The ocean envelopedme as I cut through the bay with ease, the sound of my body breaking the surface and the distant caw of gulls the only thing filling my ears apart from salt water.
I set a leisurely pace, stopping every time I reached the buoy marker near the edge of the bay to tread water for a minute as my gaze roamed over the town and my mind wandered. Heather Bay was beautiful in the morning, there was no doubt about that. One of those picturesque Northern fishing towns, with the colourful beach huts, rows of shops, and winding paths up the hill, the steeple of the church poking out of the top, and the castle on top of the cliff with a glimpse of the farmland behind it.
There was a wildness to it. Almost a roughness. It wasn’t soft and pretty like the postcard-ready Cornish towns I’d visited. But there was a unique charm to Heather Bay you couldn’t find anywhere else. It was beautiful, enchanting, and hardy all at the same time. Loved fiercely by its people and unknown to most of the world. Ready for whatever storm came to batter against it, whether that was rough seas, gale winds and pouring rain,or another influx of tourists here to stalk the celebrity cast of whatever show they filmed at the castle.
Growing up here, I’d never appreciated the town the way I did now. I’d always been convinced there were better, more beautiful places out there, waiting for me to find them.
And there were.
I’d seen a thousand sunrises over small towns, sprawling cities, empty beaches, and lonely mountains. I’d met more people than I could count, learnt scattered phrases in a dozen languages, eaten local food and heard local stories, and found home in every place I’d stayed.
But coming back here, to the place I’d been so desperate to leave, had given me a newfound appreciation for it. I could finally see the beauty my dad had always told me was there, and I was starting to understand why people built their lives here.
It was their home, and they loved it fiercely.
Even if it was imperfect.
I kept swimming, enjoying the peace and solitude the early morning gave me. A few boats headed out to sea, the tail end of their path making the water a little choppy, but they stayed outside the area marked for swimming and I didn’t get in their way, so we weren’t a bother to each other.
The water felt like it was starting to get cooler, and I wondered if I’d get used to it or whether there’d come a point in September or October where it wasn’t for me, even if I’d dug out a full wetsuit. Not that I expected to be here for long. Darcy wouldn’t need me once the school holidays ended and business settled, and I’d be free to move on to wherever my feet took me.
I didn’t know where that would be yet, but I’d think of something. There was a list in a battered old notebook in my backpack of places I still wanted to visit. It would be easy to pick one of those and start researching. I could start doing it now, soI didn’t have to wait come the autumn. Find somewhere warm to spend the winter like a swallow travelling south.
And I could always come back.
Maybe next summer, if Darcy needed me.
It would be nice to see him again.
I turned towards shore and began to swim slowly back, using the faded green beach hut on one end as a marker. I didn’t wear a watch while swimming, but I had a rough idea of the time. Because as I glanced at the pavement above the sand, I saw a figure leaning on the railings and pretending to stretch. Even from here I could see the lime green soles of his trainers and the pale skin of his legs.
Darcy was wearing shorts today.
My lips curled into a smile as I picked up the pace, heading straight towards him so I could do my best slow-motion stroll out of the sea while pushing my hair off my face, making sure my chest and arms popped. Darcy clearly had a thing for my chest, and I’d caught him staring at my arms before when I’d been working in the kitchen. My arse too.
Not that I blamed him. I looked good.
I’d fallen in love with my body over the past few years, giving it things it wanted and needed and appreciating everything it did for me. Yeah, it was scarred and battered and parts of it were starting to ache way more than necessary, but it was mine and I was going to cherish it. It had seen me across the world and back, and the story of my life was written across my skin.
I might not be the handsomest or the fittest or the most toned, but I’d learned to embrace loving myself and stopped comparing myself to others. And that acceptance had given me more confidence than I’d thought possible.
Darcy seemed to like that confidence too.
My feet touched the sand and the waves washed around my hips as I stood, shaking my head and flipping my hair out of myface. Water rushed off me, running across my chest, dripping off my arms, and trickling down my jaw.
I could taste salt on my lips, but I wanted to replace it with the taste of Darcy.
He was watching me from the top of the stairs, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. I loved the way he stared at me. It made me feel wanted in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. Our night together had been fucking amazing, and I was desperate to find a way to do it again.
For purely altruistic reasons, obviously. Darcy really needed to relax and one night didn’t quite seem to have done the trick.
“Mornin’,” I said as I strolled towards him, giving him a casual wave and grinning when he returned it. I loved it when he smiled.
“Morning,” he said cheerfully. “Water looks smoother today. Did you have a nice swim?”
I nodded, realising with delight he wasn’t pretending he hadn’t stopped to watch me on purpose. He’d wanted to see me. “I did, although it’s starting to get colder. Might have to dig out my proper wetsuit.”
“I’d say it’s only August, but that is the North Sea and it’s what, half-six? Of course it’s cold.”
