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Chapter One
Layla looked up at the sky as the first raindrop fell, hitting her square between the eyes. Turning, she watched as the bus pulled away before bending down and picking up her bright purple rucksack from the ground by her feet.
This was it then... Penworth Bay, her new home for the next month. It was pretty; chocolate box cottages lined the road opposite the bus stop, a small pub behind her.
Yes, this would do. Now she just had to find the bakery where she’d be volunteering. She pulled her mobile out from her coat pocket and scrolled through to the email she’d received from the bakery’s owner, Elsie. That was it, The Cornish Bay Bakery.
Huh, no directions. She was sure she’d seen a map or something. Still, it couldn’t be that hard to find. The bay looked small enough, and she was certain the advertisement had promised sea views – that’s why she’d applied to volunteer here, the sea views.
Turning on the spot, she looked around her. The beach must be that way, down the hill. Holding her hand above her eyes and shielding them from the torrent of rainwater disturbing her vision, she grinned. Yes, she could see the ocean from here. Why hadn’t she noticed before? Because she’d been too busy worrying, that’s why. Well, that was going to stop, right now, right here. She’d spent too long worrying about things recently, her future mainly. Well, now she was going to live in the present. Yes, she’d apply for jobs and practical things like that, but she would no longer let it consume her life.
No, life was for living. That’s what her grandad had always told her and that’s what she was determined to do. And she could. She’d always been great at following that particular piece of advice from him. Right up until three months, two weeks and four days ago, that was.
As for the other advice he’d thought to bestow upon her – don’t walk under ladders, make sure to jump across the third drain in a row and follow her heart in games of love – well, she wasn’t so great at those. The first two? Layla scrunched her nose up. Who needed extra stress when out for a walk, right? The last one, though, that one made sense. She just wasn’t brave enough to follow it. Yet, anyway.
Pulling her long dark hair over her shoulders, she wrung out the rainwater, watching it stream down the front of her coat. Not for the first time since she’d stepped off the plane from her parents’ house, she wished she’d invested in a decent coat fit for the English weather. Or at least one with a hood.
She looked down at the yellow fabric of the coat she was wearing. It had travelled around the world with her, been her saviour in numerous light showers of rain, but here, with the relentless torrent of water, it had quickly rendered itself next to useless. Both her mum and her dad had warned her. They’d reminded her time and time again how different the English weather was to the climate of their Spanish retirement home. Her dad had even offered to drive her to the closest city to find a coat she liked, but, no, she’d been too busy moping. Too busy sitting by the pool, memories of her time working on the cruise ship whirring around her mind, memories of her work colleagues, her friends, of Eli.
Layla blew the clump of wet hair sticking to her nose before giving in and scraping it away with the back of her hand. Eli. Of course, she’d spoken to him in group calls with the rest of their tight-knit group. For the first few weeks after stepping off the ship, they’d spoken over the phone at least once a day. The calls had become the highlight of her day, a chance to reconnect, a chance to catch up.
Of course, as time had gone by and her friends had got jobs and moved on with their lives, the calls had become fewer and further between, the number of people on the calls less. But Eli had always been there, he’d always picked up or initiated the calls, he’d been her constant.
Pausing, she hefted her rucksack further up onto her shoulder, its heavy load slamming against her back. He’d always been there until the week before last, when he too had stopped picking up, he too had been too busy to answer her calls or to ring her. She sighed. It was only because he’d got a job, only because he was busy again, just like their other crew members. It was bound to happen. She’d been expecting it. And that had been when she’d known she had to take her parents’ suggestion to do something. Anything. And travelling around the country she’d been raised in, volunteering in exchange for food and board, keeping her costs down, had seemed a good idea. As good an idea as any whilst she worked out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life anyway.
She stopped again. The ocean was closer now. She’d soon be at the bottom of the hill. She glanced over her shoulder, back towards the bus stop. At least she was walking downhill. She didn’t fancy the return trip walking up the hill with her rucksack. The months of indulging in her mum’s cooking and her dad’s baking teamed with lazy days by the pool had all but scuppered any plans of joining her dad in running the half marathon in Magaluf. Good job she’d decided to travel instead, at least now she had a good excuse. It would be pointless to fly back to Spain after only a few weeks of travelling.
Layla shook herself from her thoughts. Not far to go now and she’d be at the bakery, her home for the next month. She began walking again, picking up the pace a little. She was soaked, due to her coat having forgotten about its ‘shower resistant’ powers almost as soon as she’d stepped foot off the bus, her jumper was heavy from having soaked up what water it could do before letting the rest through to her t-shirt and skin.
A long shower and an enormous mug of coffee was what she needed now, warmth and caffeine. What could be better than that? Nothing, that was the answer. Right at this moment in time, nothing could beat that combination. Although maybe not at the same time. She laughed at her own joke.
‘Hey! Hang on a moment.’
The voice sliced through the incessant lashing of the rain, and she turned to see who had called out. Holding her hand above her eyes to shield them from the rain, she searched the street behind her. Who had called out? Taking a step back, she lost her footing, landing in a heap in the middle of a puddle, her rucksack falling into her lap. Great.
Chapter Two
Hugging her rucksack to her chest, she narrowed her eyes and watched as the owner of the voice, a man probably a similar age to herself sporting a thick blue jacket and a black holdall, ran down the path towards her.
‘Aw no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.’ Coming to a stop in front of her, he held his hand out.
‘You didn’t. I just wasn’t expecting someone to holler at me down the street.’ Taking his hand, she let herself be pulled up to standing before looking down at herself. Her once light blue jeans were streaked navy with rainwater. She dreaded to think about how she looked like from behind. She was soaked.
He held up his hands, palms forward, and grimaced. ‘Sorry, when I shouted, it didn’t occur to me that you’d...’ The corners of his lips flickered.
‘Are you laughing at me?’ Seriously? He’d caused her to fall in a heap in a puddle in the middle of the street and he had the audacity to laugh at her?
‘No, no, of course not.’ He glanced away, his hand hiding his mouth.
‘You are!’ Layla flared her nostrils as she squeezed out the water from the ankles of her jeans. She looked wildly up and down the street. Had anyone else seen her? Seen her land in the puddle, making a fool of herself. No, he’d made a fool of her. He’d caused this.
‘Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone else saw.’ Straightening his face, he waved his hand around, indicating the downpour.
‘Yes, well, it’s my first day here and now I’ve got to turn up to my new job looking like this...’ She indicated her sodden clothes. What would Elsie think?
‘You’re starting a new job today?’
‘Yes, no. It’s a voluntary role but still...’ Was there a difference? She still needed to make a good first impression. She’d wanted to. She slumped her shoulders. Why had she felt the need to differentiate?
