Page 11 of The Big Dip in Crumbleton
The guys at the surf club are a bit scatty (I know, I’m one of them!), so in case no one told you—things kick off at 11am, but there’s a safety briefing before that.
‘Helpful!’ chuckled Scarlett.
She glanced at the large, smooth pebble in her hand. This one had a star drawn next to her name. She slipped it into her beach bag before hurrying along the boardwalk to the next one.
The briefing’s in the café, by the way. I’ll be there early. Coffee / tea / hot chocolate / breakfast are on me… if you fancy it? I’m not really as grouchy as I look. Promise!
Scarlett felt a bubble of laughter rise in her throat. This was both ridiculous and utterly charming. Van Man clearly had a sense of humour as well as an unexpectedly thoughtful side.
As she made her way along the trail, Scarlett tried to imagine Pete placing each stone carefully in position early that morning. There was something endearing about the thought of the tall, weathered, surfer-type creating a treasure hunt for a visitor he barely knew.
Much to Scarlett’s surprise, the pebbles didn’t stop at the bend in the path. The neat trail continued to wind its way between the dunes. It didn’t take long before her bag was heavy with a little collection of treasures, but she couldn’t bear to leave them behind—not when Pete had clearly taken so much trouble to make each one special.
Scarlett had to admit, she was having such a brilliant time—hurrying from one note to the next—that she was actually glad there hadn’t been anything to eat in the hut after all! Sure, her stomach was still grumbling, but now that there was the promise of breakfast at the end of the trail, she didn’t mind one bit.
Now that Pete’s notes had given her the key bits of information, they were getting more and more random. A couple of them just had arrows drawn on them, guiding her on which direction to take when the path branched. Others contained little snippets of local information and random seaside facts.
The Limpet Café has the best bacon baps in the county—Dad’s secret recipe.
Watch out for the steep bit coming up—steps can be slippery when sandy.
Did you know that herring gulls (the noisy ones that steal your chips) can drink both fresh and salt water thanks to special glands above their eyes that filter out the salt?
The surf club is just past the café—blue shack with the peeling paint. Can’t miss it.
The boardwalk came to an end as the dunes gave way to firmer ground, and Scarlett caught her first glimpse of the café ahead. It was built on stilts, rising from the beach like some exotic waterside dwelling, with a flight of wooden steps leading up to the entrance.
The building was painted a weathered blue-grey that blended beautifully with the sea and sky, and colourful flags fluttered from the railing surrounding the deck.
As she approached the bottom of the steps, the scent of bacon and coffee wafted down them, making her stomach grumble and her mouth water. She wanted to dash straight up and make her way inside, but Pete wasn’t quite finished with his game yet!
There was one last pebble on the lowest step. It was barely larger than a marble and was sitting on top of a note that had been sellotaped to the wooden plank to stop it from blowing away.
Bending down, Scarlett picked up the pebble. Sure enough, there was her name in minute lettering, along with a tiny flower. She unstuck the folded note and opened it up.
You have reached your destination. Yay!
Scarlett laughed out loud, the sound instantly carried away by the sea breeze. Placing the last pebble carefully into her bag with the others, she took a deep breath before climbing up to the café, every step bringing her closer to breakfast—and to Pete.
CHAPTER5
PETE
‘Why do you look even grumpier than usual?’
Pete turned in surprise to find Libby staring at him from behind the café’s wooden counter. She was wearing one of The Limpet’s navy blue and cream aprons, and that annoying little-sister-smirk she’d perfected around the age of eight.
‘I’m not grumpy,’ he muttered, ‘just stiff. You would be too if you’d slept in a freezing cold van all night.’
‘Are you still going on about that?’ chuckled Libby.
Pete shrugged, his eyes returning to the café door, where they’d been glued for almost an hour now.
‘You know… I don’t buy it,’ said Libby, loading one of the cake stands on the counter with fresh pastries. ‘A bad night’s sleep doesn’t explain your obsession with the door – you’ve been staring at it since you came in. I swear you barely tasted that bacon sandwich I made you. And anyway, haven’t you been surfing this morning? That usually puts you in a good mood.’
Pete shrugged again. He wasn’t really sure what to say… because, as usual, Libby was annoyingly right. Hehadcome straight from his morning surf session… but for some reason, it hadn’t managed to work its usual magic. The waves had been decent enough, but he’d spent quite a bit of time just paddling around, staring up at the sky.
He’d never admit it to Libby, but his head was full of the beautiful woman staying in his hut, and the fact that he’d probably made himself look like a total plonker with that stupid trail of pebbles he’d left for her.
