Page 49 of The Seaside Cocktail Campervan

Jack was out on the open road with Ruby, needing to clear his head. She’d kissed him. She’d only gone and kissed him. Now he knew how Lucy’s kiss felt, he was having trouble getting her out of his mind.

He’d hoped she might have called that morning. Kept checking his phone, just in case. But no, not even a message. Should he call her? Just on the pretext of checking that Daisy was alright? Of course, the little dog would be – she’d been sat on a cosy sofa all evening, while they were out in the mud and rain looking for her. He sighed.

Jack soon reached the coast, taking in that first glimpse of sea view; blue-grey summer steel on the horizon. And then Bamburgh Castle, grand and dominant, all pink-beige stone and battlements. He never tired of seeing it, of how small it made him feel and his problems with it; it was always an awesome sight.

The little seaside village was bustling today, cars parked up and holiday-makers meandering with dogs and children, holding tasty ice creams, pies and goodies from the village butchers and bakery. The cricket pitch beneath the towering castle walls was a draw for picnickers and people fancying a game of kickabout.

Jack kept on going, wanting space and air. The sea-salt freshness blasting his face as he drove along with his windows wound down. The coastal road skirting the dunes now, with glimpses of the sea here and there; the Farne Islands, and their lighthouse a shadow on the horizon, way off in the distance. The beach beside him stretched for three miles, sandy bays and arcs, rocks and rolling waves. Even with day trippers and locals piling out from parked cars, it never got too busy there. But Jack kept on. He knew where he was heading now, where his soul was drawing him.

Fifteen minutes later he arrived, parking Ruby up down a seaside track. Yes, the highest dune, that was the one. It was a special place, a place that he came to when he needed time to think … or sometimes just to be. He shoved a notepad and a pen in his rucksack, along with a can of cold beer. He intended to sit for a while and let his thoughts run free.

His pace was swift through the lower dunes, but then the climb was slower, wading in trainers up through shifting sand. It had felt like a mountain clambering up there when they were young. Every step now taking him back to those two little boys … the joy of arriving at the summit, that king-of-the-castle moment, then hurtling down those sandy slopes, juddering bold steps and nearly tumbling over at the bottom. He could almost hear their boyish laughter.

And in winter, there was that time when Dad took the plastic sledges for them. The sand was nearly as good as snow, but not quite as fast. The exhilaration, that fear of getting tipped out. Milky hot chocolates poured out by Mum from the flask back at the car, hugged by chilly, happy hands. His family. Mum, Dad and Daniel.

Those childhood days where you believed you were invincible, that nothing bad could happen. When you believed that you’d always be together.

Sat at the top now, perched on a high sandy ridge, Jack gazed out to the deep dark-grey swell of sea, heard the peep of the white-and-black terns and the sharp cry of a pair of oyster catchers, circling above. The sun warmed him, yet inside he still felt a little cold, empty.

It had all happened such a long time ago, and yet the hurt could feel so raw. He’d tried so hard to move on, but sometimes he needed to look back too. Jack found himself trying to write, paper to hand, yet the pen dangled uselessly in his fingertips, the words were so not coming. Hmm, very like the phone call he was hoping might have landed by now from Lucy … And still, nothing.

Love and marriage go together like a horse and carriage

Please join us in celebrating

the Wedding of

Anna and Michael

at Alnmouth Village Hall

From 7 p.m., Saturday 10th July

RSVP

Chapter 28

Should he just go ahead and ring her?

Jack ploughed on with two more functions the following week, with neither sight nor sound of Lucy. Flashbacks to that rather gorgeous hug and the out-of-the-blue kiss at the farm party kept rising unbidden in his mind. Should he just pluck up the courage to ask her out on a date the next time they met? Just bite the bullet.

He stared at the mobile phone in his hand, then began flipping it over in his palm. It was like a game of dare he was playing with himself. Was Lucy waiting for him to call? He was so close to dialling her number. But he held back, unsure of his own motivations. His feelings were extremely sensual, he knew that. How could you not have your senses ignited by that gorgeously pretty face, the sweep of dark hair, that smile when she let it loose, her laugh? But there was something about the way he felt about her that also made him uneasy … like he might get drawn in, beyond the physical, further than he was prepared to go. To a place where he might get hurt.

A further seven long days later, an evening wedding reception was being held at Alnmouth village hall – a picturesque coastal village with pastel-coloured houses overlooking the tranquil estuary of the River Aln. Being her first wedding booking, it was a big event for Lucy, and her nerves were already jangling. To add to that, as Lucy pulled up in her horsebox, she felt super-flustered when she saw that Ruby was there, with Jack stood in the open roof space setting up his lights and cocktail glasses, ready for action. He gave a wide grin and a wave as he spotted her. She gave a hesitant wave back, whilst looking for a space to park. Friendly was fine, she told herself, friendly she could do. But she was determined not to get drawn into Jack’s charming web again – Becky would never let her hear the end of it.

A wedding … hah, she’d never got past the engagement stage with Liam. She and Liam hadn’t even got as far as booking a venue for their wedding. After five years engaged, that in itself should have set off alarm bells. Old hurts still lurked, but she rallied. They were never meant to be, and there was no point staying bitter. And as for tonight, Lucy knew that she wanted to make this event extra special for the wedding couple. She was keen to decorate the horsebox extra-prettily with a newly-purchased garland of delicate white silk flowers set above the hatch, as well as her twinkling fairy lights. She propped a rustic-looking wooden sign, that read Mr and Mrs in swirly white writing, on her countertop, beside a milk jug filled with fresh white carnations and fragrant freesia. An event-theming tip she’d picked up from Jack.

Jack … don’t even go there, she reminded herself, whilst her mind wandered dangerously in his direction, and she stole a sneaky glance. Her heart gave a strange pang, catching sight of the blond scruffy-cute hair, the smart white shirt and black bow tie. He’d gone all out for this occasion too, then. She sighed and moved her gaze. The village-hall doors were flung wide open and Lucy caught a glimpse of pretty fairy lights, and beautiful white-rose and eucalyptus floral table decorations. There were tables and chairs positioned outside too, to make the most of the beautiful sea view and the summer evening, with pretty tea-light candle holders and glass jam jars filled with white rose and delicate gypsophila posies.

The guests began to gather, gravitating towards the Cocktail Campervan for a glass of bubbly. The wedding had taken place earlier that afternoon at the village church, with a lunch for close family and friends in a nearby country hotel. The newlyweds, bridesmaids and ushers had since been down to the beach for a fabulous seaside photo session. Now was the time for everybody to let their hair down and have a little fun, with the bride and groom now arriving – a dusting of sand still on their lace and linen – in an open carriage pulled by a gorgeous dappled grey horse. The couple looked so happy as they smiled and waved.

Love and marriage … go together like a horse and carriage, came to Lucy’s mind. But the loud clip-clopping of the horse’s hooves also sounded very much like a warning to her.

An hour later, and the lyrics from ‘The Shoop Shoop Song’ were booming out from the hall as part of a Golden Oldies disco mix. Lucy bobbed her head in time to the music, losing herself for a moment in the words.

Hmm, his kiss indeed … Lucy’s thoughts snagged once again on a certain Jack Anderson, as the romantic setting of the wedding enveloped her … memories of that gorgeous afternoon on the beach, Jack going all out to help find Daisy … could he really be such a heartless prat? Was Becky just caught up in the past and her own hurts? All that with Becky was eight or so years ago, after all. Did Jack actually deserve a chance? Bloody hell, no amount of pizza topping, veggie chopping, and hot-oven tending could get him out of her head.

What if …? What if they chatted tonight as they packed up? Could she pluck up the courage, suggest a walk on the beach or meeting up to grab a coffee down at Driftwood one day? Not a date as such, just a bit of time together, see how they got on. Was it time to take a bit of a chance? Yes, Becky had warned her off, but Jack might well have changed from that arrogant young lad that Becky had known. It was many years ago, after all. People grew up, learnt from their experiences. The memories from that afternoon on the beach … The man she’d spoken with then, seemed friendly, warm, caring. Something had sparked inside her that day, she knew that.