“And when that holiday was over and we came home,” Dad says, “me to Shoreley and your mum to Somerset, we started making plans.”
“You didn’t realize you were pregnant,” I say, the picture slowly slotting into place.
“Oh,” says Tash, the culprit.
Mum shakes her head like we’re misunderstanding. The beads on her earrings rattle. “Having you girls was the mostwonderfulgift we could ever have hoped for, but now... it’s as though this fire was a sign.”
“Take the money and run.” Dad chortles. “Or buy a boat, anyway.”
“But Mum, what about your jobs? Your pensions? I mean, you’re not millionaires—you’re a teacher, and Dad works in an office.”
Mum tilts her head. “So, only millionaires can have dreams?”
Tash shuts her eyes. “No, of course not. I just don’t think... I mean, how can you go from your marriage collapsing to going off round the world in the space of twenty-four hours?”
“Sometimes, if you don’t know what to do next, you just have to look for a sign,” Dad says, reaching over to take Mum’s hand.
I smile faintly, realizing it’s been a long time since I looked to a sign from the universe for guidance. Probably not since I found out about Max and my sister. I kind of miss it.
“And can you really learn to sail at your age?” Tash says. “Don’t you think that’s just a tiny bit irresponsible?”
“At our age?” Dad echoes, then laughs.
“Lucy?” Mum says, and everyone looks at me. “You’re being very quiet.”
I swallow. My mouth feels tacky and unsupple, as though I haven’t spoken out loud in about a hundred years. “In principle... it’s a brilliant idea. But yeah—I think you should take some time to think about it. Tash is right: you’re in shock.”
“Very often in life,” Dad says, “you don’t know you needed a shock until you get one.”
—
I can still remember that first day I met you at uni,” Max says, as we’re driving along the M2 back to London, the orange motorway lights flying over the car roof like tiny UFOs. It’s dark now, late, getting on for midnight. “And you were telling me the story of how your parents met, and I thought it was this... crazy, unattainable fairy tale. It was so different to what I’d known with Brooke.”
I smile, lean my head against the headrest. I know exactly what he means: I’d wanted to write a whole goddamnnovelbased on that fairy tale. “And what do you think now?”
He makes a hopeful shrug. “Well, I don’t really believe in fairy tales. But it is pretty romantic—I mean, they want to go and do the thing they first talked about thirty-five years ago. They’reliterallysailing off into the sunset together.”
“Things must have been pretty bad, though. For them to go on a marriage retreat.”
“Well, isn’t the point that they went on it in the first place? They obviously wanted to save it.”
I turn to look at him. “Max?”
“Luce.”
“Would you ever want to quit your job to buy a boat and travel the world?”
“Nah.” He looks back at me briefly. “Farraday’s right—I’m too much of a corporate sellout.”
I smile. “Someone’s got to be.”
He smiles too. “Yeah. And to be honest, I like it that way. Life’s good, and with you, it’s pretty much perfect. So long as we’re together, that’s all I care about. I’m just glad we made it.”
I feel him glance at me again, but he doesn’t have to ask: he knows my traveling days are done. And I’m fine with that. London is my home now. I belong there, with Max. We’re building a life together, a life that I love.
For a moment I shut my eyes and enjoy the warmth of the car, the engine’s comforting rumble, the feeling of knowing Max will always be by my side.
“Wasn’t it funny,” I say, laughing, “when Tash started saying they couldn’t sail a boat, like Mum and Dad are going on ninety? They’re in their fifties.”
