I fiddle with the still unfamiliar controls, and reply: “Dr Zhivago to Pub Daddy…um…over?”
“Dr Zhivago, your presence is required at the cave ASAP, over.”
“Oh God,” I reply, as much to myself as him, “nobody’s dying, are they?”
“Not as far as I know,” he replies, sounding amused. “And don’t forget to say over, over.”
“Okay. See you there. Over.”
Larry is jumping up my calves, obviously confused – he can hear the familiar voice, one he associates with sausages and affection, but not see the human it’s attached to.
I clear away my dishes, run a brush through my hair, and get changed into fresh clothes. I fear I smell a little like a gerbil after my day of hibernating, and apply a quick spray of perfume while I’m at it. I can tell myself Jake is just a friend as much as I like, but I still don’t want to remind him of a rodent.
I check the bottle of Prosecco and see that there is still some left, which reassures me that I can’t be too inebriated, then make my way out from the attic, leaving my safe space for the big wide world.
ChapterTwenty-Six
It is going dark outside, and the village is quiet – apart from the gunshots coming from the Betties’ living room. I smile at the thought of them snuggled on the sofa together, watching some villain get their ass kicked. I see lights on in all the homes that are scattered across the hillside, tiny twinkles of welcome against the landscape, and listen to the birds singing their last rousing chorus of the day. I wave to Trevor the Druid, who is lying flat on the green staring up at the emerging stars. I’d have found that off-putting not so long ago, but now it seems like an entirely normal thing.
I skirt the back of the inn, and make my way with Larry down to the beach. I feel a flicker of excitement at the thought of seeing Jake, but also still have some concerns about Connie jumping out of a cake.
“Are you alone?” I shout, as I make my way towards the mouth of the cave.
“Yes!” comes the amused reply, and I smile as I clamber over loose rock and head towards him.
As I approach, I am greeted with the most magical sight – myriad lights tumbling across the cave walls and roof, casting glowing stripes that illuminate the shine and shimmer. A sparkling rainbow dance of shine and iridescence is flowing all around me.
I stare, lost for words, as the glimmering beams move from place to place, as reds and golds and greens glitter all around me. It’s as though I am inside a disco created entirely by nature.
I see Jake, standing up to greet me. At his feet he’s laid out thick blankets, a picnic basket, a cocktail shaker. There is a small glowing glass orb, a snowman inside it, casting the strobing lights around the cave.
“Happy birthday, Ella!” he says as I walk towards him, Larry galloping ahead to check for predators and spare food.
“How did you know?” I ask, still looking around in wonder at the constant twinkle, the ever-moving light picking out different colours and shapes with each turn. “Did you break into my flat and steal my passport from my go-bag?”
“Um…no. I took a copy of your driver’s licence when you checked in. Which now sounds really boring in comparison.”
I do a slow twirl, following the light, marvelling at each jewelled crevice and curve, eventually coming to a stop in front of Jake. I reach out and hold his hands in mine, and say: “This is so beautiful. Thank you.”
He nods, and gestures to the blankets. I settle myself down, and am soon presented with my very own Starshine Special. He opens the basket, and I see a selection of treats – olives, cheeses, crackers, tiny pots of chocolate-coated nuts, sugar-dusted cookies, tiny fruit tarts.
“Oh!” I exclaim, realising that I am hungry. “This is…divine. And the light – where did that come from?”
“Ah,” he replies, nodding, “that was from Trevor’s Christmas stash. I thought it was a bit nicer than shining a torch around.”
As he speaks, the strobe passes across his face, then moves on to a rich sheen of silver stone on the roof.
“It’s like I’ve fallen into a fairy tale,” I reply, “the cave, the echo of the waves outside, the view, the revolving snowman…”
“Don’t forget the Kettle chips. A vital ingredient of every fairy tale.” He stares at my face, and asks with a note of concern: “Are you all right? You look like you’ve been crying.”
I swipe at my eyes, and decide to confess.
“I have. I’ve been at home all day watching films, and it was great, but then I finished off with Titanic…”
“Ah. Well, that explains it. Even I cry at Titanic.”
I laugh, amused at the thought of this man, this reformed alpha male, silently weeping at the tale of Jack and Rose.
