The Country Escape - Jane Lovering Page 0,26
how that felt.
‘But…’ I was going to launch into some kind of diatribe against shallowness, then reminded myself that his looks were the first thing I’d noticed about him so I wasn’t really in a position to comment about superficiality. Besides, living with a fourteen-year-old gave a whole new insight into exactly how phoney people could be, although teenagers weren’t truly ‘people’ yet, more ‘humans in training’. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, eventually. ‘It must be tough.’
He didn’t answer and kept his face averted. We bumped off the main road down the turning towards Steepleton, the hedges drawing in around us as the lanes narrowed. A filmy curtain of rain came down, glazing the road and making the wipers squeal across the windscreen.
‘Great. More rain,’ I said, more for something to say than as a meteorological observance.
‘Dorset in the autumn. It’s why the cliffs are eroding so fast – they’re getting it from below and above and they’re mostly made of prehistoric mud in the first place.’ His lightness of tone reassured me that he hadn’t taken extreme umbrage at my foot-in-mouth moments over his disability. ‘Two really good storms and your cottage will be a mile closer to the beach.’
I shivered. The thought that nature could do that, just wipe out acres of land, and the thought of my little cottage sitting on the edge of a sliding cliff, gave me the creeps. I realised I’d got quite fond of the damp, mildewy place.
We jolted down the hill towards Steepleton. Far in the distance through the rain curtains, I could see the restless grey corpse of the sea and, for the first time, it felt like coming home. A couple of fishing boats were stapled to the skyline, stationary at this distance, and I felt a tiny knot of tension between my shoulder blades begin to unravel.
‘Mum!’ Poppy bounced up to the car as soon as I stopped. She’d dropped the over-sophisticated air she’d had when I left her and become more like a child from Enid Blyton, with her hair piled up on her head and tied with some left-over tape, and her clothes tugged by the breeze. ‘This is Rory. Can I stay here for the rest of the day? We’re going to walk over the cliffs and see his mum and I’ve met Davin O’Riordan and he said we can take his dogs for a walk.’
Behind her, hovering uncertainly, was a gangly boy with a ridiculous haircut. He had wide brown eyes and an appealing dash of freckles and looked as though meeting me was the single most terrifying thing that had ever happened to him.
I glanced at Gabriel, who was smiling to himself. ‘Hello, Rory, nice to meet you. Yes, you can stay, but keep your phone on.’
Rory grinned. ‘Hi, Gabe,’ then gave me an uncertain smile. ‘Neil can drive her back later, if you like,’ he said, diffidently, shrugging himself deeper into a fluorescent jacket that had CREW written on it.
‘Oh, yes, and I can show Rory Patrick!’ Poppy was filled with the inner brightness of a combination of crush, hero-worship, new surroundings and the prospect of showing off. ‘He’s our pony,’ she finished.
‘Yes, heard Granny Mary left her horse in your field,’ said Rory, who clearly had not yet heard the phrase ‘buzz-kill’.
Poppy subsided a couple of centimetres, but then revived. ‘Shall we go and pick up Davin’s dogs, then? See you, Mum.’ And, with the briefest of incurious glances thrown at Gabriel, she seized Rory’s arm and dragged him away.
His cry of, ‘Nice to meet you!’ was borne away on the rising wind. Gabriel and I sat for a moment, sapped by the relentless energy of the young.
‘Would you like a coffee?’ he asked, at last. ‘There’s a little café just up the main street – don’t know if you’ve discovered it yet. And I should buy you a drink for driving me all the way out to Bridport.’
Half of me wanted to decline and head back to the clammy cottage. But the other half of me was doing a Poppy, jumping up and down and asking what the point was of going back, when I couldn’t do any more to the cottage because of film reasons, and besides it was chilly and dank and this man was really quite cute and I needed more company that wasn’t an equine damply squelching around outside.
‘That sounds nice,’ I said brightly, and got out.
‘You don’t have to overdo the enthusiasm,’ Gabriel said.
‘If it’s a choice