Page 13 of A Cornish Love Story
‘Hopeful more like,’ Kira said with a grin.
‘He’s going to be an architect.’ Orwell kicked a pebble, his sandy hair ruffling in the breeze. ‘That’s what Dagger Dave said.’
‘You can’t trust anything Dagger Dave says,’ Freddy told him. ‘Although admittedly that’s not scandalous, so maybe it’s true.’
‘He’s so focused.’ Kira sounded accusing. ‘He knows what he wants to do already.’
‘I’m going to be a journalist and a writer,’ I reminded her. ‘I know, too.’
‘Of course,’ Freddy said far too brightly, and my spirits sank.
The concrete turned to sand under our feet, the blue water stretching ahead of us. Aquamarine shifted to indigo on the horizon, the waves large and unruly even though the tide was out, so we had a good ten-minutewalk to reach the water. Alperwick Bay was big enough that we didn’t feel crowded even when it was busy, the cliffs bookends on either side, the deserted mansion peering down from the clifftop to our left.
It was beautiful, and it was home, but I wanted so badly to leave – at least for a little while – and my friends, as much as they loved me, didn’t think I would.
‘The MS trial is going to work,’ I said. ‘Mum will get better, and we can sort out a programme of carers before I leave for any help she needs while I’m away.’
Kira busied herself pulling off her boots and tights.
Freddy was staring at the rocks as if he’d spotted a piskie, so I appealed to Orwell. ‘She knows how important it is to me. She’ll do everything she can to make sure I go.’
Orwell laughed, but let it die when I didn’t join in. ‘Yeah,’ he said sheepishly. ‘Course.’
Kira slung her arm around my shoulders. ‘We know she wants what’s best for you, but she is constantly on your case. And it’s awful for her,obviously, having MS, but you didn’t give it to her, Georgie. You’re not responsible for her.’
‘Shouldn’t I be, though?’ I was the only one who saw her when she was in so much pain she could barely stand, or when her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t pick up her mug. ‘We’ll sort it out. There are always options, aren’t there?’ I smiled, able to easily dismiss the horrifying possibility of being stuck here for ever, my journalism dreams, mywritingdreams, gone. ‘Are we going into the water, or not?’
Kira and Orwell were off before I’d finished the sentence, and I followed with Freddy, the wind bellowing around us as we skipped over eddies, our feet sinking into pockets of softer sand. By the time we reached the crashing waves, we were breathless and laughing, andthiswas the power of Cornwall. Right now, it was where I wanted to be.
‘Oh,’ Kira said. She’d been bent over, resting her hands on her knees and getting her breath back, but now she stood up straight.
‘Ohwhat?’ Freddy pulled her against him and kissed her neck. ‘Exercise made you frisky, has it?’
‘No.’ Kira pointed. ‘Thatoh.’
We followed the direction of her outstretched finger, and I got heroh. Ethan was walking in the shallows, his jeans rolled up, carrying his trainers. His head was tilted, gaze focused on the floor as he listened to the slender, dark-haired girl at his side, who was talking and gesticulating wildly.
‘He justlookslike an architect, don’t you think?’ Orwell said, as my insides fizzed with envy.
‘He looks like a guy.’ Freddy was nonplussed. ‘Honestly, what’s the fuss? Apart from the whole bathroom thing. That was bold.’ He held his fist out to me and I bumped it, as if I had orchestrated that stunt.
‘She walks the same way as him.’ Kira was standing with her arms folded, studying them. ‘Honestly, Georgie, I wouldn’t worry.’
‘Why would I be worried? I’ve spoken to him once.’
‘You’ve done a lot more than that, by all accounts.’
I knew Orwell was teasing, but it came out as a sneer, and I took a step away from him just as Ethan raised his head and locked eyes with me. He looked surprised, then he smiled and said something to his companion before striding towards us, and I focused on being nonchalant and unaffected. From the look Kira shot me, I might have failed.
‘Hi, Georgie,’ Ethan said.
‘Hey. How are you?’
‘Just giving my little sister a pep talk.’ Relief settled inside me, and I hoped it wasn’t showing on my face.
‘Sod off, Ethan.’ The girl scowled at him.
‘This is Sarah,’ he said, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘Sarah, this is Georgie, who’s in my year.’
