With a sigh, Zach gave up on his notes and queries for a while, shut his workbook, and strode purposefully out to his car. It had been two days since he’d seen Hannah, but with no mobile phone signal, no texts or calls, it felt like longer. He’d been hoping she might come to the pub to find him, but she hadn’t. He went into Wareham first, to the small supermarket there, and then down to the farm, where he parked on the concrete yard by the house. There was no answer to his knock on Hannah’s door, so Zach carried on down to the beach.
Hannah was standing far out at the end of the submerged rock spur with her arms folded, her jeans rolled up to the knee and a loose blue shirt belling out behind her, catching the wind like a sail. The breeze was strong, whipping the surface of the sea into a thousand tiny crests, spinning salt into the air. Zach called out to her, but with the wind in her ears she didn’t hear him. He put down the shopping bags he was holding and sat on a rock to take off his shoes and socks, watching her all the while. He wanted to draw the resolute line of her spine, the way she was almost lost against the seascape, a single figure surrounded by agitated water that seemed to lie in wait-for her to stumble, for her to miss her footing. She looked at the same time immovable and in grave peril. He thought about whom this drawing would be for, and knew at once that it would be purely for himself; to preserve the simple joy of seeing her. The very same reason that Aubrey drew his women, Zach thought, though he smiled to think how Hannah might react to being called “his woman.” He took a few tentative steps onto the rock shelf, finding it hard to trust the path when he could not see it. He spread his arms out in case he tripped; felt the wind rush around his fingers.
“Hannah!” he called again, but either she still couldn’t hear or was so lost in thought that she didn’t. Zach waded close behind her, cursing as he stubbed his toe on a small, hidden step. Still she gazed out to sea, and for a second Zach stopped and did the same. He wondered if it was still Toby that she was looking for, that she was waiting for. Everything in her stance said she would wait as long as she had to, and Zach wanted to grab her, spin her around to face him and break off the vigil. A flash of light caught his eye. There was a small boat, a very typical fishing boat, making slow progress east to west about a hundred and fifty meters offshore. Zach had barely even noticed it, but now he saw that its progress was particularly slow, and that a figure on board appeared to be studying the shore every bit as intently as Hannah was studying the sea. The flash of light came again-the sun catching fleetingly on glass. Binoculars?
“I think that fisherman fancies you,” he said, close to Hannah’s ear. She jumped and spun around to him with a gasp, then slapped him across one cheek, not hard but not entirely playfully, either.
“Damn it, Zach! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“I did call out to you-several times.”
“Well, obviously I didn’t hear you,” she said, her face softening.
“Sorry,” said Zach. He ran his fingers down her forearm, and took her hand.
Hannah looked away again, following the small boat that was finally motoring out of sight around the coast. Had she been watching the boat, then, and not waiting for Toby at all? Zach squinted at it, and saw a flash of pale purple as somebody moved across the deck. The color was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.
“Do you know that boat? The people on it, I mean?” he asked. Hannah looked away from it quickly, flicked her eyes up at him.
“No,” she said curtly. “Not at all.” She pulled her hand away from his, ostensibly to push her hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear.
“I’ve brought a picnic. Bought a grill and everything. Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” she said with a smile. Zach held out his arm, and was glad when she looped hers through it as they walked back towards the beach.
They set up the little foil grill he’d bought on some flat rocks up the beach, beyond the high-tide line of shells and cuttlefish bones. It gave off the faint reek of paraffin as Zach lit it, and Hannah shook her head.
“Shame on me,” she said.
“What for?”
“I could have built us a proper cook fire. There’s even a grate and long-handled tools up in one of the barns.”
“Well, I’ll tend to this one, you build a campfire over there. For later.”
“Later?”
“This little thing won’t keep us warm once the sun goes down,” said Zach.
“All right. Give me the wine-I’ll put it in the cooler.” Hannah smiled and held out a hand for the bottle, then took it down to the shore and buried it up to its neck in the fine grit by the waterline. She stayed to wander near the water, gathering driftwood for fuel. The evening grew mild and the wind dropped, so that small waves curled against the shingle with a sound like quiet voices. The sky was pale lemon, a kind light that softened everything. Zach waited for the flames in the tray to die down and then started to cook the prawns and chicken legs he’d brought. They ate them hot, as soon as they were ready, burning their fingers and their lips. Lemon juice and chicken fat shone on their chins, and they drank the wine from paper cups.
Salt in the driftwood gave the bonfire flames a pale green color, almost invisible while the sun was still up, but unearthly and lovely as the sky began to darken overhead. Zach stared at sparks as they spun upwards and vanished into the air. With the wine in his blood and his stomach full, the world suddenly seemed very serene, as though time had slowed; or as though there, in Blacknowle, the rest of the world mattered less than it once had. The firelight got caught up in Hannah’s hair and made her lovelier than ever; not so much softening her hard edges as gilding them. She stared into the fire with her chin on her knees, and Zach thought he could see something of his own tranquility in her as well.
“I’ve never done this before,” he said.
“What’s that?” She turned her face to him, laid her head down. Behind her a tiny, bright sliver of moon rose.
“Had a barbecue on the beach-a romantic barbecue on a beach. It’s the sort of thing I’ve always meant to do, but never actually got around to.”
“Shouldn’t the things on your bucket list be slightly more radical? Like sky-diving, or learning to play the bassoon?”
“This is better than learning to play the bassoon.”
“How do you know?” She grinned at him, then moved back to sit beside him, leaning on the smooth side of a huge boulder. “So your wife isn’t an outdoors type of girl, then?”
“Ex-wife. And no-definitely not. She did have some wellies, I think, but they were for getting from door to door without slipping on wet pavements. They never saw mud.”
“And have your wellies seen mud before?”
“I… I don’t even own any wellies. Please don’t dump me,” said Zach, smiling. Hannah chuckled.
“I’d kind of guessed as much.”
“I think I could get the hang of it, though. Country living and all the rest of it. I mean, it’s beautiful here, isn’t it? It has to be good for the soul.”
“Well, come back on a rainy day in January, and see if you still feel the same way.”
“Maybe I’ll still be here in January,” said Zach. For a long time, Hannah said nothing to this, but then she took a deep breath and exhaled a single word.