Once Upon A Christmas. Jennifer JoyceЧитать онлайн книгу.
still to be read. She closed the box and slumped back on the sofa. Now, as she relaxed, the tears began to flow for the father she had never really known. She pulled out a tissue and wiped her eyes, but to no avail. She found herself sobbing her heart out. There was a movement at her feet and she felt the sofa sway. Next thing she knew, the Labrador had climbed up and sprawled himself across her, his nose against her chest, his big, brown eyes staring up at hers with grave concern.
She looked down at him, knowing she should throw him off the sofa, but in the end settling for taking the big hairy head in her arms and hugging him tightly. They stayed like that for some minutes before the weight of the dog on her lap made her decide to make a move.
‘Right, Stirling, you know you should be on the floor, don’t you?’
Clearly he didn’t. In the end she had to manhandle him off her lap and slide him onto the floor. He sat there and surveyed her solemnly. She caught his eye.
‘I know, Stirling. You’re a very good dog and I love you dearly, but your job’s done now. I’m all right.’ She stood up, blew her nose and headed for the kitchen once more.
Monday
The drive up to north Devon in Jack’s old Land Rover was seriously different from Holly’s ride in Justin’s Range Rover the previous day. The word utilitarian didn’t fully describe the spartan conditions in the car. Gone was the luxurious white leather, gone was the burr walnut fascia, and gone was the purring engine and the air conditioning. Instead, there was a battered bench seat with some rips, mends and sinister stains in the vinyl, windows that didn’t close properly and a deafening combination of engine noise and assorted squeaks, clunks and crashes every time Jack changed gear, but, even so, Holly loved every bit of it.
By the time they got to Croyde Bay, she had compiled a mental list of mechanical items that needed checking and, most probably, replacing. Nevertheless, the old girl got them there in just over an hour, with Stirling dozing in the back and Jack’s surfboard strapped to the roof. They chatted a bit on the way up, but conversation was difficult at anything over forty miles an hour as the mechanical noise, along with a plaintive howl from the wind running over the surfboard on the roof bars, blotted out most normal chat.
It was a stunning day – crisp, clear and with just a light offshore breeze. The sea first came into view in the distance beyond the broad expanse of sand dunes and beach that constituted Saunton Sands. The road then curled gently round the coast, offering magnificent views across the open cliff tops to the rocks and waves below. Visibility was so good, Jack was able to point out Lundy Island, lying twelve miles out in the Bristol Channel. Beyond that there was nothing until you reached southern Ireland and, from then on just the Atlantic Ocean all the way to the USA.
The sea looked like a sheet of corrugated iron as it neared the shore, with row after row of waves rolling in. They came into the village of Croyde itself and Holly started seeing signs for surf schools, surf shops and even a campsite called Surfers’ Paradise. Malibu it might not be, but Croyde was clearly a British surfing Mecca, even on a day like today when the outside temperature was in single figures. As they drove down the narrow access road to the car park, they could both see majestic waves rolling into the bay between the rocky outcrops either side. Jack parked at the far side of the car park among a vast collection of old VW campers, clearly the vehicle of choice for the surfing community, and turned off the engine. The engine noise was immediately replaced by the raucous cries of seagulls and the regular crunch of waves hitting the beach a hundred yards below them. From where they were parked, they were able to look down between sand dunes and a café directly onto the beach.
‘Look at those waves! Magic Seaweed said it would be a five star day and, boy, were they right!’ He sounded like a little boy on his birthday.
‘Magic Seaweed?’ She smiled at him, happy to see his obvious excitement.
‘The fount of all wisdom for surf dudes.’
‘So you’re a surf dude?’
‘I suppose I should really have a VW camper for true street cred, but the old Land Rover’s pretty close. And, of course, that’s an Al Merrick custom board tied to my roof. That’s worth loads of bonus points.’ He grinned at her. ‘Yeah, I’m a dude, or at least I like to think I am.’
‘This is the first time I’ve been with a dude. In fact, I’m not totally sure I know what a dude is, but so far so good.’ She gave him a smile. ‘So, if you’re a dude, what does that make me?’
He had no hesitation. ‘That makes you a babe.’ He grinned at her. ‘No question. Very definitely a babe.’
Holly rather liked the sound of that, but she didn’t comment. Scruffy Land Rovers and outdoor pursuits hadn’t featured too highly on her list of essentials for possible boyfriends so far. Anyway, she thought to herself, one pretty normal prerequisite was that the man in question should at least appear to demonstrate some sort of romantic interest towards her. Jack Nelson, nice and friendly as he was, appeared to show as much affection towards her as he did to Stirling the dog. She dismissed the thought and glanced back down to the beach, absently reaching back over her shoulder to scratch Stirling’s ears as he stood behind them, nostrils flared. ‘So, what’s the plan?’
Jack looked at his watch. ‘Eleven-thirty. Low tide was a few minutes ago, so this is perfect for the surf. Do you see how regular and clean the waves are? No nasty chop and, as long as I stay out of the rip currents, it should be awesome. Why don’t you take Stirling for a run on the beach while I go for a surf? I’ll be back here in an hour. I’ll leave the car open. Key’s under the driver’s seat if you want to turn the engine on to warm up and there’s a Thermos of hot chocolate on the back seat. Help yourself. And there’s a bone and some water for Stirling in there too. Sound okay?’
Holly and the dog went for a long walk on the beach as far as the rocks in both directions. It was easy to see why Croyde was so good for surfing. The cliffs rose up on either side of the beach, effectively funnelling the Atlantic breakers into the bay where they built in height as the sea floor shelved upwards. It was also a great place for dogs. Stirling had a great time chasing and being chased by all the other dogs they met. In spite of the sunshine, it was very cold, with a bitter edge to the wind. Holly was warm and cosy, but only because she was wearing gloves, a heavy fleece, woolly hat, duck down jacket, tights, and her new woolly socks and trainers.
As she watched the surfers, she couldn’t imagine anybody wanting to spend an hour in the sea in this temperature, but she was surprised at the number of figures out there in the waves. Presumably word had spread about the perfect conditions. As far as she could see, they were all dressed the same – dark wetsuit and dark hood. She only finally managed to pick Jack out when he stepped off his board right in front of her. Stirling, initially unsure, charged forward into the waves when he recognised the figure in the wetsuit and hood. Jack walked into the shallows so he could reach out to pat him.
‘Hi, Stirling and hi Holly, it’s me. I saw you there.’ He picked up the board and glanced at the sun. ‘Another quarter of an hour okay?’
‘Take as long as you like.’ This was the first time she had seen him in a wetsuit. It clung tightly to his body and, from what she could see of his broad shoulders and flat stomach, she would rather like the idea of clinging to it herself. She decided that Julia deserved to see what people did for fun in north Devon. And a photo of him like this would be rather nice for her to have as well, she admitted to herself, as she pulled off her gloves, reached into her pocket and grabbed her phone.
‘Call Stirling, would you, Jack? I’ll take a photo of you both.’ Somehow, by including the dog in the picture, it made her feel a bit less shameless. Jack called the dog and she took a number of photos of them in the shallows, splashing around together. ‘Done! If they’re any good, I’ll send them to you.’ She put the phone away and reached for her gloves again,. Her fingers were already cold. She looked at him with genuine concern. ‘Are you sure you aren’t freezing?’
He