Читать книгу Meet Me at the Lighthouse: This summer’s best laugh-out-loud romantic comedy - Mary Baker Jayne - Страница 9

Next morning, I woke with the thundering of the mighty ocean in my ears, an army of goose-stepping jackboots kicking the backs of my eyeballs and a fuzzy sort of numbness around the mouth. A hangover, basically. And a bloody nasty one at that.

I winced as unwelcome memories of the night before assaulted me. God, I didn’t really call Ross a big handsome walnut, did I? And tequila slammers, ouch – what had I been thinking? I was getting too old for this.

Oh shit… there was another thing, wasn’t there? The lighthouse… we were going to…

I glanced over at the dressing table. Yep, it’d really happened. There was Ross’s 50p, glinting wickedly as it reflected the chink of spring sunlight intruding through the blinds.

My eyes shot wide open and I grabbed my phone to check the time. 10am! I’d agreed to meet Ross at the lighthouse at 11. I jumped out of bed, grimacing with pain as my head adjusted to the change in gravity, and started rummaging around the cupboard for some jeans.

Would he even turn up? If our lighthouse plan had seemed unlikely under the influence of countless wines and a tequila slammer each, it looked nothing less than full-on surreal in the cold and sober light of day.

I stopped rummaging for a moment. Full-on surreal… yeah, that about summed it up. In the space of one day I’d managed to buy a lighthouse, drunkenly get off with a man I hadn’t seen since I was 18 and invite him to go into business with me. And the weirdest thing was, the idea didn’t seem any less appealing now I’d sobered up. It seemed exciting. Exhilarating.

For so long now, life had been the same. Not that it wasn’t rich enough, in its way. There was my job at Cragport Community College: that could be pretty rewarding. Some of the adults who enrolled for GCSE and A-Level English hardly had any formal education to start with, just a love of the subject and a determination to succeed. It was pretty incredible, taking them from the faltering, fawn-like things they often seemed when they started to bright, confident people ready to tackle the next step in their lives. And there was Jess, Mum, Monty… but still, it was all so boring, every day like every day like every bloody Cragport day. No new faces, no new experiences. No new anything.

And now, suddenly, there was adventure, excitement, my very own Five on a Treasure Island moment. And there was Ross Mason, the boy in the band. Witty, warm, smiley Ross, his dancing eyes full of passion and fun, who’d somehow become part of it all. In spite of the hangover I felt my heart leap with that fluttering feeling: a path to travel, a step beyond the mundane.

The only thing was, I wasn’t sure whether the leap went with Ross, the lighthouse, or both. The two things seemed to be knotted up somehow, and I couldn’t see where one ended and the other began.

Ok, I knew it was insane. I knew the project would be difficult, maybe impossible. Expensive. Time-consuming. But it’d made my heart jump. God only knew how long it’d been since that last happened.

Bugger caution. I was doing this.

***

As I walked to the lighthouse, a sulky Monty in tow, I wondered whether I’d find Ross there. Assuming he even remembered our plan, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t have changed his mind about the whole thing now all the booze was out of his system.

I needn’t have worried. When I reached the clifftop he was waiting, looking a bit green around the gills but with a welcoming smile on his face. The sea breeze was whipping his hair around his face just as it had… God, had it really only been yesterday we’d met again?

He looked bashful as I approached.

“Er, hi,” he said, scuffing at the grass with one toe.

“Hi yourself.”

“You feeling as rough as I look?”

“Worse.” I shook my head. “Can’t believe I let you talk me into that tequila slammer.”

That seemed to break the ice. He laughed.

“Foul and hideous lies. But suppose I shouldn’t expect any less from the girl who’s inflicted the hangover from hell on me.”

There was an awkward silence for a second.

“So, do you remember?” he said at last.

The lighthouse plan or the kiss? I leaned down to let Monty off his lead, a handy excuse to avoid eye contact. The little dog flung us both a dirty look before galloping off to chase his tail round the lighthouse.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I said eventually.

“And do you – you didn’t just come to give me my 50p back?”

I shook my head. “I told you, Ross, I think it’s a great idea. That wasn’t the booze talking. I’m in if you are.”

“I am if you are.”

I laughed. “Then that makes four of us.” I nodded to the lighthouse. “If it’s possible, that is. Let’s check out the damage before we get too carried away, eh?”

Ross pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the old door. I noticed a brand new sliver of pink graffiti across it as I followed him in.

Oh God… my stomach muscles went rigid as I cast my eyes over the inside. It was worse than I’d expected. Much, much worse.

Everything was the same shade of mottled pearly grey all over, like a three-week-old orange that had been left in the sun. And as for the smell… Christ. A herd of cats could’ve spent a year pissing into every nook and it would’ve been more fragrant. The glassless windows meant hordes of seagull visitors had left a slimy layer of droppings over every surface.

The spiral staircase running up the middle was a slide of rubble, moss poking through every crack. Burst, festering sandbags were piled haphazardly at the base, along with a load of rancid wood and rope that might once have been lobster pots. The whole building looked like an unsalvageable mess of rock, guano and plant matter.

“Jesus, Ross!”

“Yeah, I know…”

“Is it even safe?” I asked, running one fingertip along a wall. My finger actually sank into the wet, powdery dust that seemed to cover everything. Pulling out a tissue, I wiped it off in disgust.

“Well there’s no asbestos or anything, I asked Charlie. Just dirt and rot. Still, don’t think we should spend longer inside than we have to.”

“Oh my God…” I felt suddenly lightheaded and my stomach flipped uncomfortably. Turning to the door, I stumbled blindly through, blinking dust out of my eyes.

Outside, I sank against the lighthouse’s sloped wall and burst into tears.

So that was it. The adventure was over before it had even started. That… that was it. Well, it had been a nice dream while it lasted.

Monty bounded up and put his little paws on my lap, blinking sympathetic brown eyes, but all I could do was stare at him through a fog of brine and disappointment.

Ross appeared at the door. “Hey, no need for that,” he said gently, coming out and sitting down on the grass next to me. Seeing a rival comforter had arrived, Monty turned his tail to us and trotted off. “It’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad, are you blind? It’ll cost a fortune to get that place sorted out. How could Charlie let it get like that?”

“He hasn’t been up here since Aunty Annie died.” He slipped an arm round my shoulders. “It was hers, you know. Think that’s one reason he wants rid: sick of those letters from the council, reminding him she’s gone and it’s still here.”

“Poor Charlie,” I said with a sigh. “But it doesn’t matter. We can’t do it, Ross. The place is beyond repair.” I turned to bury my head in his shoulder and gave way to sobs.

“Come on, what happened to that girl from last night, the one who robbed me of 50p and told me we could do anything?”

“She… sobered up, that’s what,” I gasped through the tears. “Sobered up and hit that bastard called reality head-on.”

“Don’t say that.” He reached up to stroke my hair. “Honestly, I wasn’t just trying to make you feel better, it really isn’t so bad. We can do it.”

“You… really… think so?” I sobbed into his coat.

“I really do. Come back inside a sec, let me show you.”

I wiped my eyes on his collar, stood and followed him back in.

“See? Structure’s fine, all the stone apart from the staircase,” he said, blowing a layer of dust away and knocking against a solid-sounding wall. “And look.” He took a few long strides across the floor. “You were right, it is bigger than I thought. Must be 30, 35 feet across.”

I sniffed doubtfully. “You think it could work then?”

“Yep. We’ll have to get someone to survey it, but I’m certain it’s basically sound.” His eyes sparkled as fervour for his pet project took hold. “Can’t you just see it, Bobbie? A stage down here, two or three viewing balconies, and then maybe a little bar at the top where the old lamp is, looking out to sea.” He stopped to relish the image he’d conjured, a smile fluttering on his lips.

To be honest, I couldn’t see it. All I could see when I looked around the lighthouse was dirt, decay and a hell of a lot of work. But I couldn’t help smiling at the enthusiasm shining in his face.

“It’ll be a new lease of life for the place,” I said. “That’s if we can pull it off.”

“We can, I know it.” He came over to squeeze my shoulder. “You and me, lighthouse girl.”

“Yeah, but –” I broke off into a fit of coughing as some of the dust got into my throat.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Ross said, guiding me to the door.

“But how will we do it?” I asked when we were back in the fresh air. “I mean, even if it is salvageable, the state of it… where will we get the money?”

“You said yourself there are grants we can apply for. It is a listed building. And I’ve got some savings I can invest if things get desperate, sort of an emergency fund.”

“You’d really do that?”

“Absolutely. I told you, Bobbie, I’ve been dreaming about this for years. This is my chance to make a difference and I’m going for it heart and soul.”

I looked into his passion-kindled eyes. He was really prepared to fight for this, wasn’t he?

I thought about the money I had sitting in my building society account. Jess and me had never known our dad, but he’d left us each £10,000 in his will when he passed away three years ago. I’d never been able to bring myself to touch it; it felt dirty, somehow. But the lighthouse project, something for the town…

“I’ve got cash I can invest too,” I said. “My dad left me ten grand.”

He stared at me in surprise. “Really, that bastard left you money?”

“Yeah. Deathbed guilt, I think.”

“But Bobbie, this is my dream, not yours. Your dad left that for you.”

“I don’t want his money. Let it go to a good cause; I’ll never spend it.”

“But –”

I raised an imperious hand. “Don’t try to talk me out of it, Mason. There’s no point arguing when I get the bossy face on.”

He smiled. “So I remember. Seriously though, you don’t want to talk it through with Jess or your mum first? I won’t hold it against you if you back out.”

“Look, we shook on it, didn’t we? If we do this, we do it together. Musketeers never say die.”

“That’s Goonies. But I take your point.” He slapped me on the shoulder. “Well, lass, if you’re really positive, I can match that. In for a penny, in for a pound, eh?”

“Are you sure you can afford it, Ross? I know freelancing can be unsteady.”

“Oh, I’ll cope. Anyway, there’ll be the equity from my old flat once it finally sells, plus some joint savings of mine and Claire’s. I won’t have access to those until the divorce goes through, but at least it’s on the horizon.”

I stiffened under his arm.

“What?” I said quietly.

“There’s nearly six months yet until we can get the ball rolling. Even when these things are amicable it has to be two years’ minimum legal separation. Don’t worry though, I’ll have enough in the meantime with a bit of careful budgeting.”

Divorce… oh Jesus Christ, he was married! Oh God, I didn’t snog a married man!

Ross frowned at my glazed expression. “Everything ok, Bobbie? You’ve gone all quiet.”

“Yeah.” I summoned a smile. “Yeah, course. Just thinking.”

“Look, about last night. I mean, kissing you and everything – sorry. I shouldn’t have done it when we were like we were.” He grinned. “Obviously under the influence of tequila your charms just overwhelmed me.”

“Last night was last night,” I mumbled. “Nothing to beat yourself up over.”

“So can we go out again, do things properly this time?”

God, I needed to bail out of this conversation. Married! How could I not have known he was married? That changed everything.

“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea while we’re working together,” I said at last. “And while you’re – your personal life. Let’s just focus on the lighthouse for now.”

“My personal life… with Claire, you mean?”

“Yeah. Better to wait for your divorce till you plunge back into the dating scene, don’t you think?”

He frowned. “Never really thought about it like that. We’ve been separated 18 months… I suppose the actual paperwork just feels like, well, paperwork.”

“Still, it doesn’t feel right to me. I’m sorry, Ross, I can’t; not now. Maybe ask me again in six months, eh? That is, if you still want to.”

“We’re friends though, aren’t we?”

I shook my head. “More important than that. We’re partners.”