old enough to have
fights and opinions. Eddy, who used to scrawl band names on his school bag in biro, who used to drive a battered orange VW beetle with a bent wire coat hanger for an aerial, whose party piece was
rolling a spliff with one hand. This is the Eddy Curtis that I knew; and now he’s a father. A proper grown-up. I didn’t even know he was married.
‘Ow, stop it,’ shrieks one of the girls, and Minnie, startled, begins to bark.
‘A dog!’ exclaims Eddy’s younger daughter, Grace, I think.
‘Kate?’ Eddy calls over the fence. ‘Kate, sorry, it’s really early, did we wake you?’
‘Hi Eddy,’ I call back. ‘You didn’t wake me, I was already up, honestly.’
‘Eight thirty on a Saturday.’ Eddy laughs. ‘Things have changed a bit since I last knew you.’
I hardly know how to answer that. It feels like everything has changed and yet nothing has at all. Here I am back in Lyme, chatting to Eddy Curtis. Next we’ll be jumping into his car to go
to some party we’ve heard might be happening outside Axminster.
‘Daddy,’ a voice whispers urgently. ‘Has she got a dog?’
‘Better than that,’ I call over the fence. ‘I’ve got a puppy. Would you like to meet her?’
Eddy’s girls are in my garden before I’ve had a chance to remember that I am still in my pyjamas, without having so much as cleaned my teeth. Not that they would notice, they have
eyes only for Minnie, who leaps all over them in excited welcome; she loves children. But Eddy looks embarrassed, and I’m not sure how to behave. My London manners feel all wrong – I
can’t air kiss him hello when I’ve most likely got morning breath. So much for the glamorous Kate Bailey he’s imagined; I must look a right state.
‘Sorry to barge in on you like this,’ he says, avoiding looking directly at me. ‘We collect my granny from swimming on Saturday mornings – it’s a bit of an early
start for all of us.’
‘Is there a pool in Lyme now?’ I ask. I wouldn’t mind a swim myself once in a while. Something to pass the time.
Eddy grins and rubs the top of his head with his knuckles. ‘Nope. Not for my Grandma. It’s the sea or nothing.’
‘The sea?’ I gasp. ‘But it’s October! It must be freezing.’
‘Bracing, according to her,’ says Eddy with a wry smile. ‘She used to go every day. Has done for years. But she got caught in a current a while ago – she’s not as
strong as she thought she was – and someone called the Coastguard.’
‘Oh my God, was she okay?’
‘She was completely fine by the time they arrived, just furious about all the fuss. Especially when they took her off in an ambulance for a check-up. The coastguards gave her a ticking off
about swimming by herself at her age. You can imagine how well that went down.’
‘But she still goes in?’
‘We’ve struck a deal – she swims on Saturday mornings only and the girls and I go, too. To watch, you understand. Just spectators. Not in any way keeping an eye on an
eighty-year-old woman submerged in the sea by herself.’
‘Obviously.’ I can’t help but be impressed by Mrs Curtis’s hearty ways, so at odds with her wiry appearance.
Eddy smiles. ‘But I’m not totally sure she’s sticking to her side of the bargain, judging by what you said the other day about her swimming hat.’
‘Unless she was just, er, wearing in a new one?’ I suggest, suddenly overcome with belated neighbourly loyalty.
‘Oh I see,’ says Eddy, raising an eyebrow. ‘I thought you’d be
my
ally in this, and here you are taking her side already.’
Eddy and I both watch the girls, shrieking as Minnie chases them around the garden.
‘Eddy Curtis, a dad,’ I say. ‘I can’t believe it.’
He looks at me quizzically. ‘It’s not that weird, you know. I’m thirty-four, not thirteen.’
‘I know.’ I laugh. ‘I suppose I still think of you as a teenager. You’re not weird at all. I’m weird.’
‘Why are you weird?’ he
fights and opinions. Eddy, who used to scrawl band names on his school bag in biro, who used to drive a battered orange VW beetle with a bent wire coat hanger for an aerial, whose party piece was
rolling a spliff with one hand. This is the Eddy Curtis that I knew; and now he’s a father. A proper grown-up. I didn’t even know he was married.
‘Ow, stop it,’ shrieks one of the girls, and Minnie, startled, begins to bark.
‘A dog!’ exclaims Eddy’s younger daughter, Grace, I think.
‘Kate?’ Eddy calls over the fence. ‘Kate, sorry, it’s really early, did we wake you?’
‘Hi Eddy,’ I call back. ‘You didn’t wake me, I was already up, honestly.’
‘Eight thirty on a Saturday.’ Eddy laughs. ‘Things have changed a bit since I last knew you.’
I hardly know how to answer that. It feels like everything has changed and yet nothing has at all. Here I am back in Lyme, chatting to Eddy Curtis. Next we’ll be jumping into his car to go
to some party we’ve heard might be happening outside Axminster.
‘Daddy,’ a voice whispers urgently. ‘Has she got a dog?’
‘Better than that,’ I call over the fence. ‘I’ve got a puppy. Would you like to meet her?’
Eddy’s girls are in my garden before I’ve had a chance to remember that I am still in my pyjamas, without having so much as cleaned my teeth. Not that they would notice, they have
eyes only for Minnie, who leaps all over them in excited welcome; she loves children. But Eddy looks embarrassed, and I’m not sure how to behave. My London manners feel all wrong – I
can’t air kiss him hello when I’ve most likely got morning breath. So much for the glamorous Kate Bailey he’s imagined; I must look a right state.
‘Sorry to barge in on you like this,’ he says, avoiding looking directly at me. ‘We collect my granny from swimming on Saturday mornings – it’s a bit of an early
start for all of us.’
‘Is there a pool in Lyme now?’ I ask. I wouldn’t mind a swim myself once in a while. Something to pass the time.
Eddy grins and rubs the top of his head with his knuckles. ‘Nope. Not for my Grandma. It’s the sea or nothing.’
‘The sea?’ I gasp. ‘But it’s October! It must be freezing.’
‘Bracing, according to her,’ says Eddy with a wry smile. ‘She used to go every day. Has done for years. But she got caught in a current a while ago – she’s not as
strong as she thought she was – and someone called the Coastguard.’
‘Oh my God, was she okay?’
‘She was completely fine by the time they arrived, just furious about all the fuss. Especially when they took her off in an ambulance for a check-up. The coastguards gave her a ticking off
about swimming by herself at her age. You can imagine how well that went down.’
‘But she still goes in?’
‘We’ve struck a deal – she swims on Saturday mornings only and the girls and I go, too. To watch, you understand. Just spectators. Not in any way keeping an eye on an
eighty-year-old woman submerged in the sea by herself.’
‘Obviously.’ I can’t help but be impressed by Mrs Curtis’s hearty ways, so at odds with her wiry appearance.
Eddy smiles. ‘But I’m not totally sure she’s sticking to her side of the bargain, judging by what you said the other day about her swimming hat.’
‘Unless she was just, er, wearing in a new one?’ I suggest, suddenly overcome with belated neighbourly loyalty.
‘Oh I see,’ says Eddy, raising an eyebrow. ‘I thought you’d be
my
ally in this, and here you are taking her side already.’
Eddy and I both watch the girls, shrieking as Minnie chases them around the garden.
‘Eddy Curtis, a dad,’ I say. ‘I can’t believe it.’
He looks at me quizzically. ‘It’s not that weird, you know. I’m thirty-four, not thirteen.’
‘I know.’ I laugh. ‘I suppose I still think of you as a teenager. You’re not weird at all. I’m weird.’
‘Why are you weird?’ he
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