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‘Congratulations,’ I said, aware that Finn’s arm had now moved to my waist.
We stayed on the pathway until the song had ended, giving the couple a small round of applause when the music finally came to a close. The woman responded with a girlish blush, and the man bent low in a formal bow.
I had no idea who they were or what their backstory was, but as we turned to retrace our steps along the promenade, I felt strangely honoured to have shared the precious moment with them.
*
‘We should probably think about heading back to the hotel,’ Finn said with what I thought was a trace of regret in his voice.
‘We should,’ I agreed, my gaze going towards the beach, which was now largely deserted. ‘Although part of me would like to stay right here.’
‘Aren’t you hungry?’ he asked, no doubt thinking back to the way I’d devoured my takeaway the night before.
‘Starving,’ I said with the kind of fervour that made him laugh so loud, several heads turned our way. ‘But perhaps not for haute cuisine. Not tonight,’ I added, crossing my fingers as I revealed how much I hoped there’d be other nights in our future for that kind of evening.
‘So, what do you fancy?’
For one dreadful moment I thought my tongue might betray me by saying ‘you’. Thankfully, I had enough control to stop it.
‘Can’t you guess?’ I said, my eyes lighting up as a man walked past us carrying a bulging white carrier bag.
‘Fish and chips?’
‘Is any trip to the seaside complete without them?’ I countered.
Finn was shaking his head ruefully, as though I’d totally surprised him yet again, but he didn’t look entirely displeased with my suggestion.
‘I must admit that my plans for this evening were a little grander. I guess I wanted to make it a night we’d both remember,’ he said. There was a hint of sadness in his voice that made me want to kiss him so much, it actually hurt to hold back.
‘It already is,’ I assured him.
*
There were at least four outlets we could have ordered from, but in the end we simply chose the closest. The aroma of battered cod had billowed out through the shop’s open doorway, and I was practically salivating by the time we reached the front of the queue.
We passed an off-licence on our way back to the beach, where Finn picked up a six-pack of craft beers to go with our food – my suggestion of beverage, not his.
He held my hand as we descended the steep stone steps that led down from the promenade to the beach. We wove past half-demolished sandcastles, whose construction teams were sure to be tucked up in bed by now, before eventually settling on a spot halfway between the towering tidal wall and the water’s edge.
Without a second thought, Finn laid his suit jacket down on the sand to act as a makeshift blanket. It didn’t look like a cheapie high-street purchase, but he dismissed my aghast expression with an easy shrug. ‘It’s not important,’ he said. ‘I don’t imagine I’ll be needing it for a while, anyway.’
My eyebrows rose in curiosity, but Finn was busy opening two of the beers. It was yet another question he’d neatly avoided.
He offered me one of the bottles and an apology. ‘I’m sorry, I should have asked the guy in the shop for a couple of plastic cups.’
‘Nah,’ I said, pressing the bottle to my lips and drinking thirstily.
I lowered my drink to find Finn looking at me with an expression that made the blood fizz in my veins.
‘Do you know, there isn’t one thing about you I don’t like, Miss Gwendoline Fletcher.’
I could have corrected my name, could have made a joke or simply stayed silent. But it wasn’t that kind of night.
‘Ditto,’ I replied.
*
We chatted easily as we ate, and I regaled him with amusing stories from my childhood.
