Gil walks over to sit beside me on the concrete ledge. ‘Then why do I get the feeling that it’s not? You’ve been a bit checked-out since Simon visited.’
Gil doesn’t cajole a response out of me; he just sits, lets me be. After about five minutes, I crack. ‘Do you think he seemed okay at the weekend?’
Gil stares back at me, and I sense his hesitation at answering my question. Why is that?
‘Simon seemed like Simon to me. The pertinent question is: what do you think?’
I grip the ledge to anchor myself. ‘I think … I think something’s up with him, but I’m not sure what.’
‘Why do you think that?’
I sigh in exasperation. He’s turning it back on me again. Why can’t he just sympathize, agree?
I try to gather an answer for him. I’m still haunted by that memory of the younger, five-years-ago version of me, who knew what she wanted from life and wasn’t afraid to go and get it. Maybe that’s why I take the subject down its next path. ‘I’m getting a vibe,’ I say, swinging my legs and looking down at my knees, ‘similar to when I returned to yachting after Megan’s death and Simon slowly went quiet on me. It feels like he’s behind a glass wall and I can’t quite reach him any more.’
Gil shifts uncomfortably. ‘I can’t give you advice regarding your relationship with Simon.’
‘I know …’ It’s not fair to him to put him in the middle, not now that we both have a friendship with him. And his loyalty will always remain with Simon, won’t it?
‘Are you still worried his feelings have changed for you since the accident?’
‘I don’t know …’
‘I meant what I said, E. I don’t see that much change in you, only that you’re letting out what you keep packed away so carefully on the inside a little more often.And I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.’
My eyes fill with tears. I had no idea how much I needed to hear that until the words left his mouth. I reach out and touch his hand, resting my fingertips lightly on his skin as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to do. Without breaking eye contact, he interlaces his fingers with mine and curls them round my hand. I feel as if I have found my anchor stone, my safe place, and I exhale, tension leaching out of me.
I swipe at my eyes, then meet Gil’s again. ‘I think what frustrates me most is that for years, I lied to everyone, telling everyone I was fine when I wasn’t, soldiering on when I really should’ve asked for help. And now I really need Simon to step up and I feel he’s just … AWOL. And the most frustrating thing is that I know he has it in him to do this for me, to be by my side and help me through a difficult time in my life, because he’s done it before. So why won’t he now? Don’t I matter to him as much as I did back then? And I’m angry with him for not being who I need him to be right now. That’s selfish, isn’t it?’
Gil’s fingers squeeze mine gently. ‘You’re the least selfish person I know.’
That’s when the floodgates open. I sniff loudly and tears stream down both cheeks.
Gil turns to face me. He reaches up and brushes the moisture away with his thumbs. ‘Don’t cry. It breaks my heart to see you like this.’
I stare into his eyes, and he stares back at me. My heart thuds and the air around us pulses in time with the beat. He’s looking at me exactly the way he did in St Lucia when we were stuck in the water and he said he’d die for me.Only that Gil wasn’t real. And this one …
Oh.
This Gil feels it too. It’s not just a kooky, one-sided crush whipped up by my confused brain. He really cares about me. Not only that, he desires me. On a pure whim of instinct, I lean towards him and my eyelids drift closed. I can feel the heat of his lips millimetres from mine when he whispers, ‘This isn’t a good idea, E …’
E … He calls me E all the time now.
And Simon hasn’t, not for years. I scrolled back through my messages to check.
This is a puzzle piece, an important one, and I start trying to work out what to do with it. I feel that the intuitive, instinctive part of my consciousness has stumbled upon something significant, but that my logical brain is struggling to join the dots.
In my mind’s eye, I see Gil walking up the steps to the roof.
Hey, you …
Hey yourself …
My eyes spring open and I pull back. It almost feels as if I’ve had another smack on the head, because what is dropping into place inside my skull is world-changing, paradigm shifting. ‘It was you!’ I say, as my heart slows and comes to a stop. ‘You were the one messaging me when I was in the Caribbean!’
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
Present Day
