too. And who was the principal guy you mentioned? Tom?’
Lizzie gave a self-conscious giggle. ‘Tyler.’
This was too good an opportunity to miss. ‘What’s that giggle for? I think you need to tell me about Tyler.’
She shot me a look but her smile was as bright as the seaside sunshine. ‘Nothing to tell, thank you very much. I’ve known him about four years. He’s thirty-five, one of the youngest principals in the area and he’s a great friend. I asked for his help with the cross-city education programme I’ve been writing and he’s been amazing with it. And that is all.’ She looked down at her watch to signal the subject was closed. ‘Right, we’d better head to Pier 39.’
We made our way along the seafront past the multicoloured vintage trams of the F-Line system, the crowds of tourists with their cameras and matching anoraks and the lines of bicycles waiting for hire towards Pier 39. We reached the entrance, flanked by colourful flags flapping in the Bay breeze and a giant sculpture of a crab made from iron and clad in growing plants.
‘Where does Eric perform?’ I asked Lizzie.
‘Right in the middle of the pier’s boardwalk. But we’ll hear him before we see him.’
‘What does that mean?’
My cousin smiled. ‘You’ll see. We’re a little bit early but I reckon we should just head straight there.’
We walked onto the dark wooden boardwalk and as we rounded a corner a familiar Essex voice called out above the hum of the crowd.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, roll up, roll up! Fifteen minutes to the show of the decade, a plethora of pluck, a phantasmagoria of feats! You do not want to miss this, people! Come and see me by the carousel at two p.m. sharp!’
I turned to Lizzie. ‘Eric?’
‘That’s him.’
We followed the sound of his voice until we saw Eric, dressed in black t-shirt and baggy red streetdance trousers, wheeling around amused tourists on a unicycle. When he saw us, he raised his hand and pedalled over.
‘You came!’ He wobbled between us, planting a kiss on my cheek then Lizzie’s. ‘Are you having a better day, Nell? Was I right about this place or what?’
I smiled back – but then with Eric around it was impossible not to. ‘My day is much better, thank you. And I love your office.’
He chuckled and spread his arms wide. ‘Beats a stuffy accountancy firm, eh?’
‘Can I get you anything before your show?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Do you have water?’
Eric’s eyes shone. ‘Darlin’, you read my mind. I’m good for water but I could murder a coffee. I didn’t get the chance for one this morning. Would you mind?’
‘Not at all.’ My cousin opened her bag and searched around its considerable depths to find her purse.
‘Why don’t I get them?’ I offered. I was enjoying the atmosphere and wanted to say thank you to Lizzie and Eric. ‘What can I get you?’
With their coffee orders, I made my way back through the crowds to the boardwalk entrance where I’d seen a coffee kiosk. The friendly lady behind the counter asked where in England I was from and wished me a pleasant stay in the city as she handed over cups of steaming coffee. Popping plastic lids on the paper cups, I fitted them into a cardboard carrier and turned to leave the kiosk – just as somebody’s elbow caught under mine and sent the carrier and three cups flying into the air. Shocked, I jumped out of the way to escape the hot liquid’s rapid return to earth and turned to confront the person who had knocked into me.
And that was the first time I saw him.
His eyes were shaded behind sunglasses and his dark wavy hair was being blown about his tanned face by the chilly breeze gusting in from the Bay. He was dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans with a khaki jacket – and he looked utterly horrified.
‘Man, I’m so sorry,’ he said, his voice deep and pure West Coast. ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going.’
‘No you weren’t. That coffee was hot – it could’ve hurt someone.’
He reached out and touched my arm. ‘I’m sorry, are you OK?’
I took a breath. ‘I’m fine. Are you?’
He took off his sunglasses to reveal dove-grey eyes filled with concern. ‘I’m good. Hey, please let me replace your drinks. It’s the least I can do.’
I was still ruffled but the gorgeous stranger’s earnest apology and kind offer were some compensation for my embarrassment. I couldn’t tell whether my sudden rise in temperature was due to the after-effects of our very public collision or the handsome man now offering to make amends for it. I agreed and watched as he quickly joined the queue, eager to resolve the problem he had unwittingly caused.
‘Here,’ he said, handing me fresh drinks. ‘Again, my humble apologies.’
‘That’s very kind of you, thanks.’
His smile was warm and wide. ‘You’re English?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Cool.’ As if remembering something important he held his hand out. ‘I’m Max.’
When I shook it, his hand was as warm as his smile. ‘Nell. Thanks for these.’
‘No problem.’ His eyes held mine for a moment. ‘So – great to meet you, Nell.’
I was struck by a strong urge to stay where I was, enjoying the unexpected pleasure of his company. But I was aware that Lizzie and Eric were waiting for me and that the circus performer would appreciate caffeine before his show. So, kicking myself for failing to think of anything more inventive, I smiled back. ‘Nice to meet you too, Max. I’d better …’
‘Sure. Um – bye.’
My heart was racing as I turned and hurried back along the boardwalk. Maybe it was my imagination but I could have sworn he was watching me until I disappeared from view …
‘You are an angel,’ Eric grinned, accepting a cup.
‘Sorry it took so long. I had a bit of a mishap.’
Lizzie took her cup from the carrier. ‘What happened?’
‘Someone bumped into me and sent everything flying. But he replaced them and was really sweet about it.’
‘Nell Sullivan, you’re blushing!’
I giggled. ‘Well, he was quite easy on the eye.’
My cousin laughed. ‘Wow, Nellie, this is a turnaround. Yesterday you said you felt out of place, but now you’re fraternising with the locals. I’m proud of you.’
‘OK, lovely ladies,’ Eric said, picking up three long clubs and clambering back onto his unicycle. ‘Showtime!’
Eric’s
