Petrified

After our gig at the seaside pub, we camped at the edge of the dunes. In the morning, I saw the woman who'd turned up and jammed with us walking along the sands towards the petrified forest, her guitar slung around her neck.

'Perhaps she's going to play to the seagulls,' I said. The flat sea-washed base of one of the huge stunted trees formed a natural stage. We were going up there ourselves later.

Jeff looked up from cooking breakfast. 'That would be a waste,' he said. 'She deserves a proper audience, she's so good.'

'Better than me?' I don't know why I asked such questions, but they came out anytime Jeff admired another woman for whatever reason. We'd had arguments about it. I'd told him he didn't have to be so honest. He'd said he didn't see the point of humouring me as if I was a child that needed reassurance. Today wasn't any different.

'You know how good she is,' he said flipping my egg the way I liked it. 'You're talented, but she's something else. I'd have her in the band any day.' He slid more rashers of bacon into the pan, sliced a few tomatoes. 'Want to invite her over for breakfast? I never even found out her name, last night.'

I glanced over – the woman had paused and was waving at us. Jeff, head down over the camping stove, hadn't noticed.

Something hardened inside me, a stubbornness maybe, rather than a jealousy. Why should I share him with her again today? She'd barged in without properly asking last night.

'She's too far away now,' I said, watching her walk on.

Petrified

'That's a shame.' Jeff disappeared into the tent to fetch the bag of croissants. 'We've got tons of food.'

'Maybe we'll catch up with her,' I said, deciding to linger over breakfast. I crumpled the card in my pocket, the one she'd given me last night. She had an unusual name, easy to find on the internet. Jeff would forget about her soon enough, but I could find out everything I wanted to know. If I could be bothered.