Christmas at the Beach Cafe(18)

I heard footsteps behind me then saw torchlight playing over the dark beach. Ed, probably, to tell me I’d got it all wrong about his perfect bloody brother. But I knew I hadn’t. If anyone had got it wrong, it was Ed.

‘Evie! Wait!’ came a voice.

Oh, great. It sounded more like Jake, not Ed. Well, he could get stuffed, I thought furiously. The last thing I felt like was any kind of conversation with him.

I went on walking, wrapping my arms around myself, wishing I had thought to grab my coat before I flounced out. The wind was rushing around my bare neck, snatching at my hair. Bloody Jake! It would be his fault if I froze to death out here. Then the torchlight fell on me and I knew he must have seen me. Damn. In the next moment, his footsteps quickened, scuffing over the sand, and I realized he was running towards me.

‘Go away!’ I yelled. ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’

‘Evie, I’m sorry,’ he shouted. ‘Please wait.’

Was I meant to believe that? Him, sorry? Yeah, right. ‘I said, GO AWAY!’ I bellowed.

Too late though. He’d caught me up. My hands balled into fists as he fell into step alongside me. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘Really, Evie. About the laptop . . . and everything else.’

‘Is that right,’ I replied, not even bothering to make it a question.

He sighed; a funny sound, almost lost in the wind. The torch beam wasn’t strong and I could only see his outline. I couldn’t help thinking what a ridiculous situation this was, the two of us having a stand-off, in near-darkness, on a beach.

Well, he started it, I thought sullenly in the next moment.

‘Come back to the café,’ he said. ‘Let me explain.’

‘You can explain right here,’ I told him, stopping dead. (Did I mention that I have this stubborn streak?)

‘Okay,’ he said, and sighed again. ‘The thing is, everything’s kind of . . . up in the air for me right now,’ he began tentatively. ‘I don’t have a job or a home; I’m not sure what I’m going to do.’

I shrugged even though he couldn’t see me. And you think I care about this because . . . ?

‘I guess I felt a bit . . . jealous,’ he said. ‘Jealous of Ed. He’s always fallen on his feet and come up smelling of roses. He makes a success of everything.’

I pursed my lips and said nothing.

‘Meanwhile, I’m the failure of the family,’ he said baldly. ‘I’ve never managed to do anything like Ed. No career. No proper girlfriend. I’ve been a waster my whole life.’

Even though I was still smarting, I was aware of a bell ringing inside me. A bell of recognition. ‘And you feel inadequate next to him, as if you’ll never be as good,’ I said, ‘and you resent him for that.’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘That’s about the size of it.’

I let out a big breath. ‘Jake . . . Would you believe me if I said I knew exactly how you feel? I have the most perfect sisters in the world. Careers. Husbands. Children. The best hair ever. It’s enough to make you sick.’ I folded my arms across my chest. ‘I do understand, you know. But there was no need for you to take your feelings out on me. Because, like it or not, I’m the one person who gets where you’re coming from.’

He bowed his head, his expression unseeable in the dim torchbeam. ‘Sorry,’ he said quietly.

‘A s for all that Melissa shit,’ I went on. ‘Don’t you dare side with her. She nearly ruined Ed’s life. Your brother, who keeps defending you whenever I’ve tried to whinge about you in the last few days. Your brother, incidentally, who’s always told me stories about your travels around the world with what sounds like real envy and admiration in his voice.’

He said nothing for a moment and I wondered if I’d gone too far. ‘I kind of . . . exaggerated the Melissa thing,’ he mumbled.

‘So you’re not going to spend Christmas with her?’

‘No,’ he said.

Well, thank goodness for that. I congratulated myself silently for not having blurted the lie out to Ed at the time.

‘I swear I didn’t wreck your laptop on purpose. Honestly,’ he said eventually.

‘I know,’ I said, rather grudgingly. ‘That was just me boiling over because I’d had enough.’

We both started walking back towards the café. It glowed in the darkness, a beacon of light and warmth.

‘Look, I’ll shoot off tomorrow,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I’ve outstayed my welcome here, I know that.’

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘If that’s what you want to do.’ I hesitated. ‘What will you do?’