by Jojo Moyes
I got out of the car, and turned to the road as I heard a familiar whine. Greg's pick-up skidded into the driveway then shuddered to a halt, his bumper a few inches from mine, buoys and fishing nets colliding noisily with the back of the cab.
He climbed out, pulling the brim of his cap over his eyes. 'I heard the news about the little one. Unbelievable. Unbelievable.'
'News travels fast,' I said. But it was a platitude - Hannah had run to the jetty the previous evening, to tell every one of the whalechasers individually. They didn't know the full circumstances, but they knew Liza had had a daughter in England who was to be returned to her, and they were astute enough not to look beyond what they had been told. Not obviously, anyway.
'Arriving tomorrow night, is she?'
I nodded. He pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. 'Good on you, mate. I can't pretend I like you but, strewth, I can't argue with someone who brings children back from the dead, eh?'
He took a deep drag of his cigarette. We both stared for a minute at Whale Jetty, where only Greg's boat remained.
'Thanks,' I said, finally.
'Yeah. Well.'
Behind us, in the hotel, a telephone rang. Probably some future guest. It would not be Monica - she had been in the air for several hours. Kathleen had offered to put her up for as long as she wanted to stay. It was the least she could do, she said, beaming, and I felt suddenly envious of my sister. Tomorrow night she would be sleeping in what I now thought of as my room. Silver Bay was about to be consigned to memory. A strange little period in my life that I would look back on wistfully; a series of what-ifs that I would not allow myself to consider too closely.
Thinking about my sister made me remember my cases, and I went inside to fetch them. When I carried them out, Greg was still leaning against his pick-up. He looked down at my luggage, then up at me. 'Going somewhere?'
'London,' I said, swinging them into my open boot. I closed it with a thud.
'London, England?'
I didn't bother to respond.
'Staying long?'
I wanted to lie to him - but what would have been the point? He would know soon enough. 'Yes.'
A slight pause, a few calculations. 'Not coming back?'
'No.'
His face actually lit up. He was as transparent as a child. 'Not coming back. Well, now, that's a shame. For you, I mean.'
I heard him take another drag on his cigarette, heard the smile in his voice when he said, 'I always thought you were an odd one, mate, and now I know I'm right.'
'Quite the psychologist,' I said, jaw tightening. I wished he would get lost.
'Leaving us all, eh? I'm sure you've made the right decision. Best to stick where you fit in, eh? And I'm sure Liza will get over it. She'll be a different character now, I reckon. A whole lot happier. And, well, you don't need to worry at all - I'll make sure she has enough . . . attention.'
He raised an eyebrow at me, delight written all over his face. If it hadn't been that Hannah might be watching us I would have punched his stupid face in. I knew he half wanted it. He'd been spoiling for a fight with me for weeks. 'If I remember rightly, Greg,' I said quietly, 'it wasn't you she was interested in.'
He took a last drag of his cigarette and spat it into the dust. 'Aw, mate,' he said, 'Liza and I go back a long way. I'm a big guy. As far as I'm concerned, you were just a distraction.' He held his finger and thumb about a centimetre apart. 'A little blip on the old radar.'
For a moment, the gloves were off. It was as well that Kathleen emerged from the house. 'Mike!' she called, her voice indignant. 'What are you doing with your cases? I thought you weren't going till tomorrow?'
I tore my gaze from Greg and went towards her. 'I'm - waiting for a call. Then I think I'll head off.'
She stared at me. Then at Greg.
'Don't look at me,' said Greg, grinning. 'I've done me best to tell him just how much he's wanted.'
'You want to come in for a minute?' she asked me.
'Don't mind me.' Greg shrugged.
'Never have yet.'
I followed her into the front room.
'You can't leave now,' she said, her hands on her hips. 'You won't see Letty. You haven't said goodbye to anyone. Hell, I was going to do you a little party tonight.'
'That's really kind of you, Kathleen, but I think it's best if I go.'
'You not even going to hang on till Liza gets back? Say goodbye to her?'
'Best not.'
She stared at me, and I wasn't sure whether it was sympathy or frustration in her face. 'You really can't hang on? Just till after lunch?'
I tried to think clearly over the sound of Hannah's boombox, which was pumping out disco music upstairs, my heart still thumping with thwarted adrenaline. I could hear her singing, her reedy little voice breathless and faintly out of tune. I stepped forward and held out a hand. 'Thanks for everything, Kathleen,' I said. 'If any calls come here for me this afternoon will you give them my mobile number? I'll call you as soon as I know for certain about the development.'
She looked at my hand, then up at my face. I found it difficult to meet her eye. Then she hugged me, her old arms surprisingly strong as they held me to her. 'You call me,' she said, into my shoulder. 'You don't get to disappear just like that. Doesn't have to be about the ruddy development. You call me.'
I walked out of the room, out of the hotel and into my car before the pain in her voice could change my mind.
I had to drive slowly down the coast road, not because its surface was potholed and uneven but because there seemed to be something in both of my eyes and I couldn't see straight. When I got to Whale Jetty I stopped to wipe them, and found myself hoping against hope that I might see Ishmael coming round the head and into the bay, that I might, one last time, see the thin figure, the hair blowing under the cap and the dog, steering in. Just one little glance, before my life continued its own separate course on the other side of the world.
But there was only the glinting water, the strings of buoys that marked out the boating channels and, on the far side, the hillsides of pines stretching up to the blue sky.
I couldn't think about what she would say when she returned to find me gone. I hadn't even been able to write her a letter: telling her what I felt would have meant telling her the truth, and I couldn't do that. You've done the right thing, I told myself, heading back on to the coast road. For once in your life, you've done a good thing.
I had done the right thing so seldom that I didn't know whether the terrible sense of dread I felt was the right emotion to go with it.
I had been on the highway for almost twenty minutes when my mobile rang. I pulled on to the hard shoulder and rummaged in my jacket pocket.
'Mike? Paul Reilly. This is a courtesy call, really. I thought you should be the first to know that the development isn't going ahead.'
She'd done it. I let out a long sigh, not sure whether it was with relief that Vanessa had done as she'd said, or resignation that I had to keep my side of the bargain.
'Well,' I said, as a truck rumbled past, making the car tremble, 'I know we differ on this, but I'm glad. Bundaberg really is the better option.'
'Can't see it myself. I thought that development would have been a real asset to this area.'
'You've got something rare here, Mr Reilly,' I said. 'At some point you and the other half of Silver Bay will realise that.'
'Pretty unusual for someone to pull the plug so late in the day. I mean, they were after putting the foundations down this week.' His voice lifted in resignation. 'But you can't argue with the money men.'
'Beaker will have done their research,' I said. 'If they thought Bundaberg had the better margins, then--'
'Beaker? It wasn't Beaker.'
'Sorry - what did you say?' The cars and trucks kept roaring past, sporadically drowning his words.
'It was the venture capitalists. The finance. They pulled the plug unless the site was changed.'
'I don't
understand.'
'They got antsy about the shark, apparently. They heard about all the newspaper reports and warnings not to let people in the water and took fright.' He sighed. 'I guess from their point of view it's going to be pretty hard to sell watersports holidays to people if they think there are sharks but, really, I think they got it all out of proportion.'
He sounded pretty disappointed.
'Seems British people hear the word ''shark'' and all reason goes out the window,' he added.
Why would Vanessa go to Vallance first? I wondered.
'You've surprised me, Mr Reilly,' I said, my mind working. 'Thanks for the call. But if you'll excuse me, I need to speak to someone.'
I sat for a moment, barely noticing the traffic that hurtled past. Then I reached into my briefcase for my laptop, realising too late that it wasn't there. I stared at my bags, then wrenched the car back on to the highway and accelerated hard to the next exit.
'Dennis?'
'Michael? I wondered how long it would be before you rang, you old bastard. Rung to gloat, have you?' He sounded well lubricated - it would be almost eleven at night there and, knowing Dennis, he would have had a few. Or a few more than a few.
'You know that's not my style.' I was driving while I was talking, and had to wedge my phone between ear and shoulder as I negotiated the roundabout back into Silver Bay. As I headed towards the hotel, the car bounced over the potholes and I wondered absently how much I'd have to pay the rental company for busted suspension.
'No - I forgot you'd turned into Mother bloody Teresa. What do you want? Calling to beg for your old job back?'
I ignored him. 'So where's it going?'
'Little town just outside Bundaberg.' I heard him take a drink of something. 'Be even better. VCs are happy, local council is a hundred per cent behind us. We're using the same model. Heaps better tax breaks. To be honest, you did us a favour.'
There was nobody outside the hotel. I walked through the front door, down the hallway and into the deserted lounge, my phone pressed to my ear, and made for my laptop. It was still where I'd left it. Upstairs, Hannah's music was still blaring. I doubted she'd noticed I'd gone.
'I did you a favour?'
'Freaking the VCs out, your lobbyist bombarding them with shark tales.'
'My lobbyist?'
This was weird.
'Dennis - I--'
'What did you do? Hire some professional crusty from Greenpeace?' He dropped his voice. 'Between you and me, I have to admit you did a good job, sending all those newspaper reports about sharks. I was pissed off at first - we had to work four days and nights straight through just to keep the deal on track and Vallance on board - but, now I think about it, we wouldn't have made any money in shark-infested waters. Much better off up the coast. So, who was it? More importantly, how much did you pay them? I know professional agitators don't come cheap.'
He hadn't mentioned Vanessa. While he was talking I'd opened my computer. I glanced down the record of emails sent, trying to work out what had happened.
'So, what's your next move, Mike?' he was saying. 'Going to do this professionally? You know, I made good on my promise. No one will touch you in the City.'
I sorted my outbox into recipients and found the emails that had been sent to Vallance. I opened one, noted the scanned newspaper attachments, and began to read.
'That said, boyo, if you're desperate for a job, I might be able to find a small opening. To do you a favour. Nothing like the same salary, you understand.'
'Dear Sir,' it began. 'I am writing to let you know of the risk of shark attack at the new Silver Bay develupment . . .'
I did a double-take, read on. And as I read I began to laugh.
'Mike?'
She had done what I had failed to do. She had done what I had thought was impossible.
'Mike?'
The music was louder. I heard the singing and, just for fun, I held the phone up to it.
'Mike?' he said again, when I put the phone back to my ear. 'What the hell is that noise?'
'That, Dennis,' I said, 'is your professional agitator, your overpriced lobbyist, your reverser of multi-million-pound developments. Can you hear it?'
'What?' he was saying. 'What are you going on about?'
'That,' I said, laughing again, 'is an eleven-year-old girl.'
I had one more call to make and walked outside as I wanted to be assured of privacy. I stood for a moment before I dialled, breathing in the undisturbed scents that had been there for half a century, and would now remain, if lucky, for half a century more. But I didn't feel any sense of peace. Not yet.
'So, you did it, then,' I said.
She caught her breath, as if she had half expected it to be someone else. 'Mike,' she said. 'Yes. You heard. I told you I would.'
'You certainly did.'
'Oh, you know I always get what I want.' She laughed, then began to talk about the apartment, how she had booked a table for the night of my return at a restaurant that it was near-impossible for mere mortals to enter. Her voice was light. She always spoke a little too fast when she was excited. 'I've pulled a few strings, and we're eating at eight thirty. That should give you plenty of time for some sleep and a shower.'
'How?'
'How did I get a table? Oh, you've just got to know the right--'
'How did you persuade your dad to turn everything round?'
'Oh, you know Dad. I can twist him round my little finger. Always could. So, are you still on the Qantas flight? I've taken time off to meet you. I think I've got the number written down.'
'Must have been hard, though - him having convinced Vallance to go so far down the line.'
'Well, I just . . .' She sounded vaguely irritated. 'I went over the reasons you and I had discussed and by the end of it he saw sense. He listens to me, Mike, and we had the alternatives ready, as you know.'
'How did Vallance take it?'
'Fine - look, can we talk about your flight?'
'No point.'
'Don't you want picking up? I was going to bring you a surprise, but I can't resist telling you. It's the new Mazda two-seater. The one you ordered - I managed to get it off the dealers at the original price. You're going to love it.'
'I'm not coming, Ness.'
I heard a sharp intake of breath.
'What?'
'How long had you known when you rang me? I just checked the emails that went to Vallance from our end, and I guess you must have known for, oh, two or three days at least that the development was to be shifted.'
She said nothing.
'So, you thought, I'll capitalise on this little opportunity and make myself out to be the great saviour. Earn Mike's undying gratitude.'
'It wasn't like that.'
'Did you think I wouldn't find out that it wasn't down to you? Do you think I'm stupid?'
There was a long silence.
'I thought . . . by the time you found out we'd be happy and it wouldn't matter any more.'
'Our whole relationship would have been based on a lie.'
'Oh, you're a fine one to talk about lies. You and Tina. You and that bloody development.'
'You would have let me come all the way back, uproot my whole life, on a--'
'On a what? Uproot your whole life? Oh, don't make yourself out to be some great victim, Mike Dormer. You're the one who did me a wrong, if you remember.'
'Which is why I'm not coming back.'
'You know what? I didn't even know if I really wanted you back. I would have let you come back and chucked you out on your ear. You're worthless, Mike, a lying, worthless piece of nothing.' She was raging now, the discovery of her duplicity having sent her over the edge. 'I'm glad you know. I'm glad you found out. You saved me a bloody journey to the airport. And, frankly, I wouldn't touch you again if--'
'Good luck, Vanessa,' I said icily, as her voice rose another octave. 'All the best for the future.'
My ears were ringing when I flipped my phone shut.
I stared at the little phone in my hand, then hurled it as hard as I could into the sea. It landed with a half-hearted splash thirty feet out. I watched the sea close over it, and felt such extreme emotion erupting inside me that it was all I could do not to roar.
'God!' I shouted, wanting to punch something. Wanting to turn cartwheels. 'God!'
'I'm not sure he'll hear you,' came a male voice from behind me. I spun round to see Kathleen and Mr Gaines sitting at the end of the whalechasers' table. He was wearing a blue fleece and his bush hat, and they were watching me calmly.
'That was a very nice phone, you know,' Kathleen told him. 'This generation is so wasteful. They're all the same.'
'Emotional too. We didn't do all that yelling in my day,' said Mr Gaines.
'I blame the hormones,' said Kathleen. 'I think they put them in the water.'
I took a step towards them. 'My room,' I said, trying to slow my breathing. 'Any chance . . . any chance I can keep it a little longer?'
'Reckon you'll have to check your books, Kate,' Mr Gaines said, leaning in to her.
'I'll see if it's still available. We'll be getting busier now . . . now that we're the only hotel in the bay. I'm not normally a stickybeak,' she added, 'but you were yelling some.'
I stood there, my heart-rate slowing, grateful for the two gently mocking old people before me, and for the sun, the benign glinting blue of the bay, the prospect of creatures dancing joyfully unseen below the water. For the thought of a carefree young woman in a battered old cap out somewhere chasing whales.
Kathleen motioned to me to sit down and pushed a beer towards me.
I took my first delicious gulp. I loved this beer, I thought, as I lowered the cold bottle from my lips. I loved this hotel, this little bay. I loved the prospect of my future life, which was unfolding before me, with its reduced income, its cranky teenagers, bad-tempered dog and houseful of difficult women. I was unable quite to grasp the magnitude of what had happened.
Kathleen caught it. 'You know,' she said, after a few minutes, lifting a crepy hand to her forehead, 'all sorts of people are pro-shark these days. They'll tell you that sharks are misunderstood. That they're the product of their environment.' She curled a lip. 'I say a shark is a shark. Never yet met one that wanted to be my friend.'
'That'd be right.' Mr Gaines nodded in approval.
I leant back in my seat and the three of us sat in silence for a while. Down the coast I could see the building site with the glossy boards, which would soon be redundant. I could hear the music upstairs in Hannah's room, the roar of a distant motorboat, the dull, conspiratorial whispering of the pines. I would stay here for as long as they would have me. The thought filled me with the closest thing to contentment I have yet known.