Meet Me at Pebble Beach

Her dad screwed up his face. ‘You’d like to pee in a river?’

‘No. A pea … Oh never mind.’ Why was it so hard to explain? ‘It’s like someone’s slammed the brakes on my life.’

‘Hmm.’ He was pulling a doubtful face, but she continued unperturbed.

‘I mean, I was hurtling along and suddenly I’ve come flying off the rails.’

‘I see,’ said Graham, in a tone that said he wanted the conversation to end. He was a rather logical, straightforward person, lacking the encumberment of extremes of emotion – an unkind soul may have called him ‘odd’. He was still pulling a face as he passed her a mug of coffee and opened a fresh packet of cheap chocolate digestives.

‘What?’ asked Regan, catching sight of his twisted lips.

‘Well, I’m not being funny, Regan, but it’s not like your life was motoring along at a pace, now was it?’

‘Oh, thanks a bunch.’ She snatched a biscuit from the proffered packet.

‘No, what I mean is, in life’s race, you’re less Aston Martin, more Nissan Micra – slow and steady.’ He was smiling, like he thought this was a compliment.

‘Bloody hell, Dad. You’re not helping my self-esteem here.’ She’d been called lots of things in the past, but never a Nissan chuffing Micra. She knew he had a point though, however harshly worded. She’d liked to think she was pootling along taking the scenic route in life, but she could hardly claim that when on her life’s journey so far there really hadn’t been anything worth seeing – dead ends of jobs, a scrap heap of relationships and a junk yard full of mistakes. She dunked her biscuit and half of it disintegrated into her coffee. She frowned and tried to scoop it out with the other half of the biscuit, making the situation infinitely worse.

Graham was frowning. ‘Where are you staying?’

‘Cleo’s place.’ She didn’t like lying, especially not to her dad, but technically she was staying at Cleo’s – just in her studio and not in the flat where he had obviously assumed she meant, judging by the relief on his face. She knew he was secretly pleased that she wasn’t going to put him in the awkward position of making excuses as to why she couldn’t stay at his.

‘That’s good then. But you know if you’re desperate you’re welcome to stay here.’ His shoulders tensed.

‘It’s fine, Dad. It’s only temporary. Just until I get myself back on my feet.’ He looked relieved.

‘You okay for money? Because I’ve a little put aside.’

She doubted he had very much put by. He worked part-time in a newsagent’s and it was sweet of him to offer but she needed to sort this mess out on her own. ‘I’m fine.’ If she said it often enough with conviction there was a possibility that she might start to believe it herself. ‘Really. Fine.’

Three days later, she was all out of self-belief. And ice cream. All too quickly, her world had been turned upside down, and she had no idea how to right it. She knew the answer wasn’t to drink her troubles away, and she couldn’t afford alcohol anyway, so she had eaten a skip load of ice cream instead. Regan had been spending a lot of time with her new best friends Ben and Jerry, but sadly she didn’t find any answers at the bottom of the cartons – only brain freeze and a little self-loathing.

She decided that this was what rock bottom felt like. She’d heard from no-one with the exception of one FaceTime call from Cleo that she’d had to reject for fear of her spotting the familiar background of her own art studio. They’d had a text chat instead, which was nowhere near the same. No-one else had called. Nobody had noticed she had slipped off the planet. Not one other person cared.

She hadn’t showered in days and felt wretched, tired and lethargic – though some of it may have been down to too much ice cream. She had no telly, no WiFi and no future. Everything felt too difficult. There was so much that needed sorting out, but every time she thought about it, she thought her head might pop with the overload. So it was easier not to do anything at all.

Regan found herself at a new low when she tried to eat a pot noodle using two coffee stirrers for chopsticks. It was a tough challenge, but at least it was warm and kind of like a meal, although she wasn’t sure how much nutrition there was in the reconstituted dust and noodles. She counted three dried peas, which definitely didn’t get her close to her daily government-suggested fruit and veg targets.

She wondered at how quickly she’d lost everything, and if this was what had happened to Kevin. How had he found himself living on the streets? If it weren’t for Cleo’s studio being empty, that could have been her. The thought frightened her. She pulled over the box she’d filled in the office on That Day – which now seemed like ages ago – and sifted through the contents, sniffing her derision at the useless things inside. A stolen stapler; what good was that to her now? Unless she used it for stapling Alex’s testicles to his desk – but he wasn’t worth the staples. She found the Mantra card from Charlie, the gallant stranger who had pulled her off Alex. She turned it over. Saturdays at ten at the community centre. Charlie had said mindfulness might help her focus on what was good about the here and now. She gave another derisory snort – there was nothing good about her life.

Regan bit the inside of her mouth and pondered. She had nothing planned for Saturday – or the rest of her life – so there really was nothing to lose.

She sniffed her armpit, whipping her head back from the nasal attack. She couldn’t go anywhere smelling like that. What had she become? She straightened her spine. This had to stop, and it had to stop now, before she drifted into a pot-noodle-induced coma and was found in a giant spider’s web being nibbled on by rodents.

‘Right,’ she said out loud, giving herself a start because her voice was all croaky from not having spoken for days. She felt herself galvanising for action. What to do first? She caught another whiff of her armpit. Getting showered was definitely priority number one.

Regan had her most favourite trip to the gym ever and was pleased that her membership card still worked. With any luck, it would take Jarvis a while to realise he was still paying for the joint membership; and since he was still paying, it would be a shame not to get some use out of it.

In the past she’d only ever had a quick shower after a gym session and dashed out, but today she could set a more leisurely pace. She made the most of the free shampoo, conditioner and body wash and took her time drying and styling her hair – taking care not to make it too fluffy for fear of it looking like she was wearing a motorcycle helmet. She felt a lot better for it and a bit of a spring returned to her step.

Back at the studio, she washed her clothes in the sink using Cleo’s Molton Brown hand wash and hung them over Cleo’s three easels to dry. She’d bought a local paper, so she made herself a black coffee and sat and circled a number of potential jobs. This was progress. She had a tall mountain to climb, but she had a foothold and the only way was up.

However, a few hours later she started to feel like she was slipping back down the mountain. A phone call to a recruitment agency had her stumped at the first hurdle when they asked her for her home address. After a long pause she gave her dad’s details and explained it was temporary. The second hurdle was a bit more difficult – they wanted her to upload her CV to their website. She had no computer and she was dangerously close to her monthly download limit on her mobile. She felt a mudslide sweep her back down the mountain and went again in search of ice cream.

Chapter Eight

After another uncomfortable night sleeping in the chair and a now-permanent ache in her neck, Regan woke to face another day staring at four brick walls, a couple of nipple paintings and a gloomy looking future. She gave herself the best wash she could manage in the tiny sink and made a strong coffee. She didn’t have the solution, but she at least knew diving back into the ice cream wasn’t the answer.

She brushed her hair, checked her armpits and headed off for the mindfulness session with an open mind – and, if she was honest, a spark of interest in seeing Charlie again. She told herself she needed to thank the kindly policeman, but it wouldn’t do any harm to check whether he was seeing anyone. If anything he might make a pleasant distraction.

The community centre where the session was held wasn’t far, and she decided to walk to save the meagre amount of petrol she had in her car in case she needed it to get to a job interview – she was trying to remain hopeful. The community centre was a simple affair, so it was easy to find the large room with a circle of chairs and a hotchpotch of locals milling about. She watched the interesting mix of people through the glass in the door and began to reconsider. Was this really for her?

‘Hello, I’m Cressy,’ said a tall woman with neat grey hair and a long, flowing cardigan. ‘First time?’ Regan nodded. There was no sign of Charlie and she was starting to wonder if this had been a bad idea. ‘Tea or coffee?’ asked Cressy, beckoning her inside.

‘Um …’ Regan checked her pockets for the fiver she’d brought in case there was a charge.

‘It’s free, and there’s biscuits. Custard creams this week.’ Cressy had a warm smile.

‘Coffee, please. Lots of milk.’

‘You take a seat. Pop your details on here,’ she said, handing Regan a clipboard, ‘and I’ll get your drink.’

Regan scanned the form. It was all basic stuff. She began filling it in but the pen was running out. She scratched it on the edge of the paper and it worked, but as soon as she tried to write in the boxes it stopped. She sighed. Why did pens do that?

‘I had that problem,’ said a nasal voice to her left. ‘I’m Chris. That’s me.’ He leaned over and ran his finger along the line above Regan’s. She gave a tight smile and gave up on the form. She scanned the people taking seats. These weren’t her kind of people. What was she even doing here? There was no point staying just in case Charlie showed up. He wasn’t that cute, it wasn’t worth it.

She stood up to leave, but Cressy took the clipboard from her and swapped it for her coffee.

‘Biscuits are on their way round,’ she said, taking a seat nearby. If she left now she’d miss out on a free biscuit. She’d stay for a bit.

‘Welcome to Mantra, everyone,’ said Cressy. The chatter ceased and everyone looked in her direction. ‘While we’re finishing drinks …’

The door at the back of the hall creaked open and Charlie rushed in. He took a seat, nodding greetings to some of the others until his eyes alighted on Regan. He gave her a slow, almost regal nod. She liked that he was surprised to see her. She twitched an eyebrow in a ‘See, told you so’ response.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ said Charlie.

‘That’s fine. I was just welcoming our new members,’ Cressy peered closely at the form, ‘Chris and Reg?’ Regan sprang to life, almost spilling her coffee. She held on tightly to the mug and tried to ignore Charlie, who was tittering nearby.

‘Hello, I’m Chris,’ said Chris.

Regan felt all eyes land on her. ‘Hi. I’m Regan.’

‘Oh,’ said Cressy, studying the form. ‘It says Reg.’

‘The pen was running out,’ Regan tried to explain, but nobody seemed to hear.

‘Like the president?’ asked an older woman in a brightly coloured kaftan.

‘If you mean Ronald Reagan,’ started Regan, and the woman nodded, ‘then no, that was pronounced Ray-gun. Mine’s Ree—’

‘I had an Uncle Reg.’ A man with Harry Potter-style glasses cut her off. ‘Jolly nice chap. Nice to meet you.’ This set off a series of welcomes from around the circle and ended with Charlie.

‘Lovely to see you again, Reg,’ said Charlie, failing to control a smirk.

Great, thought Regan. She’d have her free coffee and biscuit, if the packet ever made its way around to her, and then she’d escape.

‘Would someone like to share what mindfulness means to them?’ Cressy looked hopefully around the group.

‘I will,’ said the lady in the kaftan. ‘I’m Wendy and I had a stroke six months ago. So for me, mindfulness is about teaching my brain to keep focused. It’s about staying calm, not getting frustrated about all the things I can’t do, and focusing on the many things I can do.’

‘Thanks, Wendy. Anyone else?’

The man in Harry Potter specs put his hand up. ‘This is only my fourth session. I’m getting over a breakdown. I’ll probably always suffer from depression and low mood, but mindfulness helps me to spot the simple pleasures in life rather than giving all the attention to the bad stuff.’

‘Thanks, Joel.’

A bearded face leaned forward. ‘I’m Mandeep and coming to Mantra makes me sleep better.’

A young woman gave a little wave and Cressy nodded at her. ‘I’m Ellie and I’m in remission from cancer and I live in fear of it coming back. Mindfulness helps me take time to order my thoughts and feel calmer.’

Regan knew she was staring. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but these revelations from these poor people about everything they were going through was definitely not it. On first superficial look they had all seemed perfectly healthy.

She felt like a complete fraud. What did she have to worry about? A few things swamped her mind. Okay, there was stuff to worry about, there always was, but her problems weren’t life-threatening. What these people were dealing with was serious stuff.

‘Thanks, everyone. Right, let’s start with a full body scan,’ said Cressy. ‘Please can you move your chairs to the side and get out the yoga mats.’

Regan was unsettled; she hadn’t been expecting to do yoga, and apart from a couple of people in trackies, nobody else looked like they’d dressed for it. ‘Here you go, Reg,’ said Charlie, putting down a yoga mat for her next to his own.

‘Actually, I’m not sure I …’ she began, but Cressy was talking so she copied Charlie and sat down on the mat with her legs crossed.

‘Now, Chris and Reg,’ said Cressy, and Charlie stifled a laugh. Regan glared at him and he turned his laugh into a cough. ‘Don’t be alarmed, this is really easy. All you need to do is lie down and listen to my voice. Okay?’

Regan and Chris both nodded. Lying down she was good at and, after a few nights scrunched up like a hamster in Cleo’s chair, the opportunity to lie out flat was a welcome one. She stretched out and was pleased with how comfortable the mat was. She wondered if they’d miss one if she borrowed it for a bit.

A few people produced pillows and took off their shoes. Cressy waited until everyone was settled. ‘Close your eyes. Empty your mind. I want you to focus all of your attention on your feet … Specifically your left foot … and your big toe …’

Regan grinned. This was all a bit bonkers. ‘Keep your focus on your big toe … Think about how it feels.’ Cressy had a melodic voice, which thankfully was pleasant to listen to, and whilst Regan found herself tuning in and out she did try, as Cressy suggested, to keep pulling her attention back.

Cressy moved their focus from the big toe to other parts of the foot, and eventually over the whole body, until they were focused on their breathing. When someone on the other side of the room snored, Regan couldn’t stop a snort of a giggle. Cressy continued unperturbed. Despite the giggles, Regan did feel calmer; she probably wasn’t far from nodding off herself. She was interested by how difficult it was to keep her mind focused on Cressy’s voice, and how easily it was distracted by the minutiae of life that littered her brain like plastic in the ocean.

They finished the body scan and Cressy went on to tell them about practical ways of using the techniques. She suggested losing your temper was a good opportunity to deploy mindfulness. Regan had a sly look in Charlie’s direction and he was staring straight at her. Rude. She didn’t make a habit of pummelling people’s heads on revolving doors, but, in his defence, he didn’t know that. She smiled and he smiled back. Cressy went on to teach them some other practices, but then all too soon the session was over and people were packing away their mats.

‘So, Reg,’ Charlie appeared at her shoulder, ‘what did you think?’

‘Hmm.’ She wanted a moment to consider her thoughts.

‘Actually, let’s get a drink and you can update me. Okay?’ He was already walking for the door.

She had nothing else planned. ‘Why not?’ she said, with a lazy shrug. She didn’t want to look too keen.

She suggested her usual coffee shop and they walked through the bustle of the Saturday market. The market always had a vibrancy that buoyed Regan. Whether it was the sights, smells or banter of the stallholders she wasn’t sure, but there was something about it that brought her to life. When they neared the coffee shop, she spotted Kevin hunched in a doorway. He was hugging his knees and rocking. Elvis was leaning against him as if trying to comfort him.

‘I’ll get the coffees,’ said Regan, when they went inside and joined the short queue.

‘Sorry. The rule is that whoever suggests it pays. So I have to pay.’ Charlie nodded sagely.

‘Thanks, but I want to get a couple of extra drinks for my friends.’ She nodded towards the doorway.

‘That’s cool, I’ll get theirs too. It’s near payday so I’m flush. Order away.’

Regan thought about standing her ground, but with only a few quid in her pocket she wasn’t in a position to be stubborn. ‘Cheers, that’s kind of you.’ And generous, she thought.

Penny wasn’t about so another woman took her order. When the drinks arrived on the end of the counter, Charlie took his and Regan’s. ‘Shall I get us some seats? I’m assuming you’re not going to run out on me.’ He gave a pout, which made him look rather sexy.

‘I’ll come back, I promise,’ said Regan, giving him an equally flirty look. This was fun.

She almost bounced over to Kevin and crouched down next to him. Elvis towered over her and was very excited that she was within licking distance. She scratched his head to try to keep him occupied, although his focus was on the paper cups. Kevin’s eyes were tight shut and he was muttering something inaudible. ‘Kevin, you okay?’

His eyes popped wide open in an alarming fashion, making Regan almost topple backwards. ‘Birds,’ he said, in a whisper.

‘Birds?’ She looked about her. There was a pair of wood pigeons pecking about nearby.

‘They get in my head.’

His hunted expression was bothering her. ‘Here, have a coffee. I got milk for Elvis.’

Kevin blinked a few times and seemed to almost come to. ‘Thanks … I bet you think I’m mad, don’t you?’

‘No, but you had me a bit worried there.’

He smiled at her. And then he froze. ‘Listen.’ There was a buzz of background noise from the hubbub of the nearby market.

‘Yeah, always noisy on a Saturday.’

‘No. Listen to the birds.’ His eyes were wide and he was worrying her again.

Regan closed her eyes and concentrated. Could she hear birds? ‘I can hear a pigeon.’ Its rhythmic coo of ‘da-dah-da-da-dah-dahhh’ was easy to pick out.

‘Yes, yes, that’s it.’ They listened together. ‘Can you hear what they’re saying?’ Regan gave a slow and slightly bewildered shake of her head. Kevin spoke along to the pigeon’s tune. ‘You can’t do it, Kevin. You can’t do it, Kevin!’

Regan would have laughed if Kevin’s face hadn’t been etched with horror. ‘Come on,’ said Regan, helping him up. She needed to find him somewhere away from the wood pigeons; all the scraps from the market must have drawn them in from The Level, so they’d be there for a while.

They walked until she found him a wall to sit on. ‘There are no birds here.’ She gave him the drinks. ‘Here.’ The dog was now slathering wildly and had not left her side.

Kevin’s eyes darted anxiously about and then he seemed to relax a little. She sat next to him while he sipped his drink.

‘Not seen you this week. You been on holiday?’ asked Kevin, now seemingly almost back to normal.

‘No, I quit my job.’

‘For a better one?’ Kevin tilted the milk cup for Elvis and he wolfed down the contents.

‘Er … no. I’m in between jobs. But it’s okay.’ She nodded and Kevin nodded too.

‘I wouldn’t want to be cooped up in an office.’ He was staring straight ahead. ‘I enjoyed working in the fresh air too much. The smell of the sea.’

Regan was curious. ‘What line of work were you in?’

‘Engineer.’ His voice had taken on a clipped tone.

‘Did you enjoy the work?’

Kevin looked at his scarred hands. ‘Yeah, most of the time.’ He snapped his head back. ‘Anyway, thanks for this.’ He held up Elvis’s empty cup.

‘You’re both very welcome. And thanks for taking care of me the other day. It was kind of you.’

Kevin shrugged a shoulder. ‘Ditto.’ They smiled at each other. ‘Well, carpe diem.’

She figured that was her cue to leave. ‘You too.’ Seeing Kevin kept reminding her that she was only one more bad decision away from being on the streets herself, and it scared the life out of her.

Charlie was watching the door when she returned and looked relieved to see her. She sat down and picked up her drink. ‘That’ll be cold by now, let me get you a fresh one,’ he said, getting up from the table. She noted his empty cup. ‘I need another coffee anyway.’ She didn’t argue.

He returned with the drinks and a couple of muffins. She went to protest but he waved it away. ‘I was hungry. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ She picked up the cake and began eating. It tasted divine but it crumbled everywhere. She could see Charlie was amused by it. So unlike Jarvis, who would have been on level two tutting by now.

‘So,’ he said, when he’d finished eating his, ‘are you coming back to Mantra?’

She tilted her head to one side. He was one big incentive to go back, and not just because of the free muffin. He was very easy on the eye and, from what she could tell, he appeared to be totally lovely to the core. It was hard not to compare him with Jarvis. He was so much more easy-going. And he was patient. There was no way Jarvis would have waited in a café on his own like Charlie had done. Charlie was generous too, she thought, whilst she savoured her muffin. He was so much more fun than Jarvis. She liked the easy rapport they’d quickly developed.

So was she going back to Mantra? ‘Yeah, I think so. It was a bit weird but I liked it.’

‘The trick is to practise. It’s like any new skill; you need to keep doing it and you’ll get better.’

‘How long have you been doing it?’ She noticed his eyebrows twitch. It had been ages since she’d flirted, and it was like flexing a little-used muscle. She popped the last of the muffin in her mouth and mourned its end.

‘Five months. I miss a few because of shift patterns but I’m usually there most weeks.’ Now she knew where she’d be most Saturday mornings too. ‘What’s new with you?’ He looked bright with anticipation and she hated to bring down the mood.

‘Not a lot. I’ve been looking for a job but it’s tricky with no WiFi, no computer and no fixed abode.’

His expression changed to concerned. ‘You said you had somewhere to stay.’

‘Yeah, I do, but it’s a friend’s business premises. Living there is against the rules and she doesn’t know I’m doing it. It’s all a bit precarious.’ When she thought about it she got a bit panicked so she sipped her drink to try to distract herself.

‘Did you know the computers at the library are free to use?’

‘Thanks, that’s good to know.’

‘Look, Regan. I know we’ve only recently met, but if you’ll let me I’d like to help you get back on your feet. What happened to you was really …’ He looked like he was searching for the right word.

‘Shitty,’ she offered.

He laughed. ‘Exactly. What do you say? Will you let me help? No strings.’

Right now she could do with people she could trust on her side. He’d been right about the mindfulness and it couldn’t harm to have a police officer on her side. Especially one with such a long list of positive attributes. ‘Sure, why not?’