seaside.
She was momentarily dumbstruck. Old flannel she could easily deal with but open sincerity and genuine declarations were something different.
In the background she could hear Ruby calling her from the water’s edge but her voice seemed far, far away. Gracie focused on her feet, wiggling her toes in her sandals and shaking a few stray grains of sand from between them. Something strange was happening to her and though she wanted to get up and run away from the obvious danger in front of her, she couldn’t.
Even though the touch was so light it was barely there, Edward Woodfield’s leg burned into hers, and she was aware of his fresh breath that was far too close to the side of her face. She carried on looking down and didn’t meet his gaze, but nonetheless she was completely thrown by both the situation and the palpitations that were getting faster by the moment.
And then he moved an inch away from her. He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back with his hands under his head.
‘So, what do you do for a living that has you resident at the seaside, you lucky thing?’ he asked, gently easing the tension of the moment.
‘I’ve always lived here. I was born here – I’m a Southender who’s never lived anywhere else …’ she paused. ‘But you’re not really interested in my life story, are you? It’s pretty boring.’
‘I am and I’m listening. I want to know all about you and then I’ll tell you all about me,’ he smiled.
‘There’s not enough time for all that stuff. Ruby will be back in a minute and then we have to go. I have a lot to do in the next few days …’ she paused. Gracie knew she should tell him about her forthcoming marriage, but instead she hesitated just long enough for him to interrupt.
‘It’s not important; we don’t need to know everything about each other immediately.’
As he smiled, so Gracie unintentionally found herself telling him an outline of her life story. It was a sanitised version, but he proved to be a good listener.
‘And you? What do you do?’ Gracie asked, turning it round to him.
‘I’m an engineer. I work abroad, mostly in Africa, but I’m back home on leave for Harry’s wedding. They’re driving me completely bananas with all the planning and organising; it’s going to be very formal, which is not my sort of thing, but it’s what they want. Or rather, what
Louisa
wants – and usually whatever Louisa wants, so does poor besotted Harry.’
‘I thought you looked too healthy and suntanned for England,’ Gracie said, carefully avoiding the subject of weddings.
‘Hardly healthy,’ he chuckled. ‘Not that long ago I was burnt to a cinder after a day at the beach and this is the outcome after the top three layers peeled. Luckily I have skin that tans. Gracie, can we meet again? Just the two of us. I can drive down here anytime. I’m in the UK for several more weeks until the wedding. I want to get to know you and for you to know me …’
‘I can’t do that, I really can’t. You see, it’s, it’s …’ Gracie stuttered, unable to get the words out.
‘Of course you can,’ he interrupted with a smile. ‘I’m not going to give up. I want to get to know you, and I want to marry you and whisk you off to Africa with me.’
‘Don’t talk to me like that,’ she snapped. ‘You’re taking the mickey out of me now. I told you, I’m not some stupid little fairground girl who’ll fall for your flannel and flattery and let you have your way, I’m not …’
‘I’m not taking the mickey and I’ve got no other motive. I mean it, I want to get to know you. Please, Gracie? I really mean it and I’ve never done this sort of thing before. Harry would have a pink fit if he knew I was declaring love at first sight to you. It’s just not me.’
He sounded so sincere that Gracie was immediately thrown; she wanted to believe him and to try and understand exactly what was passing between them but she didn’t know what to
She was momentarily dumbstruck. Old flannel she could easily deal with but open sincerity and genuine declarations were something different.
In the background she could hear Ruby calling her from the water’s edge but her voice seemed far, far away. Gracie focused on her feet, wiggling her toes in her sandals and shaking a few stray grains of sand from between them. Something strange was happening to her and though she wanted to get up and run away from the obvious danger in front of her, she couldn’t.
Even though the touch was so light it was barely there, Edward Woodfield’s leg burned into hers, and she was aware of his fresh breath that was far too close to the side of her face. She carried on looking down and didn’t meet his gaze, but nonetheless she was completely thrown by both the situation and the palpitations that were getting faster by the moment.
And then he moved an inch away from her. He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back with his hands under his head.
‘So, what do you do for a living that has you resident at the seaside, you lucky thing?’ he asked, gently easing the tension of the moment.
‘I’ve always lived here. I was born here – I’m a Southender who’s never lived anywhere else …’ she paused. ‘But you’re not really interested in my life story, are you? It’s pretty boring.’
‘I am and I’m listening. I want to know all about you and then I’ll tell you all about me,’ he smiled.
‘There’s not enough time for all that stuff. Ruby will be back in a minute and then we have to go. I have a lot to do in the next few days …’ she paused. Gracie knew she should tell him about her forthcoming marriage, but instead she hesitated just long enough for him to interrupt.
‘It’s not important; we don’t need to know everything about each other immediately.’
As he smiled, so Gracie unintentionally found herself telling him an outline of her life story. It was a sanitised version, but he proved to be a good listener.
‘And you? What do you do?’ Gracie asked, turning it round to him.
‘I’m an engineer. I work abroad, mostly in Africa, but I’m back home on leave for Harry’s wedding. They’re driving me completely bananas with all the planning and organising; it’s going to be very formal, which is not my sort of thing, but it’s what they want. Or rather, what
Louisa
wants – and usually whatever Louisa wants, so does poor besotted Harry.’
‘I thought you looked too healthy and suntanned for England,’ Gracie said, carefully avoiding the subject of weddings.
‘Hardly healthy,’ he chuckled. ‘Not that long ago I was burnt to a cinder after a day at the beach and this is the outcome after the top three layers peeled. Luckily I have skin that tans. Gracie, can we meet again? Just the two of us. I can drive down here anytime. I’m in the UK for several more weeks until the wedding. I want to get to know you and for you to know me …’
‘I can’t do that, I really can’t. You see, it’s, it’s …’ Gracie stuttered, unable to get the words out.
‘Of course you can,’ he interrupted with a smile. ‘I’m not going to give up. I want to get to know you, and I want to marry you and whisk you off to Africa with me.’
‘Don’t talk to me like that,’ she snapped. ‘You’re taking the mickey out of me now. I told you, I’m not some stupid little fairground girl who’ll fall for your flannel and flattery and let you have your way, I’m not …’
‘I’m not taking the mickey and I’ve got no other motive. I mean it, I want to get to know you. Please, Gracie? I really mean it and I’ve never done this sort of thing before. Harry would have a pink fit if he knew I was declaring love at first sight to you. It’s just not me.’
He sounded so sincere that Gracie was immediately thrown; she wanted to believe him and to try and understand exactly what was passing between them but she didn’t know what to
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