Page 45 of Five Things I Love About You

Matt turns to face it too, and the smile on his face is as wide as the horizon. ‘It looks lush in the sunshine, doesn’t it? My dad always used to say it was like it was made of diamonds on a day like this.’

There’s a note of sadness mixed with affection in his voice and I look at him. He’s never mentioned his family before and I’m intrigued. ‘Does he…’ I don’t know how to ask. ‘Is he still around, your dad?’

Matt doesn’t meet my gaze but carries on staring out to sea, at a point somewhere near the horizon. He gives a small shake of his head. ‘No, he’s not.’ His jaw tightens and I sense he’s only just managing to hold it together, so I don’t ask him any more. Instead I reach out and put my hand on his arm, and he looks down at me and smiles. But it’s the sort of smile that makes him look sad rather than happy.

‘Sorry,’ he says, swallowing. ‘I haven’t been out here for a while and it just hit me, like, thinking about him.’

We stand looking out to sea for a couple more minutes. I’d love to ask him more about his dad, but I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready.

The moment is broken by Gladys barking at a seagull so we set off again, back towards the seafront. The wind is strong but not constant, coming in gusts and gasps, sneaking round corners and through gaps between buildings as though it’s trying to catch you unawares. My hair is wild and my cheeks feel pink but it’s invigorating, especially with the sun shining to warm us up a little, and I can’t help thinking about my many beach dreams – the wind in my hair as Jay and I wandered along the beach hand in hand, waves whipped into frothy tips. Could this have been the beach from my dreams? Could I be about to walk in the same place as I walked with Jay?

Don’t be daft, I chastise myself. And yet my still heart thumps with anticipation, even as I feel guilty for thinking about it. I should concentrate on right here right now, on being here with Matt.

‘Miranda?’

I realise Matt’s been talking to me and I turn my head to look at him guiltily. ‘Sorry, I was… somewhere else.’

‘I was just pointing out the lighthouse,’ he says, and I look in the direction of his finger. There’s a tiny dot of a lighthouse, like a child’s toy, far in the distance, on a rocky outcrop.

‘We’re not walking all the way there, are we? It’s miles away.’

‘It’s two miles.’ He glances at me. ‘I thought we might later, if you’re up for it? I haven’t been for years.’

Something about the way he says it – wistful – makes it clear it means something to him, so I nod my agreement. ‘Why not, as long as the rain holds off.’

We both glance up at the sky where white and grey clouds hop and skip across the pale blue like children playing hopscotch.

‘Where do you want to go first?’

I glance round and shrug. ‘I don’t really know anything about this place so I’m in your hands.’

‘Why don’t we just head onto the beach for a bit, then we’ll go for a coffee.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’

We head down the slope towards the beach. It’s half sand and half pebbles, and the tide is out. We pick our way along the hard, wet sand, past clumps of seaweed and pools of seawater towards the shoreline. Matt stops and picks up a couple of shells and hands one to me. Its ridged edges are pinkish, and when I cup it in my palm it fills almost half of it.

‘This is beautiful.’

‘It is, isn’t it? I used to love coming here to collect shells. Filled buckets of them but I was never allowed to take them home. “You’ve got to respect nature,” Dad always said. I got it, but I was still heartbroken when he made me replace every single one of them onto the beach before we left to go home.’

I look down at the shell in my hand and close my palm round it, pocketing it, for now.

‘Shall we go and skim some stones?’ I say, then I race off and leave him to catch up, Gladys yapping with joy. When I get to the water’s edge I stop and watch the waves rise and froth, then splash onto the pebbles and the seaweed-covered rocks before racing up the shore towards my toes. My body tenses as the waves creep closer and closer but, just before it reaches me, it stops, then recedes, ready to start the process all over again.

‘The tide’s still going out so you’re fine for now, but you’d have soaking wet shoes if you did that later.’ Matt’s beside me and he bends down and unclips Gladys’s lead. She runs towards the sea, yapping her head off, then turns and races away again.

‘She’s always loved the beach.’

‘She’s got so much energy.’

‘Not as much as she used to, and she’ll be wiped out later.’

I bend down and select a flattish pebble from near my feet, then twist my body and flick the stone into an approaching wave. It bounces once, twice, three times, and then a fourth time before finally sinking without a trace.

‘Impressive,’ Matt says.

‘I used to be much better.’ I glance at him watching me. ‘My dad taught me in the canal near our house. I think my record is about nine bounces.’

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