Summer at Tiffany's (41 page)

‘We should go,' she said.

He reached out to stop her board. ‘Wait. Look . . . I just wanted to explain why I've, you know . . . disappeared. It's not your fault, but if I so much as look at you, she freaks out.'

Her
and
Suzy, it seemed. ‘Whatever. I don't care.' She raked one hand hard through her hair, refusing to look at him. He appeared to have gone very still. ‘I take it she knows now? About us?'

He hesitated, before nodding. ‘I had to tell her.'

‘I don't know why it had to be a secret in the first place. I sincerely doubt I'm the first of your exes she's come across.'

‘No. But you were the only one who mattered.'

She looked across at him, taken aback by the tone in his voice, the look in his eyes. She could feel the nearness of his leg in the water beside hers – the displaced water pushing against her skin as their boards bumped and nudged each other in the swell. ‘We need to go,' she said, quickly lowering herself onto the board.

‘Cass—'

‘The others will be waiting.' She began paddling inshore.

Luke caught her in two strokes, but he didn't try to stop her; instead, they cut through the water, side by side, in silence, positioning themselves six feet short of the break, alongside the line of other surfers, all sitting on their boards, waiting.

They bobbed on the surface, the moment that had just eluded them darting around them like a shadow in the depths, but keeping a safer distance.

‘OK. Two back,' Luke murmured after a while. ‘See it?'

‘Yes.' Nerves fluttered inside her.

‘When I say, start to paddle. And you pop on my command, OK? No hesitation.'

She gave a small, dry laugh. ‘Pop on my command . . .' It sounded funny, but he wasn't laughing; he wasn't even smiling. His eyes were on the wave that was heading straight for them – unbroken, its power still hidden below the surface, its twin threat and promise still just a suggestion from here.

She stared at his profile, outlined against the deep pink sky – so handsome, so unsettling, so familiar. She had traced it a long time ago with her fingers, her tongue . . .

Her stomach twisted. They didn't have to ride this wave that was heading straight for them. They could let it just slip past, flow beneath them, ignored, and their heads would stay above water. They could drift over it as if it had never been there at all. But—

‘Paddle.'

Her arms began to move, slicing the water in powerful arcs, and he was alongside her, the wave only feet away now. She could hear it gather and build below her like a storm, the rolling concentration of energy still pent up and leashed.

‘Now!'

It seemed too early to her, but there wasn't time to think or argue. Instinct took over. She could feel the sheer force of the wave immediately lift her up, her board only just ahead of the froth as it began to crest and break, and her feet made contact with the waxed surface. Every muscle in her core was tensed, her body hard and concentrated on this one moment as she felt the momentum begin to carry her and take over, doing the work for her. Her arms spread wide, her legs bent but steady as the wave toppled in on itself, her board nosing just ahead, riding its energy effortlessly.

‘Woohooooo!'

The jubilant scream wasn't hers – she couldn't see whose; her focus was resolutely on the water just ahead of her – but she claimed it as her own anyway, the same rush of exhilaration gathering in her as she somehow stayed up, her body instinctively finding balance in small twists left and right – not dramatic, nothing as impressive as the swooping turns of the pros, but enough to keep her upright, to keep her going.

A delighted laugh escaped her. She was doing it! She was actually surfing!

‘Oh my God!' she screamed, her eyes wide with amazement and joy as she suddenly ‘got' it. This was the rush everyone talked about it, the almost-spiritual transcendence that came from harnessing nature and riding its rhythm. How could she have come this far in her life and never experienced it? How could she have deprived herself of knowing this? It was the ultimate freedom . . .

Wait, no . . . Too soon, the wave began to die, sinking down into itself like a collapsed soufflé, and the board began gently submerging as the energy it needed ran out, until she was neck deep in water again and her feet touched the sand.

No! She wanted more! Longer, faster, higher . . . She wanted to do it all over again. One hit and already she was hooked.

Luke sliced to a dramatic stop beside her, a giant rainbow of droplets showering outwards like fireworks in the sky. His overwhelmed expression matched hers as he gathered her in a tight hug.

‘I did it!' she laughed incredulously, as she pulled back, her mouth open as wide as her eyes. ‘I actually did it!'

‘You did it, Cass,' he laughed, his eyes dancing with happiness.

‘Well, strictly speaking,
we
did it,' she laughed, aware of the role he'd played in her success, aware suddenly she was still in his arms. ‘I needed your prompt to get it right.'

His expression changed. ‘We did it, then,' he echoed, his voice so low she could feel the bass rumble from his chest against hers, his eyes on her lips, droplets falling from his face onto her cheeks.

He looked back at her and her smile faded as she realized she was trembling – but not because of the cold. She saw the truth in his eyes, heard the echo of Suzy's words – ‘
It isn't over ...
' – and she knew the wave had broken over them at last.

‘Come and get it!' Archie called, almost entirely enveloped in smoke as the wind changed direction yet again and the smell of burnt sausages drifted over to the cows.

Cassie, who was lying upstairs in the bath, winced at the prospect of having to go out there. Yet again, she'd been hiding away, escaping to her room the moment she'd got back and pleading chills from the sea. But she couldn't stay in here forever, appealing though it was.

The others were already on the terrace by the time she appeared fifteen minutes later, her hair towel-dried and wearing her favourite tracksuit bottoms.

It was almost ten o'clock and the temperature had dropped sharply, although a large fire pit was saving them from the worst of the night coolness for now and throwing a flattering, flickering light over everyone's beach-tight skin. Cassie automatically stood in front of it, holding her hands up to be warmed.

‘Not still cold, are you? Here, I had to save you one,' Archie said, handing her a hot dog with a wink. ‘Bunch of gannets, the lot of them. Even I can't eat that quickly.'

‘Hey, some of us have earned this meal. We worked up an appetite,' Laird protested, taking a huge bite of his own hot dog, a bottle of beer in his other hand. ‘Isn't that right, Luke?'

Luke, who was standing on the other side of the vast fire pit, staring outright at her as flames leaped between them, nodded. ‘Yeah.'

She looked away quickly. She had heard his voice outside her window as he chatted to the guys – coming over early to help – for well over an hour and she knew he'd been waiting for her to show. She knew that, now, with absolute certainty.

‘Where's Suzy?' she asked, taking a bite of the hot dog, ketchup splattering over her white T-shirt. ‘Oh great, first bite,' she muttered, as Archie laughingly ran over with a tea towel and began dabbing at her chest, something Cassie had seen him do endless times with Velvet.

Archie suddenly realized the inappropriateness of what he was doing and straightened up. ‘You'd better do it,' he said, holding out the towel.

She laughed and took over the job; Archie wouldn't make a move on her if his life depended upon it.

‘Suzy's setting up the monitor,' Luke offered, watching the skit with reserved cool.

‘Oh right. What's the film? Did we decide?' She directed the question to her chest, keeping her eyes well away from his. The moment in the sea earlier – fleeting though it was – had been like a scald and she knew she had to keep her distance now. They couldn't be friends. It was a lie, a charade. She had been so naive to suppose it could ever have been different between them. Something – a spark, an ember – was still alight between them and they couldn't give it oxygen.

‘Well,
we
had to decide without you, given that you were in the bath for two hours – using up all the hot water,' Archie admonished.

‘You said not to hurry, that dinner was going to be late tonight!' she protested. ‘If it's not dark till ten, there's no point in me hanging around and getting in the way from eight o'clock, is there?'

‘Yeah, but leaving it to ten to ten?' Archie raised his eyebrows and she knew he knew perfectly well that she was avoiding Suzy. ‘Anyway, we're watching
It's a Wonderful Life
.'

‘Oh,
what
?' Cassie's shoulders sagged. ‘Arch, you've made me watch that film every year for, like, fifteen years! I know it backwards.'

‘Well, we may end up watching it backwards if Suzy can't remember which way to put on the reels,' Archie guffawed.

‘I've never seen the film, actually,' Luke said, swigging from his beer. ‘It's one of those classics I've never got round to watching.'

‘Oh, you'll never forget this experience, let me tell you,' Archie said proudly. ‘Our garden film nights really are something else.'

‘I'll bet.'

Cassie, feeling a tap on her elbow, turned.

‘Hi.' Gem was standing behind her, an apologetic smile on her face.

‘Hi.' Cassie's eyes flitted over to Amber, who was on one of the sunloungers and studying the most recent issue of
Brides
magazine by firelight with a studious fervour better suited to
The Odyssey
.

A pause.

‘So, I just wanted to clear the air about yesterday,' Gem started. ‘I was being overprotective; you were hung-over . . .'

Cassie frowned. If this was supposed to be passing for an apology . . .

Gem gave her a sudden dazzling smile, arms outstretched. ‘Friends again? Henry would hate it if he knew his two favourite girls were fighting, and I don't want anything to blot my happiness right now. It's just three days till the wedding and it means so much to me to have you at the very centre of it.'

Cassie didn't think providing the food really counted as being at the centre of it, but there was no time to debate the issue – Gem had already thrown her arms around her, pinning Cassie's arms to her sides so that her right arm was bent at an awkward angle as she tried to keep her hot dog away from Gem's pretty grey cotton jumpsuit. Gem pulled away again as Cassie straightened up with a tight smile. The word ‘sorry' hadn't actually made an entrance, but that was being picky, right? The girl was getting married in three days. She was allowed to be unreasonable, unlikeable. Hysterical, even.

She realized Gem was holding something out to her. ‘What's that?'

‘The menus for Saturday. They're just ideas, you know. Obviously you know best, so if something doesn't work or . . . I don't know, isn't in season . . .'

Cassie felt a nibble of panic in her stomach. She had assumed (and rather hoped) that their falling-out yesterday had meant she was ‘off the job', particularly when that argument had been almost immediately superseded by her and Suzy's more serious fight, and she hadn't given Gem – or her food – any more thought.

She supposed it wasn't like they were talking big numbers, just the seven of them here, plus Hats and her plus-one (which Gem had taken as a sign that she was ‘coming round' to the idea), and potentially Laird's brother and his wife, who were, according to Archie earlier, going to try for a standby flight from Melbourne.

‘Anyway, have a look through and give me your thoughts. We don't want anything fancy. You know what we're about – the day is just a modest celebration of our love, shared with the people we love most.' She squeezed Cassie's arm for a moment, holding her gaze with a disingenuous smile, before turning and walking back to Amber, who immediately muttered something under her breath that Cassie couldn't hear.

Cassie – holding the entire hot dog in her mouth for a moment as she freed up a hand to unfurl the sheet of paper – looked down: bitter melon; barberries, wakame, kohlrabi . . . Cassie's jaw dropped open.
Modest?
It made Yotam Ottolenghi look like a fussy eater. Half this stuff was so rare she'd only be able to source it in London, and the other half was either out of season or so time-intensive she'd need a team of chefs to have started prepping for her three days ago. She glanced at Gem, wondering whether this was, in fact, a form of revenge. At best, she had to be joking.

Archie's name was barked from a short distance away and he stepped back, peering over to the far side of the house. Cassie noticed for the first time that the three saggy sitting-room sofas had been carried out onto the lawn and arranged in a vague U-shape facing the large gable end.

‘I think we're probably good to go,' Archie said, pleased. ‘Come on, chaps, grab a pew.'

Gem and Amber jumped up from the sunloungers, bridal magazines scattered on the ground around them and an empty bottle of prosecco lying on its side, as they raced each other to ‘bags' the best seats.

‘Don't you want to put a cardy on, Amber?' Archie called with a worried tone as she ran past in a slip of lilac silk. ‘You'll catch your death in that skimpy top . . . dress thingy.'

‘It's a kaftan, Arch,' Amber purred, stopping dead in her tracks as she got to Luke and threading her arm round his hips, deciding Gem could win. ‘And anyway, it's all sorted. Plus, I've got my man to keep me warm.'

Cassie kept her eyes dead ahead, still eating her hot dog, as they all walked over to the sofas. Gem had already bagged the large, central four-seater sofa for her and Laird (nabbing the best view, no doubt), Amber took the three-person one on the far side for her and Luke, leaving the nearest one for Cassie, Suzy and Arch, the biggest-bottomed bunch of the group.