‘And here I was thinking that Germany was all beer and bratwurst.’
‘Do not worry,’ he countered. ‘We have a lot of those as well.’
The atmosphere in Hamburg was different from that of Lisbon – which Pepper had adored for its artistic and romantic soul – but it was no less easy to love. She was enthralled by the metal palm tree structures casting irregular shadows in Park Fiction, and found her eye drawn again and again to the glittering sweep of the Elbe River that lay beyond it. The Portuguese city’s winding alleyways had been fun, yet challenging, to navigate, while everything here was laid out in a straightforward way that made exploring on foot a breeze. When they eventually began to tire, Finn took her to StrandPauli, a beach-style bar on the river, where the two of them drank rotund bottles of Astra beer and crunched their bare toes through the sand underfoot.
‘Happy?’ he asked, and Pepper grinned.
‘Very.’
‘I am afraid that Hamburg is not as beautiful as Lisbon,’ he said, almost apologetically, but Pepper shook her head.
‘I was just thinking the opposite,’ she said. ‘Because it is – just in different ways. Besides, variety is such an important thing. Imagine if every place looked exactly the same, and every person – that would be beyond dull. Then again,’ she added. ‘If every person looked like you, it would be no bad thing. I think I could get used to that.’
‘Oof!’ Finn exclaimed. ‘But then, how would you know me?’
Pepper poked him with her big toe.
‘I would know.’
‘Danke,’ he said then. ‘For this weekend – for coming all this way.’
‘Oh, well, thanks for letting me. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever invited myself anywhere. It’s mad. A few weeks ago, I had never even been on a plane, and now look at me. I don’t recognise myself.’
She took a swig of beer to mask her blushes.
‘I like this new Pepper,’ he said. ‘I have thought about you a lot. About the way we met, and then met again for a second time, and a third. This kind of thing does not happen often.’
‘True,’ she agreed, watching a bead of condensation trickle down the outside of her bottle. She wanted to say that it felt like fate, that she had asked the universe to show her an unequivocal sign that Finn was The One, and it had – but something stopped her.
‘I have thought about you a lot, too,’ she said instead. ‘You are very distracting.’
‘Good!’ he declared, his standard grin back in place. ‘It is funny, because I was not trying to meet anyone. I had decided that I must focus on the website this summer, but then – poof! – there you were. And I could not let you walk away.’
‘Although you did – at least at first,’ she reminded him. ‘We have the rain to thank really.’ Pepper drank some more beer and settled herself against the canvas back of the deckchair.
‘If it wasn’t for all that Lisbon rain, I wouldn’t know what egg in a glass is.’
Finn raised his bottle in a toast.
‘That,’ he said, ‘would definitely have been a tragedy.’
Pepper clanked her bottle against his and stretched out her legs. A DJ had set himself up in a booth above the bar, and people were beginning to get up and dance. It was a world away from Aldeburgh, with its cosy tea shops and proper British pubs. What would Finn make of it, she wondered? That was if he ever visited. Pepper liked the idea of spending more time with him, of course she did, but the thought of him in her hometown was oddly troubling. She supposed it was because there were things she had yet to tell him about her life, about those shadowy moments from her past that she was still struggling to come to terms with, even now, so long after Bethan had died. And then there was her art, which she knew Finn admired. How could she explain to a man as confident as he that she simply wasn’t good enough – that nothing she did had felt good enough for a very long time?
‘Another?’ Finn was holding up his empty bottle of Astra, and Pepper realised she must have drifted off for a moment, swept out as she so often was by the rip current of her emotions.
‘My turn,’ she told him, getting to her feet as gracefully as anyone can be expected to when they’re sitting in a deckchair. She had just wriggled her feet back into her shoes when Finn grasped her hand, drawing her down until her nose was level with his and cupping her face in his hands. When he kissed her, Pepper’s knees began to tremble, and she had no choice but to collapse into his lap, her eyes closing as his hands moved into her hair. She kissed him back until her breath became ragged, not caring who saw them or what anyone might be thinking.
Pepper had thought she was destined to stand on the shoreline of her own life forever, trapped by the tides of fear and of loss. Now, however, there was a boat on the horizon.
And inside that boat was Finn.
Chapter 23
Their two beers soon became four, then six, then eight, the last tipping Pepper over into that wobbly stage of drunkenness where everything feels soft-edged and a bit silly. Finn, who was demonstrably less tiddly than she was, kept patting her hand and asking her if she was OK.
‘Fine!’ she told him, sticking out her tongue, then laughing when he pretended to look shocked.
‘Sorry,’ she said happily. ‘I’m not very ladylike, am I?’
Finn gave her a look that made Pepper feel as if all her clothes had fallen off.
‘You are very much a lady,’ he assured her. ‘A perfect lady.’
His use of the word ‘perfect’ made her feel slightly uneasy all of a sudden, and she glanced away, concentrating on the dregs in her bottle rather than him.
‘You do not like compliments,’ he stated.
‘No. I mean, I do. I just . . . I guess I struggle to believe them, that’s all.’
Finn reached for his beer.
‘Why?’ he asked, and he sounded genuinely interested. Not fed up with her, or judgemental, simply intrigued.
‘Because I’m not perfect,’ she said.
‘Ah.’ Finn narrowed his eyes. Pepper could not tell whether he was confused or amused. Then he said, ‘So, tell me – what do you think is wrong with you?’
Was he seriously asking her to list all her faults?
‘Er . . .’ she began, feeling stupid. ‘Well, first of all, I dress like a mad clown most of the time.’
‘I love the way you dress,’ he said. ‘Next.’
‘My chin is massive – from the side it looks like a foot.’
Finn bellowed with laughter.
‘Lächerlich!’ he chorused. ‘Ridiculous.’
‘I am also a really bad dancer,’ she added. ‘And an even worse singer.’
Finn grinned.
‘So?’ he said. ‘I am the same.’
‘But you’re good at everything!’ she said challengingly.
‘Nein,’ he said gently. ‘Nobody can be good at everything.’
‘I bet you’re a better singer than me,’ she continued. ‘We should have a sing-off!’
Finn laughed hard at that, but Pepper had begun bouncing up and down on her deckchair.
‘Let’s do it!’ she urged him. ‘There must be a karaoke bar somewhere around here?’