Lying on your back watching the clouds drift by
It was the last day of her holiday, and Claire woke with a strange sinking feeling in her tummy.
She got up early and sat for a while on her balcony with a soothing cup of Earl Grey, watching the sun arc up over the sea. No sign of any early-morning swimmers by the looks of it, so she wasn’t going to get a last glance of Ed, not even from a distance. Oh well.
After a breakfast of strong coffee and buttered toast and jam, she took a stroll along the beach and popped into the deli to buy some local pâté and cheese for lunch and to say her farewells to Lynda.
‘Hi, Lynda – I’m after some of your gorgeous pâté and that blue cheese I had last time. I also need a gift to take home for my nephews, sweets or the like. Any suggestions?’
‘Well, the Lindisfarne fudge is always popular.’
‘Sounds great.’ Claire looked through the flavours and chose a traditional and a chocolate pack, as well as a bag of local choc-dipped cinder toffee.
‘When do you have to head back, petal?’
‘Tomorrow.’ Claire gave a frown. ‘Today’s my last day.’
‘Well, where did those three weeks go?’
‘I know. Too fast. But I’m kind of looking forward to getting back too.’ She’d missed her family and friends, and even work to some extent. And it would be lovely to catch up with her nephews over the weekend.
‘You take good care of yourself, pet. And you know where I am if you ever come back this way. You’ll always be welcome to call in, whether or not you’re wanting to buy anything.’ She smiled warmly.
‘Thank you,’ said Claire.
And with that, Lynda came out from behind the counter and gave her a big hug, which made Claire’s eyes mist up.
‘Now keep in touch, petal, and come back soon,’ the older lady requested with a smile.
‘Will do,’ was Claire’s response. A promise she hoped to keep.
The weird ache in her tummy reappeared as she walked back down the beach. She took her picnic to a sheltered spot in the dunes, about halfway back to the cottage, and took out of the bag the delicious cheese, pâté and juicy tomatoes along with a poppy-seed bread roll. Afterwards, she found herself watching the sky – it was amazing how relaxing it could be lying on your back in a sand dune watching clouds drift by, their shapes ever varied. She discovered a shark’s fin and a teddy bear within the first five minutes, moulded from heaps of cumulus.
Later that afternoon, Claire braved her swimming costume and took a full-body dip in the North Sea – it had to be done before she left. It was bloody freezing so she only lasted about five minutes, doing a few strokes of front crawl before running shivering back up to the cottage, wishing she’d left a big towel ready down by the shoreline for herself! She was so cold she had to have a warm bath to thaw herself out. God knows what Ed got out of his dawn swim – he must be some kind of masochist.
There had been no further sign of Ed since she’d bumped into him outside the butcher’s shop those few days ago. His car had been in the driveway that evening, but by the time she was up and about the next morning, it had gone. There was no one pottering about in the other garden that afternoon, and that evening there were no lights on. Perhaps he’d headed back to Edinburgh and was lying low, mortified after the runaway sex. It was probably just as well. There was no use torturing herself with the sight of him.
Once she’d warmed up, she decided to go back out for a walk on the beach and find a spot where her phone got a signal, have a chat with her mum, and let her know when she’d be back tomorrow. She perched herself on a hump of grassy sand with an elevated view across the bay and dialled. Her mum sounded delighted to hear from her, said she was so looking forward to seeing her, which made Claire feel much better about heading home. She had her family there. After being on her own for three weeks, though that had been very intentional, she had felt an aching pull of loneliness and she realized how lonely her mother must feel sometimes since the loss of her husband. How they all missed Dad. She wished she could chat to him now. Feel his big strong arms around her.
Claire listened to her mother chatting on about life in suburban Newcastle, smiling as she heard the latest gossip from the crescent: that Mrs Jones’s daughter (number 7) had got a First Class Honours in her Chemistry degree, how wonderful, and that little Joe from next door had fallen off his bike and knocked his two front teeth out, the poor little mite – the dentist had managed to pop them back in – hopefully they’d hold; his mother had had the sense of mind to put them in milk, got him to hold the cup with them in and drove him straight to the clinic. It was nice to hear her mother’s voice chattering on and to listen to tales about other people. The focus had been on herself and her illness for far too long.
‘Well, I’d better go, Mum. Lovely to chat. You take care, and I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘I can’t wait, love. Why don’t I come and pick you up from the station? It’s no bother. And you can tell me all about your holiday.’
‘Oh yes, of course.’ Well, a limited account anyway. ‘Thanks.’
As she sat outside that evening watching sunset colours fade over a calm sea, Claire thought about all the things she’d done on her holiday: ankle-dipping as well as her full-on plunge in the cold North Sea, eating fish and chips and Mr. Whippy ice cream on the harbour wall at Seahouses, watching families bustling about and life go by, finding Lynda and the deli, the amazing castle, hot bubbly baths, a cool bed for one. She’d loved the silence, seagull cries, the shusshh of the waves, children giggling, shouting, barking.
No one reappeared next door that evening. Maybe it was all for the good, how it was meant to be. Some things were better left alone.
And then, after a surprisingly peaceful night’s sleep, it was Friday morning, time to go home, or back, whichever it was. She packed up her belongings and gave the cottage a good clean, ready to catch the eleven-fifteen bus that passed the end of the cottage driveway. She’d found out the bus times that linked with the station; finances were tight enough without having to catch a taxi all that way again.
So there she was, standing on the roadside looking back over her shoulder at the two cottages with a strange mix of emotions. Getting away here had definitely done her a lot of good. It was a glorious place. The long stretch of beach with its golden sands, the ever-changing skies and sea, and the stunning castle and quaint village by the bay. She’d made a lovely new friend in Lynda. She’d learnt how to bake. She’d reconnected with her sister. And she’d grown to love the quirky little cottage behind her, even though it was falling apart. Bamburgh had stolen a little of her heart.
But all that stuff with Ed had left her confused. If it was just a one-night stand that didn’t quite happen, then she was a grown-up, she could cope with it. But after his car had gone, when she realized that she might never see him again, he was still there nagging away in her heart. Why?
She’d been through enough – she didn’t need complications, or Jekyll and Hyde men in her life who ran away from her scars – okay, so he hadn’t quite got to see them, but had he sensed something? So, she’d made an acquaintance of some unfathomable guy called Ed next door, who had the body of an Adonis … ooh my, she’d never forget watching him strip off to swim that first morning. That was etched on her brain forever. She’d store that in a little place in her mind for safekeeping. But now it was time to go. To leave it all behind.
The bus approached, she waved for it to stop, grabbed her rucksack and small suitcase and mounted the steps. She took a window seat on her own a few rows back, and watched the two cottages roll into the distance.