by Rosie Blake
‘Wow, this is awesome,’ said Mel, peering out of her side at the knotted trees packed tightly together, the miniscule glimpses of the darkening sky through a canopy of green.
I smiled without opening my eyes. ‘Very.’
Chapter 33
Yawning over my coffee, I’d directed Mel to our usual cafe a couple of doors down from our hotel. She had been faffing around drying her fringe and I had learned in LA that Mel worked on Mel Time. She appeared in the door of the cafe in a blue polka-dot bikini, white sarong loosely tied around her waist and her impressive boobs quivering when she sat. Her lips were pink and glossy and there was a light smattering of freckles on her arms. Andrew dropped his spoon. Duncan missed his mouth with his banana. For a flash, I wondered whether this had been the best idea. Then dismissed it almost as instantly; Mel was fantastic, my best buddy, and this was going to be brilliant.
I introduced her to the table. Liz looked up, raised an eyebrow. ‘American,’ she trilled.
Mel said, ‘Sure thing,’ in the most American accent I had ever heard her do.
Liz smiled tightly and returned to filling in a crossword in her special crossword book as Andrew kindly supplied her with some of the answers.
‘I didn’t know you were into crosswords,’ I commented, buttering my toast and smiling at him.
‘Cryptic,’ he said.
I nudged him with my foot and giggled, ‘I know, very.’
‘No, cryptic crosswords,’ he said, pointing to the book. ‘They’re so much more demanding.’ I leaned forward and nodded seriously. ‘Oh. Absolutely.’
Mel was watching me, one eyebrow raised and I sat back and crossed my arms over my chest, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
‘So, Mel,’ Duncan said. ‘What are your plans for the day?’ he asked in a new gung-ho voice I’d never heard before. I prickled a little, feeling a pang of envy; hadn’t I been the one who had proved so interesting to Duncan only yesterday? Then I smacked my own head with a fist (imaginary). This was Mel and I was being ridiculous.
‘Iz and I’ll be catching up,’ Mel said, smiling at him. She always had an open face.
‘Yep, catching up,’ I confirmed, hoping that maybe Andrew would look up and ask more.
He didn’t and we finished our breakfasts. Mel begged me to show her the beach.
‘See you guys later,’ I said, taking a last, lingering look over my shoulder.
Only Duncan waved.
*
Leaving our belongings in a pile on the beach, we swam out to the square platform a hundred yards out. I stepped up onto it using the railing. Dangling our legs over the side, we rested back on our hands looking across to the beach laid out before us: pastel-coloured houses, tiny colourful fishing boats moored up on the sand, people sitting in the sunshine, palm trees leaning over the white sand casting long shadows.
‘It is just paradise,’ she announced. ‘Actual paradise.’
‘Brilliant, isn’t it.’
Just then a stingray slowly wandered lazily underneath the platform, its flat body sloping elegantly by, its outline clearly defined against the cloudy blue of the seabed.
‘Did you know stingrays can grow up to six and a half feet?’
‘How the hell do you know that?’ I asked, flicking seawater at her legs.
‘Came across all sorts of sealife facts when we did that fish job.’
‘Oh god, don’t remind me,’ I said, putting my head in my hands. ‘I know I am going to have to go back and be a prawn some time but please let me have a few more weeks of freedom…’
Mel started laughing. ‘Iz, you need to get back to the presenting, send your show reel out again. You need to try it again.’
I bristled with the knowledge that she was right. It had always been such a sure-fire thing in my mind. When I was younger I’d been so geared up for it all. I had spent hours in my room with Mum’s camcorder that she’d bought – ‘They’re all the rage, darling, and we can spend time setting up comedy scenarios: your father falling off the roof and so on. to try and get on You’ve Been Framed. It will make its money back’ – filming news items, interviewing the men in my posters (thank you, Jason Donovan for sharing your thoughts about your time on Neighbours and also for your thoughts on pollution). I had practised chatting as naturally as I could as all the best presenters did.
Later, I’d done work experience on the sports desk at ITV West, made a million cups of tea and buttered up the weatherman there who’d let me have a go with his clicky thing that changed the screen. I’d been an assistant on a shopping channel three times a week, doing the live links to camera and learning about the products. Then I’d started doing freelance shifts on local news items, going out with the cameramen to film a variety of clips. I’d loved the buzz and thrill of it all, standing in front of the camera reporting the news back, uncovering touching or amusing stories to share with the viewers. I’d dreamed of filming my own show one day. What had happened to that girl so full of confidence that she could get there?
Mel’s words swum before me; I knew she was right. I needed to get a new agent because, frankly, I needed an agent who didn’t spell out punctuation. Randy had never really got me, had never really understood the kind of presenter I wanted to be. I didn’t want razzmatazz or lights, I just loved communicating my own excitement about something. I needed to throw myself into looking for someone who wanted to help me achieve that. Out here with the sun beating down on my shoulders, the water crystal clear and inviting and a cloudless sky, I felt anything might be possible.
‘Actually, I have made a vlog this week, for a friend’s travel website.’ I felt heat rise to my cheeks and didn’t know why.
Mel nudged me. ‘Tell me more.’
‘It was great, actually,’ I said, my voice building in strength as I thought back to the cave. ‘We were in this incredible place and I just wanted to share everything I was seeing and feeling and it just came back, that thing I used to love about presenting.’
Mel was looking at me, her jaw a little slack. Perhaps it had been a while since she had seen me this fired up about anything.
I quickly changed the subject. ‘How about you, Mel?’ I said. ‘What are you going to do about Dex?’
Mel circled her foot in the water and didn’t say anything.
‘Hey.’ I nudged her. ‘You know it will be okay, don’t you? You’re not your mum, for a start.’
Mel glanced at me. ‘I know that.’
‘Well then.’
She continued to circle her foot. ‘Oh, Iz, I don’t know. I think he’s brilliant you know? I’ve never doubted us. But he knew how I felt about things and he still went ahead.’
‘Did he explain?’
She sighed aloud. ‘I suppose I didn’t give him a lot of opportunity to really talk much,’ she said, looking at me, a guilty expression creeping across her face.
‘You just ranted?’
‘Yeah,’ she admitted with a nod.
‘And then left.’
‘Yep.’
‘Mel Conboy,’ I announced, ‘you are hopeless.’
‘I know.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know, I just needed time to think, stop being such a cow to him, too.’
‘We’ve all been there,’ I said, thinking sadly of Stewie. I hoped wherever he was he wasn’t loathing me. It had been generous of him to call.
We were interrupted by Duncan and Andrew swimming out to us, sneaking a peek at each other in between the crawl then hauling themselves up on to the platform without using the ladder. Duncan lay flat on his back as Andrew leaned over to catch his breath.
‘Well done,’ I laughed at them both. ‘Who won?’
‘Me,’ they chorused.
‘What are you guys up to this afternoon?’ I asked, throwing the question beh
ind me to Andrew, aware that Mel had gone very quiet on me, mulling over our chat.
‘They say the turtles might be hatching later so I definitely want to be around for that.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It’s when the babies are born and we help them back to the ocean, move things out of their way and stuff. It’s going to be cool.’
‘Count me out, mate, I have drinks to drink,’ came Duncan.
Andrew looked at him, his face falling a fraction.
My heart reached out for him. ‘That does sound great, I’d love to come.’ I felt my face get hot. ‘I mean, if you wanted the company,’ I added.
‘Yeah, cool.’
Whoop, mental skippy dance, yay.
‘I’d love to see that, cute baby turtles! Hell, of course,’ said Mel. ‘Hey, boys, did you know a turtle’s shell has like fifty bones in it.’
Duncan sat up, eyes wide: ‘Really?’ Andrew leaned forward. ‘No way!’
‘Yeah and they don’t have vocal chords but can still make noise.’
‘Woah,’ they chorused.
Oh maaaaaaaaaaaaaan.
A few hours later, I found myself standing in a semi-circle on the sand with a load of other volunteers. The baby turtles had been ‘pipping’ over the last few days which was Turtle Speak for Breaking Out of Their Eggs and a man with a goatee was telling me something gross about it absorbing its umbilical yolk or some such to prepare for its epic journey to the sea. I really started to wonder why we didn’t just carry them there. The turtles were tiny, fragile and scared.
They emerged in zig-zagged lines, tumbling into divots on the sand, scrambling back up the other side, making painful progess towards the sea that seemed to roll in threateningly. How would they make it past the insurmountable waves? The whole process seemed incredibly daunting and we found ourselves crouching down, nudging at any that were off track, smoothing out the path for others as they broke out.
Zeb was crouched low, taking photos of the turtles, fiddling with the lens as they moved past, their shells and legs a fraction of the size they would grow to be. His face, obscured by the camera, seemed entirely focused on capturing their journey and I marvelled at the way he threw himself down on to his front to ensure the best shot. When he looked up a few seconds later, he noticed me watching him. A lopsided smile and an unreadable expression on his face made me flush. I thought back to yesterday’s trip to the cave, him behind his camera, him alone in the spotlight of green. I blinked, looking back at the small turtles stumbling pathetically over the sand as they made their way to the sea, and then looked sideways at Andrew, his hair sticking up, his face enthralled.
When the last of the turtles had made it, I turned to him, making a mental note to make more effort. I needed to really bond with him.
‘So that was nice,’ I said. Ooh nice, Isobel, really push the boat out with your enthusiasm.
‘Yes.’
‘Yup, yup, yup.’ I wasn’t sure where that had come from. I took my sunglasses off and rubbed at the lenses. ‘They were so tiny,’ I said.
‘Very,’ he agreed.
‘Yup, yup…’ ISOBEL. I closed my eyes briefly.
Mel had sidled up behind us both and had been listening, then, as the silence dragged on, she rolled her eyes. ‘Iz, shall we wander?’ she asked in a loud voice, her eyes wide.
Mel dragged me off by one hand.
‘But I…’
She marched me away down the beach. ‘I thought I would save you from further small talk pain. I’m not used to seeing you like that. You’re so… “Oh how delightful it’s a turtle.” So English.’
‘That’s me, Mel, I am English, remember?’
‘No, you are not being you, you. Silly, mischievous, a bit naughty,’ she said.
I blushed wondering if she was right. Was I not acting like myself?
‘I don’t want to scare him,’ I shrugged.
‘So you really want him, he’s The One?’ she checked, an eyebrow up like I had to persuade her.
‘Mel, have you not been listening to me for the past few years? You know I do,’ I explained. ‘It’s the man, the life, I always dreamed of.’
Mel linked arms with me. ‘That doesn’t mean it’s right. You have to go with your gut, Iz,’ she said.
‘I am,’ I said in as certain a voice as I could muster. Why did she doubt this?
‘Fine, so let’s run though things,’ Mel said. ‘What kind of methods have you been using so far?’
We’d walked up to the other end of the beach and had discovered the wooden swing creaking gently in the breeze. The plank of wood was big enough for us both and as we sat on it the branch gave and the soles of our feet touched the sand.
I fiddled with the fraying blue rope and pondered Mel’s question. ‘The usual,’ I concluded.
Mel ticked them off on her hand. ‘Have you got him drunk? Have you reminisced about the old days? Have you tried to make him jealous? Have you scared off other competition? Have you flirted with him?’
‘Yes, yes, yes, sort of, of course,’ I replied.
‘How did the flirting go?’
‘Well…until I almost burned his house down.’
‘Pfft, a minor detail and one we shouldn’t dwell on,’ she dismissed with a hand.
‘Have you told him?’ She twisted a little on the swing.
‘What exactly?’
‘That you looooove him.’ She giggled.
‘Sort of, well, I think it’s obvious.’
‘Earth to Isobel, hello, Andrew is a man. Obvious messages, things being spelled out to them, they understand. Subtle nuances, for example, looks, meaningful pauses, number of kisses on text messages, they do not understand.’
‘You can’t pigeonhole all of them like that; Andrew’s not simple.’
‘But, Iz, you’ve come all this way, you’ve just got to totally go for it.’
‘But I said I don’t want to scare him away. And, anyway, I don’t love him.’
‘Looovveeee him,’ she corrected.
‘I can’t know that I love him yet. I just think I need to be with him. I think we’d be good together.’
I think of us in England sitting on the terrace of our little cottage reading books, a jug of half-finished Pimms in front of us, Andrew reading aloud a favourite quote to me. That’s what I wanted – didn’t I? For a second I imagined myself on another plane, heading to somewhere gorgeous, new. I blinked as the image faded.
‘Well I’m here to help, if you truly, really want Andrew, we’ll get you Andrew,’ she said, slapping her thigh and making the swing wobble with the effort.
Bouncing onto her feet, the seat bobbing up as she left it, she spun around her arms wide.
‘We couldn’t have a better setting so let’s draw up the battle lines and get to work.’
The Plan
–Engineer a scenario where Isobel can be alone with Andrew.
–Try to ensure some kind of lovely sunset/other pretty view.
–Ensure that Andrew is in an excellent mood.
–Look devastatingly beautiful but like you have not tried at all.
–Try to get good background music if possible.
–Ensure plan remains a secret.
–Don’t burn anything down.
We celebrated the plan with some sunbathing and swam around the edge of the beach sharing the snorkel and chasing silvery shoals of fish through patches of swaying coral. Back on the beach and breathless, Mel came up with various ideas for a location.
‘How about sky-diving?’
‘How about it?’
‘Well Andrew could be strapped on your back – no escape there.’
I frowned. ‘I wasn’t planning on tying him up to get him alone.’
Mel had already started giggling on ‘ty
ing him up’. ‘Okay, well you at least need to get him on his own, and then see where that sexual tension leads to. There is sexual tension, isn’t there, Iz?’
I thought back to Andrew, wondering why I paused as I answered. ‘Oh, oh yes.’ Was there? Did I feel a frisson when he came close? Did I melt when he looked at me? YES, I shouted to myself, of course I did. Blinking, another face flashed up, laughing eyes…
‘Well, let’s get back and get going,’ Mel said getting to her feet. ‘I for one need a shower. I feel like the Little Mermaid I have been so at one with the ocean today.’
Dear diary,
Jenny’s parents are getting a divorce and I asked Mum what happens on a divorce and she told me that it is breaking up the marriage. I told her that Andrew and I were divorced but Jenny’s parents signed papers and I didn’t sign anything so maybe God still thinks we’re married.
I don’t really mind if we are because I like being married to Andrew. I still miss him and when I go to the tree by the canoe lake I climb up to our branch and hang from it thinking of the day when I giggled so much because he said I was a wombat. I wonder where Andrew is now. I think I will always wonder.
I x
Chapter 34
There was a beach barbecue that night and Mel and I spent a while choosing my outfit. We plumped for a floral playsuit and matched it with a long gold necklace and beaded flip-flops. Brushing on some bronzer, I gave myself a confidence-boosting smile in the mirror.
‘You can do it, girl,’ I said.
‘Yeah you can,’ agreed Mel, emerging at that moment from the bathroom.
‘Ah.’
She started laughing. ‘I am not judging you,’ she said, holding up both hands. ‘Come on, lady, let’s hit the town.’
‘It’s not so much a town, Mel, as a…’
‘Oh you know what I mean. Let’s stop talking to ourselves in mirrors and get this party started, et cetera, et cetera.’