be fine.’ Kevin patted Elvis as he spoke. She wasn’t sure what else she could do.
They said their goodbyes to Kevin and Elvis and strolled back along the pebbles. The soft zhush of the tide calmed Regan’s senses; the salt air cleared her mind. She loved living by the sea and couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
‘Do you have some kind of bucket list?’ she asked.
Charlie laughed. ‘Nah. I don’t want the pressure. I want to live each day as best and as normally as I can. It’s an odd thing, but I’ve been much happier since I was diagnosed.’
‘That is bloody odd,’ said Regan.
‘I know. I wasn’t happy at first. I wanted to pick a fight with everyone. Then I kind of went to pieces. I got some help and was referred to Mantra. And that was what made me think differently.’
‘Really?’ Regan wasn’t convinced. She’d enjoyed the sessions, but they weren’t exactly life-changing.
‘It made me focus on the here and now. And that’s all I can be certain of, so I need to make the most of it.’
‘You make me wonder what the hell I’m doing with my life.’ Regan sucked air in through her teeth.
‘You’ve got a new job. That’s a good start.’
‘For four weeks. I’ve got a job for just four weeks and a roof over my head for another five and a half. The clock is ticking.’
‘Okay. What about running your own business?’ Regan laughed at his joke but he stopped walking and turned to face her. ‘I’m dead serious … no pun intended.’ She smiled at his dark humour. ‘It’s on your wish list. What’s stopping you?’ She opened her mouth but he carried on. ‘And don’t say money.’
Regan gave a brief pout. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start. I’ve never run a business. I don’t even know anyone who does.’
‘Where do big companies start?’ he asked, and they began walking again.
‘Don’t know. With big loans, I guess.’
‘Do they? Or do they start small and build up?’
Regan’s mind was whirring. ‘I read something once about Marks and Spencer starting as a market stall.’
Charlie became animated and almost dropped the rolled-up plastic from under his arm. ‘That’s it! That’s where you should start. Get a stall on the market. Brilliant idea!’
A bubble of excitement fizzed inside Regan. A market stall sounded doable. ‘But what would I sell?’ The fizz went flat.
Charlie was still bubbling. ‘Anything you want to.’ His eyes were darting about the night sky as if he were joining up the stars. ‘What’s the latest craze? You could buy stuff in from China and sell it on.’
‘Doesn’t the post from China take like forty days?’
‘Oh yeah. I ordered an inflatable sheep off eBay once and that took about three months to arrive.’ She gave him a look. ‘Don’t ask. What about flowers?’ he suggested.
‘There’s already a well-established florist on the market. And a gardening stall with pot plants and stuff.’
‘Veg? Clothes? Cosmetics?’ His voice seemed to bounce higher with each suggestion.
‘Already there.’ She tried not to feel glum, but for a moment she’d really thought they’d hit on something.
‘Hmm. Okay. But this is still a really good idea. The coffee shop job can fund the market stall while you get it set up. We just need a good idea for what you can sell.’
She loved his optimism and it was rubbing off on her. She knew that in theory she could walk away from him. But life was precarious anyway, she thought; nobody knows how long they’ve got left – we only presume. There was no pressure from him to start a relationship, but something was already compelling her to be with him even if it was all as temporary as love hearts drawn in the sand. There was something about the way she felt when she looked at him which was very different to anything she’d ever felt before, and it had nothing to do with his health situation. She took a deep breath.
‘Charlie …’
‘Yeah?’ He beamed his usual smile at her and it seemed to force one onto her face too.
‘You and me. I want to do this. I want to be in a relationship with you for as long as …’ She didn’t want to finish the sentence.
Charlie dropped everything he was carrying and lifted her into his arms. He swung her around, making her squeal, and finally enveloped her in a hug. ‘Regan Corsetti, you’ve made my day; my week; my life.’
‘I’ve not bloody well proposed,’ she said, through a