Several others strolled the promenade with the same idea. Children played on the sandy beach in front of us with their hats and scarves pulled tightly over their ears. Parents looked on, drinking their tea in peace, undoubtably praying the fresh air would wear the children out before bed time.
I spotted a girl I went to school with and waved at her as she passed by with her four children, the youngest two strapped into a double buggy while the older two ran along in front in a quest for an ice cream.
Mum and John appeared to be getting on well. She seemed to be enjoying his unusual sense of humour. Either that or she was being exceptionally polite as he regaled her with tales of Ireland.
With the familiar sights and scents, a hundred memories flooded through me. Memories I’d made on this very beach over my lifetime. I learnt to swim here, dived through waves at high tide with my friends. Once I lost my bikini top in a particularly strong current, aged fourteen. I was horrified at the time, but I laughed as it sprung to mind again. So many memories I forgot I even had. So many nights I’d sat outside beach front pubs, spent summer holidays with my school friends as teenagers, using fake ID to buy us blue WKDs and Bacardi Breezers.
It was amazing how life had turned out. I’d wanted to become a policewoman, but then ended up as a dental hygienist. I wanted to live in a hot country so I could sunbathe and swim in the sea all year round, now I was moving to one of the wettest climates in Europe. It was unreal, how far removed I’d become from what I thought I wanted.
I hoped to God this time I’d get it right.
We had an early table booked at a restaurant called The Boathouse for dinner. It served the best Surf n Turf on the island. The staff seated us at a quiet round table in the bay window, where we watched the sun setting over the opposing Portsmouth Harbour.
The sky was a fabulous shade of coral. As the fluorescent ball descended into the Solent, Mum winked at me in an approving exchange. After spending the day with John, she could fully appreciate the attraction, and was satisfied it seemed to be mutual. We ordered a bottle of Pinot Noir for the table and clinked glasses in a toast.
‘Cheers,’ my mum said, ‘thank you for coming over.’
‘It was a pleasure,’ John said.
‘Take care of my baby,’ she said, as I squirmed in embarrassment. I was twenty-seven years old, hardly a baby. I said nothing, unable to sit through the ‘you’ll know yourself when you have your own children’ speech again.
‘I will of course,’ John reassured her, kissing my hand.
‘It’s just a shame you live in Ireland,’ Mum said, with a heavy exhale.
‘It’s not that far really. Besides, you never know you might like it so much you could end up retiring there yourself one day,’ he said.
‘Ha. I doubt it.’
Stranger things had happened.
As Mum and Trevor dropped us back off at the seven o’clock passenger ferry, her eyes welled with tears, a double-edged sword for her. She seemed happy I’d met someone so lovely, satisfied he cared a lot for me, but it meant I’d be moving further away again. From the lingering way in which her eyes fixated on our departing ferry, it was a thought that she did not relish.
Chapter Thirty-Two
THURSDAY 29TH NOVEMBER
Jackie dabbed the almost black gunge onto my scalp with what looked like a paintbrush. I watched her work in the mirror in front of me, grateful for the barrier cream she’d placed around my hairline.
‘So, you’re really going to do it?’ She stood back checking, examining her handiwork.
‘Yep,’ I inhaled a lungful of air and slowly exhaled.
Excitement bubbled in my belly for a new chapter, a new start. Sure, I was nervous, but the thought of being with John everyday far outweighed any concerns I could conjure up even on my darkest nights.
I’d been there nearly every week since September. Having Jane and Trish there made it so much easier, and Mama Bear and Papa Bear too. They weren’t surprised when John broke the news I was moving and were delighted to see him settling down. His mother told me their home was my home, and I was welcome any time. His father joked about the benefits of upping the weekly mileage, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t factored that in too. The new year promised a new job. All in all, it seemed like a fairly sound position to be in.
‘You’ll have to find a new hairdresser.’ Disappointment resounded in Jackie’s tone.
‘Believe it or not I already have the next one lined up.’ My mind wondered to Natalie, the girl whose husband’s stag had turned out to the best thing that had ever happened to me.
‘Have you been cheating on me already and you’ve not even left the country yet?’
‘Only a sneaky blow dry once I promise,’ I said.
‘Anytime you’re home visiting, be sure to call in here for an appointment,’ she said.
‘Of course. I’ll be in touch, anyway. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.’ Jackie had recently split with her boyfriend of ten years; she too had met somebody else very quickly, and we had been comparing notes along the way.
