Sue phoned that evening to ask how it had gone.

“Badly. It was…oh, hell, it was…bad.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“We went up on the moor, and he stopped to look at the view. You know how you live somewhere and take it for granted? Well, I stood beside him, and it was amazing. The view, I mean. The sea and everything.”

“Get on with it.”

“Right, yes, he looked at me like…like he…we….”

“Oh, God. You didn’t, did you?”

“Yes, I did. We kissed, and it was…unbelievable.” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, he stopped suddenly, apologised, and said he shouldn’t have done that because of Steph. So, I decided to tell him.”

“And did you?”

“Not there. I didn’t want a place I love associated with bad vibes about that lying slapper. I was going to bring him back here, but in the end, I decided to show him where they went.”

“You took him to the standing stones?”

“It seemed like the best idea at the time. On the way, I told him about yesterday and the yellow hoodie, then everything Steph did today when I followed her. He went silent from the start. Then he wanted to walk to the stones, so we did that. When he finally spoke, he told me Steph was a flirt. He thought I was angry because of her being all over Tim, and he didn’t know what to think about the story I just told him.” I swallowed. “He didn’t believe me.”

“Well…we knew that was a risk. D’you think Paul will ask Steph about it?”

“That’s what I told him to do. If he knows Steph, he’ll see her reaction and realise it’s true.”

Sue didn’t speak for several moments, then she said, “Here’s what I think. Paul’s a decent guy, and he’s fallen for you and tried to ignore it – the same way you have. I’m guessing things aren’t great between him and Steph, anyway.”

“He told me as much when I met him on the beach yesterday morning. I don’t think they have a lot in common, and she hates it here, prefers London.”

“Okay, so he kisses you and feels bad afterwards. Not about kissing you, but because he’s in a relationship and, like I said, he’s a decent guy – but he’s human. He feels bad, and then you take him on the road trip from hell and tell him Steph’s being unfaithful, and he feels even worse.”

“How is this helping?”

“Bear with me. You just rocked Paul’s entire world – and I don’t mean that in a good way. Maybe I should say ‘wrecked’ instead. He knows she’s a flirt, but he ignores it to keep the peace like you did with Jeff’s behaviour. Now he has to face the truth. Remember how you reacted when you found those emails?”

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Shock and anger and hurt - it’s a lot to process.”

Sue stayed quiet for such a long time that I asked if she was still there.

“Yeah. Listen, there’s another scenario that’s occurred to me, and you should have realised it before me.”

“Very mysterious. What d’you mean?”

“What does everyone ask you? Well, almost everyone.” When I stayed silent and puzzled, Sue carried on, “Do you want him back? That’s the other result we didn’t think of.”

“What…you mean…?” I couldn’t bring myself to voice this out loud.

“He might challenge Steph, learn the truth, then they work it out together and decide on forgiveness and a fresh start.”

I blew out air and pursed my lips together. That idea hadn’t featured in my imaginary chain of events. In the back of my mind, in a place I’d barely acknowledged because it felt fragile and potentially so incredible it couldn’t be real, was a future where Paul and I were together. Steph was out of the picture – I tried not to imagine her dead because that’s bad karma right there, but, God, it was hard – and I was happy and settled. Elvis and I were detectives, Paul baked his cakes. Ewan interrogated every customer in the café, and life was fantastic.

And now that hung on a knife balance.

A cake knife, probably.

“Well,” I said, my voice heavy. “I can’t do any more than I have, and it’s up to Paul how he responds. But I think I’ll steer clear of Sea Brew for a while.”

“Yeah, that’s probably wise. Hang in there, Marnie, and let Paul process this in his own time. And remember, it’s only been a week and a half since Jeff. Take a step back. Have some fun. Talking of which, is there any more news from the actor-slash-model?”

“No, thank God. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Take care.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Yeah, you too. Bye.”

The rest of Tuesday evening dragged like one of the Reverend Thorpe’s sermons. I hit the garden with a trowel and basket and attacked some weeds. I swept the path. I threw a tennis ball for Elvis to fetch instead of taking him for another walk because I might meet Paul and Steph hand-in-hand and lovey-dovey again. If she smirked at me, I’d have to punch her.

My phone rang when I came back inside, and the screen showed an unknown mobile number. My stomach lurched. Could this be Paul? I answered with a breathless “Hello?”

“I got it. I got the lead.”

“Ah…Tim.” My stomach sank again. “Great. That’s great.”

“They kept me there and did a screen test and said I was perfect for the role.”

“Congratulations.”

“Are you okay? You sound a bit down.”

“I’m just tired.”

“We’re filming in Wales and – get this – L.A.”

“Wow.” Wales was a reasonable distance away, but America was even better. One man-problem would be solved. I perked up. “That’s amazing. When do you start?”

“Rehearsals and costume fittings are happening next week. It’s on a tight schedule, they want to come in within budget, but there’s a chance of another backer from the US, too, so that could change.”

“I’m really pleased for you, Tim.” And pleased you’re off out of my life. “Hollywood, here you come.”

Tim laughed. “Here’s hoping. I’m staying in town for this promotional thing, and then I’m coming back down on Saturday morning.”

Panic rose in my throat. “Don’t come all the way here for me, Tim. I told you –”

“I’m coming back to see Dad and work in the shop. Honestly, Marnie.” He laughed again and set my teeth on edge. “You’re such a worrier. We’re friends, aren’t we? You could manage a celebratory drink, surely?”

“Oh, well…yes, I suppose.” I felt wrong-footed and unreasonable. “Of course. Why not? Friends. Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then. Must dash. Bye.”

I stood holding my phone, staring into space and wondering when ‘I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m behaving like a madman’ changed to ‘we’re friends’. Still, that was one problem out of the way until the weekend, and the phone call had used up some time. All I had to do was occupy myself for the next few empty hours.

♦♦♦

I was in bed by ten o’clock.

And still awake at 2am.

Finally, I rose, came downstairs and made some herbal tea. Then I sat on the living room sofa, drank my tea, and dozed off again at 3am.

I woke twenty minutes later when Elvis clambered up beside me and squashed my face into the cushion.

By 4am, I was asleep once more.

At 4.30, the dawn chorus started.

I gave up at 5am, rose, showered and dressed, and then surprised myself with a sudden bout of bravery, nerve and self-confidence – or, perhaps, a deep seam of stupidity caused by lack of sleep. Whatever the source, I decided to take Elvis down to the beach.

My inner voice woke up and argued with me when we hit the pavement.

You just want to see Paul again, don’t you?

No, not at all. Well…maybe…okay, yes. I do.

Why are you doing this to yourself? He thinks you’re a liar. Or he might believe you, but then he forgives that cow Steph and forgets you exist.

Well, isn’t it better to know now rather than wait?

There’s no rush. Take a step back. It’s too soon after Jeff.

I know what I’m doing.

Are you going to be sensible?

No, probably not.

Sea Brew was dark, still, and silent, and the flat upstairs showed no signs of life. We reached the first ramp down to the sand, I freed Elvis, and he tore off, ears flapping, straight into the sea. I began walking and picking up unusual shells and pieces of sea glass. Just a woman and her dog, taking a walk, beachcombing, interested in everything around her and not looking back at the café.

Two minutes later, Elvis’s ears pricked up, and he shot back the way we’d come, barking excitedly. I forced myself to ignore him and kept walking - just a woman beachcombing and interested in everything around her. I spotted an attractive shell, crouched down, grasped it and tried to pull it free. The shell dug itself out of the sand, waved a giant claw in my face and sprinted sideways into the sea.

“Aah.” I leapt away, fell onto my backside, and then scrambled to my feet and staggered on.

“Marnie, wait.” Paul's voice stopped me dead. My breath caught in my throat, and my inner voice sighed, tutted, and quietly left the building. I turned slowly and faced the chef as he walked towards me with Elvis dancing at his side. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“So, that wasn’t you squealing like a big girl?”

“No.” My lips twitched at the corners. “That must have been some other big girl.”

“My mistake.” Paul stopped several feet away, and we locked eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” My voice wavered.

“Not for the kiss,” he said quickly. “For everything else where I went all macho and silent and then moody and unreasonable.”

“I thought you didn’t believe me about Steph.”

“I didn’t want to believe you. But, deep down, I knew it was true.”

“Did you ask her about it?”

Paul shook his head. “No. I want to ask you something, though. Would you follow her again today and take photos?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I can film Steph and Mark Cooper if you want.” I realised I’d sounded a little too enthusiastic. “Um, sorry, I got carried away.”

“No, that would be great.” Paul gave a rueful grin. “My own video nasty.”

Elvis sat at Paul’s feet and whined. Paul looked down at him. “I have a present for Elvis, but he’s seen it already.” He reached into his jacket and brought out a bendy plastic stick with a shallow cup. “It’s a ball chucker.” He rummaged in a pocket, produced a tennis ball, and sat it in the shallow cup. “One flick of the wrist….”

Paul launched the ball across the sand, and Elvis streaked after it. “Here you are.” He handed me the stick and then, after a swift glance over his shoulder at the café, delved into his other pocket. “And this is my number.”

I took the folded piece of paper and shoved it into my jacket pocket. “Thanks. I’ll text you mine.” A slow smile spread across my face. “And thanks for the chucker.” A thoughtful gift and Paul’s phone number. The day was looking better already.

Paul hesitated and then stepped back. The look he gave me was apologetic. “Steph will be up soon, and I think I should walk in the other direction.”

“Of course.” I tried to sound like I didn’t mind. “I’ll take Elvis up the far ramp and go back along the street.”

“Text me when you get a result?”

“Sure.”

Paul smiled at me, my stomach somersaulted, and I turned away before he could see the longing on my face. My inner voice rolled its eyes as I tramped across the sand, biting my lip and trying not to laugh out loud. I chased Elvis, got the ball and threw it using the chucker. I picked more shells and sea glass. I paused and gazed out to sea.

Then I took out the paper with Paul’s mobile number and copied it into my phone. I sent a brief text:

It’s Marnie.

I pondered adding a kiss but went with a smiley emoji instead. Then I put my phone away and chased after Elvis.

When we reached the end of the beach, I refastened my dog’s leash, and we went up the ramp, crossed the road and walked home. Elvis insisted on carrying the chucker while I got to hold the sandy, saliva-coated tennis ball.

I was smiling every step of the way: my tentative hope that Paul and I would be together in an ideal version of reality suddenly looked like it might happen.