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She felt good. She felt confident. She felt she could handle anything life threw at her. She remembered Tamsin’s words, about having to make the first move with Adam. Of course he was tentative. Moving on after grief was a big deal. She didn’t have to be predatory. She didn’t have to jump on him. Just have a bit more confidence in herself.
It was just after eight as she swung back into her drive. It had turned into a beautiful evening after the earlier deluge and the sea beckoned, so she headed straight round to Adam’s to see if he fancied a swim. Life was going to get even more hectic as the wedding season hotted up, so having the time to take advantage of a dip when the sun was shining was going to be rare.
‘Definitely,’ said Adam. ‘Apart from anything I need some human interaction. Zooms do my head in.’
He was in Levi’s and a tight white T-shirt, a Celtic band tattoo peeping out from under his sleeve. How had she not noticed that before? Suddenly it was all she could look at.
‘Nice tattoo,’ she said, because there was no point in trying to pretend she wasn’t staring.
He looked down at it proudly.
‘I got it because it makes me work out. There’s nothing worse than a tattoo on flabby skin.’
Nikki swallowed, then grinned at him, hoping she wasn’t looking too inane.
‘See you at the top of the steps in five?’
The cliffs had greened up in the past couple of weeks, and were studded with yellow and purple flowers that filled the air with a faint trace of blossom, all mixed in with dear little daisies tinged with pink. As they clambered down, Nikki felt a leap of pleasure. Even if this was just two neighbours making the most of what was on their doorstep, this was as good as it got.
Ten minutes later, they stood at the edge of the water, the pale aquamarine of an Alpine glacier, and she felt the familiar squiggle of nerves she always had before plunging in. It never left you, that moment of trepidation, for the icy cold was always a challenge. But that was why she did it. To build her courage.
She took a deep breath and dived into the foamy sea. She was in control.
Afterwards, they sat in the garden and shared the remains of a bottle of Pecorino Nikki had in the fridge. Adam whistled in admiration at her garden. The last thing Mike and Jason had done before they left the site was give it a make-over – in just one morning they’d transformed it by laying some chippings outside the back door, digging out a couple of flower beds and replacing the old fence panels. Her mum had brought over a few plants from the garden at Mariners. Something she’d put by the bench smelt out of this world – sweet and heady and sensual.
‘My mum did the planting for me. She’s got green fingers but I haven’t inherited them.’
‘Jill designed ours. We kept it simple, for maintenance, but I think it could do with a bit more character. I’d like it a bit more jungly. But, like you, I don’t have a clue.’
‘Mum could give you some advice. She’s coming to the party.’ The bottle of wine was suddenly empty. ‘Shall I open another?’
She didn’t want the evening to come to an end. Neither, it seemed, did Adam.
‘Definitely.’
Nikki stood up. ‘You can help me make a playlist for the party.’
‘I love a playlist!’ Adam beamed with enthusiasm. ‘Let’s do it.’
She went inside to grab another bottle from the fridge, topped up their glasses, and brought out her portable speaker. Adam was already on his phone, scrolling through Spotify.
‘What’s the theme?’
‘Theme?’ Nikki frowned. ‘I don’t know. Do I need a theme?’
‘You could have different themes for different parts of the evening. A bit of Latin American for the tequila cocktails while everyone arrives. Then a yacht rock vibe for later?’
‘Yacht rock?’
‘You know, cool seventies classics that old dudes with yachts would play. It’s kind of cheesy but everyone loves it. A bit of Hall and Oates, Doobie Brothers, The Eagles …’
Nikki laughed. ‘I love it.’
The next bottle of wine went down easily as they spent the next hour bouncing suggestions backwards and forwards on their phones, laughing at the long-lost tunes from their distant past.
‘Oh my God. “Baker Street” by Gerry Rafferty.’ As the saxophone poured out of the speaker, Nikki remembered imagining Baker Street as some sort of glamorous boulevard, then being a bit disappointed when she went up to London and saw that the most interesting thing about it was a queue for Madame Tussauds.
‘That came out in 1978,’ said Adam. ‘You can’t have been any age.’
