A Starlit Summer Page 11

  Chapter Fifteen

  The beach was practically empty apart from a couple of young families camped in sandy sheltered spots with colourful wind breaks and umbrellas. It was always the same, the effort of getting to a place put people off. Jenna didn’t mind one bit.

  They made their way down the steep path. The steps cut into the rocky hillside making it slippery underfoot with loose stones. Finn took her hand at the steepest part, guiding her down. Although she was quite capable of looking after herself and navigating the steps, she liked chivalry and that he was looking out for her. She loved the feel of his hand in hers, the way his strong arm supported her until they jumped the last couple of steps, landing in the soft sand. They walked across an almost pristine beach, leaving their footprints in a meandering line behind them as they headed around a rock closer to the sea and then back up the beach a little way to a sheltered rocky outcrop.

  They didn’t have a windbreak or an umbrella; they’d travelled light with just a rucksack each and a picnic blanket tied on to Finn’s. He laid it out on the sand in front of the rocks and kept it down with a couple of stones at the edges. Jenna sat down, resting her back against the hard smooth rock.

  ‘This is the life.’

  Finn sat next to her and leant his arms on his knees. ‘I try and get to the beach every weekend.’

  ‘I’ve been on a beach nearly every day since I got to Cornwall, but it’s different being on location and filming on a beach rather than just being able to enjoy it.’ Jenna stretched her legs out and crossed her ankles, her bare feet already covered in sand. ‘It’s the weirdest thing. Lots of people would consider the job I have to be the best in the world and yet I find myself moaning about it so much. I should get over myself really. I’m acting in a big movie on location in a beautiful part of the world and I can still find fault with it.’

  Finn leant back against the rock, his shoulder brushing hers. ‘It’s only natural, isn’t it, to complain about your job, even if deep down you love it?’

  ‘Do you love what you do?’

  ‘Yes, although I love surfing more, but as a job it’s a decent one. I’m not stuck in an office; I get to work in different places on different projects, meet new people all the time. I’m good at what I do. It’s pretty sweet really but I complain plenty enough. Some jobs are just boring, they don’t challenge me, then I start to wonder what the hell I’m doing. Then others I get to work somewhere interesting or I get to completely renovate a property. It’s a good feeling seeing a place transformed from a dump to a beautiful place to live.’

  ‘Okay good, I’m glad I’m not wrong in feeling like that.’

  ‘But getting to work on a big movie... I have friends who’d kill to have that opportunity.’ He winked and nudged her shoulder. ‘I’m teasing you. But I do know people who’d love to do what you do.’

  ‘This movie is a bit of an exception, but most jobs aren’t like this. People see acting as this amazingly glamorous job – and in part it is, getting hair and make-up done, getting to wear some amazing costumes. But most people don’t see the reality of every day – the long hours, the boredom of hanging about waiting to be called to set. Unless you’re a main actor and are in every scene or have a trailer to escape to, the downtime between scenes can drag. There’s all the setting up, the lighting, sound checks, walk-throughs and then numerous takes.’

  ‘I guess I’ve never thought of it like that.’

  ‘I mean, working on location here, we do get to relax on the beach between takes – although we’re in costume and have to sit under a tent, no sunbathing for us. But I’ve done jobs where I’ve spent about four hours filming and another six or seven hanging about in a warehouse with nothing to do. There are people to chat to and you can read a book or a magazine but after that length of time it can be soul-destroying. I guess what I’m saying is I’ve seen and experienced it all, the good and the bad.’

  ‘But this film is good, right?’

  ‘Yeah, this film is great. I’ve properly lucked out this time. Trouble is, it’s given me the taste of the good life now.’

  ‘Something to strive for, right?’

  ‘Right.’ She gazed across the unspoilt sand to the sea shimmering in the sunshine. ‘But hey, today I don’t have to sit beneath a tent out of the sun or wait for someone to call action. We shouldn’t talk work.’

  ‘I agree.’ Finn sat upright away from the rock and looked at her. ‘We should go for a swim.’

  ‘We should?’

  ‘Absolutely. You’ve got your swim things on, right?’ His fingers brushed the bikini strap tied around her neck.

  ‘It’ll be freezing.’

  ‘It’ll be refreshing.’

  ‘I was kind of imagining lounging about and sunbathing...’

  He stood up, kicked off his beach shoes and peeled off his T-shirt.

  ‘Come on.’ He gently pulled her off the picnic blanket. ‘You’ll love it. Refreshing remember...’

  She took a deep breath and followed his example, easing off her top and shorts and leaving them in a pile next to his. Her bikini was new, one she’d bought especially for this summer, but she’d only worn it once so far at the hotel pool the other evening.

  She felt Finn’s eyes on her and she realised although she’d seen him shirtless plenty of times before, he’d never seen her in anything as revealing as a bikini. He held his hand out and she took it. They walked down the beach, imprinting their footsteps on the sand as it changed from dry to damp the closer they got to the sea.

  The waves were much bigger close up, rhythmically churning on to the beach. Even with just her feet in the water the sensation made her toes curl.

  ‘Seriously, Finn, refreshing? It’s freezing!’

  Finn pulled her further into the water. She didn’t resist; secretly she loved that he wanted to go swimming, that he didn’t just want to stay on the beach lying around doing nothing, even if that’s what she’d imagined. He wasn’t one for posing – he was a grafter, that was evident from watching him work on the cottage.

  A wave broke, splashing water on to her chest. She gasped. In the sunshine, she could try to imagine they were in Greece, the warm shallows of the Mediterranean caressing their skin, but the Atlantic Ocean was still cold and the constant waves brought fresher, cooler water on to the shore. It was revitalising though. Finn dunked himself beneath the water, emerging dripping wet, his hair darker than before and plastered to his forehead. Water beads clung to his beard and he grinned as he wiped the water on his face away with his hand.

  Jenna was only submerged to just below her waist but goosebumps pinpricked her skin and her teeth were beginning to chatter. The sun on her shoulders wasn’t enough to take away the chill of the sea.

  ‘Get it over with and go under – you’ll feel much better afterwards.’

  Finn started wading towards her, his movement slow in the water. Jenna screamed and just before he reached her she closed her eyes and dived downwards, her whole body engulfed by cold. Below the surface, Finn’s laughter was muffled. She pushed herself upright, emerging in a shower of seawater, her blonde hair stuck to her face like Finn’s was to his.

  ‘I wouldn’t have dunked you under, honest.’ He caught her around her waist.

  She slid her hands down his arms, firm and cold, goose-bumped just like hers.

  ‘Usually I’m in a wetsuit,’ he said.

  ‘Ah, I see, you’re just trying to act tough.’

  Jenna slipped away from him, submerging herself in the sea again, allowing her skin to adjust to the cold. With the sun shining down from an almost cloudless sky it began to warm her up. Finn swam alongside her flipping between his front and back, the incoming waves rocking them closer together.

  There were only a couple of other people crazy enough to be swimming. Two young boys were by the edge of the sea, furiously digging a hole with spades and screeching with delight every time it filled with seawater. Families camped on the sand were pulling picnics out of ba
gs, and the thought of food made Jenna realise just how hungry she was. They’d been in the water for ages. She stopped swimming and tentatively touched the sandy floor with her feet. It was shallow enough for her to stand, the water coming to just above her bikini top. She held up her hands and waggled them at Finn.

  ‘My fingers are wrinkled and my stomach’s rumbling.’

  Finn swam past her. ‘Race you back.’

  He powered ahead, his strong arms slicing through the water. Jenna decided to enjoy the view rather than chase after him. He stood up just before the waves broke and waded the rest of the way, white foam splashing on to his back. Jenna swam a little way and followed his example, slowly walking out of the sea, pushed forward by the surf until she was padding after Finn across smooth damp sand.

  ‘That was lush,’ Jenna said when she reached him. He threw her a towel and she wrapped it around herself, shivering from the cool water running down her skin. Finn draped his towel across his shoulders and hugged her to him, the heat of his body making her instantly forget how cold she was. He brushed the damp hair stuck to the sides of her face away, tucking it behind her ears.

  ‘You’re beautiful.’ He leant closer and kissed her more passionately than the night before. Cocooned in the beach towels their damp bodies were pressed against each other. Finn’s hands slid beneath their towels and across her cold skin, brushing the sides of her breasts and skimming her hips. She moved her hands to his chest, making his towel drop away on to the picnic blanket, leaving them shivering and laughing together.

  ~

  After drying off and having their picnic, Jenna pulled on her shorts over her bikini bottoms and they explored the beach together. Even in the middle of the day it was still blissfully peaceful, and they wandered over to a cluster of rocks on the far side. They picked their way across, finding small rock pools hidden in crevices and larger ones too, deep pools undisturbed by the tide, teeming with sea creatures.

  Finn stopped by the edge of a large pool. ‘Me and my sister always used to bring nets and spend hours seeing what we could find.’

  ‘Shame we haven’t got one now.’ Jenna followed Finn and sat on the edge of the rock pool, her feet dangling, submerged in the cool water. Fronds of seaweed swayed beneath the surface from the movement of her feet. Tiny fish darted between rocks, disappearing into shadowed crevices. The water was warm where shafts of sunlight between the rocks created a green watery world.

  Being here with Finn reminded Jenna of family holidays, the long days on the beach exploring damp caves and rock pools with her brother, screeching together as they ran into the cold sea and straight back out again. They’d often gone to Cornwall, although Jenna only remembered visiting her great aunt a couple of times. Perhaps she’d been too young. Her memories were hijacked by beaches, rock pools and making sandcastles, rather than cups of tea in a garden with an elderly relative she hadn’t really known. By the time Jenna was nine and her brother eleven, her mum, fed up of camping and the unpredictability of the UK’s weather, insisted they swapped campsites for a hotel in Spain. The excitement of staying in holiday apartments by the beach won Jenna over for a few years, but as she got older, she thought more and more fondly about those early camping holidays and the beaches they explored in Cornwall.

  ‘Look.’ Finn pointed to a rock not quite submerged by water and a small crab scuttling over it.

  The longer they waited and the quieter they were, the more creatures they saw, hiding amongst the seaweed and zigzagging across the impossibly clear water.

  ‘I keep thinking something’s nibbling my toes,’ Jenna said.

  ‘A natural version of one of those fish spas.’

  ‘This is much nicer.’

  ~

  More families and couples arrived on the beach in the afternoon, but nowhere near enough for it to feel crowded. The place was a hidden gem, and special to Finn, which made it special to Jenna. He had so many memories of the beaches along this stretch of the Cornish coast and told Jenna about family days out, beach parties with his friends, attempting to surf for the first time, barbecues on the beach, and an accident when he’d cut his knee open on a rock. He still had the scar, a jagged white line across his kneecap.

  The intense heat of the previous week had dissipated, and in a shady sheltered spot it felt fresh, leaving Jenna glad that she’d brought her hooded jumper. A hoodie and shorts – the ideal combo for a British summer when it could be hot one minute and cold the next, blazing sunshine in the morning and torrential rain in the afternoon. It felt almost Mediterranean, and yet days like this reminded her of the unpredictably of the UK.

  She didn’t want the day to end and was conflicted again about whether to invite Finn in when they got to the cottage, but on the way back in his van, feeling sun-kissed and sandy with salt-spray hair, Finn saved her from her dilemma by inviting her to his parents’ for a roast dinner.

  ‘I couldn’t think of anything nicer,’ Jenna said as he turned off the road that would eventually lead to the cottage and on to the road that led to Mullion. A home-cooked Sunday roast after a day at the beach was the perfect way to end a perfect day. It also spoke volumes that Finn was happy for her to meet his parents and yet at the same time took away the awkwardness of inviting him back to the cottage, for what? Although she fancied Finn like crazy she liked the idea of getting to know him slowly and not jumping straight into bed with him.

  ~

  ‘They really won’t mind me turning up unannounced?’ she asked as Finn pulled the van into his parents’ driveway and parked it behind his dad’s larger van.

  ‘I’m pretty sure Mum expected me to invite you back. Anyway, she makes enough to feed about ten people. You joining us won’t be a problem.’

  Any anxiety Jenna felt at having dinner with Finn’s parents was dispersed by the warm welcome.

  ‘You already know my dad,’ Finn said. ‘And this is my mum, Sally. Mum, Jenna.’

  ‘It’s lovely to finally meet you, Jenna. I’ve been hearing all about the cottage, and you of course.’ She did a sideways glance at Finn before ushering them along the hallway to the large open-plan kitchen diner at the back of the house.

  The smell of roast chicken was enticing yet gave Jenna a pang of homesickness that she wasn’t at her mum and dad’s about to tuck into Sunday dinner with them. Although she’d moved out years ago, she’d occasionally go over to theirs on a weekend and have dinner. It wasn’t quite the same cooking for herself.

  ‘Drink, Jenna?’ Gary placed a bottle of red wine on the kitchen island. ‘We have white in the fridge too or a beer, maybe even a gin and tonic.’

  ‘White wine will be lovely, thanks.’

  After spending the day on the beach in the fresh air, swimming and exploring, Jenna’s stomach rumbled. Their picnic seemed a long time ago now.

  ‘Have a seat.’ Sally gestured to the stools on the other side of the kitchen island. ‘It’ll be another ten minutes or so until we eat.’

  Jenna sat and Finn joined her, his thigh touching hers. Gary and Sally reminded her of her own parents, chatty and warm, her mum cooking, her dad getting the drinks ready.

  Gary poured Jenna a generous glass of wine and slid it in front of her. He waggled a bottle of beer at Finn. ‘Fancy one, Finn, or is that a stupid question?’

  ‘Just the one, Dad. I’ve got to drive Jenna home.’

  ‘Well cheers, Jenna.’ Gary knocked his beer bottle against her wine glass. ‘It’s nice to have you over. We always seem to only see you in passing. They’re keeping you busy on this film?’

  Jenna sipped her wine. ‘Just a bit. It’s always the same though, early start times and late finishes, so I’m used to it.’

  ‘Have you filmed on location before?’ Sally took four plates from a cupboard and put them on the oven’s hot plate.

  ‘Yes, plenty of times, but nowhere quite like this. Most filming takes place outdoors, on beaches, harbour sides, and then inside scenes like cafes and characters’ houses are actuall
y filmed on location rather than sets being built.’

  ‘Gives it authenticity that way, I guess,’ Gary said.

  ‘There are plenty of period properties round this way that I’d imagine are ideal for filming – this film’s not modern-day is it?’ Sally asked as she started to stir the gravy.

  ‘No, 1940s.’

  ‘See.’ Gary pointed his beer bottle in his wife’s direction. ‘We’d never get chosen to be in something like that, too modern our house. Worked on some pretty special places over the years though, haven’t we, Finn?’

  ‘Dad likes houses with lots of character because they’re not straightforward to renovate.’

  ‘I like a bit of a challenge.’

  ‘Otherwise known as a complete headache.’ Sally gave Gary a look and turned to Jenna. ‘He says he loves working on those sorts of places, listed buildings and all that, but you should hear the amount of complaining and swearing that goes with it when he’s in the middle of one of those jobs.’

  Gary waved his hand. ‘Don’t listen to her, Jenna. They’re interesting. Doesn’t mean they’re easy mind.’

  ‘Bramble Cottage must be a breeze for you then? I hope you won’t get bored.’

  ‘Actually, your cottage is the perfect job – a place full of character that’s not been touched for decades. It’s retained its charm, just needs life breathing back into it. I’m enjoying working on it and Finn is too, although probably for different reasons.’

  ‘Dad.’

  Gary laughed and winked at Jenna.

  She smiled and turned to Sally. ‘Do you have a roast every Sunday?’

  ‘Yes, pretty much, whatever the weather. It’s tradition. The way I was brought up.’ Sally pulled on the oven gloves and took a bronzed roast chicken out of the oven and placed it on top of the cooker. ‘Although Gary has persuaded me a couple of times this summer to have a pub roast. Much nicer someone else cooking in the heat we’ve had and eating it in a shady pub garden. Right, if you all want to take your drinks to the table, I’ll start dishing out.’