Free The Cornish Affair by Laura Lockington

nudged me and said, “More wine, Fin?”
    I nodded gratefully at him and he poured some into my beaker. Everyone was yelling now, and straining to see who had made it to the rock. My eyesight wasn’t that good, but I heard a cry from the sea, and guessed that someone had reached the rock and was now heading back.
    “Poor sod’s balls’ll be the size of peas, by the time they get back,” Jace said in my ear.
    I giggled. “Petit pois?” I said, snorting with laughter.
    We leant against one another, laughing, watching the rolling water.
    “Fin,” Nancy called, “Have you got the prize darling?”
    Oh God. I ran up the beach and scrabbled under the trestle table where I had dumped my basket. I pulled out a bottle of champagne, and then went through my purse till I found the carefully folded new fifty pound note. As I reached the water’s edge again, I could hear the shouts go up.
    “It’s Rich!”
    “No, I reckon it’s Will!”
    “Come on, faster, faster!”
    The two boys were in the shallows now and had found their feet, a roller caught them from behind, pulling them back, but Will scrambled to his feet and raised his hands above his head in the classic victors salute. He was helped out by admirers (Breadpudding amongst them, I noted,) and pulled towards me.
    “Congratulations,” I said, kissing his dripping wet, salty cheek.
    He grinned and took the bottle from my hand. He gave it a good shake and unpopped it, showering all the other swimmers who were scrambling out of the sea with the liquid. The noise was deafening as the entire population of Port Charles shouted and cheered.
    Nancy and Pritti threw towels over them all and we hurried them back to the bonfire. There were many backslaps, hugs and shouts of congratulations on the way.
    Will and I had the traditional dodgy flashlit photo taken by Doris (later to be framed and hung amongst all the others on the stone wall of The Ram) by the light of the bonfire. I handed Will the note, and he grinned his thanks at me.
    The swimmers were strolling around with towels draped over their shoulders, shaking their wet hair at us all. All the girls from Port Charles were making ineffectual dabs at them to help them dry, and I saw that although they were shivering, it took them a long time to get their clothes back on.
    Nancy walked towards me with Baxter clipped on his lead. “I’m going back with Sam, he’s going to drop me and Pritti off. I don’t fancy the cliff path after dark, are you coming?”
    I glanced at Jace who was lounging on the sand in front of the fire, seemingly oblivious to all the girls parading in front of him hoping for a smile from him. He was smiling at me, and holding a bottle of wine.
    “Umm, no. No I’ll stay for a bit,” I said.
    Nancy kissed me on the cheek, “Night then darling, have a nice time.”
    I watched her go.
    Then I turned to Jace, but he was standing up and walking towards me with a blanket and the bottle of wine.
    “We’ll have a private picnic, shall we?” he said, in a low voice.
    If I hadn’t been slightly drunk, I think I would have laughed. But then I just thought, oh, why not?
    “Hang on a minute, lets ‘ave one of Rich’s cakes, shall we?” Jace said, popping a chocolate cookie in my mouth. It tasted rather odd. It was only when I had eaten it, I realised what that implied. One of Rich’s cakes, were dope cakes. Oh damn. I was going to be stoned.
    The younger set of Port Charles were the only ones left on the beach now, and they had settled down to some serious partying. Jace took my hand, and picking up yet another bottle, led me away into the darkness.
    It should have felt wrong. It should have felt like something out of The Graduate with me taking the Mrs Robinson role. But it didn’t.
    Jace spread the scuzzy blanket on the sand, and as we sat down, and as if on cue, a firework went off further down the beach. A burst of brilliant green in the sky was reflected in the dark sea and a drunken chorus of