Noah breaks the tension. ‘You might want these back,’ he says, holding up my ugly shorts.
‘I probably should.’ I take them from him. But as I try to put them back on, I’m hopping all over the place. Putting on soggy shorts over a tight wetsuit is not something that should be attempted single-handed.
‘Here,’ he says. ‘Let me help.’ He stands close by. ‘Lean on me.’
So I put my hand on his shoulder and he steadies me while I feed my feet into the hideous things and wriggle them up to my waist.
‘There. Looking lovely again.’
We both take in my appearance and laugh. ‘Not so sure about that.’
Self-consciously, I drop my hand from his shoulder, but Noah catches hold of it and squeezes tight. ‘It doesn’t matter that you’re wearing extremely bad shorts,’ he says and runs his fingertip softly over my cheek. ‘You do look lovely.’
If it wasn’t for the crashing of the waves, I’m sure he’d be able to hear my heart pounding. I lick my lips nervously. Noah touches his thumb to them.
This is the situation I have both dreamed of and dreaded.
‘Can you tell how I feel, Grace?’ he asks.
I don’t answer. What can I say? I search for the right words but nothing will come.
‘Do you feel the same?’ He tilts my chin, so that our faces are close together. If I lifted my mouth just slightly, so slightly, our lips would touch. I know that Noah’s would taste of salt and sweetness. There’d be the cold from the sea, the heat of his tongue. I feel myself shiver with desire.
Oh, it would be so easy. So easy to slip into Noah’s arms, surrender to his strong embrace. In the short time that I’ve known him, this very scenario has flitted through my brain far too often. It’s taking every ounce of control not to run my hands over those hard muscles that I’ve imagined only too well. I want to reach out and touch the contours, the smooth skin of his handsome face. One step. That’s all it would take. One step to cross the line.
‘Tell me, Grace,’ he pleads. ‘Am I wrong?’
In the small, dark hours I’ve vowed that I would do all that I could to salvage my marriage, but here, alone in this cool cavern with Noah, do I have the strength to turn away from what I want so much to happen?
‘Grace?’ His dark eyes search my face, my soul.
‘I’m married,’ I offer weakly. Tears well up and my throat closes.
‘I don’t want to cause you any trouble,’ he says. ‘That’s the last thing on my mind. But I’ve never felt like this before. When I first saw you, I felt as if… as if I’d come home.’ His expression is anxious. ‘Does that sound ridiculous?’
No, I think. Because that’s exactly how I felt too. As if the other half of me, the half that I hadn’t even realised was missing, had somehow been found.
‘I know you feel it too. Tell me that I’m not wrong, that I haven’t misread this.’
Of course he hasn’t misread this, but how can I admit it? Where would that confession leave me? If I say yes to Noah, then I betray my husband, my marriage vows, my best friend. What sort of person would that make me?
‘You’re my friend’s partner,’ I breathe. ‘She loves you.’
‘I don’t think so,’ he counters baldly. ‘Flick might think she loves me, but I’m not the one for her. I know that. You know that. And, in her heart, I’m sure that Flick knows it too.’
How can I tell him that not only does she love him, but she’s also planning to marry him?
‘Grace, talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.’
‘What can I do?’ I murmur.
‘You’re not happy where you are. I know it.’
How can I argue against that? But I’ve always hated the fact that Flick has had relationships with married men. I’ve always felt that fidelity, monogamy, are paramount in a relationship. Yet this has shaken me to the core. Could I really be selfish and destroy everything I have to be with Noah?
I can quite honestly say that all the time I’ve been married, I’ve never looked at another man. Yet here I am, feeling like a teenager again with someone I barely know, who, conversely, I feel I’ve known all my life. But can I bring down destruction on everyone I care for? Harry would hate me, I know that. How will Ella feel? If I explain to her fully the way things are with Harry, she might well understand me leaving. But if I do this to Flick she might never forgive me. This is the one man she’s ever found who she feels she can truly love. Does it matter that I feel exactly the same way too? It might be what I want with all of my heart, but I don’t think I can be that person.
‘I can’t do this to Flick,’ I say. ‘Or to Harry. They’ve done nothing to deserve it.’
I push away some of the pictures, imprinted in the forefront of my brain, of my husband in recent days. Those are not the things I want to think of now.
‘But you do feel the way I do?’
Then, as the words are formulating in my thick skull, Callum’s voice rings out. ‘Are you two OK in there?’ he shouts.
The moment is broken.
Noah looks at me, eyes filled with pain and regret. ‘We’re fine,’ he calls back. ‘Just taking a breather!’
‘Do you need help getting out?’ Callum comes back. He’s standing just beyond the mouth of the cave. ‘You can walk along the ledge to the right, which will bring you out to the rocks.’
Our eyes follow the path.
‘Talk to me, Grace,’ Noah begs.
I swallow the emotion that’s tightened my throat. ‘I think I’d like to go back now,’ I say.
Sadly, Noah lets go of my hand and I trail after him. Seconds later, we emerge from the darkness into the bright light once more.
Chapter Forty-Nine
In silence, we make our way out of the cave and, in the blinding sunshine, rejoin Callum.
‘Enjoy that?’ he asks.
‘Yes, brilliant!’ Noah and I answer in unison. Both too bright, too forced. I can’t bring myself to look at him.
‘Cool,’ Callum says, looking slightly puzzled.
We make our way back towards the beach where we left Flick, Harry and Art. Noah and I have spent so long in the sea and in the cave together that our coasteering experience is nearly over.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re back on terra firma again. I’m tired and I’d like to say happy, but my emotions are in more turmoil than the ‘washing machine’ of water that we’ve just escaped from. For the first time since we set eyes on each other, there’s an awkwardness between Noah and me. Something that I bitterly regret. But what can I do? If I have any hope of salvaging what I have with Harry, I’m going to have to cut this dead.
How could I consider walking out on seven years of marriage for someone I hardly know? That’s the sort of thing that Flick would do, not me. Racked with guilt, I think of my friend. She adores this man. She wants to marry him. I can’t deny her that. But, if you can commit adultery in your heart, then that’s exactly what I’m doing.
‘Ready to head back?’ Callum asks.
‘Yes, sure.’ Back to the others, back to the pub, back to reality, I think.
‘That was great,’ Noah says to Callum, shaking his hand.
‘Awesome,’ I agree.
We’re making a valiant attempt at joviality, but I think Callum can tell that for some reason we’re more muted than we were. We’ll have to be back to normal by the time we join the others, that’s for sure. I might be completely wrong, but I feel that both Harry and Flick are watching us like hawks.
We both fall into step alongside Callum as we set off on the return journey.
‘I really envy you your job,’ Noah adds. ‘I’d love to do something like this on a permanent basis.’
‘I’ve had ten good years here, but I’m planning to go out to Australia,’ Callum tells us. ‘Do the same kind of thing, I hope. My good lady wants us to start a family and she says she’d rather do it with guaranteed sunshine.’ He glances up at the cloudless sky and says wryly, ‘It’s not alw
ays this glorious in South Wales. The beach life is very addictive, though.’
‘I could see myself somewhere like this,’ Noah confesses.
‘I’ll be sorry to turn my back on it. I’ve made a good living here. Enough regulars to keep me going and, despite what the newspapers say, the last few holiday seasons have been busy.’ Callum shrugs. ‘The business is going on the market soon. I want a quick sale, so someone will get themselves a bargain.’
Noah turns to me and I can see the excitement shining in his eyes. This would be his dream come true, I know it would. There’s a spring in his step as we make our way back to the surf shop.
When we’re offloading our gear – glad to hand back these shorts! – I can see that Noah is taking everything in.
As soon as we’re dressed again, we both shake hands with Callum and thank him profusely. When he’s gone, Noah takes my hand and pulls me to one side. We’re in the back of the shop surrounded by wetsuits and surfboards.
‘What do you think?’ he whispers. ‘I can’t believe he’s thinking of selling. Does it look like a good business to you?’
‘Yes.’ From what little we’ve seen, it seems to be thriving. ‘There certainly seems to be a lot of potential too.’
‘It would suit me down to the ground,’ he confesses.
‘I can just see you here,’ I tell him. ‘You seem so at home.’
‘I feel it. This would be perfect. I’ve got to give it some serious thought,’ he continues. ‘A place like this is all that I’ve ever dreamed of.’ He looks at me. My hand is still firmly clutched in his. ‘Well,’ he adds with a rueful smile, ‘not quite everything.’
‘Noah…’
He holds a finger gently to my lips. ‘You don’t need to say anything, Grace.’ He sighs. ‘I’m sorry for what happened between us. We’re just friends. Nothing more. I got a bit carried away. You’re a married woman and I should have respected that. I apologise and we’ll say no more about it.’
I nod mutely and he lets go of my hand.
‘This afternoon has been fun,’ Noah says. ‘I’ll always remember it.’
‘Me too.’ I can hardly get the words out.
‘We should go and find the others. Flick and Harry will be wondering where we are.’
Noah takes one last longing look at the surf shop and then one last longing look at me.
Chapter Fifty
After a few drinks in the pub, we spend the rest of the afternoon on the beach. I’m pleased that everyone seems to be getting on. We all play an unruly game of beach volleyball that stops only when Flick breaks yet another nail.
‘The first thing I’m going to do when I get home is get a manicure,’ she says with a tut.
Ella and I roll our eyes and grin at each other. Flick doesn’t do outdoors.
When we’ve dipped into the picnic baskets for a late lunch and basked in the sun, Art and Ella lie down together and snooze happily side by side on the blankets.
Noah and Flick pick up the power kite and walk down to the water’s edge to fly it in the warm breeze. Harry does his crossword – uttering many cross words – and I stare out to sea, wondering what I’m going to do with my life, while trying not to watch Flick and Noah laughing and playing together.
Eventually, they pack the kite away and head off to the surf shop. I wonder if Noah is taking Flick to show her, to see what she thinks. Maybe he’s asking her if she could see herself living here. If I know Flick, she’d rather saw off her own arms than move out of the city. But I could be wrong. We all have the capacity to change. If you’d told me last week that I would be the type of person who would fall in love at first sight with my best friend’s boyfriend, I would have called you mad. Flick might yet give it all up for love and move down here. I know that I would in a heartbeat and the thought frightens me more than I care to admit.
They come back, still all smiles, with a tray full of takeaway coffees and ice creams, which they hand round to everyone. Noah barely glances at me when he gives me mine.
When the sun is starting to tire and sink lower in the sky, we pack up and head home. Everyone’s quiet on the journey back. I close my eyes and let weariness overwhelm me. Behind my eyelids the image of me and Noah, standing alone in the cave, a fraction away from my forgetting my wedding vows, is etched for ever. How long will it be before it fades?
As always, Cwtch Cottage is a welcome sight as we pull up outside. Ella and I unpack the sand-encrusted towels and cushions from the boot of their car. I walk the long way round the Bentley to the front door, so that I don’t see the dent.
Flick bags the bathroom first and, as far as I can tell, Noah joins her in the shower. I can’t even bear to think about it. But, as I’m making tea, the sound of her raucous giggles carry down the stairs. Ella rolls her eyes at me. It seems as if Noah has decided to throw himself headlong back into their relationship and forget all the foolishness in the cave with me. Well, I should be glad about that. I just don’t really want to listen to it.
‘Christ Almighty,’ Harry mutters. He snatches a cup of tea from me and disappears out on to the terrace.
Ella rolls her eyes again.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
‘It’s not you who should be apologising, Grace.’
Possibly not, but I feel that all the wrongs in the world are somehow my fault right now.
When Flick and Noah are finally finished, I go to see if they’ve left any hot water. Thankfully, they have. Their bedroom door is closed and still the laughter continues. Soon it will start to make my ears bleed.
Standing in the shower, I let the water wash the sand and salt from my body. In the bedroom, I towel dry my hair and slip on the only dress that I’ve brought with me. It’s long and strappy, the perfect item of clothing for a romantic summer evening. I even smear on some tinted foundation and a lick of lipstick. Let’s see what the night brings.
Flick has declared that she’s going to cook tonight. The last time I remember Ms Edwards doing dinner for us all, it was a disastrous Thai green curry. We had to forcibly carry her out of the kitchen and take over ourselves to have any hope of getting anything edible at all. Tonight, she’s producing nothing more taxing than spaghetti Bolognese and, with Noah’s supervision, I’m sure it will be fine. In fact, if I know Flick, her contribution will be to sit and drink wine whilst issuing orders.
‘I want you all out of the kitchen,’ she announces as I come downstairs. ‘I hate being watched when I cook.’
Noah, next to her at the cooker, has a knife poised in his hand. His eyes rake my body, taking in my damp hair and my dress, and I can tell that he struggles to look away. I don’t have this effect on men. Not ever. That’s Flick’s department. And even just a taste of it feels heady. I flush to my hair roots. Noah returns his gaze to concentrate earnestly on the pile of mushrooms in front of him.
‘You just want to be able to hide the packets,’ Ella teases. ‘But we’ll know if it’s home-cooked.’
‘It’ll be home-cooked,’ she promises. ‘Ye of little faith. This is the new me. I’m going to learn how to cook. You won’t be able to tell where I stop and Nigella begins. Besides, I have my lovely assistant Noah to keep me on the straight and narrow.’ She kisses him heartily on the lips before putting on her apron. I notice that he takes a step back under the onslaught of her attention, but I also notice that Flick seems unaware. ‘Just charge your glasses and then clear off.’
We do as we’re told. Art and Ella wander on to the terrace and sit at the bench. I think it would be good to allow them time alone together, as she has to tell him sometime, so I say to Harry, ‘Want to go for a walk on the beach?’
To my great surprise, without any form of argument, he says, ‘Yes.’
We leave our glasses on the table and clamber down the rocks. Harry holds out his hands to help steady me and we both kick our shoes off on the damp sand. The sea is calm, the waves lapping gently.
I lift the hem of my dress and walk in the edge of the su
rf, letting the ice-cold water send pleasing shocks through my toes. It feels good. All my senses are sharp and it’s on days like this that I’m glad to be alive.
Even more surprisingly, Harry falls into step beside me as the surf comes up to our ankles. I link my arm into his and, just for a moment, I get a glimpse of how we used to be together.
The seagulls wheel above us as we stroll along, away from the cottage, in companionable silence.
‘You look lovely tonight, Grace,’ he says.