Page 99 of The Weekend Getaway

“I wasn’t moping, I was sleeping.”

“Same difference. Sleeping all day like a teenager isn’t going to make you feel any better.”

“I wasn’t intending to sleep all day.” That might not have been entirely true; staying in bed for the day didn’t sound like a bad plan. “I was still in bed because I was at work last night.”

“You were home before midnight, so you must’ve slept for ten hours. Who needs ten hours of sleep?”

“How do you know what time I got home?”

“Saw you out of the window. I was working late.”

Noah rubbed at his eyes. “You’re really annoying, you know. How are you always so fresh?”

“Is that a rhetorical question or do you actually want to hear about healthy lifestyle choices?”

“Definitely rhetorical.” Noah stood and stretched.

“Are you coming to Lowen’s with me then?”

“Yeah. I just need a shower. Does he know we’re coming?”

“No. If he knew, he’d say not to come. I’ve learned it’s better just to turn up.”

“I presume you’re at least buying me lunch over there?”

“Sure. The hotel does a mean vegan burger.”

Noah rolled his eyes and went to get ready. Upstairs, he tapped out a message to tell Keira his plans for the day and warn her that he might not have phone signal. They’d skipped their usual phone conversation the previous evening. He’d said work was too busy for him to take a break, but really he just wasn’t sure he was in the right headspace to speak to her.

After their previous chat, his head was spinning. On the one hand he was annoyed with her for cancelling their plans for the weekend. On the other hand, he was annoyed with himself for moving back to St Mary’s as though he had something to prove, when it turned out that he didn’t need to be there at all.

Now he felt stuck, and trying to figure out the best thing to do was tiring. His shower did little to wake him up, nor did the salty air that blasted him on the ride over to Bryher. Hopping out of the boat to tie up on Church Quay, he still felt groggy.

“I take it the long-distance relationship isn’t going well?” Trystan said as they strode up the jetty.

Noah raked a hand through his hair, pushing it off his face as the wind blew it in all directions. “Keira was supposed to come over this weekend but she had to postpone.”

“Can you go over there instead?”

He shrugged. “I can’t decide what to do.”

They fell silent as they tramped along the track towards the centre of the island. Passing Veronica’s Farm with fields bursting with various herbs and flowers, they stopped to buy homemade fudge, tossing the money into the honesty box in the stall at the side of the lane.

“When was the last time you were over here?” Trystan asked as he chewed on a piece of fudge.

“With you, before I moved to Bristol.” Noah slowed to take in the view down to the beach at Great Par. Wind pushed at the long grass on the sand dunes, sweeping it sideways, and a flock of kittiwakes circled above the blue-green water, crying out incessantly.

Finally, the gusts of salty air in his lungs eased Noah’s melancholy. Or maybe it was the sugar in the fudge. Either way, the world seemed to come into sharper focus.

“Sometimes, I still can’t believe Lowen moved to Bryher.” He popped another piece of fudge in his mouth and held the paper packet out to Trystan, who declined the offer of more.

“Sometimes I envy him,” Trystan said.

“No way. You’d hate living over here.”

“Probably. London is definitely losing its appeal though.”

Noah almost asked about Jenny, but they were almost at Lowen’s place so he decided to wait. On the beach, the wind lifted dry sand, swirling it in snake-like patterns before depositing it again. Clumps of crispy seaweed crunched underfoot as they made a beeline for the pottery studio, which was housed in a large, converted boatshed, nestled between sand dunes. Beyond the rise of the dunes stood a weather-beaten cottage which also belonged to Lowen.