Page 35 of When We Were Friends
‘Henri, can you ask where he worked?’
Henri quizzed Delphine. Gave her a thumbs up. ‘A surf shop. On a beach, she doesn’t know which one. But the shop is called Sea Breeze, or was back then, the name of her favourite cocktail. She meant to drop in, to have a proper chat, but couldn’t face socialising for months after her husband left, and after that, it felt too late.’
Delphine spoke some more.
‘Hugo had been so excited when he got the job. Delphine had been out the front the day he learnt he’d been the lucky candidate. She’d ask him about it whenever their paths crossed, and he hoped to work his way up and be put in charge of a new branch one day; the manager often talked about expanding in the future. Hugo spoke as if he’d finally found his place in the world. He loved the beaches. The waves. The sun. Delphine says they were a lovely family and to give Hugo her best wishes if you find him.’
Morgan thanked the two of them profusely, and Tiff rang for a taxi whilst the others searched for the shop on their phones.
‘It’s still there,’ said Emily. ‘Sea Breeze Surf Shop.’
Morgan studied the website. ‘Etabli1991. Assuming that meansestablished. Okay, this is good and it sounds as if he was happy settling in France. There are now three branches of the shop, across the Riviera, two smaller, so we should start with the big one.’
‘Wonder how many French hearts he’s broken,’ said Tiff.
‘Maybe none,’ said Emily. ‘Perhaps the stereotype is true and French women are more sophisticated in the ways of love.’
Neither Morgan nor Paige, spoke. The taxi pulled up and they got in. Morgan showed the driver the location of the shop on her phone. In heavily accented English, he said that beach wasn’t the most popular with tourists, but was excellent for surfing and it attracted a lot of dog walkers. She got in the front, the others in the back, attempting conversation.
‘Lewis and I had dreamt about retiring next to the coast. He loves sunny days with deckchairs and ice-creams, whereas I enjoy a bit of bird spotting and collecting shells.’ Emily gave a small sigh and looked out of the car window. Tiff patted her arm before taking it back quickly.
Paige talked about the charity work Felix did through his job. ‘Last year, as a treat, his team took the kids to Debdale Park in Gorton for windsurfing lessons. They were so excited, didn’t even mind the torrential rain that came out of nowhere.’
‘He sounds like a great guy,’ said Morgan.
Paige gave a small nod.
‘I have a neighbour, in London, obsessed with swimming. He’d love living somewhere like this,’ said Tiff. ‘Joe lives in a flat above a shop, next to my house.’ Prodded by the others, she explained how Joe was in his late twenties and a drama teacher at an inner-city school. They’d started to run into each other when jogging. ‘I know,’ she said and pulled a face. ‘Me, running. Then once, he caught me unawares, said he was off to the pool for a thirty-minute lane swimming session, and did I fancy going with him. His running kit is always so sensible, with the black shorts and hi-vis jacket. I couldn’t help laughing when he came out of the changing room in trunks covered in llamas.’
‘And this Joe is just a friend, right?’ said Morgan from the front, head turned around to look at the others, top lip twitching.
‘He sounds fit, in more ways than one,’ Emily chipped in.
‘Llamas sound like fun,’ said Paige and nudged Tiff’s elbow.
Tiff sat up airily. ‘Sorry to disappoint. We’re simply friends, through and through.’
As they neared the beach, Morgan zoned out of the chat and went into her gallery on her phone, staring at the photo of Sylvie and Hugo’s house. She’d promised to keep Olly updated, and would send it to him via Facebook Messenger when back at the villa.
They reached the beach at nine-thirty. The driver pulled into the car park. Morgan got out and inhaled the fresh air, dizzy as if it contained Class A drugs. Paige followed, lit a cigarette and took a long drag. Morgan hurried over to the shop, a wooden building with large windows, a palm leaf thatched roof and huge doors at the front.
Slowly Morgan went up to the doors. A sign on the front said the shop… was closed on Sundays from November to April.
Another setback. It was as if the universe was telling her to turn back.
She pressed her nose against the window and scanned rows of colourful surf boards and wetsuits, along with piles of shorts, tins of wax and board bags. She went to turn away when a row of framed photos caught her attention, behind the till. She narrowed her eyes. One was of a blonde-haired woman, on a beach, standing next to a surf board. A large medal hung around her neck. Next to her, with a wide smile on his face, was a well-built, tanned man with short hair. Not a paler, lanky boy, with a floppy fringe. But it was still Hugo.
Seagulls circling overhead, Morgan raced towards the beach. Memories flooded back of his lips on hers. She’d never daydreamed about him, or doodled his name in class, but Morgan had grown to care for Hugo. He’d been so thoughtful, it was unexpected. Would he be interested in a son? What would it do to Olly if he wasn’t? Almost losing her balance, she pulled off her shoes and ran across patches of seaweed and into the sea, the cold water coming up to her ankles. The tide frothed as it circled around her feet, then it disappeared to sea again, leaving crushed shells in its wake. She squidged her toes in the sand, a comforting sensation.
Paige caught her up. ‘Everything okay?’
Morgan could hardly breathe. Tiff and Emily arrived too. Tiff pulled off her shoes.
‘We’re really going to come face to face with Hugo. His photo is up on the wall; it’s definitely the right place,’ Morgan stuttered.
‘I feel like a teenager again,’ mumbled Tiff.
‘Nervous. Excited. Angry,’ said Emily.
