“Work,” says Finn promptly. “Overwork. Lack of sleep. Like you.”
“But what led to the overwork?” I press. “What led to the lack of sleep?” Instantly, Finn looks evasive and slugs his drink.
“It was … a difficult situation,” he says at length. “Things were really hard.”
Torment has come into his eyes, as though he’s in a place I can’t reach. That’s not the look you get when you’re overworked. It’s the look you get when your heart is twisted up by love. He’s twisted up, I can tell. He’s not mended, not healed, and not nearly ready to find love with anyone else.
“What kind of difficult situation?” I force myself to ask, and Finn starts as though he was completely lost in thought for a moment.
“Well. Like yours, I guess. Having to take on the work of other staff, because of …” He trails off vaguely, and my heart shrivels. He’s just mirroring what I said.
“Did you speak to your manager about it?” I ask, and Finn’s eyes swivel.
“Not really. Should have done, I guess.”
“But that was the main issue?” I persist. “Understaffing at work? Or … ?”
A kind of desperation has come to Finn’s face. “It was … I don’t know. Things were difficult.”
I gaze at him silently. If my eyes could talk, they’d be saying, Finn, you can’t hide from me. You’re keeping her a secret. You’re keeping it all a secret. You’re not ready to move on.
“Where are the drinks?” adds Finn, looking around as though he has a burning need to escape, and I feel a wave of compassion for him. Because here’s the thing. I never actually asked him, Are you in love with someone else? My bad. Maybe next time I ask the universe for a man, I’ll know better.
I have two options. I can reveal. I can demand to know. I can tear down this tender friendship we have, for the sake of … what?
Or I can act with dignity.
“So, I was thinking,” I say. “We need to be careful.”
“Careful?” Finn looks confused.
“We’ve both been burned out. We’ve both been through bad times. We both need to sort our lives. And this has been so great.” I gesture from him to me. “So great.” I sound for all the world like a kind, confident woman letting a man down lightly. “But, Finn, we can’t be each other’s sticking plaster.”
“Sticking plaster?” He looks aghast. “That’s not— I don’t see you as—”
“I know. But maybe this isn’t …” I swallow. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. After all.”
I lapse into silence and see the emotions pass through his eyes—shock as he understands, followed by resistance, acceptance, sadness. Each one makes me want to cry out, Only joking! But I stay motionless, resolute, the strong one.
“Right,” says Finn at last, his voice heavy. “I mean, I get what you’re saying.”
“You should focus on your therapy.”
And your heart. And your shattered relationship with the love of your life.
“I guess.” He nods. “I just thought … we were having a good time.”
“We were. It was amazing.” Tears are pricking my eyes. “Amazing.”
“Sasha, are you OK?” His eyes are searching my face anxiously, as though for answers. “Was it—us—a mistake?”
Yes, because I’m spoiled for anyone else, forever.
“Of course not. It was …” I shake my head. “Sublime.”
“That’s how I feel too.” He grasps my forearms. “Sasha, I respect what you’re saying. I do. There are issues. But do we have to be so hasty? Could we talk?”
I gaze up into his perplexed face, seeing the tension etched in every fine line. There’s an unhappiness there that I never detected before. A big, private unhappiness that I can’t soothe.
“Look after yourself, Finn,” I whisper, feeling my throat constrict.
For a few tense moments he just stares at me desperately, as though casting around for the way to make this not happen. Then, with a sigh, he gives up.
“Look after yourself too.” He releases my arms and runs a tender hand down my cheek. “Let’s both look after ourselves, OK?”
“OK.” I nod, my face stiff with a not-real smile. “It’s a deal. I’ll manifest it. ‘Finn’s wellness.’ I’ll write it on a piece of paper and keep it in my pocket, and the universe will grant it.”
“I’ll do the same.” His face contorts itself into the same kind of miserable, effortful smile as mine. “I’ll write ‘Sasha’s wellness’ on mine.”
“It’s bound to work.” I force a light tone. “ ‘Manifestation’ is on the 20 Steps app, after all.”
“The app never lies,” affirms Finn.
Somehow we’re edging back into a safe place, where our emotions are tucked away, where we can joke and make eye contact and my heart doesn’t feel shredded.
“Do you want another drink?” says Finn. “I’ll get us both another one.”
He turns away, as though he needs a breather to pull himself together, and I exhale. There. Done. Band-Aid ripped off.
Skin raw.
Heart a mess.
But it’ll heal. I’ll heal. Let’s look at what I have to be grateful for. I have my Tesco order and I have my job offer and I have my beautiful life to make … plants to throw away … I must buy Coco a birthday present—
My thoughts break off as I see Terry’s daughter, Tessa, hovering, a couple of meters away.
“Hi,” I say, and gesture around. “Stunning, isn’t it?”
I wait for her to make some remark in return, but she just keeps on gazing me from behind her curls, in that imploring way she has.
“I hope you didn’t mind,” she says at last, her voice low and anxious.
“Mind?” I echo, baffled. “Mind what?”
“I know it was a bit strange, only I couldn’t just come up and …” She looks warily around, then lowers her voice. “Dad wouldn’t let us talk about it. Ever. Even years later.”
“Tessa …” I stare at her. I’m getting the weirdest feeling. My head is prickling. Everything’s coming together in my mind. Tessa takes a step forward, her big-eyed gaze still on me, biting her lip nervously.
“But then I saw your names.” She seems consumed by some emotion. “You were back in Rilston. Well, I couldn’t do nothing.”
“Tessa …” I swallow several times. “Did you write the messages on the beach?”
“Of course.”
“Right.” I try to stay calm, even though I feel a bit overwhelmed. “I see. It was you.”
“Of course it was me. I thought you knew.”
She seems quite matter-of-fact. But at the same time, she’s got such a twitchy manner, I feel as though she might skitter away at any moment. I need to tread carefully.
“You wrote, ‘To the couple on the beach. Thank you,’ ” I clarify. “Was that addressed to … both of us?”
“You and Finn.” She nods. “Joint.”
I’m feeling an almighty surge of exhilaration. I was right! It wasn’t a Mavis Adler fan. It was a series of messages to Finn and me, exactly as we first suspected, and there’s only one small question remaining.
“But, Tessa … why?”
“Why?” She seems perplexed. “Well … because of what you did. Because you saved Dad.”
“We saved Terry?” I stare at her, bewildered. “What do you mean?”
“You told the police what you saw,” she says simply. “Both of you came forward, told the same story. Honest-sounding kids, no reason to lie. It changed their minds. Sasha Worth and Finn Birchall.” She pauses, with a reminiscent smile. “Sandra’s best friend was in the police and told her your names, though she shouldn’t have. Sandra always wanted to find you, say thank you, but you weren’t here the next year.”
“Neither of us have been back for twenty years,” I say slowly, then look up as Finn approaches.
“Finn, let me introduce our sand fairy,” I say, and watch in satisfaction as his jaw sags. “It was to do with the accident, after all. We changed the police’s minds, apparently. You and me!”
“Changed the police’s minds?” Finn looks thunderstruck.
“They thought it was Dad’s faulty kayak at first,” Tessa explains. “Pete tried to stitch him up, good and proper.”