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A week after the wedding she came down to the secret beach to try to escape the scenes that played themselves on repeat in her head. The alternative ending that would never be. It was freezing, but she enjoyed the way the cold air sliced through her, the way the damp got under her coat and swallowed her up. She sat on the icy rock, remembering its summer warmth soaking into her limbs that first day, and Rik’s body next to her, the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. It seemed impossible, that he had been there for her to take. Why hadn’t she had the courage to reach out and touch him, to roll onto him, to kiss him and claim him as hers?
Gelid tears slid from her eyes. She shivered, the cold biting at her bones. She lay down and the rock felt like a deathbed, hard and unforgiving. Gradually she got used to the temperature, slipping into its depths as her breathing slowed. It was getting dark. The tide was on the turn and she could hear it getting closer. She wanted to fall asleep and wait for the sea to cover her up. In her mind, she could smell him, feel him, taste him. In the end, she went home, curling herself around a hot-water bottle in an attempt to defrost her frozen heart.
Afterwards, she should have put what happened on the wedding day to the back of her mind. Put it down to a moment of impulse on Rik’s behalf. He’d been testing himself, perhaps. Or her? Either way, she should have tucked the memory away somewhere and got on with her life, leaving Rik and Jess to get on with their marriage.
But because she was on high alert, she began to see the cracks.
Jess was not suited to marriage. She wasn’t used to taking someone else into consideration on a daily basis, or putting them if not first, then at least on an equal footing. It left Rik bewildered and hurt. He wasn’t clingy or controlling, but he wasn’t expecting a wife who carried on behaving as if she was single. And he worried about her, because she was pregnant, but she endlessly forgot to tell him where she was, or when she was coming home, or what she was doing. They were still living half at Mariners and half on the boat, with a view to getting a proper place of their own, but Jess didn’t seem interested in finding somewhere. Twice Rik set up a viewing on a flat and she didn’t bother turning up.
When Nikki chided her, Jess couldn’t see the problem. ‘It’s how I am,’ she said. ‘I live in chaos. I always have. I need my space. He’s got to understand that.’
Rik tried his best, but he found it difficult.
‘I just want to look after her. Make the most of our time together before the baby comes.’ He looked bewildered. Nikki didn’t know what to say. It was unlikely that Jess would change. Maybe she would when she became a mum?
Things came to a head one night in the Neptune. Ironically, it was because Jess thought Rik was spending too much time talking to someone else. Jess had always insisted she wasn’t a jealous type, because it suited her for other people not to be jealous when she flirted with someone else. But perhaps that night she was feeling vulnerable, conscious of her thickening waist, the fact that she couldn’t sink three glasses of wine in quick succession, the fact that the girl in question was an Alanis Morisette lookalike in a slip dress and cowboy boots and was getting the attention Jess craved.
When Jess remonstrated with him, Rik protested. Despite his magnetic looks he wasn’t a flirt, but he did like talking to people.
‘So it’s one rule for you and one rule for me, is it?’ Jess shouted.
‘No, Jess. There are no rules.’ Rik objected to her making out he was some kind of monster.
Jess stared at him for a moment then stormed out of the pub. Rik went to go after her but Nikki stopped him.
‘I’ll go,’ she said. ‘I’ll calm her down and take her home. See you back there.’
Nikki pushed through the crowds and headed outside. Her heart sank as she saw Jess at the end of the quay, getting into a car with a bunch of local lads who were heading off to Tawcombe to go clubbing, which was the ritual after closing time. Nikki ran towards the car, waving at Jess to get out, but Jess just laughed and put two fingers up out of the back window as the car sped off.
Nikki stood at the end of the quay watching the Fiesta disappear up Speedwell high street. She could hear the pounding of the bass long after it had gone. Her sister was proving a point. Nikki knew she wouldn’t do anything completely irresponsible. She’d probably dance for a while then grab a taxi home. But she was too old to be behaving like a spoilt brat. She was married. And pregnant. With a responsible job. Her behaviour was disrespectful to Rik. And quite honestly, exhausting for everyone else, picking up the pieces and worrying. She knew Jess would be living in the moment, urging the driver to turn up the music even louder, totally focussed on the people in the car with her, not giving those she’d left behind a second thought.
Nikki decided to head home. There was nothing else she could do until Jess came home. Rik was in the kitchen, and jumped up as soon as she came in.
‘Did you find her?’
‘She’s gone to Tawcombe.’
Rik shook his head in despair.
‘I’m scared,’ he said.
‘Jess’ll be fine. The boys will bring her back safely.’ This was true, at least. She knew they all took turns to be the designated driver. Losing your licence in Speedwell was too much of a pain for anyone to risk drink-driving.
‘I was only talking to that girl. What did Jess think?’
‘She’s feeling a bit vulnerable.’
‘But I wasn’t interested in her.’
‘No, I know. I know you’d never—’ She stopped. He was gazing at her as if he was trying to commit her to memory. ‘What?’ She swallowed, not sure what was coming next.
He shut his eyes, and she was astonished to see a tear, just one, roll onto his cheek.
‘Oh, Rik. Honestly. She’ll be back. Don’t worry. It’ll all be fine.’ Instinctively she stepped forward to hug him. A chaste hug, the sort of hug a sister-in-law would give her brother-in-law. But as she put out her arms, he opened his eyes, and time slowed down, and that was the moment she should have stepped back, should have done something sensible like put the kettle on, but something pulled her towards him. And sliding into his embrace again was like nothing she had ever felt. Warm and tingly and so wrong but so right, and she felt the tight clamp she had been keeping around her heart to protect it loosen. He buried his face in her hair, murmuring her name, and she felt every strand ripple. She turned her face to his, shivering with the shock and the anticipation, and she was the one who went in for the kiss, who put her hands up and slid her fingers into his tangle of blond hair and pulled his head towards hers.
Hot honey filled her blood, pumping its way to her heart, her belly, further down. He was rough but gentle; fast but slow. Right but wrong. So many contradictions.
‘We shouldn’t be doing this,’ she whispered eventually, when they broke away.
