Page 17 of My Summer of Magic Moments

10.Doing something to help someone else.

She’d keep an eye on how she could help others. It always made you feel better. More connected, somehow. She might do something for a cancer charity, or offer to get the old lady next door’s shopping for her. Or take her a nice freshly baked loaf – why not? She could continue her baking back home, for sure.

She decided to leave out her aspirations for sex on the beach and the naked-swimmer viewing sessions – for now. It might trigger all manner of weird and wonderful suggestions in her mailbag and cause uproar at the family-styled newspaper.

She wrote a short intro about how she was inspired to write the article, and briefly mentioned her break away to provide some background. At the bottom of the column she’d ask her readers to send in their own magic moments. It would be lovely to see what made other people happy, if there were things that united everyone or special, funny or unusual moments.

Claire felt pretty sure this would make a lovely column. And it would be nice to have something positive to say – a change from all that sad and scary news. She just hoped her boss, David, would feel the same once he’d read her proposal. He always insisted that bad news sold more papers – how often did you see a cheery headline?

She finished the article and reread it, tweaking a few words here and there; an hour passed quickly. She’d take another look later; it was always better to take a break from a piece of writing and go back to it with a fresh mind. There was always some daft typo or clumsy phrase lurking in there, ready to catch you out.

The next morning, she decided to walk into the village, thinking that the fresh air and exercise would do her good. From the puffy white clouds above, it looked as though the weather had settled again, though it was still rather cool for June. She’d had another flick through Lynda’s cookbook last night, and fancied trying out some flatbreads. She could buy a fresh chicken to cook and some salad to go with them.

The walk along the beach was calming – the sounds of the sea, soft sand between her bare toes. She strolled, carrying her plimsolls in one hand. On the second bay, an elderly silver-haired chap was striding towards her. She’d seen him several times this holiday. He walked with an old-fashioned wooden stick, but at a good pace; it seemed like he did this stretch of beach often.

‘Morning, lass.’

‘Morning.’ Claire smiled back.

‘I’ve seen you lots of times now, haven’t I? You staying here?’ He paused.

‘Yes, at the cottage there in the next bay, Farne View.’

‘Ah yes. Having a nice time?’

‘I am, yes. It’s lovely here.’

‘Grand, isn’t it? You won’t get a better beach than this one in the whole world, I reckon. The name’s Peter, by the way.’ He held out a slightly wizened welcoming hand.

Claire took it and gave it a firm shake. ‘Nice to meet you, Peter. I’m Claire.’

‘Well, enjoy your walk, Claire, lass. Maybe see you again.’

‘Possibly, but I’m away home at the end of next week. Back to reality.’

‘Ah well. I’m the lucky one that lives here. You’ll have to come back sometime, mind.’

‘Yes, that would be nice.’ Would she ever come back? Or would life just take over? She’d be busy at work and getting on with life; would Bamburgh and her cranky cottage just drift away to a special place in her heart, never to be seen again?

‘Nice to meet you, lassie. Well then, I’ll be on my way.’ And off he jauntily strode, leaving steady footprints in the sand.

Claire set off once more. It was good to feel her energy levels returning. She could walk much faster than at the start of her stay, and didn’t need to take a break or sit on the rocks for a breather. Though it was still nice to pause, to take in the stunning view – today an azure sky with puffs of white cloud, circling gulls, the metallic shifting-grey of the sea breaking into white foam at the shore and transformed into crystal droplets as a dog shook its fur. She watched a father and toddler son digging a big sandcastle, heads bent down, intent on their task. Beach life.

When she reached Lynda’s deli she was feeling altogether more relaxed. Ready to put the mini crisis with Ed behind her and make sure she enjoyed the last week of her stay.

‘Hello, petal. How’s life in your cottage by the beach going?’ Lynda smiled from behind the counter.

‘Fine. No, it’s good. I’m feeling so much more relaxed than when I got here. Stronger.’

‘That’s great. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but have you been ill, pet?’

‘Yes. Yes, I have. Some months ago now. I’ve just got through breast cancer treatment.’ She didn’t mind opening up with Lynda, who seemed genuinely friendly, such a warm person.

‘I see. I’m sorry if I sound nosy, but my cousin’s just been through it – last year. There was something about you that made me wonder. So you’re all clear now?’

‘Yes, thank goodness.’

‘That’s good news.’