Carrie Goes Off the Map (13 page)

Peace had broken out as they headed south through Devon and down into Cornwall. Slowly they'd wound their way round the creeks and inlets, beaches and fishing villages of the South West, ending up almost at Land's End. They'd taken it in turns to drive and to choose the next day's destination. Now they were lying on the beach in the late afternoon sun, drinking beer, when Matt's phone went off. Carrie was pretending to be interested in one of Matt's journals, but out of the corner of her eye she caught his mouth twitch into a smile.

‘Your nurse friends?' she said casually as he texted back a message.

He laughed softly.

‘Brushing off their sexy outfits, are they?' she said.

‘Unfortunately no. We all wear scrubs now. The short skirts and black stockings went out with
Carry On
, most unfortunately in my opinion.'

‘You're just a pervert,' teased Carrie.

‘Believe me, Stewart and Bryan would look crap in skirts.'

She sat up. ‘You didn't say they were guys.'

‘You didn't ask. You just assumed they were girls.'

Carrie couldn't resist it. ‘Your eyes are twinkling…'

‘Twinkling?'

‘They do when you're pleased about something.'

‘Carrie, I do not twinkle. Nobody twinkles.'

‘No. You definitely go all twinkly eyed when you're pleased. Now you're blushing too.'

‘And you're bullshitting me,' he said, annoyed at last.

‘Are you pissed off with me?'

‘I'm not pissed off, no. That's not the word I'd use at all.'

‘Then what word would you use? Are you cross with me? Am I in trouble again?' she teased.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you saying you want to be in trouble with me? If so, I can arrange it quite easily.'

Carrie swallowed. Just in time she realized they were almost flirting. Just in time she caught herself imagining Matt in scrubs and nothing underneath. She bit her lip. Having a doctor fantasy was understandable if you were thinking about Luka from
ER
, but Matt? Yet she was prepared to admit that to some women, like Natasha for instance, he probably came across as broodingly sexy. Or maybe just moody. Turning onto her stomach, she idly flicked the pages of his journal, wrinkling her nose at some of the graphic photos of some bloke's bunion surgery. Yuck.

‘This is truly disgusting. Do you really find all this crap useful?'

‘Some of it,' he said slowly. ‘Do you find all
this
crap useful?'

‘Hey…'

He'd got her copy of
Cosmo
in his hand and was reading from it.

‘
How
to
give
any
guy
mind-blowing oral. If you want to know how to drive your man wild, we'll tell you how. The tips, the techniques, the surefire ways of making him your slave forever. In your hands, he won't be putty, he'll be rock hard…'

‘Matt. Pack it in. Someone will hear.'

‘Let them. This is vital sexual health information. Everyone should hear it. Bloody hell, I didn't know
that
actually worked.'

She snatched at the magazine but he'd whipped it away. ‘Give it back, please!' she pleaded, as a middle-aged couple a few yards away stopped arguing and stared at them. On his feet now, Matt held the page aloft. ‘She did
what
to him? My God, I've been deprived all my life.'

Carrie leapt to reach it but he was too fast, and she started to giggle.

‘Oh… but no way. How disappointing. That one's medically impossible. The anatomy's all wrong.'

Carrie was laughing and squirming at the same time. ‘You're making fun of me.'

‘And now you're blushing.'

‘I am not!'

Finally he held out the magazine. ‘Really, I'm shocked at you, Caroline. This is truly obscene. Do you fancy going out tonight?' he added suddenly.

Carrie was totally taken aback. ‘Where? To the pub? Clubbing?'

‘Not quite.'

‘Where then?'

‘Wait and see.'

***

‘Well, aren't you going to say something?'

The truth was, she couldn't take in the scene in front of her. It was beautiful, weird, surreal…

‘It's a theatre,' he offered helpfully.

‘Yes. I can see that.'

They were standing on a small stone platform at the top of a cliff above the sea, looking down on a theatre that had been literally carved out of the granite rock face. Steep staircases plunged down between the aisles and benches, where grass served for cushions. The seating, the stage, even a little Juliet balcony, had all been hewn from the solid rock. The backdrop was the Atlantic Ocean, wild breakers crashing on the rocks below the stage as gulls screamed overhead.

‘It's incredible,' she said at last.

‘Incredible good or incredible weird?'

‘Hard to believe that there's a theatre at all. This place is just so wild.'

Matt was amused. ‘I can't believe you're an actress and you've never been here before.'

‘I had enough trouble persuading Huw to come to my performances, let alone go to a theatre for pleasure.'

‘Yes. I can imagine that. I can't see my old mate here either, but it's a shame you've never been. On a fine night, when the sun's going down, it's a pretty good place to be.'

‘I wouldn't have thought it was your kind of thing either. I thought the only entertainment you were interested in was who could pee farthest up the rugby club wall.'

‘That's where you're wrong. Mum used to bring us here when we were on holiday in Cornwall. We pretended we hated it—which we did, of course—but when I got older, I came back a couple of times without having my arm twisted.'

Carrie had to admit that the round stage, bare and inviting, was almost making her drool. ‘Do you think we can take a look?' she asked.

He glanced at his watch. ‘I think they're closed to visitors. There's a show tonight, but maybe we can sneak in. Come on.'

They'd managed to duck under a rope barrier and get halfway down the steps when a loud voice behind them boomed, ‘Excuse me, can I help you?' A woman in a voluminous velvet kaftan cast a stern eye over them. ‘You can't go down there. The theatre is closed.'

‘We only wanted a quick look. We've come all this way, you see, and we're going home tomorrow,' pleaded Carrie.

The woman's face was as stony as the cliff face. ‘It's out of the question. Sorry.'

Carrie didn't think the woman looked at all sorry, but Matt climbed back up the steps and started talking to her in a low voice. After a few nods, the woman pursed her lips and said grudgingly, ‘You have five minutes, and believe me, I shall be counting every second.'

Matt grabbed Carrie's arm. ‘Quick. Come on.'

‘What did you tell her?' she asked as they trotted down the steps to the stage.

‘That I was going abroad on a dangerous mercy mission but first I needed to propose to you on the stage of the Minack Theatre.'

‘You said what!'

He shrugged. ‘It was the only thing I could think of at the spur of the moment. Just make sure you look happy on the way back up.'

She forgave him when she stood on the stage. The atmosphere was sending actual shivers up her spine. She imagined the stone seats packed with people, felt the heat of the lights on her skin, heard the gasps and laughter and applause, the stamping and shouting of the audience. Matt was standing behind her, his breath warm against her neck.

‘Carrie, I need to tell you something,' he murmured behind her.

She tensed instinctively as his arms encircled her body, then forced herself to relax. Watching them intently from her perch, the kaftan woman would be expecting a performance. She and Matt had better make this convincing. ‘I've been trying to find a way to tell you this for ages,' he whispered in her ear.

‘Is it something I'll like?' she breathed, getting into character and enjoying herself more than she wanted to admit.

‘It's something important… but it's awkward.'

‘What do you mean, awkward?'

‘Well, it's not an easy thing for a man to have to say to a woman.'

He was overdoing it now and she hoped he wasn't going to take too long. His arms were helpfully warm against her bare skin, but the hairs were tickling her.

‘Matt, can you get on with it, please?' she said briskly.

‘But, darling, I'd hate to hurry this special moment.'

She tried not to laugh. ‘I think you're just hamming it up now.'

He spun her round to face him, his face stricken with anguish. ‘Hamming it up? Caroline, this is serious. Don't you know how I feel about you? How I've longed for this day?' He pulled her against his chest, banging her nose against his breast bone.

‘Ow!'

He thrust her backwards, gripping her arms. ‘Oh Caroline, sweetest, don't tell me I've hurt you.'

‘You bashed my nose, you twerp,' she said, rubbing the tip.

‘I got carried away. It's just that… I haven't told you what I need to say yet.'

Reaching up, she broke his grip. ‘I think I can guess.'

He winked theatrically. ‘Perhaps not, Caroline.'

She grinned cheerfully. ‘Goodbye, Matt. I hate to hurt you, but I've decided to leave you. And by the way, don't give up the day job.'

‘Okay. But I only wanted to tell you that you snore.'

‘I do not snore!' she said indignantly.

‘I'm afraid you do. Just a tiny bit. Nothing that can't be solved by a spot of ENT surgery. It's not my forte but I can have a go with the vegetable knife if you want.'

She threw up her hands in disgust. ‘Matt, thanks for showing me the theatre. It was a nice thing to do but you are still a git.'

As she stomped up the steps, the woman was looming, her kaftan billowing in the breeze.

‘So that's a no, then?' called Matt.

‘Sod off!' shouted Carrie.

‘Don't leave me, Caroline, I can't live without you!'

Kaftan woman gave an outraged gasp as Carrie passed. ‘Are you completely off your head, young lady? You don't deserve a good man like that. He's as fit as a butcher's dog, and if I were you, I'd have him up the aisle and into bed before you could say Jack Robinson.'

It was after midnight as they sat drinking shots at the table inside the van. Carrie was still buzzing from the show. They'd managed to get two last-minute tickets for
A
Midsummer
Night's Dream
. The performance had been breathtaking, played out against the setting sun and the stars. As the final scene had come to an end it had begun to rain, so they'd dashed back to Dolly and fallen inside, laughing and damp. Now they sat wrapped in towels round the little dining table. Matt lifted the vodka bottle and pushed a bumper bag of crisps towards her.

‘Not for me, thanks.'

‘What, no vodka?'

‘No more crisps. I'll have another shot, though,' she said, holding out her glass.

‘So you enjoyed the play?' he asked as he filled it.

‘It was amazing. That setting was just made for
A
Midsummer
Night's Dream
. Mind you, I didn't think much of Bottom, and Titania was a bit over the top.'

He shook his head. ‘And you'd have done a much better job?'

‘Abso-bloody-lutely. I'd have been fabulous, darling.'

His eyebrows shot up. ‘Really? I thought Titania was cute.'

‘You would. She's just your type.'

‘And what type would that be?'

Carrie stifled a tiny burp. She knew she was slightly pissed but she didn't care. That was what being slightly pissed was all about.

‘Well, let me see. I'd say that your type could be summed up as drop-dead gorgeous. Long legs, long hair, voice that sounds like Kate Middleton.'

He rested his chin on his hand.

‘I'm right, aren't I? I can see I'm right because you're trying to look enigmatic. You do that when I'm right. And this time I can tell. I'm absolutely spot on, Minty darling.'

‘I think you need another drink.'

She pointed a finger at him. ‘So I
am
right. You just don't want to admit it.'

‘Why don't you tell me about your dream role? The part you'd really like to play.'

‘Oh, that's a hard one. Oops!' She giggled. ‘Hadn't meant that to sound like a line from a
Carry On
film.'

‘Nothing wrong with the
Carry On
films, as I've said before,' said Matt, pouring himself another shot. ‘Now, what part would you like?'

‘A very big one.'

He laughed out loud and it suited him, but she wasn't so tipsy that she couldn't see what he was trying to do: draw her out, steer the conversation on to her. Cunning, but not quite cunning enough. He really wasn't that bad when he'd had a drink and pulled the poker out of his arse. And the kaftan woman might have got one thing right: he was quite fit. His face came into focus. She liked the way his dark silky hair curled against his neck, and he did have lovely eyes; they were smoky blue-black fringed with dark eyelashes. She wondered, suspiciously, if he used mascara, and when she giggled, her bare knees bumped against his under the table.

‘I want to be Lady Macbeth,' she declared, much too loudly. ‘Well, don't look so surprised. Don't you think I can play a coldhearted murdering bitch?'

‘On the contrary, I think you're perfectly capable of it. I'm just getting rather worried about sharing the same space as you.'

He drained his glass but made no attempt to pour any more, which was a good thing. A very good thing actually, because she had her beer goggles clamped to her eyes and she needed to see Matt for what he really was. Ugly, withered, and troll-like.

‘Matt…' she began.

He rested his chin on hand again, listening intently. ‘Yes, Caroline.'

He didn't look like a troll; she'd be lying if she didn't admit that he was, in fact, horrendously sexy. Maybe some black coffee might render him less attractive.

‘Can I ask you something personal?'

‘Mmm. That depends how personal.'

She wished he wouldn't do that. Lean even closer and
murmur
.

‘I want to know,' she said, leaning dangerously close herself, ‘just exactly what you did in Tuman that got you into trouble?'

‘So this is Truth or Dare, is it?' he said.

‘If you like.'

‘In that case, you have to offer me something too.'

‘Okay. Name it,' said Carrie, more boldly than she felt.

‘Anything goes?'

She knew she was a bit tipsy but she didn't care. Matt was so close now that she could feel his breath on her neck. ‘Absolutely anything.'

‘Okay. Here's my question. Do you still love Huw?'

Now that, she thought as her heart sank, really was a hard one. He backed off slightly but he must have seen her swallow as she tried to keep her composure.

‘Crafty,' she said, waving her glass at him with a wink, ‘and below the belt, even from someone whose job is asking uncomfortable questions.'

‘Yes, but I thought we were playing hardball. That anything goes.'

She blew out a breath. ‘Do I still love Huw? What does that mean? I suppose I still think about him. I still feel… cut up when I think of what he did to me, and I definitely still hate him sometimes. The trouble is, I still think about the bastard far too much.'

Matt shook his head gravely. ‘Sorry. You'll have to be more specific than that. What do you mean by too much? For instance, have you thought about him today?'

‘This morning on the beach, I thought about him and what he might be doing right now. Him and her.'

‘You mean Fenella.'

‘Yes. Fenella.' There, she'd managed to get her tongue round the name without gagging. That must be progress. ‘And I thought about him—and Fenella—on the journey here a few times.'

‘This doesn't sound very promising, I have to say.'

‘Yes, but. You haven't heard the full story yet. It might not be quite as bad as you think.'

‘And why's that?' said Matt.

‘Because I didn't think about him tonight while we were at the play. Not for a single moment. In fact, he might not have entered my head unless you'd just asked your question.'

‘Which you still haven't answered.'

‘Because I know this is Truth or Dare and I want to be honest, and being honest, I don't know.'

There. She'd been as open as she could, but Matt wasn't going to let her off the hook that easily.

‘Would you take him back if he walked in here now?' he asked.

‘No way.'

He raised his eyebrows.

‘Okay. If we're being strictly accurate, I don't
think
I'd take him back. Will that do? That's the best I can do right now. Now, I've kept my side of the bargain and it's your turn.'

‘I'm quaking,' he said, but his hands were rock steady.

‘It's the same thing I asked before. What happened to make you rush home from Tuman? Because if you're planning on going back there, why are you back here now?'

‘I didn't want to come home. I was sent back. For four months.'

‘Really? Robert said you'd done something heroic. Why would they send you back for that?'

‘My brother is a total wanker.'

‘I'm sure he loves you too. Now come on. I gave you an honest answer. You have to give me one.'

Matt raised his eyebrows again. ‘Well, if you insist…'

She kicked him under the table.

‘Ow!'

‘Don't try and wriggle out of it, Matt.'

He watched her while he rubbed his knee. She could see in his eyes that he was desperate to escape. For a moment she thought he might try to leave, but then he sat up and raked his hands through his hair.

‘Okay. The reason I was sent back was because of an accident. Well, they called it an accident; I prefer to call it a bloody stupid mistake. But that's why I'm here now.'

‘When did this happen?' asked Carrie.

‘About a month before Huw's wedding. I'd already declined the invitation. I wasn't even supposed to be there. You were unlucky, you see.'

He looked to her to laugh but she folded her arms and said, ‘Don't stop now.'