“It’s the mint that grows here, a unique local variety. I use blue basil in the cucumber sandwiches, too.”
“Don’t try bribing us to stay by singing the attractions of local herbs.” I joke quietly, joining them.
“Are we ready?” Lessa looks up at me.
“I think so.”
She wheels the pram around in a tight circle and goes to say goodbye to the last few people. The Tannoy crackles, announcing our ferry is ready to depart and for all passengers to board. There’s a flurry of activity all around; I turn to give Millie a hug and find her studying me with a thoughtful expression.
“It’s hard to leave.” I say because it is the simple truth. There is something about Millie that makes it easy to talk honestly.
“I know. Believe me.” She gives me a mild half-smile. “I think if you feel you have to go, then you have to follow that instinct. I’m not a believer in going against your gut feeling.”
“Even when you’re not a hundred percent sure it’s the right decision?” I find myself asking.
We stand there, an island of quiet in the middle of the chaos and noise of the departure hall. Millie lays baby Oliver back in his crib. “Nothing is ever one hundred percent. Sometimes you have to go wherever the universe wants to guide you. I believe there are no mistakes in life. Every path takes you to a place you need to be, sometimes in a roundabout way.”
“So, I have to trust the universe?”
“You have to trust yourself.” She steps forward and gives me a hug. “Wherever your journey takes you, you will make something of it.”
I think about her words when we’re on the ferry, all the way to Jersey and then to Southampton. I booked our tickets a week ago and refused to even contemplate letting Lessa travel alone with a baby and luggage. So, I’m escorting her to Southampton where she’ll meet the car sent for her.
At the barrier, we stop as if we both want to pause before leaving our private bubble and going out into England and the bigger world.
She places the carrycot on one of the plastic chairs in the arrivals hall and digs into her bag for sunglasses. It’s a harsh reminder that from this point onwards, she needs to be careful.
“You know, you don’t have to go out there.” I can’t help saying. “Blue Catch is yours any time you want it.”
“I know.” She pushes a hand through her long, red curls.
My hands itch to do the same.
“Millie offered me a home, too.” Her lips tilt up in a smile. “As did Laura. Hal says we can always use one of his holiday cottages. Everyone seems to be offering me homes on the island. Quite the ironic turnaround for an island which has a shortage of homes. A shortage that forced us to live together last year.”
I scoff, remembering Lord M’s advice that bending the rules to let her jump the waiting list might attract gossip. It’s time to say goodbye. “You have my email, my European phone number, and if you need…”
The rest of my words are lost in the fierce hug she gives me. I allow myself to bury my head in the masses of red hair. It smells like her.
“Promise me you’ll look after yourself and you’ll complete Liam’s wish list.” Her arms squeeze me hard for a moment longer, then let go. She turns away quickly, not letting me see her face. But I don’t need to. I know all her expressions by now.
She picks up the cot and heads towards the exit. A minute later she disappears through the automatic doors.
Chapter Forty-six
Brandon
August
I’m trying to get settled in Amsterdam.
My first priority, the morning after moving into a new apartment near the Herengracht Canal, was to ask my landlady for blinds.
The Dutch aren’t big on curtains. They like people to see into their homes and usually hang window decorations. But after nearly a year on La Canette, it’s hard to get used to the artificial lights outside.
At Blue Catch, once the sun went down, the nights were velvety dark and oddly comforting, like a rich blanket. On nights when the moon shone, the countryside was bathed in a soft glow. Like a solo flute playing in the distance.
The lights here are as loud as two full orchestras playing two different concertos that clash. There are lamp posts every few meters on the edge of the canal, over each bridge and along the streets. Who needs that many lamps? And then there are the garish yellow and red shop signs and restaurant signs advertising pizza and Chinese food.
