by Rosie Blake
‘Do you remember those big plastic barrels in the playground?’ I asked, thinking back to some of my sunnier memories. Lining up as a human chain, clinging to each other as we giggled and rolled and fell down.
Andrew laughed easily. ‘Yeah,’ he grinned, one hand pushing through his hair. ‘I got Lyndon to push me in one down that slope in the back, you know, round by the tennis court…’
‘I don’t remember that,’ I said, encouraged that he was back in our old haunt. We had married only a few yards from the slope.
‘Do you remember the arcade? Pushing 2p coins into those machines for hours, buying candy floss with our winnings?’
Andrew had grown watchful, nodding slowly as I continued. ‘Do you remember us at your house, your mum giving us the cake bowl to share…?’
‘Isobel?’ he whispered suddenly.
‘What?’ I asked, heart in my mouth, muffling my speech.
He looked up and down at me. ‘Oh my god, you’re Isobel, Issy,’ he said slowly. Then his face changed, understanding seeming to filter across his features as his face finally broke into an easy smile. ‘As in Issy round the corner. We used to go to the canoe lake and the pier and stuff. Oh my, woah,’ he said looking me up and down like he still expected me to be the nine-year-old in pigtails and a chequered
school skirt.
‘Yes, yes exactly,’ I said, voice climbing higher, the ice clinking in my glass.
‘God, I haven’t thought about Southsea in years. I loved it there,’ Andrew mused, eyes far away for a moment as if he were back on that pier watching the water move gently below us. ‘We had a lot of fun: at the roller-skate park, the Pyramid’s Centre —’
‘The wave machine there,’ I said grinning and enjoying a flashback of both of us in the Pyramids Swimming Centre leaping over waves made by the machine.
‘Exactly.’
Andrew sat back. ‘I missed that place so much. I missed you all.’
‘We missed you…’ I said, voice quieter now, thick with emotion. ‘And how’s your mum?’ I said, picturing his mum bustling about their house, vacuum in one hand, drink in the other. ‘She was always so lovely to me.’
‘Mum,’ he repeated. ‘Yeah, Mum’s alright, she re-married a couple of years ago actually.’
‘Oh, right.’ I remembered his dad, and Andrew telling me he wanted to run away and find him one day. I bit back the next question, not wanting to get too heavy; he had only just recognised me after all.
I had so many more questions for him. Where did he end up? Did he miss me more than the rest? Had he ever wondered what had happened to me? I shifted in my chair again, desperate to know more, feeling triumphant that I had found him.
He leaned forward then, staring at me. ‘You look so different.’
I patted at my hair self-consciously. Was that a good thing? A bad thing?
‘Do you remember the crabs?’ Crabs? He was mentioning crabs. I panicked, bizarrely racing through various STIs in my mind before I got his gist.
‘That day at the canoe lake where we raced them,’ he said, suddenly laughing. His laugh sounded like joyful bells trilling a tune.
Then the memory caught me, beside the lake, capturing crabs on bacon, placing them in a bucket and then,
‘I remember,’ I said excitedly, leaning forward to joining in. ‘You raced them back to the lake and there was a tiny one that nearly lost his way and you had to steer him back around.’
‘Did I?’ he said, a half-smile and a slightly faraway expression on his face. ‘I don’t recall the details, just that we had a whole bucket of the things.’
My heart soared and I downed the rest of my drink feeling full of hope. This is what it will be like. Reminiscing about the good old days. Our precious childhoods seen through the warm sepia shade of the past. Me in pigtails and tie-dye skirts (mahoosive hippy phase), him in plaid shirts and three-quarter length shorts (Backstreet Boys phase), laughing and enjoying spending sunshiny days hanging out together. The sure knowledge that the world would continue to be okay if we could just stay like that, remain in those moments where life had been so simple.
Disrupting our momentary bubble of bonding was Liz, who had sidled over, no doubt drawn by the pull of our shared mirth. She was looking at us both. ‘And what are you two giggling about?’ she asked in a voice that suggested she really did not want to know.
‘Crabs,’ I said with delight and then cackled as she grimaced.
‘Hey, Liz, have you seen the latest little guy? He hatched this morning…’ Andrew said, then turned back to me. ‘Isobel, I can’t believe it is actually you. It’s been for ever,’ he said, his face breaking into the warmest smile so I could see the boy beneath.
I felt triumph course through my veins. ‘I’ll get more vodka,’ I said, lurching to my feet and heading into the hut.
Bustling into the hut I was momentarily blinded by the sudden darkness, scraps of grubby cloth on a piece of drooping string acting as makeshift curtains. I reached a hand out to open one and, as I pulled it back, it revealed a half-naked man below it. WHAT WAS WITH TODAY? I jumped back, drawing my hand up to my chest like I had just put it on the hob and squeaked.
The half-naked man opened one eye and didn’t raise his head from the pillow. ‘Andy,’ he called. ‘Andy, I’m dreaming about hot girls again.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry I… Vodka, well, the thing is, I…’
‘ANDY!’ he yelled, half-mumbled by pillow as he was still yet to lift his head. ‘The hot girl is babbling at me.’
Andrew appeared in the doorway looking at us both. ‘Oh, Isobel, I didn’t warn you, Duncan here is sleeping off last night.’
‘Was,’ Duncan mumbled, his mouth drooping on to the pillow.
‘Well, I was just telling Duncan I was here to find a drink and…’
‘Hot girl, hush, Andy, hush her…’
‘There’s no need to hush me.’
‘Andy, hussssshhh her,’ he groaned, putting his free hand over this one exposed ear. ‘Hot Girl, ssshhh.’
I bristled, secretly a teeny bit pleased he thought I was attractive, but still thinking he was being rude. I put on my most hoity-toity voice and turned away. ‘I will get a drink and be gone.’
‘Sorry, Isobel, it was a late one last night,’ Andrew said, giving me an embarrassed smile.
‘Not at all,’ I grinned back at him, delighted he cared.
Duncan chose that moment to lurch upwards into a sitting position so we all took a step backwards. A wave of rum and stale breath struck me as he stretched up and breathed out deeply. Like a lion on safari, his long, wavy blond hair was scruffy as a mane. His bare chest was finely defined and I couldn’t not look. It wasn’t so much a six pack as a ten pack. He had a scratchy-looking beard and rings under his eyes and did I mention a TEN PACK?
Duncan noticed my gaze and smirked at me, slapping his stomach with one hand. ‘The ladies love it,’ he said, licking his bottom lip.
‘Oh no, I was looking at, looking at…your…duvet cover.
I think my dad has one similar and…’ I trailed away, realising I had basically been busted and should probably quit.
Andrew handed me a drink and walked back out to the terrace. ‘Hey, Isobel, there’s something I want to show you.’
‘Great,’ I said, throwing back more of my drink, a little dribbling down my chin. I wiped it away quickly. ‘Well, great to meet you, Duncan.’ I nodded, going to leave.
Duncan lay back down on his side. ‘Bye, Hot Girl,’ he said, closing his eyes once more.
I stepped out onto the sand in front of the hut. The sand was scorching under my bare feet and I hopped quickly after Andrew as he moved towards the shoreline, a beer in one hand. It was the first time I could really look him up and down. He was a little shorter than I had thought he’d be; his shoulders were wide, spattered with freckles and
he had good, clear skin. His hair was messy and wavy at the front and I smiled as I remembered Andrew the Boy’s frustration at having hair that curled when he had always wanted to grow his hair into straight curtains like his idol Nick Carter.
He stepped into the sea up to his ankles and turned to beckon me across, pointing to the area to our right and the netted-off squares.
‘We’re waiting for the babies to hatch, then we look out for them in those early days and make sure they get back to the sea unharmed. It is amazing how many blighters are out to get them,’ he explained. He had a kind voice, like a weatherman trying to soften the blow.
‘Oh.’ My heart lifted. ‘Good, well, the thing is I had heard…’ I cleared my throat. ‘Someone had mentioned, on the other side of the island, that, well, you might need some help,’ I said, my eyes scanning the beach and Liz looking more and more like Ariel by the second. ‘And I have always loved marine life and I thought, well I wondered if you would be able to make use of me and well…’ I trailed away hoping this wasn’t the end of my journey, that this might be the start of something.
‘Well if you did want to help, you could stick around and…’
‘Yes.’ I leapt on his words before he could finish. ‘I would love that.’
I pictured my things in the hotel on the other side of the island. ‘Do you have a number for a taxi?’
The taxi (of sorts) arrived within half an hour, a mud-streaked 4x4 and a taxi driver, Ahmad, who had a permanent smile plastered to his face and a monobrow. It was a baffling mixture and made him look permanently like he might laugh at you and then punch you in the face. I slid myself in behind the driver’s seat on to the back seats, foam tufts sticking out of the leather and a seatbelt I would soon find out was a pretty vital part of the experience.
Diving off the track and into the jungle to venture up the road into Tekek, the village in the centre of the island, Ahmad decided to shout over his shoulder as he began a magic trick that involved a small coin and a lot of hand movements. Too nervous to really focus on what he was doing, I clung to the bar above the window as we trundled over tree roots and through narrow, shady gaps, the engine straining as we ascended, something heavy sliding to the back of the boot.
We arrived on the other side of the island and back at my hotel in less than half an hour and I asked Ahmad to wait as I went to check out. Wheeling my suitcase out and thanking Ahmad as he took it from me and threw it effortlessly into the boot, I clambered back in.
‘Where you from?’
‘England,’ I said, now sitting in the front with him.
‘Ahhh, London.’ He nodded.
‘Sort of.’
We moved back onto the jungle road and the 4x4 shook as we gently made our way up and back down the other side waiting for the turquoise blue of the sea in Juara to peek hopefully through the canopy of leaves in front of us. Ahmad had repeated his trick involving the coin and I had ‘oohed’ appropriately, despite seeing him put it in his other hand for the duration of the trick.
‘Very impressive,’ I shouted over the engine and he glowed, monobrow wiggling in pleasure.
Andrew was back on the beach and I wheeled and heaved my way over to the hut. Duncan, slick with water from a recent swim, stared at my suitcase.
‘Oh, um I…’
Why was I bringing all my belongings? I definitely looked like I was planning to move in indefinitely.
‘I was going to book a room somewhere later today,’ I said, gesturing back to the track.
‘Okey dokey,’ Duncan said, lugging my suitcase inside the hut. ‘Later, Hot Girl,’ he called over his shoulder, flexing his muscles as he hauled the case up the stairs.
I spent the afternoon being introduced to the project. There were various tanks and nesting places for the turtles. There were information boards about the process and phrases like ‘pipping’ that I had explained to me. Andrew was a tentative tour guide but, just as he was pointing out one thing, Liz would bustle over with a question about something, always turtle-related, and he would be whisked away, replaced by Duncan who spent a lot of time flashing me white teeth and pointing to things I couldn’t see in the distance so that he could lean over me.
It was going to be a balmy evening and we had started drinking beers on the beach in some low-slung deckchairs. The hazy blue sky was streaked with ribbons of cloud and red strips of light from the setting sun. The pier stuck out into the cove, a dark silhouette, and fishing boats returned to moor up in the calm water. Juara seemed less frantic, a real bohemian paradise, and the scent of smoke from a nearby fire and the sound of distant birds settled me in the moment. Peeking shyly across at Andrew, I smiled and raised a bottle to my lips.
How was I going to get him to love me? How was I going to go about this? First plan, I thought, feeling the bubbles spark on my tongue, was to make a good impression. Second step was to make myself indispensable. I would become Queen of this Turtle Project.
Having not eaten much all day, I found the beer racing to my head pretty quickly and soon I was snuggled down in the chair woozily laughing at the chatter all around me. Andrew was sitting next to me now and I had made some good attempts to haul him back to the nineties and our childhood experiences.
‘Do you remember seeing me on your last day?’ I asked, picturing his face as he disappeared into his mother’s car. ‘I’d wanted to tell you how good you’d been in the nativity play.’
‘You were always nice like that,’ he said simply, his face taking on a dreamy look as he time-travelled. ‘I did miss you; I missed the school, missed the pier and all the stuff we’d done.’
I nodded as he spoke. With every new memory, I felt one teensy step closer to him and was feeling more and more sure that coming here had been the right thing. My life in LA seemed a million miles away. Liz had left an hour ago, a scowl and a backwards glance in my direction. Andrew had been talking to me about the island’s rock formations. Ha, ha, I win, Liz. Check me out listening about rocks!
Andrew had got up to replenish our drinks and we had continued to talk about the island and the years in between. It had been a few hours and about six beers later when I felt bold enough to make my move. Leaning towards him I trailed a hand in the sand. ‘Need to check into a hotel,’ I mumbled half-heartedly. Invite me to stay, invite me to stay, invite me to stay. I looked at him, unblinking.
Andrew returned the look, eyes slightly crossing as he clinked beers with me. ‘You can stay here tonight,’ he slurred.
Bingo.
Chapter 23
Waking up to the smell of dust and aftershave, a thinning rag barely able to hold back the early morning light, I wondered briefly where I was. My feet were poking out into thin air and the pillow was lumpy and unfamiliar. Then, as I turned my head and looked down to see Andrew sleeping on a camping mat, wrapped in jumpers and towels, I smiled sleepily.
Yay!
My mobile trilled on the floor beside the bed and I cast an eye briefly over the display. ‘MEL’. I couldn’t resist answering it, I also had to or the buzzing might wake up Andrew and it was all too perfect right now. I wanted to just stay and stare at him like we were in a film but decided not to because a) that might freak him out, and some people might not like to be woken in that way and b) it would be worth answering just to tell her where I was; she wouldn’t BELIEVE it.
‘I don’t BELIEVE it,’ she said when I explained. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yes,’ I whispered, padding out onto the terrace and closing the door behind me, desperate to not wake anyone up. I paced in front of the hut, grimacing at last night’s dying fire and the empty beer cans and bottles casually littered around the place. ‘He is asleep in the hut like five yards away from me.’
‘How long is a yard? I have always pretended to know but I don’t actually have a clue. Is he close or far away?’ she asked.
‘Close, really close, it�
��s like a metre or something,’ I said, realising I didn’t really know how long it was either.
‘So he is like five metres away from you?’ she confirmed.
‘Yeah, about ten feet,’ I said.
‘Feet?’
‘Look, he’s close, really close, that is what we need to focus on.’
‘Agreed. So he is right there?’ she squeaked and I heard her clapping her hands.
I smiled. ‘Exactly, so I have to keep my voice down.’
This didn’t appear to stop Mel. ‘Isobel Graves, did you SLEEP with him?’
‘Noooo,’ I giggled, interrupting her. Mel was whistling. ‘Hey, I didn’t.’ I lowered my voice again. ‘I didn’t, I just slept in the same space as him.’
‘Well, that’s a new way of putting it. Oh jeez, Iz, I love this, you trek halfway round the globe, actually FIND this guy and then end up…’ She stopped to mimic my English accent, ‘sleeping in the same space.’
‘I suppose,’ I said, suddenly not wanting the attention. ‘How is it going with you and Dex?’
There was silence on the end of the phone and I frowned. ‘Mel, you okay?’
She sighed. ‘Well we had a bit of a fight,’ she said. ‘Asshole.’
‘What? You guys never really fight, what happened?’
‘He did something stupid,’ she said, getting quiet.
Oh no, Dex. Dex, you cock, I fumed to myself. I didn’t see it coming, the lying, cheating… My fist gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white.
‘I’ll kill him,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘I’ll kill him,’ I repeated slowly. ‘The lying cheat of a monkey scumba—’
‘He didn’t cheat on me, Iz,’ she interrupted.
‘Oh.’ I felt relieved immediately. I knew it. Dex would never do that. I wouldn’t have to kill him. I sat on the sand, chilled and scratchy on my legs. ‘So what did he do?’
‘Oh I don’t want to talk about it, actually, I don’t want to think about it.’