Page 99 of The Lucky Escape

He said, ‘I nearly didn’t say hello that morning at bootcamp. Did I ever tell you that?’

We pulled up into an almost deserted car park, and Carol started whimpering in the back, instinctively understanding that we’d arrived, and the glorious freedom of a beach would soon be hers. We let her out and followed her towards the shore.

‘Really?’ I asked. ‘Because I just can’t conceive of a world where that’s true.’

‘Ha! Is that so?’

I shrugged coquettishly, pleased that we could still flirt this way. He didn’t have my hand, but his arm, carrying our bag with a beach mat and supplies, was no more than six inches from me.

‘I’m glad I did.’

I sneaked a glance at him and couldn’t resist following up by giving him a kiss.

‘What was that for?’

We lingered, nose to nose, satisfied and full.

‘Just because,’ I said, and what I meant was,because I love you.

Once we walked the length of the coastline enough for Carol to relish paddling in the water, roll over in the sand, and slowly start to calm down, we settled in a spot to eat the lunch he’d packed.

‘I’ve got news too,’ he said, halfway through a sausage roll.

‘Oh?’ I replied.

‘I’ve put myself forward for a promotion.’

‘That’s amazing!’ I gasped. ‘I didn’t even know you were thinking of doing that!’

‘What can I say? You inspire me.’

‘Look at us.’ I grinned. ‘I’m giving up some responsibility; you’re leading the charge in taking up more …’

‘We’re rubbing off on each other.’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘We are. You make me better, Patrick Hummingbird.’

‘Don’t get soft on me.’ He winked, and it made me laugh. I was always laughing with him. My phone trilled, lighting up with a text message from Mum.

Agatha Mill’s son has his own mental health centre and has asked if he can get your number,it said.Is it okay to pass it on? I think he’s hiring and I might have talked you up a bit …

‘Mum’s got a lead on a job,’ I said. ‘Can you believe that? I think she’s honestly being supportive?’

‘Judy Wiig throwing in a third act curveball,’ he commented. ‘Who says a leopard can’t change its spots?’

I stood up and shook off the crumbs from lunch, and then peeled off my T-shirt and unbuttoned my jeans.

‘What are you doing?’ Patrick asked, his eyes panicked and jaw slackened. ‘You’re not going in, surely?’

‘Did you pack a towel?’

‘Yes, but only in case Carol got wet.’

I continued to undress, my socks coming off with my trousers until I stood in front of him in my underwear.

‘YOLO, right?’ I said, beginning the descent down to the oceanfront.

‘Aren’t you scared it’ll be freezing?’ he yelled.

I shouted over my shoulder to him, ‘Being scared is no reason to miss out. Didn’t you teach me that?’

Carol started to bark, thrilled by the prospect of more sanctioned time in the water, and Patrick was right: it was freezing. For a moment I lingered, letting the waves tickle my toes as the sea pulled out and then crashed back in. I looked at the horizon and luxuriated in the sun on my skin and let the breeze tickle my neck as I photographed the moment in my mind, committing it to memory. This was what life’s about – idle Saturdays at a beach with the man I love, a vague hope for the future but here and now being absolutely enough. I couldn’t control anything except my own happiness, and I’d done it – I’d grasped for it with both hands greedily and unashamedly. I didn’t have to know what would happen next year, or in ten years, or the trajectory of the rest of my life so long as Saturdays by the water existed.

Patrick appeared by my side in his boxers.

‘If you’re doing it, so will I.’

I accepted what he said with a kiss. We grinned at each other and time held still, just for a second, before I bentdown so my fingertips reached the waves, scooping water up in my cupped hand and flicking it at him.

‘Go on then,’ I said, wetting him, and he lunged after me with a gleeful shout, following me into the cold, deep water, both of us relishing the heart-stopping surrender of diving in, simply because we could.

---