“Shh,” Marly whispered, catching our shared look. On our confused expressions, she jerked her head toward the kitchen. “More biscuits needed! You two?” she barked at us.
We dutifully followed her. We shared another tentative glance—by this point in the day we’d been doing a lot of glancing, not a lot of talking. Back to how we’d begun. But where else were we meant to start? I was just about surviving the fact that everyone on this island hates me right now, but when I thought thatOlivermight hate me…
“Don’t you dare mention about high tide at the Rock,” Marly said, clattering around in search of biscuits. “Sunset, stranded on Pouque together…it’s perfect.”
“Perfect for what?” Oliver asked her.
Marly rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Berty’s going to re-propose, isn’t he? Comeon.”
Oliver looked at me, testing how I felt about that, maybe. Was a little surprised to discover that I was genuinely happy for them.With a bit of space and distance, it was easier to see that Berty wasn’t a bad guy. He just wasn’t my guy.
“Wouldn’t they be better off at the viewpoint?” Oliver said to Marly. “Being stranded together in the sea sounds romantic but is actually just quite inconvenient, surely?”
“Donotinterfere. Don’t you think you’ve got in the way of those two enough?” Marly said.
At some point midafternoon, Marly’s anger had melted into a sort of mock irritation—I’d guess she was approximately ten percent mad at us, ninety percent over it, but still planned to make us suffer.
“I resent that,” Oliver said.
“The way I understand it, they’re star-crossed childhood sweethearts and you’re…the fling?”
Oliver just looked amused by this. Smiling without smiling, that way he does, all crinkling eyes. I had to look away, staring blindly at the Aga stove.
“You know me, Marly. You must know I would be a terrible fling,” he said.
“True.Waytoo intense. But you!” Marly turned on me. She was enjoying herself now. “You were definitely the fling.”
“I was not!” I said. “What is it about me that says fling, exactly?”
“You’re too hot to be anything else,” Marly said, almost kindly.
“You don’t say fling to me,” Oliver said.
Think it was the first sentence he’d uttered directly my way since we were in the trailer. It made me want to cry again. I longed to step into his arms for a hug, and just breathe him in, the man I knew, not the stranger called Oliver. His eyes were soft and full of meaning, but I didn’t know what the meaningwas.
We needed to talk, but every time either of us made a move to leave the farmhouse—either alone or together—Marly would say, “Ah-ah, nope, no sneaking off.” Couldn’t tell if she was just enjoyingtorturing us or wanted to make sure we didn’t flee the island before the barn dance we were supposed to be running this evening.
“Well, you two are the exes, anyway,” Marly said. “The baddies. The villains.”
“What is it people say?” Oliver said. “Everyone is the villain in someone else’s story.”
“Oh no,” I said, horrified. When most of your life has been dedicated to impressing everyone you’ve ever met, this is a pretty foundation-shifting thought.
Marly patted us both on the arms. “Better make sure you’re the hero in your own, eh?”
Save a dance for Oliver
The final and most surprising task of all. Can’t decide if Charlie attempting to matchmake me and Oliver is patronizing (“Here, have my ex!”) or incredibly big of her.
Either way, I didn’t need telling to save a dance for Oliver. I owe him an explanation, and not just about my name.
All the truth-telling today has been excruciating, but it’s felt freeing, too. When I arrived here, I committed to singlehood because I knew if I dated, I’d relinquish control of my journey to motherhood to yet another guy. Losing my dad should have been the moment when I realized how short life can be, that I shouldn’t waste another minute, but it wasn’t. Too painful to teach me anything, maybe—too overwhelming, what with learning about his addiction, his life in LA, the parts of him I’d never been allowed to see. It took falling out with my mum, and the shock of realizing Berty didn’t want a child, for me to realize how much of my life had been about other people’s approval.
I had to do this by myself, for myself.
