‘Maybe. But mine still argued a bit over the years. Every couple does.’
Before they could dwell on relationships and all they entailed he raised his eyebrows and plunged his hand into the jar for another memory. And when he opened up the piece of paper said, ‘Oh this is definitely mine … “I fancy Adrian’s girlfriend.”’
This time she had a hard job keeping the wine in her mouth before she swallowed. ‘How old were you when you wrote that one?’
‘No idea, which means I can’t remember which girlfriend it was, and there were many.’
He was enjoying this, they both were, although she knew not every memory would bring smiles. Maybe they should stop while the going was good.
It was Nina’s turn and she knew this memory was hers. ‘Another first world problem … “Molly and Arthur ran out of doughnuts at the café on the pier,”’ she read. ‘I’m still woken at night thinking about that you know.’
‘You and your doughnuts.’ He pulled out the next memory which was one of his. He’d worried they’d never get a dog, as his mum claimed to be allergic. ‘There’s another worry in there somewhere from when we got thedog and I then worried I’d have to clean up vomit. You know I’m squeamish about that sort of thing.’
‘How do you handle it when people are seasick?’
‘Easy, don’t take them on a boat,’ he quipped. ‘or at least hand them a bucket. Your turn,’ he prompted.
She pulled out another piece of paper. ‘Aw, this one is me.’ She clutched it to her chest briefly before she recited, ‘“One day Gran and Grandad might not remember me.”’ With a gulp she told Leo, ‘I wrote that when a girl in my class had been crying at school and her friend told me it was because her nanna had dementia and didn’t remember who she was. It broke my heart.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘Pick another,’ she urged. The wine was going down well and it was almost time to dish up the chilli.
‘“Nina will never notice me,”’ he read with a grin.
She felt her cheeks colour. ‘My turn.’ And she pulled out the next, but when she saw the words her glassy stare had him reach out to take the piece of paper from between her fingers.
He didn’t read it out loud, he just folded it once he’d seen what it said and put it with the other pieces. ‘Want to talk about it?’
She shook her head.
Why don’t my parents love me?were the words on that piece of paper. Words that she’d asked herself over and over as her dad’s job took them both away from her and her brother time and time again, the lack of contact which, when it came, felt a duty rather than anything else, then the divorce and separate houses.
Leo screwed the top back on the jar. ‘Perhaps opening this up wasn’t the best idea.’
‘It’s fine, it gave me a laugh.’ At least it had until that one. That was the thing about memories, they could linger on the periphery and although deep down you knew they were there, you’d manage to push them aside. Unfortunately they still had the power to take you by surprise.
Leo checked on the rice and declared it done as she stayed put. It was as though her legs didn’t want to move just yet. That worry had been the first she put into the jar, probably the whole reason the worry jar was necessary in the first place, Nina trying to make sense of her place in the world along the way. It had evolved over time, especially as Leo joined in, and as their friendship blossomed and she grew happier she’d been able to worry about things that weren’t quite so soul-destroying, things like doughnuts and the fact that her best friend was a boy.
She joined Leo in the kitchen where she pulled out two big pale blue bowls as he drained the rice and divided it between them. It was a squeeze in the compact space but they danced around each other with ease, and without a word about the jar or its contents, she spooned out the chilli on top of the rice, asked if he wanted sour cream and cheese – yes please to both – and Leo suggested they head over to his cabin, put on the festoon lights and eat al fresco so they could see the water.
‘Is it warm enough to eat outside?’ she asked absently. The weather had definitely cooled in the last couple of days, the sun not as strong as it was a few short weeks ago.
‘If we find it isn’t, then I have an outdoor heater or blankets.’ He picked up the wine and both glasses, now empty, expertly held between his fingers. ‘I’ll be back.’And if he was giving her breathing space without making her feel he was aware she needed it, she was grateful.
His absence for a couple of minutes gave her a chance to close her eyes and take a deep breath in, focus on the sound of the waves filtering in through the open door to the cabin. Even though Leo hadn’t looked in the worry jar in all this time he’d still known it was in his possession, he’d still been more mentally prepared for it than she had, especially when his worries weren’t what had started it in the first place.
By the time he came back to help her with the bowls of chilli as she locked her cabin, she managed a smile as if everything was absolutely fine.
It was an evening together, they’d done it before, plenty of times.
It had just been a while.
Chapter Fourteen
Leo
They crossed from her cabin to his – thirteen stepping stones, he’d known it since he was a kid and for every day since.
