Free The Beach Hut by Veronica Henry Page A

wanted more.
    ‘I’ve got a beach hut,’ she murmured. ‘In Everdene.’
    He raised an eyebrow.
    ‘How very Swallows and Amazons.’
    There was nothing Swallows and Amazons about what she had in mind.
    ‘We rent it out. I’ll be going down there soon, to get it ready for the season.’
    ‘What a coincidence. I’m away then too.’
    She frowned.
    ‘I haven’t told you when.’
    He smiled.
    ‘I know.’
     
    And now, here she was, surrounded by IKEA bags, feeling simultaneously sick and elated.
    For the millionth time, she asked herself what she was doing. It wasn’t as if she and Ian were desperately unhappy. He wasn’t a wife-beating bully, or a heavy drinker, or a gambler. It wasn’t as if their sex life had dwindled to nothing - if statistics were anything to go by, they were doing pretty well.
    It was more that she was so tired of feeling that she wasn’t the person her husband wanted her to be. And that there was someone out there who seemed perfectly enchanted by who she was. And to feel enchanting was incredibly seductive. Added to that was the sense that she knew Oliver so well - they’d talked on the phone countless times since their lunch, and although there was continual flirting and innuendo there was also a genuine connection. He was bright and funny and interested in what she was doing - she couldn’t remember the last time Ian had so much as asked what she was working on. He viewed her work as little more than a hobby, something to keep her in baubles, which she thoroughly resented as actually she hauled in quite a bit when you added it up.
    None of that entitled her to have an affair, of course. And she knew that Oliver was a womanising love rat. He’d told her as much. He was entirely unashamed of his conquests.
    ‘It’s just how I am,’ he told her, and she should have walked away there and then. But the fizzing and the elation and the frisson when his name came up on her phone were just too powerful.
    As seven o’clock approached, she sat on the step of the beach hut. It had been a glorious May afternoon, and as the sun began its downward journey, she watched the sky turn a luminous pink, a sight that on any other day would have had her pulling out her watercolours and trying to recreate it on paper. Instead, she was wrestling with her conscience, thinking of all the times she and Ian had sat here with a bottle of beer or a glass of wine once the girls were tucked up and thought how lucky they were.
    And now she was going to besmirch their sanctuary with her smutty little assignation. The hut didn’t deserve to be a witness to her infidelity. It was a happy place, a safe place, that had brought them and the girls so much pleasure. How could she even think about asking Oliver here? She was selfish, selfish and disgusting. Not to mention quite likely to get caught. OK, it was still quiet, no one had come down yet for the season, but there was every chance that one of the other owners would pop down just as she had. Or that Roy, who looked after things when they weren’t there, might wander along to say hello. What on earth would he think, finding her here with another man? He was so lovely, Roy. He had a sort of strength and wisdom to him, with his hazel eyes and his calm, gentle voice with just a hint of a burr. But he didn’t miss anything. He was constantly observing, as people who live by the sea often are - they have to be aware of their surroundings to survive. What would he think if he saw her here with her lover? Would he keep her secret?
    Sarah shuddered at the thought. Imagining herself momentarily through Roy’s eyes brought her to her senses. She couldn’t go through with this - she absolutely couldn’t. She’d let Oliver come in for a glass of wine, tell him she’d lured him here under false pretences, and if he was half a gentleman he would go . . .
    And then she saw him, at the top of the beach. He was just passing the first hut. Her insides leapt involuntarily as