Page 20 of The Cornish Cream Tea Holiday
Chapter Seven
Going on a walk with Ben and Scooter, Thea soon discovered, wasn’t like going on a walk on her own, even though they took the same route she had taken, heading through Port Karadow and then out the other side, picking up the cliff path on the north of the small town. Man and dog had more energy and determination in their little finger and paw than Thea had in her whole body, and despite Ben having the biggest rucksack, with two large bottles of iced water and a bottle of suncream in, and Thea only having the sandwiches she’d insisted on making, it wasn’t long before she was lagging behind.
Ben turned, seeking her out, and must have realised their strides didn’t match, because when she caught up with him he slowed his pace, leaving Scooter to run on ahead, nose down, investigating the smells and sounds as he went.
It was even more beautiful than it had been yesterday, the sun so bright that it made the blues and greens, the aquamarine of the water, pop. But the breeze was alsostronger, and the cool tugs of air stopped Thea being overwhelmed by the heat. She realised she was enjoying it more, taking in the views properly, knowing she didn’t need to worry about getting lost.
‘The beach down here is a prime spot for surfers,’ Ben said, stepping closer to the cliff edge, the grass there tufty and uneven. Thea could hear the waves crashing far below them, and was happy to imagine the wetsuit-clad thrill-seekers without peering over to take a look. ‘There are a lot out today. Here.’ He held his hand out.
Thea shook her head. ‘I’m good.’
‘Come and see,’ he said. ‘You’ll be fine.’
‘I don’t want to get too close. Heights and I aren’t the best of friends.’
‘I’ll look after you.’ He waggled his fingers and, reluctantly, Thea held her hand out. His grip was firm and warm, as it had been yesterday, but he didn’t tug her forward. He waited for her to come to him, which she did in tiny steps, until they were standing side by side. Thea looked out at the endless blue, the shimmering peaks and troughs of waves heading in to shore, and gave a small nod.
‘Lean over,’ Ben said. ‘You can’t see them from there.’
She bent her upper body half an inch. She couldn’t see any surfers, but she could see the white foam as the waves broke closer to the beach.
‘Go on,’ Ben said softly. ‘I’ll hold onto you.’ She felt his hand grip her waist, the pressure enough to make her feel secure, but not enough to hurt. He moved so that he was behind her, the solid pillar of his body shoring her up. She took a deep breath to calm herself, to still her wobbling legs, and leaned forward. Ben’s hand anchoredher to him as she peered down at the beach, and there they were.
There must have been fifteen or twenty of them; shiny black figures with slashes of colour beneath them, heading into or out of the waves, some catching a large swell as it rolled in towards the shore, following it through and then falling, in a splash of foam, as the wave dispersed. It was hard to concentrate on them, though, when all her attention was focused on the spot where Ben’s hand gripped her waist; the heat of him behind her, his breath feathering the back of her neck.
‘Do you surf?’ she asked, still staring at the people far below.
‘No. At least, I haven’t tried it yet. Finn and Meredith go sea swimming every day – even in winter – but I’ve been too busy. Or, let’s face it, reluctant to get up at some ungodly hour to freeze my ass off in the water. But maybe one day.’
Thea straightened and Ben moved backwards, still holding onto her, until they were a few metres from the edge, then he let her go. Even though it was a warm day, she felt the absence of his touch like a cold brand against her skin.
‘I’m planning on swimming while I’m here,’ she said. ‘But only because it’s June, and the weather’s already like August.’
‘You have to pick the right beach,’ Ben replied. ‘Some aren’t suitable for swimmers because of the currents. They all have signs though,’ he added with a wince, as if realising he was being too domineering.
‘Where did you move here from?’ she asked.
‘The Lakes. Near Ambleside.’
‘Did it get too touristy for you?’ she teased.
‘Yeah. I wanted somewhere remote, untouched by visitors, which is why I picked the Cornish coast.’ They exchanged a smile, but there was something in his expression, something guarded, that made Thea think she shouldn’t press. Of course, that meant she wanted to even more.
‘Is the work better down here?’
‘There’s work everywhere,’ Ben said, then whistled loudly at Scooter, who was burying his nose in someone’s discarded cardigan. The dog glanced at him, then trotted on. ‘I wanted a fresh start,’ he continued. ‘I loved Cornwall as a kid, and I know it’s full of tourists, and that incomers aren’t seen as much better than the holidaymakers, but I like that it’s rugged and rural, despite all that.’
‘You couldn’t live in a city, then?’
He shook his head. ‘Not my scene. You like being in Bristol?’
‘I do,’ she said lightly. ‘It’s got the river, of course, but I love being close to the sea, too – terrifying clifftops aside – and I wouldn’t be against living near it one day.’ She wasn’t ready to tell Ben about her bookshop, even though a part of her was desperate to: she would love to get the opinion of someone unbiased – especially someone as direct as Ben.
‘It’s good for the soul,’ he replied, his gaze drifting out over the water. ‘Good for everything, really. It’s the same with the Lakes. There’s something calming about being near water.’
‘It reminds you how small you are,’ Thea said. ‘It puts everything in perspective.’
He nodded his agreement and they walked on, until they reached a fork in the path. ‘I’m guessing you went this way yesterday.’ Ben pointed to the route that angled inland.
