Free Move Over Darling by Christine Stovell Page A

membership. The beach was a short walk away, a steep descent past the ever-changing hedgerows of the country lanes on the way down, and a challenging push uphill all the way back. If she’d ever toyed with the idea of getting a bike, the sight of even the fittest cyclists having to dismount had quickly put her off.
    As for running? There were two very good reasons why she’d never been much of a runner and they were sitting right in front of her; until someone invented the sports bra that would control the bounce, fast walking was a far more comfortable activity. Her waist and hips, though, were noticeably slimmer than in her consultancy days when the sober black suits had been good for hiding the inches that had crept on during the long working weeks and too much snacking on the run.
    Noticing feathery grey clouds gathering and staunching the red seep of the setting sun, Coralie lowered herself stiffly off the rock and set off across the beach for home and warmth. Reaching the top of the stone steps, she saw a figure, barely more than a silhouette in the fading light, waiting by the old lime kiln. Walking briskly to the footpath, she was startled as something she quickly recognised as a wire-haired Jack Russell shot out in front of her and gave a bad-tempered growl.
    ‘Edith, you monster,’ she muttered knowing better than to risk a finger or two petting the grumpy, pompous little dog.
    ‘Edith!’ shouted Huw. ‘Come back this minute! Sorry, bach , I didn’t see you down there. I was just watching one of the dolphins. See there!’
    A black coil rose up and disappeared again under the slatey sea and they turned to each other in childlike satisfaction.
    ‘I’ve been watching them since I was a little boy,’ Huw said, grinning. ‘And I still feel that same sense of wonder every time I’m privileged enough to see one. ’
    ‘Me, too,’ agreed Coralie. ‘The day I don’t, I’ll know it’ll be time to move on.’
    Huw glanced at her. ‘You’re not thinking of leaving us just yet, are you, lovely?’
    ‘Oh no,’ she said, crossing her fingers in her pocket and hoping it was true, ‘I’m very happy here. It feels like home.’
    ‘Pity more young people don’t think that round here,’ he said sadly. ‘But what can we offer them? The youngsters don’t have anywhere to meet up or to build a sense of belonging and when they grow up they can’t find jobs or houses so they have to move away. Take us, we’ve got young Kitty home at the moment. She’ll want to make her own way in the world, but she’s got an uphill struggle from what I can see.’
    How much could Huw see? Was he really as unobservant as Alys seemed to think? Coralie wondered. They both turned at the sound of footsteps and Coralie sighed inwardly at choosing rush hour in Penmorfa Cove for her quiet break.
    ‘And here’s another one who had to leave the place where he grew up to make his way in the world,’ he told her, sounding not altogether pleased about it. He turned to the younger man whilst Edith yapped round his feet. ‘So, Gethin, you don’t get sights like this in the Big Apple, do you?’
    ‘No, not quite the same,’ Gethin agreed, his gaze travelling lazily over Coralie. Probably making sure he wasn’t about to come to any harm, she thought, still feeling a bit embarrassed at how close she’d already come, on two occasions now, to mutilating the man who’d created Last Samba before Sunset. Although, from what she’d read, it looked as if one or two art critics might be cheering if she’d managed to prevent him picking up a brush .
    ‘How’s it going up at Gwyn’s cottage?’ Huw asked gruffly. ‘I understand you’re looking for a builder. There’s not that much needs doing to it, surely? Or you’d have known about it sooner, wouldn’t you?’
    There was the briefest of pauses before Gethin replied. ‘I can see how someone might be fooled by the outside of the cottage,’ he said slowly. ‘But the real damage