The hot water helps to soothe me and all of the anger I previously felt has gone. Even my sadness has faded away and in its place there’s a burgeoning sense of purpose. While I’m drying myself, I finish the glass of red. I get dressed in nice, warm clothes – a soft sweatshirt, my favourite jeans, cashmere socks – and, by the time I’m done, I feel almost human again. I deal with my wet coat and shoes then make myself a much-needed sandwich. I missed breakfast and lunch, but now my appetite has returned with a vengeance. When I’ve eaten it, I walk over to Ned’s sculpture by the window and pick it up. As I always do when I hold it, I feel a sense of calm come over me. I know what I need to do and where I need to be.
Not long afterwards, I hear Chris’s keys in the lock and, instead of dreading him coming home, I feel positive for the first time in a long time. I put the sculpture down and wait in the living room for him to come in.
When he does, he looks at me, face drawn. ‘I can explain,’ he says.
‘No need,’ I tell him, sadly. ‘We’ve both been out of this relationship for a long time, we just didn’t realise it.’
‘Della doesn’t mean anything to me.’
‘That makes it even worse, Chris. I hoped that you were in love with her. I think she loves you. In her own way.’
‘She offered me some fun when our life was so bleak. You were so consumed by grief that I couldn’t reach you.’
‘I don’t blame you.’ I feel so calm that it’s like someone else is having this conversation, not me. ‘But we’d lost a child. I couldn’t simply turn on being happy again. I just wish it hadn’t been my best friend. I’ll miss her.’
‘She’s very upset with you,’ my husband says. ‘Her phone is beyond repair. All her photos were on it.’
‘I saw some of them,’ I point out. ‘I wish I hadn’t.’
He has the good grace to redden. ‘Someone took her knickers off the street and her Prada bag. She thought that was quite spiteful of you.’
I laugh when I probably shouldn’t. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m sure she’ll get over it. I think she should count herself lucky that’s all I did. I would have quite liked to throw her out of the window, too.’
‘I’ll end it with her. If that’s what you want.’ His face is lined with worry. ‘Right away. I’ll call her and tell her now.’
‘She hasn’t got a phone,’ I remind him.
‘Oh.’
‘Besides, you’ll need her. I’m going to pack a bag and leave. If you want to stay in the flat, we can organise for you to buy me out.’
He looks horrified. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I don’t think that I need to spell it out. I’m saying it’s over, Chris.’
‘We should talk,’ he says. ‘Properly, I mean. Have counselling. Move somewhere else? I’ll do whatever you want to do.’
‘Make a go of it with Della,’ I say, wearily. ‘That’s what I want you to do.’
‘Don’t go, Jodie. You’re being hasty. We have so much to lose. I thought we were getting along fine since you came back from the Isle of Wight.’
‘We weren’t,’ I say. ‘We tried, but not hard enough.’ I don’t remind him that all the time he continued to have an affair with my best friend or that I had someone else constantly on my mind.
‘You’re not thinking straight.’
‘On the contrary, I’m thinking straight for the first time in a long while.’
‘What are your plans then?’ Chris’s expression darkens. ‘Are you going back there to be with him? I’m not blind either, Jodie.’
‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘But either way, it’s over for us.’
Then I go to the bedroom and pull my case out of the wardrobe once more.
Chapter Eighty-Five
I get an Uber and text Bill that I’m on the way to his place. Chris calls me three times while I’m in the car. I ignore them all and, eventually, my phone falls silent.
When I get to my brother’s place, he takes one look at me and says, ‘I can’t have you sad again,’ and immediately opens a bottle of Champagne. ‘This is to celebrate us winning the eco-hotel contract and to drown our sorrows at the demise of your marriage.’
I take the glass he pours for me, gratefully. ‘I already have a base layer of red wine.’
‘Never a bad thing.’ Bill clinks his glass against mine. ‘To the future. Whatever it may bring.’
‘To the future,’ I echo.
‘So?’ Bill leans against his kitchen cupboards and swigs his fizz. ‘How did Chris take it?’
‘He acted as if he was shocked.’ I shrug. ‘He says he doesn’t love Della, that he wants me to stay. Honestly, I don’t think he knows what he wants.’
‘But you do?’
I nod. ‘Let me get rid of this.’ I glance at my suitcase standing forlornly in the hall. ‘Then we can talk.’
‘Food? I can order something in.’
‘Chinese?’ I say even though I’ve not got much of an appetite. ‘Just a few picky bits for me. I had a sandwich a little while ago, so not much.’
As I head to stow my bag in Bill’s spare room, my brother picks up his iPad to order dinner.
A short while later we settle on Bill’s oversize couch, cartons of Chinese food spread out over the coffee table. Bill seems to have ordered most of the menu. I’m glad I didn’t say I was hungry. While we pick at the various dishes, I tell him of my plans. ‘If it’s OK with you, I’d like to spend the summer at the houseboat. Maybe longer if things work out.’
Bill looks pained.
In all honesty, I’d like it to be permanent, but that seems to be getting ahead of myself. Maybe I won’t be welcome there.
‘This time I’ll work, though.’ I still have to earn a living. ‘I know you’d prefer me to stay here, but I can work remotely,’ I promise. ‘You’ve still got one spare room empty. I could set myself up in there. You’ll hardly notice the difference.’
‘I like having you around the office.’
‘There’s Skype,’ I offer. ‘We can talk every day. Ten times a day, if necessary. And I can come back frequently if you need me for meetings or if you just want to check I’m still alive. I’ll be a couple of hours away. That’s nothing, these days. You could even come to visit me.’
He rubs at his beard. ‘This is going to be a busy time. One of us will need to be down in the New Forest on a regular basis.’
‘I can do that. I’ll be even nearer to the hotel from the Isle of Wight. We can manage somehow. If we’re both willing.’
Bill gives a resigned sigh. ‘What does your boyfriend think about this?’
‘He’s not my boyfriend.’ I risk a smile. ‘Not yet. I’m doing this for me. Last time I saw Ned, he was furious with me. I’m not even sure it’s on the cards for us to get together.’
‘You’ve not spoken to him?’
I shake my head. ‘I’ve tried messaging him, but nothing back yet.’
‘If you want him to quote for work on the hotel project, we need to get hold of him soon.’
‘I know.’ But what I don’t know is why Ned is avoiding me so determinedly. I’ve messaged that it’s about work. If nothing else, this contract could be worth a lot of money to him. Perhaps he just thinks it’s a ruse to get him to speak to me.
‘When do you want to go?’
‘Tomorrow?’ I venture. ‘There’s nothing to hold me here but you.’
‘So soon? There’s no point me trying to convince you otherwise?’
I snuggle against him. ‘Not really.’
‘You know you can be a fucking pain in the arse,’ Bill complains.
I smile. ‘But you love me anyway.’
He slips his arm round my shoulder and I lay my head against him. ‘I do,’ he agrees. ‘And all I want is to see you happy. If that means you moving to the Isle of Wight, then so be it.’
‘Thanks, Bill.’ I daren’t even look at him when I ask, ‘Have you got any meetings in the morning?’
‘Yes,’ he huff
s. ‘But I can cancel them. I suppose you want me to drive you to the ferry too?’
‘That would be lovely of you.’ I might sound bold and determined, but I’d definitely like my brother to hold my hand.
Bill shakes his head. ‘You’ve always liked your cake with a cherry on the top.’
Then we both laugh and hold each other tightly.
Chapter Eighty-Six
My darling brother drives me to the ferry port in Southampton and I buy a ticket as a foot passenger, once again choosing the Red Funnel to savour the journey.
We hug each other. ‘Phone me the minute you get there,’ he says.
‘Thanks, Bill.’ I squeeze him harder. ‘For everything.’
‘Go.’ He wafts his hand towards the ferry. ‘I don’t want you to miss it.’
‘I’ll be back before you know.’
‘Tell this guy that his gain is my loss.’
‘I will.’ If I get the chance.
‘I can’t watch you sail away,’ Bill says. ‘I’ll blub my eyeballs out.’
‘It’s not goodbye,’ I assure him. ‘I’m a couple of hours away. I’ll see you very soon.’
Bill’s eyes fill with tears and, of course, mine do the same. ‘Go on. Go.’
Then, before I change my mind, I leave him and head to the ferry, turning to wave to Bill as I go. It hurts my heart to be leaving my brother again so soon, but I know it’s the right thing to do. At least, I hope it is.
This time, I stand at the rail on the ferry with a lighter spirit and hope in my heart. The sun is high in the bright blue sky, the clouds are like fluffy pillows. I lift my face to enjoy its soothing rays. As we leave Southampton, a plethora of colourful little boats bob along beside us and two crazy jet-skiers bounce in the wake from the ferry, twisting and turning their machines with exuberance. The day couldn’t be more different than the last time I was heading away from the mainland. There’s even a different mood on the boat too. I’m surrounded by crowds of holidaymakers, dressed in bright clothes and sunglasses. Children play on the deck, their shouts like music on the wind. I watch families enjoying themselves and, instead of experiencing the usual sickness in my stomach, I smile broadly at them. I feel as if I’m running towards something rather than running away.
An hour later, as we sail into the bustling harbour at Cowes, it seems as if the island is wrapping its arms around me. I can’t wait to get off the ferry and head back to Cockleshell Bay. There’s a warmth that spreads through me when I think of Ned and I hope that we can, if nothing else, resume our friendship.
Of course, I’m looking forward to seeing Marilyn and George too. I texted Marilyn this morning to tell her I was coming back and received three lines of emojis in return – everything ranging from a bunch of flowers to an octopus and an ice-cream. I take it from that she was excited.
When I disembark, I grab a taxi and we bounce across the island to Cockleshell Bay. If I’m going to stay here long-term then I should buy a little car so that I can explore more and use it when I need to go to the mainland. I can drive, it’s just that I never really need to in London, but it would be nice to take it up again. I get a knot of nervous anticipation the closer we get to the harbour. I’m sure I’m doing the right thing, but what if I’m not? What if it’s all a terrible mistake?
We come over the crest of the hill and, ahead of me, I can see the blue, blue ocean sparkling for all it’s worth. It’s all I can do not to urge the taxi driver to put his foot down and speed towards our destination. Yet, soon enough, we’re pulling up at Bill’s houseboat. I pay him and take my case. Anxiously, I glance over at Ned’s place, but I can’t see him around.
When I let myself into Sunny Days, I sigh with relief. I’m here and that’s all that matters. There’s a sense of home-coming which feels good. The first thing I do is open the doors and go out onto the rear deck to drink in the view of the colourful harbour and, in the background, the reliable solidity of the imposing fort. I breathe in the fresh, salty sea air and, instantly, it seems to cleanse my body of the toxins of London.
Come what may, I can be happy here. I know it.
Chapter Eighty-Seven
I take my time to unpack my stuff to settle my nerves. Then I go and carefully place Ned’s sculpture on the bookcase. ‘This is our new home,’ I say. ‘I hope you like it.’
Then I brace myself to go round to Ned’s and explain myself to him. I’m excited and nervous about seeing him. But when I go to the door of his boat, I can see that there’s no one at home and a little of my excitement at being back dissipates. I won’t feel entirely comfortable until Ned and I have cleared the air.
So, plan B is to walk down to the Beach Hut Café to see Ida. Perhaps she can tell me where Ned is. If I’m lucky, he might be on the beach doing some yoga or enjoying a coffee.
There’s no need for wrapping up in a jacket and woollies today. The sun is high in the sky, bright and beautiful. I’m sure the temperature must be pushing into the twenties. I skirt along the harbour road and onto the Esplanade. There’s no sign of George on his usual pitch either and I wonder if he’s still here or whether he’s gone back to London.
I drop down to the beach and this couldn’t have changed more since I was last here. The school holidays must have started as the beach is busy with families who look like they’re set up for the duration with rugs, umbrellas, inflatables – all of the things you need for a good day out at the seaside. All the little businesses that were closed up out of season are open and ready to trade. There’s a queue for ice-cream at a cabin that I hadn’t even noticed before and one next door selling lurid pink candy floss. The holiday rental properties that had mostly been closed up for the winter have their windows thrown wide and stripey towels hang over the balconies. The atmosphere is light-hearted and bustling. Summer is definitely in the air.
The Beach Hut Café is a hive of activity too. A quick scan tells me that all the tables are occupied, even my favourite one by the sea wall. Ida is busy behind the counter and two women who I haven’t seen before are bustling about taking orders and delivering food. I’m not sure what to do now. Should I wait here until at table comes free or pop back later when it might be less busy? While I’m standing dithering, a man waves frantically at me and indicates a free seat opposite him.
When I look blankly, he shouts, ‘Jodie!’
He obviously knows who I am, but I can’t say that I know him. Yet, when he continues to beckon, I go over to the table.
‘It’s George,’ he says.
‘George!’ I laugh with surprise.
‘I guess you don’t recognise me without my clothes on.’ He flushes slightly.
‘No. Oh, my God. No, I didn’t.’ I take in the handsome face, the mass of dark curls, his lovely hazel eyes and sweet smile. ‘You look so different!’
‘I think that’s a good thing.’
Dropping into the seat opposite him, I still can’t get my head round it. ‘I’ll stop staring in a minute.’
‘It tends to have that effect on people,’ he says. ‘That make-up covers up more than you think.’
‘It does. Wow.’
‘It’s good to see you back,’ George says. ‘I thought you’d gone for good.’
‘So did I.’ It makes me a little sad to admit it. ‘Things didn’t quite work out as I’d imagined. But I’m hoping to stay this time.’
‘Me too.’ George gives me an enigmatic smile and I can’t tell you how nice it is to be able to see his face properly. ‘While you were gone, I had a book deal come in.’
‘George, that’s fantastic.’
‘It’s not massive,’ he adds quickly, but I can tell that he’s very proud of himself. ‘I don’t think it will trouble the bestseller list, but it’s a start. I’ve been able to give up the statue work to concentrate on writing.’
‘That’s great news. I really enjoyed it. Surely this is worthy of a celebration? Will you have another coffee with me? We could push out the boat and have some cake too?’
‘That sounds great.’
I call one of the new waitresses over and we place an order.
When she’s gone, George adds, shyly, ‘It’s really good to have you back, Jodie. It was weird without you.’
‘Thanks, George.’ I can only hope that everyone else feels the same about my return.
Chapter Eighty-Eight
Ida brings over our order. She looks harassed. She also looks great, though. The sun has tanned her skin and she’s wearing her hair piled on top of her head and tied with multi-coloured ribbons. Her shorts are very skimpy and she has a baggy crochet top over a halter neck bikini. The biker boots that accessorise the look are very Ida.
She plonks our cake and coffee down in front of us. ‘They say bad pennies always turn up again.’
‘It’s nice to be back, Ida.’
She grins at me. ‘Good to see you. Ned thought you were gone for good. Me, I wasn’t so sure. I thought you’d rock up at some point. I’m only surprised it’s so soon.’
‘I hadn’t planned on coming back quite so quickly,’ I admit. ‘But I’m hoping to stay around. I’m just acquainting myself with the “new” George.’
‘He’s hot stuff.’ Ida laughs. ‘Look at how beautiful he is! How did we not know that?’
George blushes furiously and yet they exchange a look that says there might be more behind it than gentle teasing. He’s a lot younger than her, but I don’t think Ida would let a little thing that like stand in her way. She’d also eat him for breakfast. But then, George might like that.
She turns her attention back to me. ‘You left Ned in a hell of state,’ she says flatly. ‘I’ve never seen him be such a miserable bastard.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean to.’
Sunny Days and Sea Breezes Page 29