Page 57 of Secrets and Seashells at Rainbow Bay
‘Pantomime joke,’ he explains to the others. ‘Isn’t that right, Amelia? Or should I call you . . . Cinders?’
Twenty-two
‘Benji, can I ask you something?’ I say one evening as Benji and I sit at the top of my tower watching the sun go down over the sea. Benji had brought along a bottle of Pino Grigio to celebrate the fact that at last the renovations on the stables are nearing completion and we’ve just set a date for the grand opening in two weeks’ time.
‘Anything, sweetie; you know that,’ Benji says laconically, as he stretches out on the deckchairs we’ve borrowed from the castle grounds, so we can sit up here together and wait for the stars to appear in the clear night sky above us.
I’ve just put Charlie to bed, so it’s time to relax at last.
‘Do you believe in ghosts?’
Benji’s eyes open wide. ‘That I was not expecting. I thought you were going to ask me something about Tom!’
‘Tom? Why would I ask you something about him?’ I try to keep my voice as steady as possible, but Benji isn’t fooled for a moment.
‘Really?’ he says, looking over the top of his glass. ‘We’re playing that game, are we?’
‘I really don’t know what you’re referring to,’ I say in my most refined voice, then I grin.
‘I’ve seen you whenever he’s around – you go all coy.’
‘I do not!’
‘Yes, you do; your cheeks go pink, just here,’ Benji reaches across and gently touches the centre of my cheek, ‘and you go all Princess Diana.’
‘What on earth does that mean?’
Benji tips his head forward and looks up at me with a doe-eyed expression, then he bats his eyelids.
‘Ido notdo that!’ I say, laughing at him.
‘Well, maybe not quite that bad, but it’s similar. You like him, don’t you?’ Benji asks, studying the contents of his wine glass thoughtfully.
‘Maybe . . . ’ I admit reluctantly. ‘Just a bit.’
‘I thought so.’ Benji gets up and begins to examine the collection of shells that Charlie keeps on one of the window sills from his many visits to the beach. ‘I’m overjoyed for you both. Tom is a top guy.’
‘There’s nothing going on yet,’ I insist.
‘Yetbeing the operative word!’ Benji says triumphantly. ‘Sorry, I’m teasing you. It’s nice you’ve found someone. Like I said, I’m pleased for you. You deserve to be happy.’ He turns to examine Charlie’s shells again.
‘Benji, is something wrong?’ I ask quietly, sensing it might be. Benji has behaved oddly before when we’ve talked about Tom. It was almost as if . . . No, it couldn’t be . . . I was stupid to even think it. But it did seem like he might be a tiny bit jealous.
‘No, of course not,’ Benji says, turning to look at me again. ‘Why would it be?’
‘No reason.’ I shake my head, feeling relieved. Benji and I are just friends. There’s nothing more to our relationship than that. There had been a time once, before we moved to the castle, when Benji had been spending a lot of time with us that I’d wondered briefly if it might develop into something else, but I’d quickly realised that my feelings for him were not of a romantic nature at all. I thought he was great: funny, smart, kind and articulate. But I simply didn’t find him attractive – not inthatway, anyway – and I was pretty sure Benji felt the same way about me.
‘Charlie sure has a lot of shells now, eh?’ Benji says. ‘He’s quite the conchologist. Shell collector,’ Benji explains when I look puzzled. ‘That’s what they’re called.’
‘Ah, I see. Well, there’s a word I didn’t know.’
‘I’m here to educate,’ Benji says, grinning. He sits back down on his deckchair and picks up his glass. ‘I’m glad you and Tom are getting on well,’ he says. ‘It was one of the reasons I suggested he come here.’
‘It was?’ I’m shocked to hear this.
‘Yeah, I’ve known Tom a good few years now. I had a feeling the two of you might hit it off.’
‘We’re hardly hitting it off – we’re just going down the pub together on Friday.’ I slap my hand over my mouth. I haven’t told anyone about this yet.
