The enormity of what I’d just done was sinking in. Marly was studying our faces. Red’s was tearstained, while my makeup was presumably unsmudged.
“Red found the test in the bathroom,” I said. “She was upset because she didn’t know whether to speak to me about it.”
This was actually totally excruciating. Yes, I’ve made peace with the envy, but pretending to be pregnant when it’s something I want so badly my heart aches…that’s a whole other ball game.
“Charlie…there’s no midwife on the island,” Marly said to me, her eyes serious. “Doc Laurry is lovely, and brilliant, but he’d be the first to say he doesn’t specialize in women’s health. We don’t recommend anyone stays on the island if they’re pregnant.”
Ah. I glanced at Red. Her hands were twisted together and her bottom lip was shaking.
I knew she was staying at the B&B, earning her keep by working here. Knew she couldn’t go home to her parents. And I guess I knew why she didn’t want Marly to find out she was going to have a baby.
Which meant that for now…I was going to have to keep up another lie.
And this lie…Oh, this liehurt.
From:Charlie Jones
To:Charlie Jones
Subject:Day fifty sober
It was a clear day today, blue skies and orange leaves. Rosie insisted on Marly taking a Friday off, and Charlie was managing the shop, so Marly and I decided to cycle down to the beach by Hoard Cave, one of the spots on the island I wanted a closer look at. Red had told me that pirates used to stash stolen goods there; I had visions of chests of gold coins.
Marly said nothing about the spare room. I didn’t, either. I just wanted a ride with my friend, mix-ups and mysteries put aside. She was quiet, though, like something was preoccupying her.
“Have you seen Charlie today?” she asked eventually, as we left our bikes on the gravel and began to pick our way across to the cave.
It was only accessible at low tide, but thankfully I am well aware of the tide times these days—or at least, I have an app for that.
I told Marly I’d seen Charlie at breakfast, leaving out the part where my heart soared because Charlie ate the whole bowl of overnight oats I’d made for her. She’s not felt able to eat a meal in one go for ages. She slept properly last night, too. I love itwhen she’s less anxious. There’s a strange kind of satisfaction to it. It’s like watching your football team winning the game.Fuck you, anxiety, I thought, as she smiled at me over her mug of coffee.My girl’s going to take you down.
I realized Marly was giving me a slightly odd look. She said she’d seen Charlie yesterday, and that she’d “had some stuff to tell her.”
“Really? What stuff?”
She scanned my face for a moment before staring out to sea.
“Some stuff about the harvest festival. The whole barn dance plan.”
I had to ask her to repeat this, for obvious reasons.
“Barn dance. It’s a fun idea. Very tourist friendly, and a good use of the old sheep barn.”
I had a lot of questions at this point. The old sheep barn with only half a roof? Had we looked into insurance for this? Had anyone confirmed that the barn would stay standing for the duration of a barn dance, however long one of those was?
“Charlie thought a harvest festival barn dance would encourage people to bring the celebration up here, spend some money at the farm shop. Jerry’s got a folksy, country sort of band, they’ll do the music—”
“Jerry the milkman? The constable? Who runs the secondhand book trailer?”
Yes, apparently.
“What even is barn dancing? I’m not actually sure.”
“Oh, you know,” Marly said, pausing briefly between the rocks to do some kind of country-and-western-style jig on the sand. There was a lot of arm-pumping involved, as though she was trying to inflate an air bed. “Someone yells out the moves, everyone joins in…”
“This sounds terrible,” I said, with genuine horror. “Enforced dancing? And you think this is a good idea?”
“I’m not going to be bloody dancing, am I?” Marly said. “I’ll be working at the bar. But Rosie’s in love with the whole plan. There’s also something involving a donkey, but I’m hazy on the details.”
