When Alice Met Danny (22 page)

She turned back towards him. ‘Nothing old fogeyish from where I’m standing.’

‘You’re too far away to hear the creaking bones.’ He gave her a smile. ‘I tell you what; if I win, I’ll take you out for dinner on Sunday night, my treat. Deal?’

‘Almost, but not quite. If you win, we do go out for dinner on Sunday, but I pay.’

‘I tell you what; let’s go out for dinner on Sunday either way. We can fight about the bill when we get there. For now, I’m just looking forward to competing again. It’s been a good while.’

‘So this is a comeback, is it?’

He explained. ‘No, more of a one-off. The sponsors came up with the idea of collecting some of the big names from the past.’ He grinned at her. ‘It’ll probably be a competition to see who’s grown fattest.’

‘Did you miss it?’ She handed him his glass. ‘Two members of your fan club on the beach the other day told me you broke your leg just before the Olympics. That must have been tough.’

His expression didn’t change. ‘
C’est la vie
. That was years ago now. Broken legs get mended. Some of the guys have suffered a lot worse than that over the years. But, yes, I did miss it. In fact I still do, really.’

‘So why give it up? Surely once your leg was healed, you could have gone back to it?’

‘Money, Alice. Quite simple really. I got married. We needed a place to live, some kind of stability to our lives. Windsurfing’s great if you’re young and single. Preferably with independent means. I didn’t qualify on any of the counts. Anyway,’ he raised his glass in her direction. ‘Here’s looking at you kid, as the great man once said.’

‘Cheers.’ She reached over and clinked her glass against his. She noticed the muscles in his forearm, and biceps. He really did look very fit.

‘So, what’s new?’ He settled back and watched her. There was a happy smile on his face. She couldn’t miss it.

She told him about her interview at the university and her decision to do a history MA. He was very enthusiastic. Then she updated him on the house in Beauchamp, and how she planned to sell it. She hesitated, before breaking the bad news. ‘I’ve got the chance to buy this cottage and the one next door. I had them valued today. The only thing is that I will need to sell the Greenwich flat in order to do so. I’m ever so sorry, that’s going to leave you in the lurch, isn’t it?’ To her relief, the smile stayed on his face.

‘To be honest, that might suit me. The solicitors have finally sorted out the divorce settlement. I’ll have to do my sums, but I might be up for buying the flat from you, if you are willing. That is, if I stay at G&B.’

She looked up in surprise. ‘You’re thinking of leaving?’ That was unexpected.

‘Just thinking, for the moment. The job’s OK, but I’m getting a bit fed up with London. As a seriously middle-aged man, no longer a callow youth, I am beginning to think about quality of life. I must say it is great to come back to Woodcombe. You’ve picked a brilliant place to live.’

‘Oh yes, you said you knew Woodcombe.’ Alice had forgotten that. ‘How come?’

‘My wife was from here. In fact, she still lives in the village.’ Alice looked up in surprise. ‘She moved back after we split up. Maybe you know her? I’m sure she knows all about you. She always had a bit of a reputation as the source of all gossip in Woodcombe, if not the whole of Devon.’

The penny dropped. ‘Mandy? Mandy with Panda the greyhound? Your wife?’

‘Soon to be
ex
-wife. Yes, that’s her.’

Alice was speechless. It took her several minutes before she could think of anything to say and, even then, it was just, ‘It’s a small world, isn’t it?’

‘You’re telling me. When you said you were coming down here, I couldn’t believe it. Mandy and I met at Beauchamp, at one of these windsurfing competitions, all those years ago. And when I heard where you were living…’

They chatted until it was time to head for the restaurant. His car was jammed full of windsurfing gear, but the front passenger seat was clear. They drove down to the car park by the sea front. He left the car in the front row by the road, in full view of anybody driving past. ‘Hopefully that’ll dissuade the bad boys. There’s a good few grand tied to the roof of the car. I’d feel silly tomorrow if they nicked my boards.’

The Lobster Pot was crowded, with a handful of hopefuls waiting outside for a table. As they walked in past the queue, Alice began to appreciate just how big a celebrity he was. Of the dozen or so people waiting in line, at least half obviously recognised him. Some wished him luck, some patted him on the back and one girl asked for an autograph. He stopped to sign and immediately three others pushed programmes his way to sign. One young woman produced a marker pen and asked for a signature across the front of her T-shirt. Alice observed he was careful to avoid any erogenous zones.

Inside, it was even more obvious. Clearly this was the place where the windsurfing glitterati were gathered. A ragged cheer went up as they walked in and he was recognised. It took ten minutes of hand-shaking, hugging and kissing before they reached their table and sat down. She looked across at him. She could see the conflict of emotions on his face. On the one hand he was obviously pleased to be remembered and feted, on the other he was clearly feeling a bit embarrassed.

‘Look, Alice, I’m really sorry. I honestly didn’t expect to meet all these folk here.’ He paused, before correcting himself. ‘At least, if I had thought about it, I should have realised there would be a load of familiar faces down here, but I’ve got out of the habit now. I’ve been anonymous for so long, I was starting to believe it.’

‘I’ve never been out with a celebrity before. Do you think we will have to fight off the paparazzi when we leave?’ She was joking, at least partially, but then she had a sudden thought. If their photo made it into the papers, what would Mandy think? Did it matter what she thought? Her mind started doing somersaults, and she struggled to concentrate on what he was saying to her.

‘Alice, it’s only windsurfing. If it were tennis or football, maybe, but this is, and always has been, a minority sport. At worst, your face might turn up in
Boards
magazine. I bet you didn’t even know there was a magazine called that! And it’s not even to do with ironing. I’m sure none of your friends read it. So there’s no need to worry about your boyfriend getting jealous.’

She caught his eye. ‘Boyfriend? Nothing to worry about there. Danny the dog’s the only one for me.’

‘The only one? Haven’t you found yourself a Devonshire beau yet? I would have expected a beautiful woman like you to be fighting them off.’

She shook her head, then looked up at him with a smile. ‘Well, if the truth be told, I did go out with a handsome man only a couple of nights ago.’ She couldn’t miss his interest. ‘But it didn’t turn out to be quite what I expected.’

She went on to tell him about Daniel the writer, but she omitted any reference to Daniel Tremayne. Finally, she observed, ‘But if our picture appears in the paper, what about your girlfriend? I don’t want to end up being stalked by some jealous woman.’

‘Then neither of us has got anything to worry about. Like I said, I’m a free man these days. Let them print and be damned.’

She bit the bullet. ‘But what about the girl who answered the phone in your flat? You know, the one who might have been coming down here with you?’

He stared back at her in astonishment. ‘Alice, that was Janie. She’s my daughter.’

Luckily the waiter arrived at that precise moment with the menus.

Chapter 37

Alice had to park in Lyndhurst Avenue and walk down the river to the beach on Saturday afternoon. The whole town was packed with cars and people. The organisers had even set up out of town parking in fields at the top of the hill, with a shuttle bus to ferry visitors in. Clearly, the Windsurfing Weekend was big business.

Dinner with Danny the previous night had been most enjoyable. After the bombshell that he did not, after all, have a live-in girlfriend, she had settled down to enjoy the food and his company. Even if either of them had wanted it to become an intimate
soirée à deux
, it would have been impossible. A succession of old friends, fans and fellow competitors came along to shake his hand, smile at her, take photos and discuss the next day’s racing. Among them was the man he later described as his closest rival.

‘Klaus Dietrich and I go way back. He and I have been competing against each other since we were teenagers.’ In spite of that, Alice had seen the two of them hug each other like brothers. She commented on it afterwards. His reply had been immediate. ‘He’s probably the closest thing to a brother that I’ve got. I just don’t get to see him very often these days. Going all over the world with him, we were bound to either end up as close friends or sworn enemies.’ He grinned at her. ‘A few of the others fall into the latter category!’

As a succession of former colleagues and rivals came by, she soon realised that the overriding topic of conversation, logically enough, was the wind. Up till then, her only knowledge of the Beaufort scale had come from occasionally hearing bits of the shipping forecast on Radio 4. She had vague memories of hearing names like Fisher, Dogger and German Bight, but little comprehension of what it all meant. Danny had done his best to explain and now, at least, she knew that anything less than a force three was useless, force four to six good, force seven or eight excellent and anything above that awesome. “Awesome”, she soon realised, was a much overused adjective in windsurfing circles. And numerous times that evening it was applied to her companion at the dinner table.

As she walked down the path by the river towards the beach, she did her best to assess the strength of the wind. Her hair was being blown about, but she was not finding it hard to walk into the wind. Presumably this meant it was not useless, but far from awesome. She giggled to herself as she saw two young men jog past with that very word emblazoned across their chest.
Today’s racing had better be awesome
, she told herself.

After dinner, Danny had driven her home but, upon arrival at Duck Cottage, he had refused her offer of coffee on the grounds that he had promised to get to bed early. ‘I’m an old fart now, you see. I need my beauty sleep.’

He certainly did not look like an old man and, for just about the first time, she found herself considering him as something more than just good old Danny. She had enjoyed his company that evening and had found the adulation he was receiving unexpectedly stimulating. So, when he turned to leave, she found it remarkably natural to catch his hand, pull him back towards her and kiss him. This time, after kissing him on both cheeks, she added a soft kiss to his lips.

She had not slept well that night. This was not necessarily the fault of the crab ravioli with shellfish bisque, pink grapefruit and ginger, or even the wild bass with cauliflower, lemon thyme and cumin velouté. It could not be blamed on alcohol, as she had drunk remarkably little. Even the dark chocolate and passion fruit fondant could not take all the responsibility, nor the coffee she made herself after he had left. The problem lay within her brain. How could it be, she found herself wondering, that she had only just discovered this handsome, modest, strong, but also remarkably kind and gentle man? She had worked alongside him for five years, but it was only now that she was seeing him in a totally different light. Good old Danny had morphed into something very, very different.

As she came out of the shelter of the trees onto the promenade, she felt a powerful gust of wind. She looked up. The flags were streaming out from the poles. It very much looked as if the wind was going to be awesome after all. The sea wall was already thick with spectators, watching the youth competition that was in full swing. She caught glimpses of brightly-coloured sails out in the bay. The waves were pounding the beach and the surfers out in the open sea were often enveloped in spray and foam. She walked down to the main marquee. Danny had told her she would be given a pass to the main stand if she asked there and, on arriving, she was immediately seen and recognised by one of the blonde girls, from earlier in the week.

‘Hi, how was dinner?’ Her expression was one of curiosity, mixed with a new-found respect. ‘Danny came by this morning and told us to look out for you. You’re Alice, aren’t you?’

‘That’s me. And dinner was great, thanks. Awesome.’ Alice resisted the urge to giggle as she used the word. She looked around, in case Danny was still there. The blonde intercepted her glance.

‘He’s already down on the beach, maybe out on the water already. The invitation race starts straight after the juniors.’

‘Can you tell me something… Sammy?’ Alice leant closer and refreshed her memory by reading the badge on the girl’s breast. ‘What colour is his sail, or his wetsuit or whatever? How will I recognise him out there on the water?’

The girl turned and pointed over her shoulder at a huge poster that covered most of the wall space. It showed a flotilla of windsurfers in full flight. Many of the sails were made of transparent material, with just a few trade names and a big number. In first place was a black and yellow sail.

Sammy explained. ‘That’s Klaus Dietrich, the German, in the lead. Right behind him is Danny Kemp.’ The second place sail was very different. Much of it was bright orange. It was unmistakable. ‘That’s him, your Danny. He always has an awesome orange sail.’

Alice found that she quite liked the sound of “your Danny”.

‘Here, if you wear this, you can get access to the royal box.’ Sammy passed over a plastic card, hanging on a blue ribbon.

‘The royal box?’ Alice was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. The girl laughed at the expression on her face.

‘It’s all right, that’s just what we call the VIPs’ and WAGs’ stand. Go up those stairs to the left. Karl will let you up once he sees the pass.’

Alice thanked her and slipped the ribbon over her head. She made for the stairs, conscious that she had just been catapulted into the wives and girlfriends category. She played with the idea for a moment. It sounded quite good. She left the marquee, and was making for the grandstand, when she came across a familiar face.