Hard Tail(64)

I breathed in deeply as I got out of the car. The air smelled like summer, and everything looked naggingly familiar. I did a slow turn, taking in the grassy parkland, the line of straggly evergreens, and across the water, the low, misty shape that had to be the Isle of Wight. "You know, I think my gran and grandad used to bring me down here," I said with dawning wonder. "Grandad used to skim stones across the water, but I was always rubbish at it. But then, I can't have been more than ten. And Gran used to pack a picnic … " I turned to Matt, a huge smile on my face. "I can't believe you brought me here-I didn't even know I remembered it until now."

Matt answered my smile with one of his own, and my heart stuttered, my whole body filling with warmth that had nothing to do with the sunshine. We stood there for a moment, and maybe I just imagined it, but Matt seemed to hold his breath while I struggled to find the words to tell him how I felt …  But no-it was too soon. I had to speak to Adam first. It was the only decent way to do things. I swallowed. "How about that picnic, then?" I asked in a voice gone husky.

It was as if Matt woke from a trance. He started and shook himself. "Yeah-course. I'll get the stuff."

We sat on the shingle looking out to sea, eating sandwiches Matt made up there and then using rye bread, Roquefort cheese, smoked salmon and guacamole in various indescribably delicious combinations. We had the place almost to ourselves-just the occasional old couple strolling past, or shrieking children too young for school, who quickly dragged their young mums off to the playground. Boats sailed past and gulls cried out mournfully, probably because we refused to share our sandwiches with them. 

"You get windsurfers here, at the weekend," Matt said. "Ever tried that?"

"No, but it always looks like fun. You?"

Matt laughed. "Who, me? You know what I'm like-I tried it once, but I spent more time falling off the board than I did on it."

"Doesn't everyone at the start?"

"Well, that's what the instructor said, at first. By the end of the hour, he was begging me to try sailing instead-like he said, you can do that sitting down."

I swallowed my last bite of the tangy Roquefort. "Is it an inner-ear thing?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't think I was being too personal. "Or something like dyspraxia?"

"Diss-what-sia?" Matt shrugged. "Nah. I'm just a klutz, that's all." He smiled and picked up his Diet Coke.

"Cheers," I said, clinking bottles with him. "Here's to klutzes everywhere."

As we finished, the breeze coming in off the sea seemed to pick up-or maybe it was just so long sitting still that made me feel a bit of a chill. I stood, wrapping my arms around myself. "Want to skim some stones? Bet you manage to get more bounces than I do."

"Bet I don't," Matt said cheerfully, scrambling to his feet.

He won that bet. Matt was unbelievably, awfully, spectacularly bad at skimming stones. Most of his efforts just plopped into the water and sank like, well, stones. I, on the other hand, seemed to have finally got the knack. "Yes!" I shouted after one particularly good effort, punching the air for good measure. "Did you see that? Nine bounces! We have a winner!"

"Right, that does it. I'm conceding defeat." Matt clapped me on the back in congratulation, and even that casual contact was enough to derail my mental processes completely. "Fancy a walk? We could go round the coast a bit."

I collected my scrambled thoughts. "Sounds good."

As we crunched through the shingle, Matt nodded to the Isle of Wight. "Ever go over there?"

"Just once-Gran and Grandad took me for a day trip." I frowned. "I think Jay was in hospital then too-broken collarbone; I can't remember how he did it. Anyway, all I can really remember is being disappointed you couldn't walk all round it in half an hour. It didn't seem like a proper island."

"Yeah, it's about seventy miles around the outside." He must have caught my look of surprise that he knew it that exactly. "There's a round-the-island cycle race every September. Jay and me and some of the lads go down most years. You should try it-might want to get a bit of training in, first, though."

"Just a bit," I agreed. "If I tried it right now, I think my legs would fall off."

"Actually, there's worse things you've got to worry about on the long-distance routes. Phil had a bit of trouble last year-things got a bit, um, twisted."

I winced as I realised just what things Matt was referring to. "Ouch."

"Yeah. His wife was well miffed about it and all." Matt grinned. "Race you to the concrete bits!" He set off along the beach, hurdling the low wooden breakwater, and I scrambled after him, my feet slipping and crunching in the shingle. He was faster than he looked, and it took me almost until the "concrete bits" he'd mentioned before I overtook him with my longer legs.