Hearing her phone ring, Verity smiled as Ava’s name flashed on the screen. ‘Are you ready to glamp with no glamour?’ she trilled before Verity even had a chance to say hello.
Ava had been her best friend since the age of eleven when they started high school together. Even though they’d clicked straight away, they were like chalk and cheese and nothing had changed in the intervening years. Ava was a free spirit, floated from job to job, and didn’t have any ties except a goldfish that had almost reached the age of fifteen by the time it finally stopped swimming. Ava winged everything and worried about nothing, whereas Verity always liked the stability of a steady job and a home.
‘I’m ready, born ready,’ chirped Verity, knowing she’d heard that line in a movie.
Ava laughed. ‘I can’t quite believe safe Verity has resigned and is coming on a six-month adventure.’
‘Hey, I’m not safe, as that suggests boring,’ she protested, but she didn’t entirely disagree with Ava: she wasn’t usually one for taking risks.
‘You’re never going to look back. We’re going to have the best six months. I promise.’
Verity thought back to how life was six months ago, as she looked around the home she’d thought she’d share with Richard. She now couldn’t fathom why she’d stuck it out with him so long. Maybe it was because of other people’s expectations. Her mother had drummed the conventional way of life into Verity from an early age. Leave school, find a job and a man – it didn’t matter in what order – get engaged, married and then have children. The worst possible outcome, according to her mum, was to end up on the shelf, because then people would start to ask what was wrong with her. Verity had had no idea who these ‘people’ were or why their opinions mattered.
She could still remember her mother’s words when she heard from Verity that the wedding was off, and they rang loud and clear in her ears now. ‘He would never do that. An affair? It must be your fault somehow. You need to find a way to make it work. You’ll never find anyone as good as him.’
All Verity could think now was, thank God she hadn’t listened. Because if Richard was considered ‘good’, she never wanted to date anyone ‘good’ again.
‘Happiness is more about mindset than marriage’ had been Verity’s parting words to her mother. When she was growing up their relationship had always been strained. She had never been her mother’s first priority, and her father was a topic her mother refused to even talk about. When she moved to France it was a relief.
After the disastrous phone conversation when she’d told her mother that the wedding was off, Verity had made a difficult decision. Even though they were related by blood, her mother was no good for her mental health, and it was time to take a step back from their relationship. She’d never encouraged Verity, never shown her any true compassion, and always left her feeling like a huge disappointment to her. Enough was enough. Neither of them had rung each other since that conversation.
‘Hetty is full of petrol, my clothes and food are packed and tomorrow can’t come soon enough.’
‘I’ll be on a different ferry, but I’ll meet you at the port in Amsterdam as planned. Then the world is our oyster. Any plans for tonight?’
‘A long hot shower, as we have no idea when our next will be. Though I have pinched one of those portable pet washers from the surgery. It’s like a huge petrol can that you fill up with water, then you pump the water and it comes out through an attached shower head.’
Ava laughed. ‘If the worst comes to the worst, we can always take a dip in the canal. After all, there is a lot of water in Amsterdam.’
‘Eww, over my dead body! And no doubt there will be a few dead bodies in there along with bicycles.’
‘Twelve thousand bicycles a year on average,’ confirmed Ava, full of knowledge as ever. ‘All we need to do is find a good coffee shop when we get there, and then the rest of the day will be a daze.’ She laughed.
‘You mean drugs, don’t you? I’m beginning to worry I’ve given up my stable existence for a life of body odour and weed,’ Verity joked.
‘One last adventure before we’re thirty and only then should we consider growing up a little.’
‘In my case that’s only a month away!’
‘Then we need to make the most of that month! Our adventure is going to be epic. See you tomorrow!’
After hanging up the phone Verity looked at her reflection in the mirror that was hanging on the living-room wall above the fireplace. She looked tired and emotionally drained. She needed this change of routine and was determined to enjoy every second of this trip. Verity always thought this house would be her final destination in life, but now she was open to the possibility of change. She was grateful for the opportunity to have some fun with her oldest and best friend and take her time planning exactly what she wanted from her future.
She opened the fridge. The shelves were empty except for a ready meal for one, a small bottle of prosecco and a pint of milk for her morning brew. Verity pierced several holes in the film of the ready meal and placed it in the microwave for five minutes. As soon as it pinged, she stared disappointedly at the least appetising meal she’d ever seen. Washed down with the prosecco, though, it was just about bearable.
After she finished eating and washed up, there were only two things left to do: put the bin out ready for tomorrow’s collection then take a shower. Tomorrow would be an early start and a long day. The journey from Staffordshire to Newcastle upon Tyne was over three hours, but with numerous audio books loaded on to her phone, and a playlist of all her favourite songs queued up, hopefully that and the excitement would carry her through the fifteen-hour boat ride she had ahead of her once she arrived at the ferry terminal.
With one last wipe of the kitchen worktops, she left a flask by the kettle ready for the morning. She opened the back door, pulled the bin around the side of the house and left it on the pavement, knowing that when Kev delivered his letters on his round tomorrow, he would kindly put the emptied bin back at the rear of the house. Hearing another bin being scraped along the ground, she looked up and locked eyes with Richard. She quickly looked away without a flicker of acknowledgement on her face. She only had another few hours before there would be five hundred miles between them and he would become nothing but a distant memory.
Back in the kitchen she remembered the toolbox needed to go into the van. It was resting on the floor next to the kitchen table and she was just about to pack it into Hetty when her gaze caught on the rusty old postbox still lying on the table. Kev’s words came back to her and, even though she knew there was probably nothing inside, curiosity was gradually getting the better of her. There was a strong barrel lock on the front, which had rusted over the years, and not having a key, Verity grabbed a screwdriver and managed to prise the door open a little. She then swapped the screwdriver for the claw end of a hammer. With one almighty pull she wrenched the door open, and, surprised, she stumbled backwards.
To her amazement, the postbox contained mail! There were various local business leaflets, from handymen to painters, an outstanding week’s milk bill written in shillings and pence, and, right behind the rest of what she would call junk mail, a postcard.
Holding it in her hand, she took in the colourful picture on the front, which featured two puffins sitting on a rock, looking out over the sea.
‘Puffins!’ she said, smiling, memories flooding back to her. The stocky, short-winged, short-tailed birds with their bright orange webbed feet and white faces, their large, triangular parrot-like bills of bright red and yellow, had been a huge part of her childhood, appearing frequently in the bedtime stories that her grandmother had told her. A natural storyteller who never read from a book, Hetty took her for endless exciting adventures on a place called Puffin Island. Verity could vividly remember the images her granny had described of the quaint island with its colourful cottages and sandy coves.
Verity gave a tiny gasp, feeling her heart beginning to race as she traced her fingers over the gold foil print on the front of the postcard. It had faded but she could still clearly make out the words ‘Puffin Island’. Her granny’s words started ringing in her ears.Puffin Island, where there’s always a good dose of sun, sand, sea air and a puffinry of puffins.As a young child, Verity had always burst into a fit of giggles whenever Granny had said the word ‘puffinry’. She’d thought it was a made-up word until she became a veterinary nurse and stumbled across the word in a textbook. That took her by surprise then, and this took her by surprise now. Verity turned over the postcard and saw the date on the postmark: 1972.
