‘Fine with me. I’m sure it’ll be an eye-opener! A couple of old hippies in the cottage with us. Looks like we’d better make the most of our next two weeks before we’re descended on by family.’
‘We’re only a little way through your bucket list, too! We’d better get on with it. Let’s head home and call up the hotel now. See if they have a room for tomorrow night.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
JUDE’S BUCKET LIST:
4. STAY AT A FIVE-STAR HOTEL
‘I can’t believe you’ve never been in love before,’ said Summer as she stirred her mojito. They were sitting on the hotel terrace, beside the pool, watching the sun set over the five-mile beach below. Summer had, probably for the first time since meeting Jude, made a proper effort with her make-up and outfit, going for her 60s vibe with an eye-flick and pink lip gloss and wearing a simple black-and-white gingham mini-dress with a Peter Pan collar.
‘It’s true,’ smiled Jude, tucking into some peanuts in the dish beside him. He too looked spruce, in a Superdry shirt and smart black jeans, deeply tanned now and smelling of his lemony cologne.
‘But you must have had girlfriends. You definitely don’t seem like a novice in the bedroom,’ she whispered.
Jude laughed. ‘Of course I’ve had girlfriends. My first one – Olivia – I was definitely in lust with. But we were both too young for love. Then there was Dominique – she was French and very intense and passionate. Again, the passion was there for me, but not the love. Too many arguments. After that, I had a string of hopeless affairs that didn’t amount to anything, especially after the incident at school. Then there was Miranda, a couple of years ago. We had a very comfortable relationship. Very cosy and undemanding. She even moved in with me for a bit. But it wasn’t based on lust or love. It was based on a mutual passion for Indian takeaways and an addiction to Dexter and reruns of Friends. I started to think I’d never fall in love or maybe I had but hadn’t noticed. Now, of course, I know what it’s like . . .’
‘Pretty amazing!’ Summer agreed. ‘Talking of Friends, do you remember the saga about the break? Between Ross and Rachel?’
‘Ha! Of course I remember it. Did you talk to your husband about whether either of you could see anyone else? You know, while you’re on your break?’
‘No! Goodness, no! I mean, I just went along with all his plans . . . My main thought was how nice it would be to enjoy a bit of solitude. I saw it completely as a break – with no doubt about us being together again at the end of it. But then Tilly told me he’s having an affair with this woman in the village called Barbara, so goodness knows where that leaves us . . . And now, I . . . I don’t know . . . I mean, I’d stay here with you if I could . . . If it were possible.’ Summer looked stricken. Jude knew what she was saying. If he were going to live.
‘I just wish there wasn’t this awful ticking clock on our relationship. Why couldn’t we have met a decade ago?’ Jude said, taking her hand. ‘If only!’ Summer agreed, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing it.
‘This is too deep,’ Jude said, taking a breath. ‘We need to lighten up or I’m going to start crying into our supper. Come on, let’s make more plans. What’s next on the bucket list?’
They instantly began to discuss the next item on the agenda, but during dinner Summer had them on to heavier subjects again.
‘Tell me about your life before the diagnosis. Before we met,’ she said as she tucked into her scallops. The food was delicious, though perhaps a little fancy for Jude’s taste. He wolfed down his starter then sat back and ran a hand through his hair, thinking about his life ‘BS’, as he thought of it – Before Summer.
‘I was pretty down in the dumps. I didn’t even realise it at the time, but looking back I can recognise how low I was. I’m naturally cynical, but it was more than that. I hated my job, so there was no joy there. I’d split up with Miranda and my love life was dire. I felt tired, headachy. Well, we know the reason for that now. I wondered if I was depressed, but now I know it was the tumour causing the lethargy.’
Summer eyed him from across the table. She took a sip of her wine. ‘Perhaps you were depressed as well. When did you stop dancing?’ she asked.
Jude burst out laughing. ‘Dancing? What are you talking about?’
‘When I was fifteen we lived in Arizona. It was wonderful. Always sunny. A surreal landscape. We were part of a commune – the oldest one in America. It was incredible – a kind of utopia. They were heavily into shamanism so I learnt a lot about all that stuff. My parents were really involved, but I didn’t buy into it wholesale. Some of it really resonated, though. Like, if you went to see a medicine man or woman complaining of depression, they’d ask you: when did you stop dancing, singing, being enchanted by stories and enjoying silence? Doesn’t that just cut through everything? A healthy soul needs those things.’
Despite his natural cynicism, Jude smiled. ‘You had such an interesting upbringing. No wonder you’re so fascinating. Arizona. There was this song out when I was a kid – “Little Fluffy Clouds”. I remember the girl in the song went on about the sunsets in the desert.’
‘They have to be seen to be believed. You know, until I met you, I don’t think anyone I’ve ever met has seen my childhood as interesting in a positive way. They’ve always been intrigued but horrified as well. One of the things I love about you is that you get it. You see how incredible it was for me. But you never answered my question. When did you stop dancing?’
‘Summer, in truth, I never started.’
‘Come on! Surely as a child you must have enjoyed a boogie? Or at least as a teenager?’
‘No – seriously! I’ve always just found it deeply embarrassing!’
‘Then it’s time you gave it a try!’
Chapter Twenty-Four
JUDE’S BUCKET LIST:
5. NEW IN AT NUMBER 5 – GO DANCING!
Summer woke up with her ears ringing. She couldn’t actually remember the last time that had happened. She smiled as she thought back to the night before. There they’d been, staying in a highly civilised hotel far out west, and after an exquisite three-course meal, Summer had dragged Jude into town to go dancing.
‘Where shall we go?’ she’d asked, alive with excitement at doing something that seemed – at the age of thirty-eight – rather wild. The taxi dropped them off in Bath Street and Jude scratched his head, trying to think where they might try.
‘There’s a place down here, I think,’ he said, leading Summer past groups of screeching girls and overly loud men – all completely plastered. ‘I think they got in trouble for refusing to let older ladies in or something. It made the news at the time – my friend’s girlfriend covered the story. She’s a journalist like you.’
‘Hand, please,’ the bouncer said as they reached the entrance.
‘Why?’ asked Summer.
‘Stamp,’ the steroid-pumped bouncer replied, looking at her with dead eyes.
‘What for?’
‘So you can get back in if you come outside for a fag or whatever. You gonna be a trouble-maker?’
‘No, no,’ Summer replied, compliantly proffering her hand. Finally, they were in. It wasn’t that Summer had never been clubbing – of course she had – but it was perfectly possible she hadn’t been to a club in the last decade and she soon realised her hearing had deteriorated in that time. She literally couldn’t hear a word Jude said to her, even when he was shouting in her ear. They took to conducting themselves like they were deaf and dumb, signing if either needed to use the loos or to offer another drink. After a couple of confidence-boosting shots, Summer performed a little shimmy to suggest they dance. She wanted to seize the opportunity while it was a tune she recognised – up until then the music had just been hideous noise.
‘Come on!’ she shouted, and Jude reluctantly followed her. Soon, though, he was into the swing of it – any embarrassment clearly completely forgotten – and they busted some moves, overcome by a kind of reckless euphoria taken f
or granted by all the kids who were bouncing around beside them. Before long they were sweaty and thirsty, but they didn’t want to break the spell and fortunately the DJ kept on coming up with the goods, playing music they knew. Music that was conducive to throwing up their arms and swinging their hips. They danced non-stop for an hour and a half. After that, they left, but they couldn’t find a taxi for love nor money.
‘At least we won’t have to sleep on the streets. We can head to my flat. I’ve got the keys on me,’ said Jude.
‘Guess our night of luxury at the Atlantic is going to be wasted then. Those sheets looked dreamy, too. Egyptian cotton.’
‘How do you know you won’t get better at mine?’ Jude laughed. ‘Actually, don’t get your hopes up. It’s pretty crap.’
‘But it’s yours and I’m dying to see it, even if we are failing at number four on the list. We’ll have to try again another night.’
They’d reached Jude’s block of flats and wobbled down several steps to his basement doorstep. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ve got a feel for what it’s like to stay in a five-star place now. Very nice, but actually I couldn’t really care less where I am as long as I’m with you.’ Jude looked up, startled, as if he couldn’t believe those words had come out of his mouth. Summer kissed him, then waited as he fumbled around with his keys.
‘This is it,’ Jude said a moment later, turning on the hall light and blushing deeply. ‘I’ve just realised what a stark contrast it is to the Atlantic Hotel and Mandla. It’s like I’m seeing the place with fresh eyes. It’s how I always feel when I’m buying new trainers and I suddenly notice how scruffy the old ones seem. I feel mortified I’ve been seen wearing them in public for months on end.’
‘Jude, I’ve only seen the hallway so far. Come on, give me a tour.’
‘All right,’ sighed Jude, switching on more lights. ‘This is the sitting room . . . And the kitchen. That’s the bathroom,’ he said, pointing at the door, ‘and this is my room,’ he finished. It was a whistle-stop tour and Summer felt slightly out of breath. She sat down on the badly made bed.
‘I love it!’
‘You do?’ Jude looked incredulous. ‘But it’s so scruffy and stark and crappy. You live in this amazing, luxuriously decorated place . . .’
‘But it’s not mine, remember? I mean, I love Mandla too – who wouldn’t? But my house in England isn’t like that. It’s a bit tidier than this, but I don’t have a flair for interior design any more than you do. What I love about this place is that it’s you. No frills. It’s honest. If I lived alone, or with you, this is how it would be. A place to be. Right now, a place to be together.’
‘I love you, Summer,’ Jude said, sitting down next to her on the bed.
‘Jude, I love you too.’ Summer looked like she might cry but instead she kissed him and they began to take each other’s clothes off. The bed was squeaky and after a while there was a banging sound on the ceiling. Clearly the neighbours above weren’t amused.
‘Should we stop?’ giggled Summer.
‘No,’ said Jude. ‘The bastards have been keeping me awake for years. Let’s not stop for a moment.’
And they didn’t.
Chapter Twenty-Five
JUDE’S BUCKET LIST:
6. GET A RESCUE DOG
‘Shall we go somewhere for breakfast?’ suggested Summer, after rooting around in the kitchen cupboards. Jude was embarrassed that he had little to offer other than stale cornflakes.
‘Good plan. I’ll take you to my favourite café in the market.’
‘It’ll be lovely to see more of St Helier. I only popped in briefly on my first day to pick up some clothes after some idiot nicked my suitcase at the airport.’
‘No way! That happened to me, too. A total muppet stole my case at the start of the summer. I had to make a TV appeal to get it back!’
‘Ha ha! It wasn’t just a straightforward suitcase swap in the end, was it?’ marvelled Summer. She checked her watch. ‘Nine o’clock. Shall we head in now, then?’
‘Yep, I’ll just grab my post, then we can go.’
Five minutes later they were walking through the back streets into town. When they reached the central market, Summer was awestruck.
‘Oh, it’s beautiful!’ she said, taking in the vast stone building with its glass roof and red gates. Jude saw it as if with fresh eyes and realised how attractive the place was. ‘And so old-fashioned. I hope everyone uses it? It would be a shame if the stalls couldn’t keep going.’
‘I’ve always used it myself, but a lot of people don’t – they want the convenience of a massive supermarket and easy parking. You should see it in here at Christmastime. It’s so festive, with all the trees and mistletoe. You’d love it.’
Summer was like a kid in a sweetshop. She positively bounced around the place. ‘It’s amazing! Look at all the florists and fruit and veg stalls. What else? A butcher’s, a bakery. A deli. Is that a haberdashery? You’re kidding me! I can just imagine elderly ladies pulling their tartan trollies around the market, buying their groceries and their knitting wool all under one roof. And look at this shop, it’s like something out of the fifties!’
Summer’s eyes were darting about as she took in the enormous array of goods on offer at Red Triangle Stores – it seemed to sell everything you could possibly need, from children’s toys to plant pots to ornamental gifts and even suitcases.
‘You should buy one of these,’ Summer said, pointing to a particularly garish case. ‘It’ll stop people running off with your grey one!’
‘I’m rather fond of the grey one, I’ll have you know, though it’s served its purpose. I’m not interested in meeting any more suitcase thieves. Just along there, look, that’s the café – Bisson’s, it’s called. Just past the fountain and along a bit.’
‘Why do you go to the drabbest-looking one? There’s loads that look much nicer! The food must be good!’
‘It is!’ Jude said, and he ushered Summer along and tried not to laugh when Mrs Bisson arrived at the table with a grimly set jaw and virtually threw the menus at them with a sigh.
‘I’ll have the cooked breakfast, please, and a white coffee,’ Jude said five minutes later when Mrs Bisson returned to take their order. This harmless request prompted another large sigh. Summer looked up in surprise and caught Jude’s eye. He suddenly felt quite hysterical and had to start coughing to mask his laughter. Summer was clearly feeling the same – when she placed her order her voice sounded strangled, which only added to Jude’s mirth.
‘Scrambled egg on granary toast and an orange juice,’ Summer managed and, with a further sigh that almost tipped them over the edge, Mrs Bisson grabbed the menus back and plodded off to the kitchen. Jude and Summer both let out a wail of laughter and Summer began dabbing at her streaming eyes.
‘Sssh!’ Jude said in the end, flapping his hands in front of his face to try to stop himself laughing. ‘She’ll be back in a sec! We’ll probably get detention if she catches us laughing!’
They both managed to make a monumental effort to keep their faces straight and Summer pulled the Telegraph out of her bag so they could distract themselves with the cryptic crossword. They’d only recently discovered how much both of them enjoyed this daily challenge and it was so much more enjoyable – and successful – doing it together.
‘This one’s an anagram of “voices rant on”, I think,’ Jude said, pointing at one across. ‘You’re good at those . . .’
‘Conversation.’
‘Very quick!’ Jude said, impressed.
The next thing they knew, Mrs Bisson was back. ‘Tsch! Move that newspaper . . . How can I serve with that in the way?’ she growled.
‘Sorry,’ Jude meekly apologised, lowering the newspaper to his lap.
‘One fry-up?’ she asked, though she’d only taken their order fifteen minutes before and Jude couldn’t believe she was unable to remember who’d ordered what.
‘That’s me, thanks,’ said Jude.
‘O
ne scrambled eggs?’ she asked next, and Jude’s hysteria was close to resurfacing. It was incredibly tempting to tell her that it must be for the old man on the table opposite.
‘That’ll be for me,’ Summer said with a smile.
Once the old battleaxe had disappeared, they tucked in.
‘How is it?’ Summer asked as she watched Jude delve into the greasy sausages and bacon.
‘Erm . . . Actually, this is strange . . . You know, it doesn’t taste quite as good as I remember!’
‘I’ve converted you to healthy eating, haven’t I? Jude, my scrambled eggs are pretty hideous too – all sloppy. Let’s just pay and leave . . . I spotted somewhere far nicer.’
‘But if I don’t eat up she’ll have my guts for garters!’
‘She’s in the kitchen, and you’re not going to come back here now anyway, are you? Come on, I’ll leave some cash, then let’s get going!’
‘No, no. I’m paying,’ Jude said, peeling out some notes and leaving them on the table.
They ran from the place, the old man looking on in amusement, fortunately making it out before the terrifying Mrs Bisson reappeared.
‘Follow me!’ said Summer, and Jude scurried to keep up with her as she headed towards the Italian deli.
‘Two bruschettas, please!’ Summer asked the man behind the counter. She paid and they made their way to a bench, where they sat and ate them out of paper bags. Lightly toasted French bread sprinkled with quality Italian olive oil and topped with diced fresh tomatoes, a sprig of basil and some ground pepper.
‘These are fantastic,’ Jude said. ‘A miles-better choice. Summer, I wish I’d met you years ago. It’s like I’ve been blindfolded all my life and now you’ve come along and I can see at last.’
For the rest of the day, Jude noticed the subtle magical effect Summer had on him. They wandered along the streets and he found himself observing so many things he’d never even spotted before.
‘Check that out!’ Summer laughed as they walked towards Charing Cross. ‘Up there! A denture repair centre! How cool is that!’ Jude looked up and saw the neon sign. He tried to calculate how many times he’d walked along this particular street without even looking above eye level.
Christmas by the Lighthouse Page 12