“Ain’t she?” Kim called. “That’s Charlie Jones and that’s Charlie Jones.” She pointed at each of us in turn.
Berty’s face was a picture of disbelief.
“You think that’s Charlie Jones, too?” he said, pointing to Jones.
“He’s not called Charlie Jones?” Galoshes asked sharply.
Complete hush across the little harbor now. Remember hearing the ferry creaking behind me, and waves lapping against rock, and feeling totally disassociated from all of it.
Berty’s expression was dark as he pointed to us in turn.
“You all honestly think that these two people here have the same exact name? They are both called Charlie Jones? You think that’s an actual plausible coincidence, do you, and that they both turned up here at the same time for, what…no reason at all?”
“Well, it’s just one of those weird things, isn’t it?” Rog said, after a slightly defensive silence. “Like those stories about people who get swapped at birth or accidentally inherit each other’s houses or whatever.”
“That man is called Oliver. That woman is called Aspen.”
Everyone was staring at us. Anxiety was pulsing through me—could hardly bear it. It was crushing,awful. Wanted to crouch down on the ground in a ball, or perhaps throw myself off the edge of theharbor—not to die, it wasn’t about that, it was just aboutdoingsomething to make the feelingstop. Needed to get out, get away, go somewhere nobody in the world could see me.
Galoshes marched over.
“You’re not Charlie Jones,” she said, looking at me.
“No.” My voice was croaky. My whole body was trembling. “I’m so sorry for—”
“And you’re not Charlie Jones.” Galoshes turned back towardJonesOliver.
“No,” he said simply. He wasn’t looking at me. He turned to Marly and Rosie. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Both of you.”
“But,” Rog piped up, “if you’re not Charlie Jones, and you’re not Charlie Jones…” His face was crumpled in bewilderment. “Marly and Rosie offered that job tosomeonecalled Charlie Jones, didn’t they?”
“They did,” Galoshes said grimly.
“So where the hell’s the actual Charlie Jones?” Rog said.
“Thankyou,” said Berty. “Where the hell is my wife?”
Lot of commotion after that. Don’t quite know what happened, really—was in my own little hell, the anxiety gnawing at my insides.
Red gripped my arm, the way I’d gripped hers as I’d stepped off the ferry.
“Are you OK?” she said.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, as everyone around began to speak to me.
“You’re who?”…“You lied to us?”…“Who the hell even are you?”
“Hey, come on. I’m sure you had your reasons. Give her some space!” Red said to the crowd around us, pulling me through so I was closer to Berty,JonesOliver, Rosie and Marly. I nearly tripped over an absurd heap of pumpkins.
“You’re really not called Charlie Jones?” Rosie said to me, and her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m so, so sorry,” I said shakily. “It didn’t seem like this big a lie when you were all theoretical people, and the farm shop was just some cute idea…”
“I’m so sorry,” Oliver said.
There were tears in his eyes, too, and he still wasn’t looking at me. Anxiety roared through me. What if he hates me now? And who evenishe? He felt suddenly like a terrifying unknown, and it made me realize that until this moment he’d seemed so safe to me. Someone I could trust. Now he was a stranger. That night we’d shared on the sofa, all the gaps and silences…We’d hidden so much from each other—how could I have felt I knew him so deeply? I’d not even known hisname.
And he’d not even known mine.
