A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.
But now what? There’s so much he wants to say but what can he say?
‘What about some crab if you’re not interested in the lobster?’ Cara asks, giving him an odd look.
He’s not interested in food. In fact, Oliver can’t imagine ever regaining his appetite.
‘Here, I’ll choose something for you,’ she says, taking his plate.
She leans across the table again and Oliver can’t help himself; he has never seen anyone wear jeans so well. Eagerly, he drinks in her body.
By the time Cara turns to face him that look has returned and she catches her breath, as a sliding, liquefying sensation takes hold. No wonder he’s such a believable actor if he can do this! She hands him the plate now laden with tasty morsels.
‘Hopefully there’s something amongst this to tempt you.’
It does look tempting but Oliver wonders if he will choke on the first mouthful.
Come on, man. Don’t be mute!
‘Thank you, Cara, for organising me.’
Is that it? Oliver groans inwardly, hoping he didn’t sound sarcastic.
Again Cara and Oliver stand facing each other, neither saying a word. From out of the corner of his eye, Oliver watches the bumbling young man approach.
‘Hey, Cara, Rick’s lighting the bonfire,’ Ben says, giving Oliver a questioning look. ‘Come and see.’ He grabs hold of her arm.
Swallowing her irritation, Cara pulls her arm free. ‘I’ll join you in a minute.’
Ben hesitates, then shrugs and lopes off towards the beach.
Cara turns to Oliver. He’s still watching her and she’s about to say something flippant when some deeper intuition tells her to resist. Instead, she smiles up at him, confused and a little off kilter… and then she’s gone.
Terrific! You handled that well.
‘Hey, Ollie. Over here.’ Tas’s voice cuts across the noise of the party.
Making his way through the crowd, Oliver steps down onto the sand and joins Tas and Morwenna on one of the logs. It’s cool in the night air but the bonfire, crackling and spitting, gives off a fair amount of heat. Oliver sits down next to Tas. He notices Cara and Ben sitting with their friends on the other side of the fire. Is it the flickering blaze giving the impression of a golden glow around her? She looks magnificent. He could sit all night just gazing at her and enjoying her beauty, but he must interact.
‘Ollie, this is Morwenna,’ Tas says.
‘Hi,’ she says in a strangled voice, having immediately recognised him.
‘Hi, Morwenna.’ Oliver smiles. ‘You all seem to have beautiful names in Cornwall.’
‘Err, really?’ she says lamely, knowing she’s wearing her ‘rabbit in headlights’ look again.
Instantly Oliver finds his equilibrium. ‘Yes, Morwenna is a lovely name.’
‘I suppose so,’ she mumbles. ‘Morwenna is the patron saint of Morwenstow.’
‘Where’s that?’ asks Oliver.
‘On the north coast… almost in Devon!’
Oliver laughs. It’s the way she says it, as if the neighbouring county is, somehow, inferior.
‘Hey, Tan, come and join us,’ Tas calls over Oliver’s shoulder.
Standing on the edge of the decking with a plate of food in her hand, Tania turns at the sound of Tas’s voice. She makes a beeline for Oliver.
‘So, what do you think of the party so far?’ she asks, as Oliver makes a space for her on the log.
‘Great, Tan. Like the music,’ says Tas, as the distinctive sounds of ‘Riders on the Storm’ drift across the sands.
With its real sound effects of thunder and electric piano playing emulating the sound of rain, there’s something highly evocative and atmospheric about the music. There’s also something deeply primal and Oliver’s gaze slides over to the other side of the fire. Cara’s earlier irritation with Ben makes him closely monitor their body language and it’s clear they’re not together. The bumbling young man appears happy to accept any crumb she may care to throw. Oliver is astounded at the profound relief he feels.
For God’s sake, get a grip!
‘I see Rick’s still got his impeccable taste in music,’ comments Tas.
Tania smiles lazily. ‘Yeah, he knows how to create a good playlist.’ Turning her attention to Oliver, in a low, seductive voice she asks, ‘So, Ollie, is the music moving you too?’
‘You could say that,’ he says, not taking his eyes off the golden girl on the far side of the fire.
‘How about we find somewhere quiet to enjoy it, just you and me?’ she suggests hopefully.
Oliver drags his eyes away from Cara. ‘Tania, you never give up, do you?’
‘Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying!’
‘No, but you may have noticed that Rick is standing over there and we’re surrounded by his friends,’ he says, more harshly than he intended.
Taking a swig of lager, Tania almost topples off the log. With lightning-quick reactions, Oliver grabs her arm.
‘Oops!’ She giggles, regaining her balance.
Irritated by Tania, Oliver finds himself, once again, gazing through the flames at Cara. The tall, sandy-haired man who served him earlier sits on her other side. Could he be her partner? They seem at ease in each other’s company and make a more believable couple than the bumbling young man. What the hell is he going to do? She’s perfect! Oliver abandons trying to eat. Placing his plate on the sand, he watches as the sandy-haired man casually puts his arm around Cara and she immediately rests her head on his shoulder. Oliver reels at the level of jealousy coursing through him.
Beyond the fire, Tristan hugs Cara and says quietly, ‘I think you’ve got an admirer.’
Cara groans. ‘What am I going to do about Ben?’
‘Not Ben. I’m talking about that actor over there. He can’t take his eyes off you.’
Raising her head, Cara gazes across the sand towards the decking. Sure enough, Oliver is looking directly at her and the look on his face makes her stomach somersault.
‘Is he a friend of Rick’s?’ Tristan asks.
‘Don’t know,’ Cara says, ‘Tania seems well acquainted, so I guess so.’
‘And who’s that other big guy with his paws all over Mo?’
‘Oh, Trist, you’re not getting all protective over your li’l sis, are you?’ Cara sits up.
‘No, but he’d better not be leading her a merry dance,’ Tristan says protectively.
‘She’s quite capable of looking after herself, you know!’
‘Yeah, but I can’t help feeling responsible for her. And for you, Beth and Sky, come to that.’
Cara smiles. He’s such a good mate. ‘I know, Trist, and Christo would love you for that,’ she says, planting a kiss on his cheek.
On the other side of the fire, Oliver catches his breath. Even though Cara and the man are obviously close, something tells him they are not together either. So, who is she with? He breathes out slowly, steadying himself.
Surely she’s not on her own?
The mellow sounds of Phil Collins’ ‘In The Air Tonight’ fill the cool night air and the beat of the drum tap-taps on Oliver’s heart, prodding him to take action.
‘Hey, Ollie, Morwenna and her brother are in a band,’ Tas says, pointing in the direction of Tristan and Cara. ‘I said we’d check them out while we’re in Cornwall.’
‘That guy’s your brother?’ Oliver exclaims loudly, and both Tas and Morwenna look at him with startled expressions.
‘Ye-es,’ Morwenna says slowly. ‘Why?’
God! My nerves are all over the place.
Thinking on his feet, Oliver says, ‘He doesn’t look like you.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, I can see a resemblance,’ says Tas, looking over at Tristan and then scrutinising Morwenna. ‘Personally, though, I prefer Morwenna’s luscious, auburn locks.’ Twisting a strand of her hair gently round his finger, Tas gazes at her with smouldering eyes.
Morwenna’s face flushes scarlet.
‘Jane not coming tonight?’ Tania asks, looking across the men at Morwenna.
‘Yeah, later,’ Morwenna replies. ‘In fact, isn’t that her now? My brother’s a different person since they’ve been together.’
As one, they turn. Oliver watches the sandy-haired man rise to his feet and, opening his arms wide, walk towards his girlfriend. Ben instantly moves closer to Cara and puts his arm around her. Oliver grimaces. If nothing else, he’s got to save her from the attentions of that young man.
‘Oh, Gawd, I just lurve this song,’ Tania shrieks as James Blunt’s ‘You’re Beautiful’ wafts across the sand. ‘It’s so hauntingly sad but I bloody love it.’
Oliver listens to the lyrics and it’s as if the singer is giving him a sign. He’s got to do something. Tania says something to him but he can’t hear a word. Her overt attention is making him feel claustrophobic and he needs to be free of her. He looks across at Cara. If he doesn’t act now he never will. Oliver rises to his feet. With wildly pounding heart, he closes the divide.
Thwarted mid-sentence, Tania stares open-mouthed as he sets off across the beach.
Sitting on the log next to Tristan, Jane talks animatedly to her boyfriend and Cara. It’s only Ben who observes the actor approaching. Suddenly Oliver stands in front of them. As Cara looks up, a hush descends.
‘Cara, would you do me the honour of this dance?’ Oliver formally asks, holding out his hand.
Glancing from Oliver to Cara, Jane squeezes Tristan’s knee. Sarah, sitting with her boyfriend, Rob, realises she’s gawping, and Martha’s eyes are out on stalks.
With the café’s fairy lights and the glow of the bonfire behind him, Oliver appears shrouded in a million twinkling stars. He looks so appealing, but should she say no? Cara dismisses the thought.
‘I would be delighted to,’ she says, amazed at how polite they are being.
As she places her hand in his, a surge of electricity courses through them both but Oliver doesn’t let go. Holding on tightly, he leads Cara to join the other people dancing on the sand. He turns to face her and suddenly she’s in his arms. It feels so natural. He knew it would. Holding her close, certain that she must feel his leaping heart, Oliver deeply inhales her scent.
This is so surreal, thinks Cara. Just wait ’til Mum hears about this!
Aware that her friends are watching, Cara feels stiff and awkward but, as Oliver takes the lead, soon they find their rhythm.
He certainly knows how to dance! Must be all that acting training.
Suddenly Tas and Morwenna are beside them.
‘Not interrupting anything, are we?’ asks Tas with a grin.
Oliver laughs and Morwenna raises a tentative eyebrow. Before Cara has a chance to respond, Tas puts Morwenna into a dramatic spin and whisks her away across the sand. It’s all Morwenna can do to hold on tightly to this bear of a man.
Oliver smiles at Cara. The look in his eyes is soft and gentle and for a moment she forgets the rest of the world.
For Oliver, Cara is like a dream; one he has always had but never able to recall. He wonders how long they can stay locked together like this. It’s heady stuff. He’s uncertain what to say, but there doesn’t seem the need to put thoughts into words. As they dance together in the moonlight, Oliver lets the music wash over him.
Tania, still smarting over Oliver’s abrupt exit, sips her lager and looks out across the beach. She’s jealous, but also fascinated by the light that surrounds the couple and thinks she must have had way too much to drink.
‘How you doin’, Tan?’ Rick sits beside his lover.
‘OK,’ she says, without averting her gaze from Oliver and Cara.
‘Well, would you look at that!’ Rick raises his fingers to his mouth to wolf-whistle but stops himself. Something about Oliver and Cara is so intimate and private, there’s simply no room for the world to interfere. ‘We give good parties, don’t we, Tan?’ he says, putting his arm around her.
‘Mmm,’ she says, not trusting herself to speak. Instead, she lays her head against his shoulder and tries to block out the lyrics, but it’s no good. There’s no denying what’s happening out there beyond the firelight. This song is for the beautiful couple dancing on the sand.
Oliver feels a shiver course through Cara’s body. Holding her firmly but gently, as if she is the most fragile and precious thing in the world, he can’t believe how each song sends him a message. He wants this moment to last forever. And he so wants to kiss her; to experience her. But if he starts now he knows he will never stop. Instead, as the music comes to an end, tenderly he brushes his lips against her forehead.
‘Cara,’ he whispers, and he knows her name has been on his lips all of his life.