19
With the floatingcinema behind me, I have work, sneaky election-related tasks, a pottery class, and a rewatch of the entire seven seasons ofDownton Abbeyto distract me from the impending trip to see my family. But, as the hour draws closer, I am becoming increasingly manic.
It doesn’t help my nerves at all when midweek Joe posts an image of the Royal Albert Hall with the captionDestiny Awaits in England. Like a crash zoom, there is suddenly nothing else in view.
As Ash handed me a cup of tea, he noted that Joe could have been talking about the Royal Albert Hall. “His destiny to play there?” Ash said, lifting his shoulders in a dismissive shrug. But I justknewhe was thinking of me. I imagined him, like me, overcome with curiosity and the wait. Frantically looking up Maras in Kent, over and over, and seeing the picture of me on the pier and wondering if that wastheMara. And he can’t resist the urge to find out. I know he can’t.
On Friday, I get home and find Ash in the lounge, his feet up, with the new DVD player on. I look around the place, still in a state of half-finished renovation, the walls filled with plaster and prepped for paint, and the floor covered in cardboard tracks between all the rooms.
“This DVD player was a really good idea,” says Ash.
“I can’t believe you never used the video store,” I say, plonking down on the couch next to him.
“Like most normal people, I stopped renting DVDs over a decade ago,” he says. “Plus, to be honest, Sanka was always a bit unfriendly.”
“He’s really nice when you get to know him,” I say, grinning at the change-up in dynamic. “You just need to make the effort, Ash, if you want to fit in.”
Ash throws a cushion at me. “I tried at your bloody cinema night, didn’t I? I think he can smell an amateur film watcher a mile off.”
I lean forward and place my pottery disaster on the coffee table, and it sags in the middle. “I just picked it up,” I say.
“Nice... beaker?” he says.
“I think so,” I say, pointing to the rim, which has folded almost completely inward. “I couldn’t bear to let the guy fire it because then I’d have to go back and do another class. I think my hobby is films, Ash. All this other stuff is just keeping me away from watching that television. Is that sad?”
“Only if you’re always alone,” he says, as he unpausesAn Officer and a Gentleman, shrugging when I raise an eyebrow at his choice. “What? It’s got the army in it. It’s manly.”
“I love it,” I say. “The final scene when he picks her up and whisks her out of the factory, it’s—”
“Spoiler!” he says, throwing a second cushion at me and hitting Pause again. “I can’t believe you spoiled the ending!”
“It’s one of the most iconic endings in any movie ever!” I reply. “It’s even been spoofed onThe Simpsons.”
“I just have other things in life going on, Mara,” he says, and I throw the cushion back at him.
We sit for a moment in the quiet and I rub my hands on my jeans, still flecked with clay. “I’ve been thinking about my mum’s birthday tomorrow,” I say. “If you still want to come, I’d be really grateful for the company.”
“Ah,” he says, nodding. “When you didn’t mention it again, I thought it was off the radar.”
“I just think if you’re with me, you can deflect some of the attention. Sorry.”
“That’s the point. I’ll borrow a car off Mum and Dad, though. We can’t go in my white van or that hearse.”
“Thanks, Ash,” I say, breathing out, relieved. “Really.”
“It’s great. Honestly, I needed an excuse to visit the dark park, and now at last I have one.”
He stands up and flicks the TV off. “I need some fresh air. I might pop out and get some beers. Do you want to come for a walk?”
“Sure. Let me have a quick shower...” As soon as I say it, I remember and groan. We still don’t have a bloody shower. “Fuck,” I say, “I’ve only washed myself at the lido or over the sink for a whole week. I stink.”
“Why not the showers?”
“They’re communal and open and cold,” I say. Ash laughs at this.
“Not long, I promise.”
“It’s fine, really. I just”—I sniff my pits—“yeah. I stink.”
