She didn’t answer for a moment and I knew my brusque tone had hurt her, but I couldn’t say it was all right because it wasn’t. Maybe I could have laughed it off but the problem was that Kirsty had been so close to the truth. As I’d gazed into Jemma’s eyes, I’d imagined kissing her. It had been just for a fleeting moment but, in that moment, Nikki was nowhere in my thoughts. It hadn’t even been a year and I was already thinking about kissing someone else on our beach. How could I do that to Nikki?

‘I might stay here on the beach for a bit longer,’ Jemma said. ‘I can’t face going home just yet. Thanks for the offer, though.’

I should have insisted she let me take her home, maybe even go inside with her and make sure her mum wasn’t going to have a go at her again. But I couldn’t. I needed to get away from her and make sense of the turmoil of emotions inside me.

‘If you’re sure?’

‘I’m sure. Enjoy your meal.’

I headed towards the steps by The Surf Shack.

‘Hey,’ Jemma called.

As I turned round to face her, the clouds broke again and the sun shone down, reflecting off her hair and face. She looked absolutely stunning at that moment and my heart raced as I stared at her.

‘You did an amazing thing today,’ she said. ‘Don’t let what Kirsty said overshadow that giant leap you took.’

It took every ounce of strength I had not to run back to her and take her in my arms. Instead, I nodded then turned my back on her and did my usual trick: I ran away.

30

Jemma

I watched as Sam disappeared into the distance, swamped by the throng on the promenade. That went well. Not.

Well, I couldn’t stand in the middle of the beach forever but I couldn’t go home either, unless… I checked my phone. Nothing from Mum. No texts. No missed calls. Nope, I definitely couldn’t go home.

Wandering up to the serving hatch of the ice-cream parlour wedged between Blue Savannah and The Surf Shack, I ordered a takeaway coffee, then sat on the wall overlooking the beach. I removed a piece of fabric, a needle and some thread from a make-up case in my bag. Some people always had an eReader on them and others were practically welded to their phone, digging it out at any moment of downtime. I always had a project with me. Hand-sewing the tiny limbs of a bear never failed to de-stress me and I seriously needed de-stressing right now.

Ten minutes later, my phone rang and my pulse raced. Mum? Sam?

‘Hi Leah,’ I said, trying not to sound disappointed.

‘How’s it going? Do you miss us?’

‘I miss you loads and it’s a disaster.’