“Excellent,” says Finn. “If in doubt, think, ‘What would Terry say?’ He’d say, ‘Eat the damn crisps and enjoy them.’ ” Finn folds over the beetroot-crisp packet and puts it aside, then adds, “As I said before, pretty much everything I’ve learned about life, I learned from Terry Connolly.”
I gaze curiously at Finn over my glass. At first, I thought this guy was the most obnoxious monster in the world. But the more we talk, the more we chime. The more I relate to him. The more I recognize. I want to know his opinion on things, I realize. I feel like they might be wise opinions. There aren’t too many people I can say that about. We’re both quiet for a bit, and I stare up into the dark, star-speckled sky. Maybe all this time I just needed a friend.
An hour later, the champagne bottle is empty and I’m shivering. It’s time to go inside.
“I can’t face room service again,” I say as we walk back up to the hotel. “I’m going to eat in the dining room.”
“Me too,” says Finn. “I actually booked a table.”
“You booked a table?” I can’t help giggling. “What, to beat the crowds?”
“Habit,” admits Finn. “I rang down and said, ‘Do you have availability for dinner tonight?’ Whereupon Cassidy spent about half an hour trying to access the system, and then do you know what she said? ‘I think we can fit you in, Mr. Birchall.’ ”
“Fit you in?” I collapse into fresh laughter. “Fit you in to the empty dining room?”
“Maybe they’ve got hordes of people arriving tonight,” says Finn with a shrug. “Anything’s possible. Do you have plans tomorrow?” he adds casually.
“I haven’t thought. More of the same, I suppose.”
“Only, I was wondering,” he says, pushing open the back door of the hotel. “D’you fancy going to Kettle Cove? We could walk along the cliff path.”
“I’d love to.” I beam at him. “Brilliant idea.”
By now we’ve arrived at the door to the dining room and I blink in surprise. It’s even more cavernous than before, because some of the tables and chairs have vanished, leaving only dents in the carpet in their place. Other than the fake, table-like contraption in the bay window, there are now only three dining tables in the entire vast space. There’s my little table on one side of the room. There’s Finn’s table on the other side. And there’s a table for two, right in the center of the room, at which the Wests are seated, looking supremely uncomfortable.
“Wow.” I gape at the new arrangement. “What happened?”
“We sold some furniture!” says Cassidy brightly, coming up behind me in a bright-red jacket, which looks like part of an air-hostess uniform. “On eBay! Got three hundred quid, not bad! Were you wanting to eat in the dining room tonight, Ms. Worth?”
“If there’s … space?” I say, darting a look at Finn. “I haven’t booked, I’m afraid.”
“Hmmm …” Cassidy looks thoughtfully around the empty dining room. “Yes, I believe we can seat you. Table for one, was it? And, Mr. Birchall, you’ve already reserved a table.”
“I thought it wise to book,” says Finn gravely, and I bite my lip.
“Excellent!” says Cassidy earnestly. “Now, I know you’ll want to be as far away from Ms. Worth as possible,” she adds to Finn. “Indeed, this is a priority for you both. So I will just point out that our new, improved seating arrangement creates even more space between the two of you than before. There are ten meters between your tables!” She smiles proudly at us both. “Ten full meters! And hopefully your dining experience will be all the more agreeable for this adjustment. It was Simon’s idea.”
I shoot an awkward glance at Finn, who looks equally nonplussed. It seems like ages ago that we were so prickly at having to share the beach.
“It’s not the hugest priority to be apart …” I begin tentatively, just as Finn says, “I wouldn’t say it’s essential …”
“It’s no trouble!” Cassidy sweeps away our protestations. “We pride ourselves on the personal touch at the Rilston. We want to make our guests as happy as we can, and obviously for you two that means being as separate as possible!” She beams at me. “If you’ll follow me, Ms. Worth? Nikolai will be here presently; he’s just assisting Simon with a very small emergency relating to a fox discovered living in one of the bedrooms.”
Immediately I glance at Finn and have to clamp my lips shut, trying not to laugh.
“I can see how that might not be optimal,” says Finn gravely. “Bon appetit,” he adds to me.
I follow Cassidy over the creaking, carpeted floor to my usual table, which now seems several miles away from Finn’s. As I pass the Wests, I smile at them, and Mrs. West nods once, then looks away, her jaw tight. Mr. West doesn’t seem able to move at all. He looks rigid with wretchedness. Feeling awkward at witnessing such misery, I sit down at my marooned little table, then wave at Finn, who is sitting down at his own little table. A thought occurs to me and I get out my phone to text him.
I feel like we’re doing an exam!!!
Almost at once his response comes back:
IKR? Though if they didn’t want us cheating they should have taken our phones, suckers.
I grin appreciatively, then open the menu, which is familiar to me from room service. There doesn’t seem to be anything extra available except Chef’s Special: saddle of lamb for two people.
That actually sounds pretty good. After a moment’s thought, I get out my phone and text Finn again:
You want to go halves on the saddle of lamb?
It doesn’t take long for his answer to arrive:
Excellent idea.
I give him a thumbs-up, and he lifts his glass to me in reply. No sign of Nikolai yet. I guess the fox is resisting its eviction.
At the table in the center, the Wests are conversing in curt, hostile whispers. Occasionally, they break off to sweep a glance round the room as though checking whether they’re being overheard, and I studiously start looking at my phone, just to indicate that I’m not interested. I search for Kettle Cove, just to check they haven’t closed it or anything, then click on Surrounding Attractions.
“It’s not just the sex!” Mrs. West’s voice rises in distress, and I feel a wave of embarrassment. Okaaay. Do not look their way. I tilt my head even more ostensibly toward my phone screen, trying to indicate, I am far too engrossed in my googling to hear your marital dispute.
And actually, this page I’m on is quite engrossing. It turns out there’s a new zip wire near Kettle Cove, and I read the description with a sudden yearning to try it out. Experience the exhilarating ride of your lifetime as you fly over Kettle Cove, with stunning speed and spectacular views.
I watch the video on mute, feeling a vicarious thrill as a woman in a harness whizzes along a high wire, above a stretch of sparkling water. Not only does this sound amazing, it’s also on my 20 Steps list. STEP 11. SEEK ADVENTURE. JOLT YOUR BODY WITH A BLAST OF ADRENALINE. BUNGEE JUMP, ZIP-WIRE, OR JUST GO SEE A SCARY MOVIE. ANYTHING TO BLAST YOUR SENSES ALIVE.
I could do with blasting my senses alive. On impulse, I get to my feet and head across the dining room to Finn’s table, smiling awkwardly at the Wests as I pass their table. They’ve lapsed into silence now. Mrs. West is folding and refolding her napkin, her thin hands trembling, while Mr. West is gazing resolutely upward, as though fascinated by the ceiling moldings.
“You came to visit!” Finn exclaims as I approach. “Welcome to this side of the room.”
“Very nice,” I say, gazing around as though in admiration. “Now, look at this zip wire I’ve found. It’s right by Kettle Cove.”
Finn studies the page, his eyes widening as he plays the video.
“Awesome!” he says at last. “Is it open?”
“I’ll check. If it is, shall I get tickets?”
“Yes! Let’s do it.”
I head back to my table, trying to tiptoe over the creaky floor as I go past the Wests’ silent table.
“Sorry,” I murmur, although I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for, and Mrs. West gives me a tight half smile.