This Time Next Year(68)

‘Freezing,’ she shivered. ‘That’s my towel.’

She pulled it away from him and quickly wrapped it around herself. Quinn looked around and then picked up another blue towel from the bank a few yards away.

‘Not this one?’ he offered.

Minnie looked at the towel. It did look pretty similar to the one she’d just seized. Now she came to think about it, this one was a little fluffier than she remembered hers being.

‘Oh,’ she said with a frown. ‘Here you go,’ she tried to swap back.

Quinn laughed. ‘Um, you made mine all wet now. I’ll use your dry one, thanks.’

They looked at each other, amused smiles on both their faces. It was strange running into Quinn again now. Though they’d only met a handful of times, something in his demeanour and body language felt so familiar to Minnie, like sinking into a favourite armchair.

‘So is this a normal Sunday morning activity for you – stealing people’s towels from Hampstead Ponds?’ Quinn asked.

Minnie started towel-drying her hair. ‘No, I just come here to get my fix of hot naked men.’ She nodded towards a man in his seventies with a large belly just emerging from the water in tight brown Speedos. ‘Phwoar.’

Quinn laughed. He opened his mouth to speak and then paused. Finally he spoke.

‘Have you got plans now? I know you’ve turned me down for breakfast in the past.’ Quinn started towel-drying his own hair with Minnie’s towel, and Minnie couldn’t help glancing again at his bare chest and his skintight black swim shorts. She wrapped his towel back around her own body self-consciously.

‘I could do breakfast. Or at least coffee until your next Tinder date turns up.’ Minnie raised her eyebrows at him, brushing a hand through her wet hair. Quinn pushed a tongue into his cheek, his pupils flushed wide. Minnie wondered whether it was the thrill of an early morning swim, or if he enjoyed being teased by her.

‘My mum used to bring me up here when I was little,’ Quinn said, as they walked side by side back through the park after retrieving their clothes. ‘I would sit on the bank reading while she swam.’

‘I find places like this so packed with memories. Visiting them can be like opening a memory jar. You take off the lid and the smells and sounds of a place hit you, unlocking things folded away deep in your brain,’ Minnie said, swinging her towel as she walked. Quinn didn’t respond and she looked over at him. ‘Sorry, that sounded pretentious,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘No,’ Quinn was watching her with an unblinking gaze, ‘that’s exactly how I feel coming here – it’s a memory jar.’

They walked a little further in silence, their footsteps falling into rhythm.

‘You know, for someone so uncompromising in their business vision, you have a lot of self-doubt,’ Quinn said.

Minnie looked at him sideways without turning her head.

‘You said something beautifully evocative, then undercut yourself saying it was pretentious. I’ve noticed you do that.’

‘Don’t try to analyse me, Dr Hamilton.’

Minnie gave him a friendly frown and flicked her wet towel in his direction. She only meant to tap him, but her wrist got it exactly right and the towel landed a resounding smack on Quinn’s behind. He let out a yelp, clutching his bottom.

‘Oh god, sorry, I didn’t mean to do that so hard!’ Minnie laughed, covering her mouth with her hand and clutching her stomach with the other.

‘My god, woman, remind me to never really piss you off,’ said Quinn, putting on an exaggerated limp as he clutched his wounded buttock.

Minnie got the giggles and had to stop walking.

‘Seriously, I’ve never done a successful towel whip in my life. I don’t know how that landed so hard.’

‘Let’s hope you didn’t leave a permanent mark,’ he said wryly, peering down the back of his trousers. ‘Or my days of bottom modelling are over.’

They walked down towards Hampstead Heath railway station. A mobile food van was parked next to the car park, selling breakfast baps and instant coffee in small polystyrene cups.

‘Oh, shall we just get something from here?’ Minnie suggested. ‘Then we can sit on the heath.’

Quinn looked at the van then turned to look down at the row of smart coffee shops by the station. ‘Unless you wanted something a bit fancier?’ Minnie asked, following his gaze.

‘This is perfect,’ said Quinn.

‘Hi Barney,’ said Minnie to the burley bearded man who ran the van. ‘How are things?’

‘I’m good, Minnie – how was your swim?’

‘Bracing,’ said Minnie. ‘We’d like two bacon rolls and your best cup of something hot please.’

They walked back up to the top of the heath with their breakfast.

‘So, how’s business going?’ asked Quinn.

‘Well, we closed,’ said Minnie. Quinn frowned.

‘That’s a shame.’

‘It got too hard walking a financial tightrope all the time. Let’s not talk about work, you’ll probably start trying to charge me by the hour for your insights again.’

Quinn laughed.

‘How was your date at the art gallery?’ Minnie asked. ‘What was her name? Amanda?’ She said it as though struggling to remember.