Chapter 24
When I return, Charlie is sitting in one of the camp chairs.
‘Cheers.’ I chink his bottle as I hand it over.
‘Cheers,’ he replies.
‘Is she asleep?’ I ask.
‘If not, she will be soon. She goes down really well in the evenings.’
‘You’re lucky, from what I’ve heard.’ I have a couple of friends who can natter to each other for hours about baby bedtimes. I don’t know the details because I usually switch off when they start moaning.
‘Do you reckon you and Elliot will have kids?’ he asks casually.
‘Er. . .’ I hate it when people ask this – especially those who already have children. ‘Who knows?’ I dodge the question. ‘I need to give him a call, actually. Haven’t spoken to him since Ireland.’
‘Haven’t you?’
‘It’s a pain not having any phone reception down here. I don’t always fancy climbing up the hill late at night or first thing in the morning.’
‘You can always ring him from mine,’ he says.
‘Oh, no, I wouldn’t feel right.’
‘Why not?’ he asks with a frown.
‘I’m there to work on Nicki’s book, not chat to my boyfriend.’
‘Jesus, you work so hard. Of course you can take a break to call him.’
‘All right, maybe I will. Thanks.’
‘How is he coping without you?’ he asks, brushing a mosquito off his leg.
‘He’s all right.’ I don’t really want to talk about Elliot.
‘Bet he misses you.’
‘Yeah.’ I pick the label off my drink.
‘Didn’t he want to know how it went with Dillon?’
‘He did try calling.’ I don’t mean to sound defensive. ‘I missed his call and I haven’t really felt like talking the last couple of nights. I emailed him instead.’
‘Oh, right,’ he says, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles.
‘Come on, then, tell me about Seth the Wanker,’ he prompts after a while. ‘You said you would.’
‘Only if you really wanted to know.’
‘I really want to know.’
‘Urgh.’
We both fall silent. A moment later he says, ‘All right, then, tell me more about your mum. Why does she annoy the fuck out of you?’
I can’t help laughing.
‘What?’ he asks, grinning at my reaction, even if he doesn’t understand it.
‘Those stories are kind of interlinked,’ I reply drily.
He looks intrigued. Bugger it, if he wants to know, I’ll tell him. It’s not like it bothers me that much anymore.
‘Seth was a Canadian officer on the cruise ship when Mum and I were doing Japan,’ I say. ‘He and my mum already had a bit of a flirtation thing going on when I joined the cruise. Seth was right smack in the middle of both our ages. I was twenty-seven at the time. He was thirty-eight. When he started paying me attention, Mum sulked. I wrote her moods off as jealousy and thought her behaviour was pretty pathetic.
‘Seth was very, very charming and I fell for him hard. I wanted to fall for him. Mum almost always had a man on the go, but, at that point in time, she was single. In the past, she’d often prioritised her boyfriends over spending time with me, so I guess I wanted to rub her nose in it. We have a complicated relationship.’
I glance at Charlie, but he’s gazing down at his cider, listening.
‘Anyway,’ I say with a sigh. ‘Seth turned out to be a real player. Mum had warned me he had a reputation, but I hadn’t wanted to hear it – or believe it. He cheated on me with one of the entertainment coordinators. When I found out, I was crushed, but what hurt even more was how Mum carried on being friendly with him after we’d broken up. I wanted her to be furious with him, but, when I had a go at her for being nice to him, she said it wouldn’t be professional for her to get involved in romantic disputes between staff. This really pissed me off, but she just said, in a really patronising voice, “I did warn you about him, Bridget.” I was so angry with her – and him – that I got off at Otaru, the next port. Mum managed to convince the big boss not to sue me for breach of contract.’
‘That was decent of her,’ Charlie says acerbically.
‘It took me a while to forgive her, though,’ I continue. ‘To her credit, she apologised. And apologised. And apologised. But I haven’t been on a cruise ship since.’ I finish off my drink.
‘Want another one?’ he nods at my empty bottle.
‘Go on, then. Better be quick, though: I think they pack up soon.’
He comes back with four bottles.
‘Are you trying to get me shitfaced?’ I ask with a laugh.
‘You don’t have to drink them tonight,’ he replies with a grin.
‘I definitely don’t want a hangover tomorrow.’ I take one from him.
He gazes up at the field. The long grass is cast in orange light from the setting sun.
‘I remember how nice the sunsets are from up there,’ he says. We can’t see it from where we’re sitting.
‘Go and have a look, if you like.’
‘Won’t you come with me?’
‘What, and leave April?’ I ask.
‘We won’t be long. When she goes down, she’s out like a light.’
‘You can see Hermie from up there, actually,’ I tell him.
‘Come on, then.’
He stands up and stretches his arms over his head. I look away from his exposed navel. I should be thankful that he doesn’t take his T-shirt off when he’s working – I’d never be able to concentrate.
I lead the way up the steps to the field. I’m getting fitter now, so I don’t pant half as much. We turn around and sit side by side on the grass, facing the sun setting behind the trees on the top paddock.
‘Don’t put your bottle on the grass: it’ll roll straight downhill,’ I say.
‘You sound like you’re speaking from experience,’ he replies.
‘I am. Sitting up here, drinking on my own.’
He tuts and leans back on his elbows. ‘Why don’t we go out with Adam again this weekend?’
‘What about your other friends?’ I ask, turning towards him.
‘What about them?’
‘Do you have many?’
He shrugs. ‘I have a few mates, yeah.’
‘Do you catch up with them often?’ I haven’t met or heard about any of his friends since I came here.
‘Not so much recently,’ he replies.
‘Why not? Do they really collect driftwood for you? They must be good friends to do that.’
‘What, to pick up the occasional piece of wood?’ He looks at me, raising one eyebrow. ‘That’s easy.’ He sighs and returns his gaze to the view. ‘It’s the whole bereavement thing they find difficult. They’re great “going-out” friends, but I haven’t been up for that. I haven’t wanted to talk to them about Nicki, but I doubt they’d know what to say or do if I did.’
He’s talked about her to me. . .
‘You’re different,’ he says, as though reading my mind. ‘You didn’t know her. I think other people find it hard because they lost her too.’
I nod, getting where he’s coming from. ‘You can talk to me any time you like,’ I say quietly, stretching my bare legs out in front of me.
‘Thanks,’ he replies after a moment.
We sit there in comfortable silence. Well, it’s not that comfortable: the grass is tickling the underside of my legs.
‘Are you sure April’s all right?’ I ask after a while, nodding down at Hermie.
‘I’ll go and check on her,’ he decides, getting to his feet.
I watch as he makes his way back down the hill.
‘I was starting to worry you’d buggered off home,’ I say on his return approach.
‘Paid a visit to the toilet block while I was down there.’
He flops on the grass beside me, barely out of breath. He’s so fit.
Yeah, really. It’s a bit unfunny, actually.
‘April okay?’ I ask.
‘Out cold,’ he replies fondly, leaning back on his elbows again.
‘I can’t believe Morris’s mobile cream-tea service was your idea.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Are you Morris?’
He grins at me. ‘Seriously?’
‘Completely.’
He shakes his head, seeming amused. ‘It’s just a story, Bridget.’
‘There are some similarities, though,’ I point out, rolling onto my tummy and facing him.
‘You mean Isak and Timo,’ he says.
‘Exactly. Timo sounds just like Isak. Do you know if Nicki ever saw him when she went to Thailand to visit her dad?’
His amusement dissolves.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,’ I say quickly.
‘It’s fine.’ But it’s clearly not fine. ‘They used to occasionally bump into each other,’ he tells me. ‘She claimed it was awkward, but it still freaked me out.’
I nod, sympathetically. ‘Why didn’t you ever go to Thailand with her?’ I ask after a moment.
‘We couldn’t afford it. We always talked about it. Nicki had every intention of using her book money to take us all there. I’ve always wanted to go, and, even though I think Alain can be a selfish git, he should have a relationship with April.’
‘I’m going to need to travel there myself,’ I confide.
‘Really?’ He looks at me with interest.
‘Yeah. I’ve been once, briefly, but that was almost twenty years ago. It’s been so helpful, being here, writing about the places I’ve visited. Tintagel and Lansallos have given me loads of ideas.’
‘When will you go?’ he asks.
‘Probably October or November.’
‘Don’t go in October – it rains like you wouldn’t believe.’
‘November, then. Does Nicki’s dad still work at the same resort?’ I ask Charlie.
‘Yes.’
‘I wonder if I’ll get to meet him,’ I muse.
‘Will you stay at that exact place?’
‘I’d like to. I want to see the same setting that inspired Nicki.’ I elbow him. ‘You guys should come with me.’
He raises his eyebrows. ‘Think it’ll be a long time before we can afford to do that.’
‘I get brilliant discounts as a travel writer. I might even be able to wing free accommodation.’
He smiles at me. ‘We couldn’t even afford the flights at the moment.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘First star,’ he says, nodding at the sky.
‘Pretty.’ I watch it twinkling. ‘I need to go to the loo, but I can’t be bothered to move.’
‘I should leave in a bit,’ he replies.
But we don’t leave. We stay there talking for another half an hour until my bladder can no longer stand the pressure. Charlie gets up first and holds his hand down to me.
‘I’m okay,’ I reply, pushing up onto my feet unassisted and feeling a small, strange stab of regret when his hand returns to his side.
We stagger down the hill and peel away from each other at the bottom.
When I get back from the loo, I find Charlie standing at the foot of my bed inside Hermie. He’s staring at April.
‘I can’t bear to move her,’ he whispers.
‘Don’t, then,’ I whisper back gently. ‘She can stay with me tonight.’
‘No. . .’ He frowns, shaking his head.
‘Would you miss her?’
‘It’s not that. I just. . . I couldn’t.’
‘Don’t you trust me?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘She’d be all right with me, wouldn’t she? You could come back early if you wanted to. Or have a lie-in, if you like. I’ll bring her to you in the morning.’ We’re both still whispering.
He thinks about it, but then he shakes his head again, his mind apparently made up.
‘Stay in the tent, then,’ I suggest quickly. ‘Or’ – I come up with another idea – ‘you sleep with her and I’ll stay in the tent!’
He looks at me and grins. ‘I’ll stay in the tent,’ he decides. ‘If you’re sure.’
‘I’m sure. Yay!’ I exclaim in a whisper. ‘Sleepover!’ I’m a bit tipsy.
He chuckles and wraps his arm around my shoulders like he did earlier on the beach, giving me a quick squeeze.
‘You call that a hug?’ I surprise myself by saying.
He grins at me sideways. ‘You after the full seven seconds?’
‘Yes.’ I jolt. ‘I mean, no. No. That wouldn’t be appropriate. Not now you’re staying over.’
He raises one eyebrow. ‘You think it’s a bad idea for me to take you into my big strong arms?’
I giggle quietly. ‘I’m not going to start fancying you, if that’s what you mean. It’s not that you’re not fanciable, because you definitely are. But I don’t fancy you.’
‘Good, I feel the same way about you.’
‘What?’ I pretend to be put out. ‘Why don’t you fancy me? I’ve got a boyfriend – what’s your excuse?’
‘Er, you’re my late wife’s ghostwriter? That would be too creepy.’
I laugh. ‘You’re right. It’s good that you don’t fancy me.’
‘I definitely don’t.’
‘All right, stop going on about it! I’ll get a complex.’
We look at each other and then both crack up, completely silently, clutching our sides. Tears cloud my vision as we stumble out of the campervan. Somehow he manages to close the door behind us before we let rip.
‘How do you do it?’ he asks eventually, wiping his eyes. ‘It’s been so long since I’ve laughed like this.’
‘You laughed like this last Friday, didn’t you?’ I remind him, the memory still fresh and brilliant inside my mind.
‘Exactly, that was you again, doing Eminem.’
We’ve both ended up on the grass, leaning against Hermie, our legs stretched out in front of us.
‘How am I going to cope when you leave?’
His question – and I think it was rhetorical – sobers us both up.
‘Let me get you a blanket,’ I say. ‘Just shove my clothes off to one side, or sleep on them, I don’t care. I’ll sort them out tomorrow.’
As I start to get up, he reaches for me and stops me in my tracks. I bump back onto the ground.
‘What?’ I prompt when he doesn’t speak. His fingers are like a red-hot handcuff around my wrist.
‘We will stay in touch, won’t we?’ he asks.
‘Definitely,’ I reply firmly. ‘We’re friends, right?’
‘Yes. Friends.’
I think he’s had more to drink than I have.
‘Are you hankering for a hug?’ I ask after a moment of us still looking at each other. I’m beginning to feel dizzy.
He grins. ‘Do you want one?’
I consider this, with his fingers still circling my wrist.
‘Maybe.’
‘Come on, then.’ He gets to his feet and pulls me to mine, and there’s absolutely no hesitation before his arms are around me. He’s so warm and solid. So broad and. . . hmm, yes, big and strong. Wow. I am liking this immensely.
‘Two,’ he says. ‘Three, four. . .’
I start to giggle.
‘Five, six. . .’
‘You’re ruining it by counting,’ I complain over his shoulder.
‘Sorry,’ he whispers against my hair. A few seconds later, he releases me. ‘I reckon that was at least eleven seconds,’ he says. ‘But, if you need another one, all you have to do is ask.’
‘The same goes for you, Mr Laurence.’