Page 65 of Under Your Spell

I try not to think too much about what that means as I shower and get dressed. Theo tells me not to worry about getting dressed up so I pull on my denim shorts and a loose, cropped black T-shirt which is a variation on a theme of what I’ve worn since we got here as it’s been so hot, but I take my time doing my hair, scrunching product in to make the waves more defined, and I put on make-up, trying with middling success to recreate the cat’s-eye flicks Lil is so good at, and painting my lips a bright red because it feels vaguely festive.

The perfume Theo bought me is the kind that comes in an old-fashioned bottle and I’m usually pretty stingy with it, but today I dab it liberally on all my pulse points, enjoying the sweet, heady scent of it.

‘You look nice,’ Theo says when I finally come back down. His eyes linger on my mouth for a long moment. The smile he gives me is slow and wicked and the air temporarily leaves my lungs. He steps closer, brushes the hair away from the side of my neck and leans in to me. ‘You smell nice, too.’ The words rumble across my skin.

‘So,’ I say nervously, taking a step back for the sake of my sanity. ‘Where are we going?’

He looks shifty for a moment. ‘Er, actually, there’s been a very slight change of plans so we’re going out for coffee first.’

‘Oh,’ I frown, unsure what plans he’s talking about. ‘That’s okay. We can just hang out here if you want, we don’t need to do anything special.’

‘No!’ Theo exclaims. ‘I mean’ – he collects himself – ‘no, I really want to go and get a coffee. I checked the tides and we can get over the causeway to Holy Island for a walk if you like?’

‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’ I ask. We’ve been so careful about keeping a low profile since Cyn’s call.

‘It’s still too early for crowds. We haven’t heard anything to suggest anyone knows where to find me. We’re only here a few more days – where’s the harm?’ He looks at me, his eyes soulful, his smile winning. ‘Please? I can’t leave without seeing the place.’

‘I guess that’s true,’ I agree, softening because I absolutely love Holy Island, and I want to share it with him.

We get into Theo’s car and drive with the windows down. It’s the end of June and the world is clear, clean blue: pastel-blue skies dipping lovingly into turquoise water. The sun is shining and the breeze through the window is ruffling Theo’s hair, making my own fingers jealous.

We travel over the long causeway, past the signs urging visitors to check the tides, not to try and drive if the road is unsafe. As a tidal island, when the water is high the place is cut off. For now, the tide is out about as far as it can go, and aside from the small puddles of water that punctuate the side of the tarmac, you’d never guess how quickly the whole road can be swallowed up by the sea.

Theo wants to stop and look at everything, and I don’t mind. I know how special this tiny island feels, separated from the rest of the world half the time. It’s still morning so the place is quiet, not yet overrun with tourists, which means that he was right and there’s little chance of him being recognized, but he pulls his cap down low and keeps his sunglasses on anyway.

We wander the cobbled streets, grabbing a cup of coffee from the local café. I think maybe the woman serving us does a bit of a double take, but she doesn’t say anything, and I hope I’ve imagined it, that I’m just being over-sensitive.

‘Birthday girls get second breakfast,’ Theo insists, stopping at the ice cream counter.

‘Don’t you want one?’

‘No, it’s not my birthday.’

I choose a strawberry cone and he complains that this is the worst flavour, despite me pointing out that he doesn’t have to eat it and can order his own ice cream in any flavour he likes.

We meander down the beach towards the castle, which juts out dramatically, a dark, huddled shape against the sky.

‘What’s that noise?’ Theo asks, tipping his head. ‘At first, I thought it was the wind, but it’s not that windy. It sounds more like…’

‘Ghosts?’ I say innocently. ‘The wailing spirits of the undead?’

‘Yeah, actually.’

‘It’s the seals,’ I say with a smile. ‘They sing.’

‘What?’

‘It’s seal song. If we climb up the hill there, you’ll be able to see them all.’

‘Seals do not sing,’ Theo insists, a slow, delighted grin spreading across his face.

‘In fact, they do.’ I reach for his hand, tugging him gently back towards the village. Swallows arc over our head as we walk a path cut through a meadow of wildflowers, the ruins of an abbey looming to one side. Theo just shakes his head over it all.

‘This is a dream,’ he murmurs. I pretend I haven’t noticed that we’re still holding hands, his fingers tangled carelessly with mine.

When we reach the top of the hill, I gesture out to the sand dunes with my ice-cream cone to where a long, huddled line of seals are just hanging out, making their haunting, whistling sounds.

‘I want to live here,’ Theo breathes.