The following day, the girls set off on a mission to North Sands to investigate the lifeguard-training rumour. If a pack of lifeguards were in the vicinity, the girls were naturally most anxious to make their acquaintance and, having taken care with their appearances, set off in good spirits from 3 Island Street. Their only distress was that Mr Collins had decided to accompany them and had been encouraged by Mr Bennet, who was finding the entertainment value of the foibles of this foolish man wearing thin. And so the party set off through town, past the children crabbing on Victoria Quay, up Fore Street, where they stopped every minute or so to dive into Cranch’s for gobstoppers, or the Salcombe Dairy for a tutti-frutti ice cream, or Joules or Crew or Musto or Jack Wills or White Stuff or Fat Face to check on the latest hoodies or to enjoy a few girly moments in Amelia’s Attic heaven, tempted by beautiful strings of freshwater pearls and life-saving little books on how to look as gorgeous as a goddess, so it took them quite a good half hour before they had even reached the Yacht Club. Mr Collins begged them to stop for a moment to admire the view and also give himself the opportunity to get his breath back. But the girls were now impatient to get on, and so with Mr Collins puffing and panting behind, they gambolled forth, passed Woodcot, a delightful home which often opened its gardens to the public and where Mr Bennet had in mind a peaceful retirement, and then down the hill again to North Sands.
Quite a sight met their eyes. The beach was strewn with young lifeguards, dressed in yellow RNLI Lifeguard T-shirts and red shorts, practising a number of exercises, from dragging one another up and down the beach to pumping inert friends on the chest.
“Oh look!” cried Kitty. “There is Denny! He said he was going on this course after dropping out of uni’… but who is that with him? He’s an absolute machine!”
“Denny! Denny!”
Kitty and Lydia rushed down to the beach, whereupon they were soon introduced to the handsome stranger.
“This,” said Denny, “is my good friend, Mr Wickham, who has recently joined up after having an equally disastrous affair at uni’ as—hey, Wickham!”
The said Wickham chose to ignore Denny’s comments and proved himself to be all wit, charm, and quite delightful to the five Bennet girls. He flexed his muscles and gave them such a detailed explanation of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation that they were left feeling quite breathless. Just as he had put them in recovery position on the sparkling sand, who should chance upon the beach but Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy. Bingley looked quite the holidaymaker in his striped Bermuda shorts, Ray-Ban sunglasses, and brightly coloured towel gaily slung over his smooth white shoulder. Darcy had on a similar outfit, but the colours were more subdued, and he retained his blue-and-white-striped cotton shirt, unbuttoned, which revealed a thatch of dark curling hairs.
“Mr Bingley!” shouted Lydia. “Do come and look! We are all in recovery.”
Bingley, delighted at chancing upon the girls, strode across with Darcy in tow. Despite the protection of wearing Tom Ford sunglasses with smoke blue lenses, Darcy had to control himself from staring at Lizzy, who was lying between Jane and Mary. His affection for her was becoming uncomfortably strong. Her bikini-clad body was almost too much, and he fought hard not to give anything of his feelings away. Bingley, he considered, was making a regular fool of himself by conversing with Jane at ground level, for her convenience, his hair flopping onto the sand. So Darcy stared steadfastly out to sea and tried to think of anything but the female form. One moment of weakness, however, allowed his gaze to fall again upon the enticing Lizzy, and in doing so, he spotted Wickham. Wickham at the same moment caught sight of Darcy, and Lizzy, observing both, could not help notice that one turned red and the other white and were barely able to acknowledge one another. Bingley, meanwhile, was regretfully bidding his farewells to Jane, as he had boat business to attend to, and called to Darcy to come along.
Lizzy was meanwhile left mystified. Wickham and Darcy had definitely recognised each other, but it was not a happy meeting. What could be the meaning of their exchange?