She held out my glass to me as I neared her, and I paused, then accepted it with a grin. “Oh, if you insist,” I said. I took a sip.
“I don’t like starting alone,” she confessed with a smile. “Now I feel more comfortable. I really like that bikini. It suits you perfectly.”
“Mm,” I said, “it was a lucky find. It’s a good blue for me, though I usually go several shades darker. It masks better,” I added, with a wince. “Draws less… attention, if you know what I mean.”
“Ugh,” she agreed. “Men are impossible. Well, anyway, you look divine in it. Go shower so we can drink and eat and be mischievous.”
And she smiled, eyes twinkling at me as she took another sip of wine.
I put my wineglass down and sauntered through to the bathroom, leaving the door open so that I could still talk to her. I turned on the water, stripped, and dropped my bikini top and bottoms into the sink to be dealt with later.
“So what have you been doing with yourself all these years?” I called.
“What?” she replied.
I stuck my head out around the corner. “What have you been doing with yourself…”
“Oh. Right. The usual, you know. School. University. Work. Relationship after catastrophic relationship,” she laughed.
“Oh dear.”
I ducked back and climbed into the shower, sighing out as the hot water sluiced over me.
“What was that?” I called, in answer something that I didn’t quite catch.
She said something more loudly.
“Just come here and tell me, I can’t hear you!” I shouted, laughing.
She appeared at the door, squeaked, and looked quickly away.
“Sorry,” she said, flustered. “I didn’t realise you were in the shower already…”
“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” I spluttered around the water. I reached for my soap, worked up a lather and started to wash myself. “What were you saying?”
“Just a short expose on my various disasters,” she said.
“That sounds entertaining.”
“For someone, certainly,” she admitted wryly. I wiped water out of my eyes and glanced at her; she was strangely flushed and staring fixedly down at her wineglass.
I rinsed myself clean of salt and soap, then cleared the last suds off my legs and thighs. One more brisk whole-body rinse from the shower head and I turned off the water. I reached for my towel and began to dry myself, watching her as I did, wondering who she’d become.
“So what’s work?” I asked her.
“Office work,” she said. “Nothing important.”
“Like me,” I answered. “I’m in admin.”
“I’m in finance,” she replied. “Are we a cliche yet?”
“Not yet, but I feel one coming on,” I laughed. I straightened and brushed past her as I made for my bedroom where I chose some worn underwear, linen shorts and a tee shirt to wriggle in to.
I straightened, bunched my hair up behind me, and tied it up with one of my old hairbands.
“Ariadne is clothed,” I announced.
“Is that what you call that, then,” she said, amused. She held out my wine to me; I took my glass and clinked it gently to hers.
“Well,” she added softly. “This is… a really, really nice way to end the day, to be honest. This makes up for so much. All my Christmases have come at once.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said. “I’ve… shit, Charley, it’s only just starting to sink in just how much I missed you.”
She glanced up at me, flushed a deeper pink, and then looked away.
“… yeah, ditto,” she said softly.
“Come on,” I bubbled as I took her arm. “Lets get drunk and make supper.”
“Now that,” she said, “is speaking my lingo.”
.:.
“And so that’s the story of it,” she sighed. “Dad split with mum and moved in with his girlfriend, and with him gone… well, what holidays I got were in a leaky tent at Camber Sands rather than here. At least, until I could afford to come back by myself. I always wanted to bring mum back here, but she was always ill. And when we finally found out why… well, it was too late. She went and croaked on me two years ago.”
“Oh… oh Charley, Christ, I’m so sorry…”
“Oh Ari, it’s fine, she went peacefully in the end and we had lots of time to get ready. I miss her but it doesn’t shatter me any more, you know? She had a good innings and went out in her own bed at home with me and her best friends and her favourite music. There are worse things that happen.”
She smiled bravely; I didn’t mention or acknowledge the tiny tears she tried to hide behind a cough.
Instead, I refilled her wineglass, and topped up mine. I sipped my wine, then lay back with a groan, watching the moon rise slowly behind the hills on the far side of the bay.
She sighed softly beside me.
“So yeah,” she said. “I can’t say life has been unicorns and rainbows since we last saw one another.”
“I feel so guilty for losing your number. I would have given a lot to have been able to reach out to you.”
“That would have been nice,” she agreed. “To have my partner in crime when I needed her. I can remember a couple of occasions where that would have made quite a difference…”
“I’m really so sorry,” I breathed, ashamed.
“Hey, no, don’t… Ari, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said. She reached out and brushed my hand with her fingers. “And anyway, it’s turned out okay, hasn’t it? You’re here, I’m here…”
“We’re not children any more, though.”
“That means nothing to me. I still build sandcastles,” she said. “And I’m never going to stop. Plus it means we can drink together, so that’s a plus… isn’t it?”
Her smile was glorious despite her earlier sadness, a gorgeous upwelling of emotion that blazed outwards like a searchlight, and her eyes were if anything an even richer honey brown than they’d been in her youth.
Her youth…
I laughed out loud.
“What is it?” she protested. “What are you laughing at?”
“I just caught myself thinking of something very funny related to our ages, and then remembered that we’re both young.”
“Young and wild at heart.”
I grinned.
“Pity you don’t have a pool,” she added.
“Why?”
“I’ve got a sudden urge to go skinny-dipping.”
I laughed again. “You’ll scandalise everyone here.”
She grinned at me over the lip of her wineglass. “Everyone?” she smirked.
“Almost everyone,” I admitted. “I’m not easily shocked by casual nudity. I did Fine Art as an elective at Uni, and… well, sometimes I did modelling for the department as well.”
“Really?” she said softly, eyebrow creeping upwards.
“Yeah. Anyway… after the hundredth man had stared fixedly at my nethers I kind of lost most of my sense of shame. You could always walk down to the ocean and do it there. Out of sight, to to speak.”
“Mhmm. I might just do that.”
A group of lights slowly traversed the bay; a launch or sailing yacht late to berthing.
“How long are you here for?” I asked her.
“Three more nights and a couple of hours on the last day.”
“And then?”
“Back to Lincoln and reality.”
“Oh! I’m in Ipswich. It’s not so far, two or three hours by bus. We should totally meet up for a weekend.”
She glanced across at me, then looked away and shifted on her deck chair. “That sounds nice,” she admitted. “Though… it would take a lot to top this view,” she sighed as she stared out at the moonlit bay.
“That’s true.”
“So, Ari…” she said softly.
“Uh huh?”
“Have you got anyone in your life at all?”
I snorted. “Nope.”
“Really? A lovely vision like you?”
I grimaced. “I… don’t really date or anything.”
“Who said anything about dating?” she asked with a wicked little grin. “You don’t need to commit to someone to enjoy them, you know…”
“Um…”
“Did I just shock you?”
She stared at me, then started to laugh, loud and deep in her throat.
“So you can be shocked,” she cackled. “Oh, I’m going to remember that.”
I sipped my wine, conscious of the warm flush on my cheeks. “Not shocked, no. No. To answer you, I’m single and unattached and… really, rather celibate to be honest. I don’t have much patience for most people. And… I’m well served in the physical department, anyway. I have a very diligent and attentive boyfriend. He lives in a drawer and comes out only when required.”
She sniggered. “Oh, fine, fine. I think I may know his brother.”
“Or maybe he’s just using us as timeshare…”
“Men,” she agreed, rolling her eyes. “So… since we’re on this track already and dirty talk is my second favourite thing… how long have you been single?”
“Technically… forever?”
“What! Seriously?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve dabbled, but commitment? Meh. Also, I discovered very quickly that the idea of sex was better than the actuality of it. It’s very… messy, especially if you’re not expecting just how messy it can be. And it’s smelly. And horribly… biological. And… well, risky, really, when you get down to it. Isn’t it? So no, I’ve kind of sworn off it. Well, mostly,” I admitted. “Sometimes… well. Sometimes it’s easier than other times. I don’t miss having a guy in me, really, and I really, really don’t miss being full of… well, you know. But I do miss being being held. Being… wanted, however briefly…” I ended, softly.
“I lose my mind if I go too long without touch,” she said. “Someone in me, and someone holding me. I need both. I crave both.”
I sipped my wine. “So how long’s it been for you then?”
“Couple of months. And yes, I’m getting into the red zone,” she muttered. “And when that happens I start making bad decisions. I discovered that on my twentieth birthday, when two friends gave me my… birthday present.”
“From the pregnant pause I’m guessing it was something depraved. What was it?”
“It was a threesome,” she said, amused.
I flushed at the sudden mental image and shifted to try to ease the sudden strange tension in my belly.
“Two guys?”
“Oh, no, one of each.”
“Oh! Wow. Okay… and?”