This isthmus connects the main island to Blue Sage Bay, known to the locals as Le Cou. Island legends say that La Canette (meaning duckling) was cursed by a wizard to prevent it from becoming a fully grown swan connecting England and France. But if La Canette is a baby swan, then the beautiful cove at Blue Sage Bay is its beak drinking the sparkling waters of the sea. Dear visitor, if you stand here and look down towards Le Cou (neck), you can see that the Isthmus does indeed look like a curving, elegant neck leading to the beak.
As Pierre started walking down the curving causeway towards the small pretty cove, she decided to use the word ‘isthmus’ in all her conversations. She’d always been a wordsmith and loved learning new words, even inventing some of her own. According to her boss, she had been born with a singular talent for wordsmithery. It was why he had moved to make things more permanent between them last year. Permanent on a professional level, that was. He’d offered her the full-time position working for him so she could quit her hotel job. Their relationship had seemed to improve too. At first.
Right on cue,Hey Nowby London Grammar started playing in the pocket of her indigo tie-dyed skirt. With a frustrated sigh, she took out her phone and silenced it without even looking at it. Life was going to be hard enough without seeing the name ‘Martin’ flashing on her screen.
Bad enough that her stomach clenched when he rang.
Once, not long ago, her heart had danced when his special ringtone played from her phone.Hey now, Baby, he would say as soon as she answered.
Pierre made a mental note to change the ringtone to something more appropriate. MaybeThe End of Wordsby Dead Can Dance.
Up ahead, a pretty blue-green cottage nestled into the hill among green and purple flowers. It looked like a postcard.
A holiday home you’d never want to leave.
She shook her head; old habits die hard, and it would take time for her mind to stop thinking up snappy lines and pretty words.
She shaded her eyes to focus on the pretty house ahead. A wooden boardwalk wrapped around it and lead to a small jetty. A small boat had just docked and was letting off several passengers who walked towards the house – no, it was a café.
Now she looked more closely, she could see tables and benches arranged around potted plants and hanging flower baskets. Even from this distance, Pierre could see a waitress serving food and drink – hopefully, whatever the café served included cake. As far as Pierre was concerned, cake was the ideal antidote to a wounded heart.
If music is the food of love, then cake is the food of breakups.
______
“Is that your phone?” the pretty young woman asked as she handed Pierre the menu half-an-hour later.
Pierre had chosen a sunny table outside by the railing, the salty smell of the sea to her right competed with the scent of flowering rosemary in a large planter to her left. She rejected the call without looking. Now that she was gone, again, Martin was chasing her. Again.
She kept her eyes on the list of cakes. “Which do you recommend?”
The woman answered immediately. “Orange cardamom chocolate cake if you’re having it with tea, or lemon poppy seed cake if you’re drinking coffee.”
Her phone dinged with a message.
MARTIN: I’m sorrier than I could ever say.
Pierre flicked the button on the side to silence the phone and shoved it back in her pocket. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the vibration which felt like a tiny electric shock against her leg. She took it out and placed it as far from her as she could on the table.
Buzzzzzz. The phone shook along the surface of the wooden table.
The woman’s eyes flicked to the phone then tactfully away.
MARTIN: Please forgive me.
“I’m sorry, which cake did you say?” Pierre did her best to focus.
“I could give you a slice of each,” the waitress said, a note of sympathy had come into her voice.
Buzzzzzz.
MARTIN: You made me a better man, I’m nothing without you.
Buzzzzzz.
MARTIN: Don’t do this to us, please come back.
She could switch off the vibration, but that would open up her screen right into her messages which would send Martin a ‘message read’ notification which would only encourage him. She closed her eyes. “I’ll have any kind of cake you want to give me.”
