The Unexpected Consequences of Love (16 page)

It was breezy on the beach. Tula tied her hair back from her face, shook out the rug she'd brought with her, and settled down on the sand to eat her ice cream and read her book. Riley was out there in the water, leaping around in the waves like a dolphin, his own streaky blond hair and smooth butterscotch tan making him look more Californian than ever. He was playing up to the attentions of a couple of girls in tiny bikinis. Tula wondered idly which of the two he'd go for. He spotted her and waved, and she waved back, privately deciding he'd choose the one with the bigger boobs and the khaki bikini.

She was halfway through her ice cream and engrossed in her book when a fine spray of seawater landed on her bare legs. Tula looked up and said patiently, “Shaking your head like a dog to annoy people is what kids do. You should probably have grown out of it by now.”

“Well, I haven't.” Unrepentant, Riley grinned. “Never gets old, that game. It's my favorite.”

“If you make the pages of my book wet, they'll go all wrinkly. And I hate that.”

“Show me who wrote it?” Bending down and tilting the cover toward him, Riley said, “Ah, you don't want to be reading that anyway.”

“I do. It's brilliant.”

He tut-tutted. “Written by one of Marguerite's deadliest rivals. They did an event together a few years back and she kept interrupting Marguerite, cutting her off every time she opened her mouth to speak. I mean, can you imagine being brave enough to do that? So Marguerite gave the woman's next book a poor review, and that was it: fountain pens at dawn. Every time she's in a bookshop now, Marguerite hides the old witch's books at the back where no one can see them.” He tapped the paperback in Tula's hand. “And I bet she does exactly the same to Marguerite's.”

“So mature. Anyway, what are you doing over here?” Tula asked as he threw himself down on the sand beside her. “Your girls are waiting for you.”

“I know. Pretty, aren't they?”

“Very.”

“Envious?”

“No. Actually, you can settle a bet. Which do you prefer?”

His smile playful, Riley said, “You.”

Tula gave him a look. “Out of those two.”

“Hmm. Not sure. Okay, the dark-haired one.”

“In the khaki bikini? Ha, I was right.” She nodded in satisfaction.

Riley cast a mystified look up and down the beach. “And who were you having the bet with?”

“Just myself. I knew you'd prefer her. Bigger boobs.”

“Really? I hadn't noticed.”

“Yeah, right. Soooo predictable.” Keen to get back to her book, Tula reopened it. Riley nudged her ankle.

“Come on, couldn't you at least be a little bit jealous? Were you watching? She was practically throwing herself at me.”

“Why would I be jealous?”

“Maybe because you're secretly starting to fancy me a bit?” He sounded hopeful.

“Oh. But I'm not.”

“I know. You're making it pretty obvious.”

“Sorry.”

“It's just so frustrating,” Riley complained. “I told you before. I
really
like you.”

“God knows why,” said Tula.

“Exactly! I don't know why either.” He shook his wet hair out of his eyes. “It's driving me nuts. You're not my usual type at all.”

“I don't have big boobs.” She pointed to her flat chest. “Or swingy model hair. I don't wear false eyelashes on the beach.”

“And you're argumentative,” said Riley. “Very,
very
argumentative. But somehow none of that seems to matter. You know when you walk into a clothes shop and there are tons of different things on the rails, but you see this one shirt and know that's the one you really want? You just have to have it, even though it's a style and color you've never been interested in until now? Well,” he went on with a helpless shrug, “that's what it's like with you.”

“Oh, great,” said Tula. “So now I'm a mustard-yellow shirt with a weird stick-up collar and funny sleeves.”

He nodded in baffled agreement. “You kind of are.”

“Cheers. Your chat-up lines could do with a bit of work, by the way.”

“If I got myself some better ones, would they help me with you?”

“Nope,” said Tula.

“Why not? I don't get what the problem is,” Riley protested. “Everyone else fancies the pants off me.”

“I know they do.”

“You're definitely the odd one out.”

“I know that too.” She smiled. “And don't get me wrong—I'm flattered you like me. But I told you before, you're not my type.” This was just a bit of light flirtation on the beach; now wasn't the time to delve into her past and explain her reasons for not wanting to get involved with someone like him. Having grown up with a mother who had lurched hopelessly from one ill-advised relationship to the next, Tula was determined not to make the same mistake. Charming, lazy partners who didn't work and could never be relied on had been her mum's specialty. They were certainly never going to be hers.

“You mean because I'm not Josh,” said Riley.

Tula flushed; how much had he heard? “I like successful, hardworking men. Not ones who spend all their time surfing.”

“Josh surfs.”

“I know, but he's only just come back from the States. He's taking things easy for a few weeks. Not like you,” Tula pointed out. “You've been taking things easy for the last ten years.”

“So what you're saying is, if I were a megasuccessful businessman, you'd change your mind about me and decide I wasn't so bad after all.”

“Okay, now you're just making me sound like a gold digger, and that's not true at all. Successful's nice, but hardworking's way more important. It's putting in the effort that counts. I want someone with a job.”

“I have a job.” Riley looked wounded.

“I'm talking about a proper job. Occasionally helping your aunt out by driving to the post office to buy stamps doesn't count.”

“I do more than that,” he protested.

“You pick her up from the train station. Every now and again you unjam the printer. It must be exhausting.”

“It would be, if I knew how to unjam a printer. We usually call an expert in to do that. Kidding,” said Riley. “I'm brilliant. It's my specialty.”

“Well, I'm just saying. My number one priority is a man with a strong work ethic. That's the only way I can explain it.” Tula shrugged. “It's a deal breaker for me. If someone doesn't have that need to work, I don't fancy them, simple as that. I just can't find them attractive.”

Riley surveyed her with a soulful expression for several seconds. Finally he said, “Not even if they do a huge amount for
charidee
?”

She smiled. “Except you don't.”

“Dammit, I knew I should have run that marathon. Shall I leave you in peace now to read your book?”

“Probably best. Your girls are getting impatient.”

They both glanced across at the two girls, now ostentatiously doing aerobics in their minuscule bikinis while keeping a diligent eye on their errant prey.

“You know something? You're breaking my heart.” Riley said it with a rueful smile.

It was undeniably nice to be in this position for once in her life. Inwardly reveling in it, Tula said good-naturedly, “I don't think I am. You're just a spoiled boy feeling a little bit peeved.”

Riley rose to his feet and broke into a beautiful grin. “You could be right. Maybe I should do something about it.”

“I wouldn't worry. Everyone else seems to love you just the way you are.”

“True. But you never know. One day I might surprise you.”

And with that, to the visible disappointment of the two stunning girls exercising on the sand thirty meters away, he cast a mock salute in their direction and left the beach.

It was a warm, gray, misty morning. Woken by the alarm at five thirty, Sophie showered and dressed and left the house just before six, feeling like a spy on a secret mission. As the weather forecast had predicted, it began to rain as she drove the short distance out of St. Carys along the southbound coast road until she reached the turn-off for Mizzen Cove.

A dark gray Toyota Corolla was already parked in the rest area on the other side of the road. Sophie pulled up behind it and saw the driver's door open. A short, plump woman in a bright yellow oilskin coat and sou'wester jumped out and came bustling over.

“Hello, you came! Jolly good! Shall we head on down there? Sorry, how rude of me. I'm Elizabeth Sharp. Thank you so much for agreeing to this at such short notice. You know how it is, sometimes you have one of those lightbulb moments and just want to get on and do it straight away.”

“No problem.” Sophie was instantly charmed by the woman's manner. Elizabeth Sharp had called her yesterday and explained what she was after. In person, she was overweight and pink cheeked, with squirrel-bright eyes and a button nose. Touched by the little she'd learned during their phone conversation, Sophie had been more than happy to do the honors today.

Leaving the cars behind them, they wended their way along the narrow, overgrown path. The rain was light, currently nothing more than drizzle, and a hazy sunshine was just beginning to brighten the gray sky toward the horizon. The sea was pale pearl and as smooth as glass. Apart from the wavelets breaking on the sand, there was absolute silence. Mizzen Cove was the least accessible beach in the area, tiny and only reachable via a steep, zigzagging, difficult to negotiate pathway. Sophie took care not to slip and do more damage to her back, now thankfully beginning to mend.

“Sorry to drag you all the way down here.” Elizabeth panted as they reached the shale. “But I'm no supermodel. Don't want to frighten the horses!”

There were no horses, no animals of any description, and no other humans in sight. The cove couldn't be seen from the road. Unless a submarine periscope suddenly popped up out of the water, they were completely hidden from view.

“Did you really just decide to do this yesterday?”

“Thought about it for a while, made my mind up yesterday.” As she spoke, Elizabeth removed her rain hat, tossed it onto the pebbles, and ruffled her short fair hair. “I'm fifty-three years old, Sophie. I've spent the last thirty years teaching history in comprehensive schools to bored teenagers who thought I was ancient even before I was forty. All this time I've been a model citizen and—I hope—a nice person. My husband didn't want children, so we didn't have them. Six years ago he left me for a much younger woman and they now have two-year-old twins.” She paused for a moment, then shrugged away the pain. “Anyway, I carried on with my life and everyone told me how brave I was being. Then I was diagnosed with breast cancer and had to go through all sorts of treatment. And my friends and colleagues just keep on telling me how marvelously I'm dealing with everything, what a
stalwart
I am, with my stiff upper lip and my sensible attitude…so basically, this is my way of shaking them all up a bit. I'm doing it for me, but secretly I'm looking forward to shocking a few people too.”

With a flourish, Elizabeth finished unfastening the front of her bright yellow oilskin coat and removed it to reveal the unclothed body beneath. Folding the coat, she placed it on a rock, then straightened and lifted her face to the sky. Sophie opened her bag and took out the camera, giving the older woman time to become accustomed to her naked state.

Within a couple of minutes she was ready to get started. Elizabeth nodded, her pale skin spangled with drizzle. There was no need to tell her to relax; she was already beaming from ear to ear.

“Oh my goodness.” Her eyes were closed, her arms outstretched. “This feels
amazing
.”

Angling the camera to make the most of the natural light, Sophie began snapping away. Over the sea, shards of sunlight sliced through the gray clouds as Elizabeth surrendered to nature, dancing joyfully across the wet sand. She wasn't a beautiful woman, just average-looking, with the body of so many women in their fifties. Her legs were short, her stomach protruded a bit, and one breast was missing, replaced with flatness and shiny scar tissue extending under the arm, but her air of freedom and delight made the images memorable. She'd survived everything life had thrown at her and now she was celebrating it, dancing naked in the rain.

“You look so happy,” Sophie told her when they stopped for a break.

“I am. I wish I'd done this years ago.” Unself-consciously touching the scars on the left side of her chest, Elizabeth said, “But then I wouldn't have had these, and they're all part of it. And my hair's growing back curly, after the chemo.” She rubbed her hand over her scalp. “It always used to be straight. I'm different now.” Her face lit up once more. “But I'm so glad I'm doing it. Can I have a look at what you've taken so far? Is that okay?”

“Of course. Come and see.” Sophie showed her some of the images she'd captured, scrolling through in search of the best ones. Then she paused and said, “This one's fantastic.”

In the shot, Elizabeth was almost turned away from the camera, standing on tiptoe like a ballerina with her arms stretched above her head. She was looking back over her left shoulder, laughing with sheer joy, and the scars on her chest were just visible, illuminated by the thin rays of sunlight shining down.

“You're right, I love it.” The older woman smiled at the sight of herself. “I'm the shape of a Teletubby and I don't even care. Childbearing hips that never got to bear any children… Oh well. And look at those arms, bingo wings ahoy! But none of that matters, because I'm still here and that's actually more important than having a model figure. I'm alive,” she said, “and I'm so glad we've done this today. It feels…
great
.”

“Good,” said Sophie. “I'm glad we did it too.”

“Although technically,
we
didn't.” Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “I did. You just took the photos.”

“Well, yes, that's what I meant. It's kind of my job.”

“So have you ever tried it yourself?”

Did this mean what she thought it meant? Amused, Sophie said, “What, stripped off for the camera? Can't say I have.”

“You should give it a go. You don't know what you're missing.”

Sophie laughed.

“I mean it.” Elizabeth gestured expansively around the cove. “And what better time than now?”

Okay, was she actually serious? “I couldn't.”

“Why not?”

Ha, ask a silly question
.

“Well, because I'd feel…
naked
,” said Sophie.

“Naked in the rain. It feels incredible.” Elizabeth's eyes were shining. “Honestly, it's the best thing I've done in years.”

“But…but…”

“There's nobody to see you. I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about. No one's ever going to know, except us.” Holding up her hands, she said, “It's not even as if there'll be any photos!”

Sophie looked to the sky, where a lone early-morning seagull was wheeling lazily overhead. The rain was still falling, as light and barely detectable on her face as warm silk. Elizabeth was certainly right about one thing: if she was ever going to do it, you really couldn't ask for a better time than now, here in this hidden cove, visible to no one.

As if sensing that she was weakening, the older woman said lightly, “I dare you.”

Except it wasn't weakening, was it? It was emancipating, surely. Strengthening…celebrating…

“Okay.” Sophie shrugged off her unbuttoned blue shirt and unlooped the camera strap from around her neck. Handing the Nikon over to Elizabeth she said, “Do you know how to use one of these?” Because really, if she was going to do it, there might as well be photos.

“Just show me which button to press.” Surveying the camera, Elizabeth said cheerily, “And don't worry, you won't regret this. I promise!”