Carrie Goes Off the Map (10 page)

The lifeguards were just packing up their pickup ready to leave when Carrie walked down the sand. It was a glorious evening, with a scarlet sun slipping into the sea. The surf was pounding the beach and a few hardy types were still making the most of the waves. She rolled up her jeans, kicked off her flip-flops, and walked into the sea, flinching at the water temperature. Then, enjoying the sensation, she dared herself to go in a bit farther. An unexpected wave caught her and her jeans were soaked.

‘Why don't you just strip off and go for it?'

One of the surfers was watching her, an amused smile on his face. He was standing in waist-high water, holding on to a surfboard as if he'd been born with it, while she was paddling around like a little kid.

‘God, no. It's freezing,' she said, embarrassed.

He laughed out loud. ‘In the buff, yeah, but if you've got a wetsuit on, it's fine. You and your bloke should try it.'

‘What bloke?'

‘The tall dude you were with at Combe Strand. Unless you just picked him up off the beach. Your splitty's pretty hot, by the way.'

If it was a chat-up line, she thought it rated high on the scale of originality. His interest is Dolly made her wonder if he might be something to do with the green VW that had been parked by the sea earlier that day.

‘She's called Dolly and she's not mine, only borrowed,' she said, as he tugged his board into shallower water.

‘And what about your boyfriend?' he asked.

Carrie pulled a face. Still, she supposed it was a reasonable thing to assume; she and Matt had been together in the van. She shook her head firmly. ‘My boyfriend? Oh, you mean Matt. He's just a… total prat. Some bloke put on this earth to torment me.' She smiled. ‘He's just a mate.'

‘Okay. I'm Spike, by the way.'

‘Carrie.'

‘Hi, Carrie,' he said, wading out of the sea like some kind of hippie Neptune. Carrie pushed her feet into her flip-flops and grimaced as her wet jeans hugged her thighs.

‘You two must get on pretty well to share a van together,' said Spike as they crunched up the shingle beyond the tide line.

She smiled and shook her head. ‘To be honest, we hardly know each other.'

‘Am I missing something here?'

‘No. I was supposed to be coming on this trip with my friend—a girl.' Spike raised his eyebrows—which was interesting, as he had a couple of piercings through one of them. ‘A girl
friend
,' she added.

‘It's no business of mine what you do. Girlfriend, boyfriend, bit of both. Each to their own, I say.'

‘Matt's just someone I went to university with. He had some time on his hands and Rowena—my friend—thought I'd like to have some company.'

‘And do you? Want some company, I mean?'

Did she? She didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound desperate or smart. She wasn't sure what she wanted from this stranger on the beach, so she just shrugged.

‘I'll take that as a “don't-know-and-wondering-if-this-weirdo-in-a-wetsuit-might-be-an-ax-murderer.”'

‘Maybe, but I just don't know about anything right now, full stop.'

‘Going with the flow, eh? I can buy that.' He flipped a thumb in the direction of the camping field. ‘That's cool. How d'you feel about meeting another guy? He's a lot better looking than me.'

She saw the green VW at the other side of the field. ‘That your splitty?'

‘Sure is. He's called Ron. After Ronald Reagan.'

‘I've never been introduced to a president.' She laughed.

He winked. ‘Then maybe there should be a first time. If you plan on sticking around for a few days, maybe you and Ron can get better acquainted.'

‘Hey, Spike!'

At the shout he twisted and waved at a group of surfers dragging their boards along the edge of the waves.

‘See ya then,' he said, picking up his board.

‘Yes. See you again soon,' replied Carrie.

Spike loped away down the beach. For a while Carrie watched him surfing, thinking of his lazy smile and casual confidence. She wondered if he and his mates lived down here on the beaches or whether they were only here on holiday. They seemed to be catching waves effortlessly, and she found herself envying them. They were drifting farther and farther down the strand and she watched until her eyes ached, before turning for the site.

When she got back, Matt was leaning against the van, chatting to two girls, both with beers in their hands. A shopping bag of groceries lay at his feet.

‘Hi there,' he said, raising a bottle of beer to her. ‘Cara, Siobhan, meet Carrie, my traveling companion.'

The girls shot brief smiles at her then turned back to Matt. Gazing adoringly up at him, the taller of them said, ‘Bye then, Matt. See you around?'

He nodded. ‘Sure.'

‘You got the groceries then?' Carrie said lightly.

‘What I could find. Which wasn't much. Baked beans. Canned beef. Pasta.'

‘And the beer?'

He glanced down. There were three bottles left in the eight-pack. ‘I met the girls in the shop and we got talking. Then we realized we were at the same site and…' He paused, leveling his eyes at her. ‘You were nowhere to be seen, so we had a drink together.'

‘I guess I'll have to use up whatever's left in the crate then. I went for a walk to the beach. I got talking too,' she said meaningfully.

Matt picked up the groceries. ‘Really?'

‘Yes. To some of the surfers.'

‘Good. Glad to hear you're settling in. Now, shall I cook dinner or are you going to do the honors?'

***

That night, Matt slept out in the awning while Carrie took the roof bed. Despite being six feet off the ground under a roof that flapped like a demented crow in the wind, she slept better than she had done for weeks. She put it down to fresh air and finishing the beer with Matt. When she woke, he was already up, showered, and lying outside the awning in his shorts writing a letter.

‘Do you mind if I go for a walk?' she said.

He hardly even glanced up from the page. ‘Fine by me. I might go and find an Internet café later. I need to send some emails to the base in Tuman, so don't rush back.'

That was plain enough, she thought. She'd stay out as long as she wanted, not that she needed Matt's permission. It was a fine if breezy day; if she found a sheltered spot on the beach she could do a spot of sunbathing and get her head together. She might even see Spike. He'd certainly intrigued her and she wanted to speak to him again. She knew nothing about him, and in a way she didn't want to.
You're free now
, she reminded herself.
You
can
talk
to
sexy
strangers
on
the
beach
and
no
one
will
care
.

She'd been lying on the sand for an hour, trying to get into a bonkbuster novel, when Spike arrived with his friends. He waved immediately, then trotted down to the water almost directly in front of her. The tide was coming in so she didn't have to move to find herself closer to them. The wind was strong now and the roar of the surf was louder. She sat up and hugged her knees, catching snatches of their shouts and banter on the breeze. Spike caught a wave almost immediately and stood up.

‘Respect, mate,' called one of the guys paddling out to him. Even to Carrie's untrained eye, Spike was by far the best surfer, catching the waves cleanly and riding them for longer than anyone else.

After another hour, she'd pulled on her T-shirt as the wind gusted more strongly. The waves seemed massive to her now and there were fewer people out in the surf. Spike's gang was standing at the edge of the water; all of a sudden he peeled off and strode towards her. Pulling off his wetsuit hood, he ruffled his hair and said, ‘Awesome.'

It was not a word Huw had used very often and Carrie felt like laughing but managed to nod nonchalantly. ‘Looks great.'

‘Do you surf?' asked Spike, shaking water from his face and hair.

‘Not as such. I've done a bit of body-boarding once or twice.'

Once actually, she thought. When she was about thirteen.

Spike winked. ‘Then you should have no trouble progressing. Maybe I can persuade you to try something a little more adventurous?'

The surf thundered onto the shore. The waves looked as big as trucks.

‘Hey. I don't know. Those waves look very big to me.'

‘Big? Man, those waves are tiny. You should see some of the surf at Thurso or off the Atlantic in France. This is baby stuff, Carrie.'

One hell of a baby, she thought, eyeing the waves. No way was he getting her out there, no matter how cute he was.

‘No need to look so petrified. I know what I'm doing but I won't force you if you don't think you can do it,' he said with a look that left her in no doubt that he thought she was a prize wuss if she didn't at least try. ‘So. If you won't come surfing, are you ready to meet Ron yet?'

‘Oh yes,' she said, a bit too quickly.

‘Then come on.'

Back on the campsite, Carrie stole a glance across the field towards Dolly but there was no sign of Matt. Spike propped his board up against the camper van and unzipped his wetsuit. He wasn't very tall but he was sturdy and fit looking. He also had a silver ring through his left nipple. Carrie found her eyes drawn to the ring, then realized he was checking her out too, but far more unself-consciously. She felt the warmth rising from her neck to her roots. With her chestnut hair and fair skin, there was no hiding a blush. She wasn't used to flirting, and the cast of Packley Drama Society, gloriously campy to a man, didn't count. She was used to being Huw's partner. Used to Huw's hand on her bum, telling the world she was his.

Spike didn't look as if he was bothered about owning anything except his surfboard. He ran his hands through tangled, sun-streaked hair, mussing it up even further as if to say, ‘You see, I don't care about convention.' She laughed at herself. For all she knew, he could be a chartered surveyor from Surrey who ironed his underpants.

‘After you,' he said, showing her into the awning.

If he did iron his underpants, she'd be very surprised. Even she could see that Ron hadn't been as lovingly cared for as Dolly. The awning was ripped in a couple of places and must have let the rain in at the slightest shower. There were cans and fast-food cartons littering the ground among a couple of crumpled sleeping bags. Ron's bodywork was rusting, and inside the cabin he smelled of neoprene, stale beer, and something sweet and sickly.

‘Sorry about the whiff. It's Sex Wax,' Spike said.

‘Sex Wax?'

‘You put it on your board to help your feet grip.'

‘Oh. I see.' My God, now she was blushing again. ‘Um… do you come here often? I mean, do you surf here—in Devon—a lot? If you see what I mean.' No, she was crap at flirting. She was ten years out of practice. Spike let her keep digging the hole, his blue eyes appraising her as she sat on the bench seat. ‘I think I should be getting back. Matt has no idea where I am,' she said at last, feeling embarrassed.

‘Whatever,' he said. ‘And the answer to your question is yes. We do come here often.'

‘We?'

‘Me and the guys.'

‘Where are they?'

‘Still riding the waves, I guess. They'll be back later.'

‘Oh,' said Carrie, realizing that Spike must have spotted her and homed in specially.

‘Why don't you and Matt come over here tomorrow night? We'll probably go down the beach, light a fire, hang out with a few beers.'

‘What time?'

He laughed at her. ‘We don't do time, Carrie. Time? Hey, just watch for the smoke.'

She'd started to leave when he called after her. ‘You should try surfing. I think we've got a spare suit. I'll get you on a board before you can think about it. What have you got to lose?'

‘I'm not sure,' she muttered, without turning round. She suddenly realized her heart was thudding. She fancied Spike. Who wouldn't—faced with that ripped body and bad-boy smile? He also had the enormous advantage of being completely the opposite of bloody Huw, and there was something else attracting her to him too. It was the idea of hooking up with someone she'd only just met—of picking a guy up just because she
could
—that appealed to her. Huw would have been shocked, angry, and amazed. Carrie smiled. Surely this was what freedom meant, and it felt heady; exciting and scary all at the same time. Rowena had been right: this road trip was exactly what she needed.

Later that evening, she was lying outside Dolly with a beer. Spike and his mates must have gone out, because Ron the van was nowhere to be seen. As Matt listened to his iPod and read some weird medical journal, Carrie flicked through a copy of
Cosmo
, hoping he wouldn't see her unhealthy interest in an article entitled ‘Avoiding the Walk of Shame: Top Ten Tips for Your Best Ever One-Night Stand.'

She hadn't had a one-night stand since high school, and she wasn't even sure that shagging Kieran after her prom counted. They'd done it in his parents' bed, while they were away in Lanzarote, then he'd taken her home on the back of his scooter. No walk of shame there, although it had been embarrassing enough. After that, she'd gone out with a lad from work, but they'd always known they'd split up when she went to university. The next man she'd had sex with had been Huw—the only man she'd had sex with since, in fact. She closed the magazine with a sigh and lay back, gazing up at the stars. On Cosmo's ‘one-night-stand-o-meter' she rated a 0.5: ‘Have you ever considered becoming a nun?'

Matt appeared overhead, blocking out the stars. The angle accentuated his height. He looked like Nelson's Column with stubble. ‘Tea or bed?'

‘Oh, let me see now. Why don't we be devils and have a nice mug of hot chocolate?'

‘I'm afraid we don't have any hot chocolate, so it looks like our only option is bed.'

She sat up quickly because she'd felt a kick low in the pit of her stomach. The feeling wasn't unpleasant but it wasn't comfortable either. It felt like a tightening, a tension. She wasn't sure whether it was hearing Matt talking about bed or because she was thinking about sex at the time.

‘Do you want to sleep in the roof again or take the awning tonight?' he asked.

‘I don't mind.

‘I think you'll be more comfortable in the roof,' he said.

‘Okay, but you don't have to make any sacrifices for me.'

He grinned wickedly. ‘I'm not. There's more room in the awning. My feet will stick out of the roof bed.'

‘You take the roof then,' she said as the light from the lamp flickered between them. This wasn't going to be as easy as she had imagined. Then she thought of Spike, and how she'd felt drawn to him so quickly. She also thought of the years she'd spent being faithful to Huw and how meaningless that now seemed. Nothing was going to stop her doing what she wanted.

‘Matt, this is a bit awkward, but I think it's probably a good time for us to agree some ground rules. Earlier, when you asked if there was a third condition to me carrying on with the trip…'

‘Hmm.'

‘Well, we need to discuss another possibility that may arise.'

He folded his arms. ‘Go on. It can't be worse than you wanting to drive.'

His eyes gleamed but she didn't rise to the bait. ‘Okay. There's no easy way of saying this, but Rowena and I had an agreement, a pact, and I think we should have the same deal.'

‘A pact? That sounds serious.'

She knew he was laughing at her but she carried on. ‘Yes, a pact. Sexual ground rules for us both to stick to.'

He blew out a little breath. ‘Sexual rules? Gosh, you girls do know how to have a good time. Bring them on. I hope they're very strict.'

Carrie wanted to throw something at him but she refused to be put off. ‘I think it will be easier if we get some aspects of this trip straight from the start. I'm sure you'll be relieved to hear what I'm going to say, so I won't mess about, I'll just come out and say it… You see, Rowena and me, we arranged this trip for a break, for fun. After what happened with Huw, I decided that if I… we, that is, met anyone, we'd… well, we'd just go for it.'

Matt was listening intently, as if she was one of his patients. She almost expected him to sit back, steeple his fingers, and peer at her over the top of a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles.

‘And if you don't mind, I've met someone I'd like to get to know better and I was hoping we could stay here for a few days, maybe longer. I expect you have people you want to get to know better too. You do understand what I'm saying, Matt?'

He looked at her gravely, as if he was going to tell her she'd caught something nasty, then his face broke into a smile.

‘Well, thank God for that!' he said, blowing out a breath. ‘I was wondering how I was going to tell you this. You see, I've got the chance to go diving with some nurse mates from Exeter tomorrow. There are some fantastic dive sites on this coast and there's a wreck not too far off Hartland Point.'

‘Oh. That's great then. If you're going to be busy too…'

‘It's perfect. In fact, the weather forecast is pretty good all week, so I may not be around much. I emailed my mates this morning and a couple of them are on leave. Haven't seen them for two years, so it worked out well in the end.'

‘Oh. Well. If you're happy for us both to do our own thing…'

Matt laughed out loud. ‘I thought that was the idea. My God, we don't want to be joined at the bloody hip, do we? No disrespect, Carrie, but I can't think of anything worse, and I know you can't either.'

‘Absolutely. Nothing could be more horrible than having to spend all day with you.'

‘In that case, shall we get an early night, as we're both going to be so active tomorrow?' he said.

‘Good idea.'

Matt picked up a towel from the table. ‘Right. I'm going for a quick shower before I go to bed. I expect you'll be asleep when I get back, unless you're staying up.'

‘Not if I'm going to be
active
, no. I'll need my strength,' she said. ‘I'll see you in the morning, then.'

‘Not unless you're an early riser. I've got to be out of here by seven.'

‘Seven a.m.?'

‘Yeah. My mates are picking me up first thing. I don't expect you'll see me until it's dark.'

‘So you won't be back for dinner?' she said casually.

Matt winked at her. ‘No, I won't be back for dinner, and if your day goes as you're obviously hoping, I'm sure you'll have better things to do by tomorrow night.'