‘You must have missed it while you were studying.’
He laughed. ‘I didn’t miss the early starts or the long days. I was also happy to forgo the biting winds and endless autumn drizzle. But when I walk across our land, knowing that all of it has been built by my ancestors’ hands. Glancing up at the sky and instinctively interpreting the shade of blue or smear of grey. The song of the sea and looking out across 40,000 square miles of open water. Aye. I missed it. Here.’
We went through another, small wooden gate, beyond which the path turned sharply to the right, and there, only a dozenbroad steps below us, was a tiny cove, inky waves lapping against the pale crescent of sand.
‘Is this part of the farm?’ I asked, slowing down to take it in. The sun had disappeared below the horizon while we walked, leaving fading streaks of rose-gold above the furthest stretches of water. To one side, rockpools glinted. Directly overhead, more stars had begun to appear.
We slipped our shoes off, sinking into sand that was cool and damp. Pip opened a storage box tucked against the rocks and brought out a picnic blanket, a bottle of Hawkins perry cider and two plastic glasses.
‘Did you plan this?’ I blurted, my heart accelerating. ‘Is it something you do with all the mainlander women?’
Pip looked at me in mock horror. ‘What, offer them a tour of the farm and then lure them down here, ply them with cider and then… and then I don’t know what, because you’re the first mainlander I’ve brought here. Any island woman knows full well what lies at the end of the path.’
‘A bottle of cider and a blanket?’
‘Usually a bonfire, or a cricket match. Maybe some crabbing in the rockpools. Ma and Da generally keep a stash here this time of year. If we’d been lucky, there’d have been crisps or biscuits too.’ He smiled. ‘If I’d planned it, there’d have been strawberries and fine wine, not farm leftovers.’
We settled on the blanket and Pip poured the cider. A gust of wind off the water made me shiver, so he slipped off his shirt and draped it around my shoulders, leaving him in a short-sleeved, white T-shirt.
‘Now you’ll be cold,’ I said, taking a sip.
‘Nah. Once you’ve slept out here in March, a June breeze is nothing.’
We sat for a while, admiring the picture-perfect view. Beside me, Pip’s forearms rested on his bent knees, his glass catchingthe shimmer from the half-moon now sailing above our heads. It was wonderfully still, yet my body was far from peaceful, due to being deliciously, painfully aware of the proximity of the man next to me, close enough to feel his body heat and catch the faint tang of barbecue smoke.
It was undoubtedly the most beautiful, thrilling, nerve-jangling moment of my life.
After a while, I found the courage to sneak a glance to the side, and found him gazing at me.
‘Sorry.’ He jerked his head forwards, blinking rapidly as he shifted on the blanket. ‘I still can’t believe you’re actually here.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘Any idea when you’ll be heading back home?’
‘There’ll be a hefty fine if Parsley’s isn’t open next Sunday, unless I get permission from the big boss, which isn’t likely considering my only excuse is a stunning view and great company.’
I didn’t add that the fine was starting to seem worth it.
14
After chatting a little longer, I was unable to suppress my third giant yawn, so we tidied up and started the trek back uphill. When I got my phone out to use as a torch, I found a text.
‘Lily says they’re heading home, so they’ll leave the door unlocked for me. That was just before ten, so almost twenty minutes ago.’
‘I’ll cycle back with you,’ Pip said.
‘You don’t have to,’ I protested. ‘This is meant to be your big night.’
‘The party will be winding down now. This is a late night for a farmer. I can either hang about watching everyone clear up, feeling guilty because there’s no way they will let me help, or I can do something useful, and see you safely to the barn.’
‘That’s very kind of you. But given the state of my cycling in the daylight when I didn’t have half a bottle of cider sloshing around in my system, I will be pushing not riding the bike. It’ll take a lot longer.’
‘I’m in no hurry. If you’re not going to ride it, leave the bike. I’ll drop it over in the morning. Hang on, I’ll let Ma know so she doesn’t send out a search party.’
‘Won’t this make things even worse?’ I asked, after he’d sent the message and we continued on in the direction of the barn instead of turning towards the garden.
‘Make what worse?’ Pip asked, puzzled.
