‘It was a last-minute decision. What are you doing?’
He nudges a collection of small pebbles with his shoe before casting his gaze out to sea. ‘I was on a walk, and I’ve just come across your mum’s plaque.’
‘Oh, I see.’
He points to the beach below. ‘When we used to sit on our rock, I always used to see you looking up here.’
Smiling, I stand beside him and look down at our old rock. ‘You came up here a few times with me – remember?’
His face softens. ‘I used to moan a lot about coming up here – didn’t I?’
A giggle escapes my lips. ‘Yes, you did. I think once I had to practically drag you up those steps.’
‘Sorry.’ His boyish smile sweeps across his face and my chest feels like it is full of tiny seagulls.
I flick my eyes to Mum’s shiny plaque and find myself wishing she’d got a chance to meet Noah. ‘You never met Mum – did you?’
He doesn’t say anything and returns to staring out to sea.
‘She would have liked you,’ I say, letting my mind whisk me back in time to when Mum would collect me from primary school in her old leather jacket pretending to be a cool parent.
I get the feeling Noah wants to go. He’s shifting his weight from one boot to another and is fiddling with the zip on his red jacket. ‘I used to think you were brave dealing with the loss of your mum. I never knew my mother because she left after my first birthday.’
I bend down to run my fingertips over her plaque. ‘I think I’ll always be dealing with losing her. I like to think she’s still with us.’
We walk back along the coastal path towards the steps side by side. Every so often we turn our heads to find the other smiling back.
‘Your mum loved hiking, didn’t she?’
I nod. ‘Mum loved adventure and the outdoors. She looked forward to her Saturdays, when she would head out with her map, her rucksack, and her flask.’
‘She sounds like a lot of fun,’ he says, quietly.
On the way down the steps, we giggle like school children at the exhausted tourists who are getting their breath midway up, and we try to chase each other down the rest of the steps.
Once we get onto the beach Noah points over to our rock. ‘Shall we climb up for old times’ sake?’
Before I can blink, he takes my hand, and we hurry across the beach to our old rock. He climbs up with ease. With a sigh I follow him up. I make sure I sit apart from him. Dangling my jean-clad legs over the side, I savour the warm and fuzzy nostalgic feeling of being back sat on our old rock. It’s been years.
‘I’d forgotten how peaceful it is up here,’ sighs Noah, running his hand through his blond hair. ‘It’s still one of my favourite places in the world.’
‘We used to have a lot of fun.’
He nods. ‘We’d race home from school. I’d do my homework and you…’
‘Wouldn’t do any,’ I say, with a giggle. The prospect of spending time with Noah was too much of a distraction for me.
‘We’d meet by the seafront and run like mad things over to this rock.’
‘With sweets stuffed in our pockets and two sugary drinks shoved inside a picnic blanket.’
The boyish smile is back. ‘Listen to music up here and watch the world go by.’
‘I never got cold up here considering we stayed out until it got dark.’
‘That’s because you always stole my coat.’
We both laugh and I notice the sparkle in his eyes.
