The Memory of Us by Dani Atkins

Author:Dani Atkins [Atkins, Dani]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781804540190
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

19

Bumping into Tom twice in one day was unusual enough for me to wonder if Mum might have something to do with these seemingly random encounters. Either she’d asked her new friend to keep an eye on me or Tom had embarked on a keep-fit regime that had him walking up and down the footpath all day. I knew which one my money was on.

As luck would have it – bad luck, that is – we bumped into Tom as we raced across the sand towards the cottages. The sky had darkened ominously, although I knew from persistent checking that rain wasn’t forecast for today. Even so, when the wind had whipped up fiercely, we hadn’t lingered on the beach, but had gathered our belongings and headed for Amelia’s home and the promise of warmth and a hot drink. I was cradling a bundle of clothes, some of them Nick’s, while he carried the picnic hamper, the blanket and my beach bag.

You have to admire an elderly man who doesn’t blink or even raise a curious eyebrow when two scantily dressed people come bounding towards him. There wasn’t even a hint of incredulity in Tom’s voice as he paused his walk and deadpanned, ‘Afternoon. Nice day for it.’

I shot him a meaningful look that he pretended not to see.

‘You’re probably wondering what we’re doing, dressed like this, Tom,’ I said, flashing a quick apologetic glance at Nick.

‘Catching pneumonia was my first guess,’ Tom said, leaning against the wooden post-and-rail fence that ran the length of the footpath. ‘Other than that, it’s none of my beeswax whatever shenanigans you’ve been getting up to on the beach.’

*

‘It’s not often you hear the words “beeswax” and “shenanigans” in the same sentence,’ Nick said with a grin as I closed Amelia’s front door a few minutes later. I’d performed quick introductions and had to admire Nick for not looking the least bit fazed as he shook the elderly fisherman’s hand, dressed only in a pair of board shorts.

‘Tom’s not like other people,’ I said by way of explanation as I wriggled back into my jumper. ‘If I read him in a book, I’d probably edit him for being too much of a cliché.’ I sighed gratefully as I pulled my socks back on. ‘But Tom’s the real deal. I like him a lot.’

Nick paused midway through zipping up his hoodie. ‘I think the feeling is mutual. I like that there’s someone close by and that you’re not here totally alone until Amelia gets home.’

‘Have you forgotten where I live? We New Yorkers are a pretty resilient bunch.’

‘I haven’t forgotten,’ Nick said carefully.

His words put a silly old grin on my face as I made our tea, and it was still there when I carried the mugs into the lounge.

Nick was standing beside the window, looking out as the wind whipped the sea into a new frenzy. Like many cottages, Amelia’s had fairly low ceilings, but I swear they must have dropped a good six inches since that morning.

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