A few moments later, she shouts. ‘See you at the same time tomorrow, sweetheart! I’ve left my phone number in case you want me to pick anything up on my way in! Just give me a tinkle. Byeeeeeeeee!’
Then the front door bangs and the boat, as sturdy as it is, shudders.
I let out a long, wavering breath. ‘Bloody hell. What a whirlwind.’ I have to ring Bill and get him to cancel her. I can’t handle anyone so vibrant, so full of life, so happy.
Then I feel sorry for myself and I cry because I never know what else to do.
Chapter Five
When I’ve pulled myself together again and have dozed for a bit, I make my way back onto the main deck and curl up on the sofa in the living room with a soft blanket tucked round my knees. I’m perpetually cold, as if all the blood has stopped moving round my body.
Turning on my phone, I see that there are seventeen messages, only one of them from Bill.
I delete all the others, then call Bill back. ‘Hello, bro.’
‘You got there all right then,’ he says. ‘I was just beginning to wonder.’
‘I’d have called as soon as I got here, but I’ve been talking to Marilyn,’ I tell him. ‘Or rather she’s been talking to me.’
‘Ah. Forgot to tell you about Marilyn. She’s great, isn’t she? Chatty.’
‘Very.’ I hope he hears the disapproval in my tone. ‘I don’t need babysitting, Bill. I don’t need “chatty”. I need quiet. Preferably silence.’ I hug my knees to me. ‘I’m perfectly fine.’
‘You’re not,’ he points out. ‘Otherwise, you’d be here at work with me doing the hotel refit presentation that I’m currently putting together.’
Guilt tugs at my heartstrings. ‘Have I left you completely in the lurch?’ Bill has been so good to me that I don’t like to think of him having to take up the slack while I’m away licking my wounds.
‘Of course you have. But that’s fine. I understand and I want you to take this time to regroup. Stay there as long as you need. As soon as you’re ready to get back on your game, I’ll be waiting.’
‘You’re too good to me.’ Just talking to my brother makes me come over all teary again. ‘No other employer would put up with me running away.’
‘I’m your brother first, employer second. All I want is for you to be happy again.’
‘At the moment, I can’t see that ever happening.’
‘You never know what’s around the corner,’ Bill says. ‘Good or bad. It’s still early days.’
That’s what everyone says. That’s what I don’t want to hear any more.
‘Relax, kick back,’ Bill continues. ‘Do whatever you need to do.’
‘I love you,’ I tell him. ‘What would I do without you?’
‘Let’s never find out.’ Then he hesitates before saying, ‘Have you heard from Chris?’
‘He’s left a ton of messages, but I don’t want to speak to him.’
‘You’ll have to at some point.’
Bill’s right, as usual. ‘But not yet.’
‘He’s called me too, but I haven’t replied either.’
‘You won’t tell him where I am?’
‘Of course not. He’ll get a piece of my mind when I speak to him.’
‘Save your breath.’ Chris only hears what he wants to.
‘He is bang out of order,’ Bill says, crossly.
‘I know that, you know that,’ I placate. ‘I’m not sure Chris will have the same view.’
I hear someone else speak in the background then Bill says, ‘Sorry but I have to rush off, Jodie. Anything else I can do for you, before I go?’
‘Cancel Marilyn,’ I beg.
‘No. She’s adorable. You’ll get used to her. I want her to keep an eye on you.’
I tut at him as if we’re children again. ‘She’s not adorable. She’s annoying.’
‘Give her a chance,’ my brother pleads. ‘For me.’
Bill has always looked after me. He’s been the best big brother I could have ever had. He’s been my protector, my champion. Yet even Bill couldn’t shield me from what happened.
‘I’m not going to be necking a bottle of voddy every day,’ I assure him.
‘Good to hear.’ Then some tapping of keys in the background. ‘I don’t want to go, but I have to shoot,’ Bill says. ‘Meeting in five.’
‘What?’
‘The big eco-hotel project. First face-to-face. It’s inching forward.’
I’m glad to hear there’s some movement. We pitched to do the interior design for a fabulous new project of an eco-hotel set on the very edge of the New Forest. It looks amazing. This one has been on the back burner for a long time as securing the planning permission has been a long, drawn-out process. ‘That’s something I really want to work on.’
‘Better get your shit together pretty smartish then,’ he teases.
‘I love you,’ I say again. ‘Thanks for this.’
‘How do you like the boat? Cool, eh?’
‘It’s fabulous. Amazing taste must run in the family.’ Except for men. Bill and I both fall down on that front. I don’t think my brother has ever had a relationship for longer than a year. I had great hopes for a few of the partners that Bill’s had over the years, but as I’ve said he has very exacting standards and he’s a workaholic – neither of those make relationships easy. Now I think he’s become too used to doing his own thing. ‘You’ve done a great job.’
‘Yeah. I must get out there one day.’
‘I thought it was going to be your weekend place for the summer? Party central.’
‘That’s still my plan,’ Bill assures me. ‘But we’ll see how things go.’
What he means is that he won’t be going anywhere over the summer if I’m not back in the office by then. He’ll be working 24/7. The worst thing about this is letting Bill down. Well, it isn’t the worst thing, but you don’t know that yet and I’m in no fit state to explain it.
‘Sunny Days, though?’ I’m glad he can’t see my nose wrinkling. ‘I thought you would have chosen something more cool, more on message.’
‘That was what the previous owner called it and, apparently, it’s bad luck to change the name of a boat.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes. You have to go through all kinds of rituals if you do – a purging ceremony to appease the sea gods.’
‘Marilyn told you this, didn’t she?’
‘Of course.’ Bill laughs. ‘She knows everything. And everyone.’
Just my luck.
‘Sorry, sis. Got to run. I can see the team assembling round the table.’
The offices of WJ Design are in a trendy area of Shoreditch and are very fancy indeed – which is only fitting for a design company. The main floor is furnished with an enormous table that is industrial chic teamed with brushed steel café chairs and we have a company breakfast here every morning. The rest of the office is open plan, except Bill and I – as senior partners – have offices that are glass boxes set at angles to each other.
We’re lucky to have a great team of loyal staff and Bill will have to break the news to them that I’m not going to be around for a while. They know why – some of it, anyway – and they’ll probably all make the right sympathetic noises but, equally, they’ll more than likely be a bit pissed off that they have to pick up the extra workload. There’ll be some very late nights at the interior design coal face and it will all be my fault.
I get a stab of regret that I’m not there at the sharp end of it, but I simply can’t cope at the moment. It’s all too much. Everything’s too much.
‘We’ll speak soon,’ Bill says. ‘I’ll be checking up on you every day.’
‘I wouldn’t expect anything else.’ Then my throat tightens with emotion. ‘Thank you for letting me come here. I didn’t know what else to do.’
‘I’m glad I could oblige. Fortunately, the timing was perfect. I can’t wait to see it finished. Let me know when you feel up to it and I’ll try to come over for
the weekend. ’
‘I’d like that. You’re the only person I’m going to miss.’ That’s not strictly true. There’s my friend, Della, too. I’ll be lost without her as well. She’ll be furious when she hears that I’ve skipped town without telling her. That’s another phone call I’ll put off.
‘Well, we’ll all miss you. Hanging up now,’ Bill says. ‘Love you.’
Despite saying that I want to be alone, I miss Bill more than you can know and I’m reluctant to hang up the phone.
When he’s gone, I’m not sure what to do with myself. I go to the back of the boat and the view has changed completely. The lone paddle-boarder has taken his leave, boats have come and gone, the tide is rushing out. The sun is starting its slow descent and I stand to watch the sunset with marvel. It’s absolutely stunning. The golden glow lights up the living room and the rays spread out from the sun until they’ve tipped all of the clouds with a peach hue. Then they persist until the whole sky is ablaze with gold.
‘Oh, man,’ I say to myself. ‘That’s a sight for sore eyes.’
When the sun finally sinks below the horizon and the dusk is gathering, I realise that I haven’t eaten. The café that Marilyn recommended will probably have closed a long time ago. So I rummage in the fridge to find what she has left me. Despite me moaning to Bill, that was really very good of her. I’m grateful now that there’s a loaf and cheese as I rustle up a toastie.
I feel bad that I was off-hand with Marilyn and so I text her. Thank you for the food, very useful. Jodie.
Within seconds I get back. No problem, sweetie. Mxxxxxxx followed by a row of totally random emojis – a heart, a poodle, a snowman, two champagne glasses and a fish. Plus a dozen other things that I can’t even identify.
I take my toastie to the kitchen table and nibble on it. I have no appetite, but I do try to remember to eat regularly. I used to love my food, but everything now tastes like sawdust. I eat just to stay alive and, sometimes, I confess that there seems little point in that.
Before long, I realise that I’m sitting in the dark and put the light on in the kitchen. As I do, I note that there are lights on in the boat next door. So it is inhabited, after all. I stand to the side of the kitchen window and have a little peek over in case I can get a glimpse of anyone, but I can’t. I don’t want my neighbours to think that I’m spying on them, even though I am.
As the night begins to close in and there’s nothing but the darkness of the sea ahead of me, I take what’s left of supper and sit in front of the television, letting Celebrity Antiques Road Trip go past my eyes.
This is what I need. No conversation, no company, no stress. No past, no future, only the present. Just myself and my thoughts.
Marilyn texts me again. Four Weddings and a Funeral is on telly tonight. Best film ever. That Hugh Grant would so get it. Mxxxxxxx A frog, a Canadian flag, a man surfing, three pandas and a glass of wine.
I shake my head, totally confused. Then think: actually, the last one might not be a bad idea.
Chapter Six
I don’t sleep a wink. But then that’s nothing new. I haven’t slept in months. As advised, I stayed up until the small hours watching Four Weddings and a Funeral. What else was I to do? I’m sure Marilyn will quiz me on it. In fairness, though it’s not my usual kind of film, I enjoyed it even though I cried through most of it – even the funny bits.
Now I lie awake listening to the creaks and groans of Sunny Days as it rises and falls on its mooring posts with the incoming and outgoing tide. When the light comes in through the portholes and I can hear the gulls calling, I get up.
There are more messages on my phone – the majority from Chris – and I delete them without reading. There’s one from Della too and I promise myself to call her later. She’ll be distraught that I didn’t turn to her first before doing a runner.
The water in the en-suite shower is hot and plentiful. That, again, must be down to Marilyn as I didn’t even think to look where the controls for the hot water or heating were. The boat is warm too, so the central heating must be on.
As I’m stepping out of the shower, I hear Marilyn’s ‘Coooeeeee!’ as she bowls in and wince slightly.
Trying to put off the inevitable effort of conversation, I take my time getting dressed – noticing for the first time how loose all my clothes are on my frame – and then venture upstairs. Marilyn is already crashing about in the kitchen. Today, she’s dressed from head to toe in peacock blue – a jumpsuit with a bold, exotic print that involves jungly leaves and parrots. The only exception is towering yellow heels that match the rubber gloves she’s wearing. My eyeballs try to retreat into my head. So much colour is a shock this early in the day.
‘Morning, darling!’ She trills cheerfully and I wish she’d turn her volume down at least a notch or two. ‘Sleep well?’
‘Yes,’ I lie.
Marilyn purses her scarlet red lips. ‘An hour at best, I’d say. Look at you.’ She shakes her head in despair at my appearance. ‘You need some sea air on your ribs. And something to eat. Let me fix you a bit of breakfast. I brought some of my own jam for you to try. It’s blackberry and apple from last year’s pickings.’
‘That’s very kind of you, but I was thinking of walking down to the café you mentioned yesterday for my breakfast. It looks like a lovely day out there.’ Sun is flooding into the living area and, once again, I congratulate Bill on having done such a great job on renovating this boat. It looks beautiful bathed in sunlight.
‘It’s fresh out there,’ Marilyn warns. ‘You’ll need a big coat. The wind will cut right through you. It’s as sharp as a banana. I think it’s blowing all the way from Siberia or somewhere. It certainly feels like it. A drink before you go? The kettle’s just boiled.’
‘I’m OK, thanks.’ She’ll want to chat, find out why I’m here and I can’t face it. ‘I could do with some fresh air. I’ll get my coat.’
‘Anything in particular you want me to do while I’m here?’
‘It’s all immaculate, Marilyn,’ I tell her, glancing around. ‘Bill just wants you to babysit me.’ Check that I’m still alive. ‘Put your feet up and have a coffee. Read a magazine. Watch Judge Rinder.’
She laughs as if I’ve said something truly hilarious. ‘Go on with you. I’m sure I’ll find something to do. The sea spray plays havoc with the windows. And don’t get me started on those ruddy gulls. I love them to bits but they’re dirty things.’
I get my coat and button it up before I go out as I’m certain Marilyn would tell me off if I didn’t.
‘That’s not a coat!’ She looks at my neat single-breasted, dark grey cashmere affair with horror. ‘You’ll get draughts everywhere.’
‘It’s all I’ve got.’ Though she’s probably right. I’ve already realised that it’s more city slicker than beach stroller.
‘Scarf?’ Marilyn says. ‘Have you got a scarf?’
‘I haven’t.’
‘You’ll need one. A hat?’
I shake my head. I’m found wanting in the hat department too.
‘You’ll catch pleurisy,’ she warns.
‘It doesn’t look too bad.’ I peer out of the windows that the sea spray is supposedly playing havoc with.
She gives me a knowing look. ‘Borrow mine.’
‘I’m fine. Really. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ I head for the door.
‘You know where you’re going? You just walk along the esplanade and down the steps into the next bay. Go right the way along to the end. You can’t miss it. If you go any further, you’ll end up in the sea.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I can come and show you, if you like.’
‘I’m sure I can find it. Have a good day.’
‘Bye, lovely. You make sure you have a nice time. Give my love to Ida. They do a good crumpet. Homemade. None of your shop bought stuff. I’ll see you tomorrow. Phone me if you need me. Byeeeee!’
I step out of the boat feeling as if I’m five again. I take a deep breath as I
close the door behind me and all the talking stops. It’s a long time since anyone fussed over me and I have to admit that I’m veering between finding it really annoying and quite liking it. She’s no doubt very well intentioned, but it is like being bulldozed with love.
On the gangway, the wind nearly knocks me off my feet. Marilyn’s right, of course. I do need a more suitable coat. And a scarf. A woolly hat wouldn’t go amiss either. Gloves might be useful too. Once again, I rue that I departed my old life so woefully unprepared.
Chapter Seven
Thankfully, as I turn in the direction of the café, the wind is at my back and I get blown along rather than having to battle into it. Coming back is going to be fun, though. As the tide is in, I can’t walk round to the next cove on the sand. Instead, hands in pockets, I walk towards the esplanade along the row of moored houseboats in the harbour, all looking pretty in their pastel shades.
They’re all shapes and sizes, modern and traditional all thrown together. The one next door to Sea Breezes is enormous, painted bright white and is covered in bunting and wind spinners. The boat beyond that is a smart Dutch barge, then a big, square modern one with a Mondrian-style painting on the side. I walk along and have a good look at them all.
Then I head away from the harbour and, as Marilyn instructed, down the esplanade that runs along from Cockleshell Bay and into Sandy Cove. The sea front is old-fashioned, how seaside resorts used to be years ago. Smart Edwardian villas look out onto the sea, most of them now guest houses or holiday rentals rather than individual homes. Instead of turning up into the main street – I can explore that another time – I carry on along the promenade. There are some wrought iron benches that look in need of a fresh coat of paint after the worst of the winter and an art deco style shelter that offers some cover from the elements. At the top of the steps that descend to the beach, there’s also a worn brass steampunk statue that seems incongruous in this setting.
Sunny Days and Sea Breezes Page 3