With no more than a cursory glance to take in the state of the woman, she dashed to her room to get ready for work.
Looking out of her bedroom window over the harbour, her mood was further elevated by the sight of her very favourite kind of day. It was not yet seven thirty and the sky at this early hour was pink – pink! Sugared-almond coloured, the air already warm. It did something to her spirit to look out and feel the anticipation of the day ahead softening her bones and putting a smile on her face. It never occurred to her to take a picture, knowing that a photograph couldn’t truly capture the marshmallow palette nor the feeling that came with it. Plus, it was a view so perfectly preserved in her mind’s eye, a single image would only fail to do justice to the shift that came immediately after or immediately before; it was a scene that fluctuated in colour and subject, a hypnotic movie.
It was a feeling no doubt enhanced by the happy, intoxicated state in which she found herself. This girlish lightness to her footfall, the flutter of joy in the base of her stomach, all down to the fact that she would see him again tonight. She was also certain that, just as she thought about him, so he was thinking about her. It wasn’t logical or rational, but Maudie was right: sheknew.
Do you have to go?She liked to replay this in her head. Not only to capture his voice, which was clear and just the right level ofdeep, but also the way he had looked at her and she at him. It had been intense, gut-stirring, and spoke of an interest that one date should ordinarily be no basis for. But there was nothing ordinary about any of it.
She had spoken sincerely to Maudie when she’d used the word love.Love!Or at least how she thought love should feel: warm and like coming home, fascinating and raising more questions than it answered. But how could she feel like this after two conversations and one date? It was crazy! Irresponsible. Literally madness! Her of all people! She didn’t do this, didn’t feel this! She was practical, level-headed, the person who paid bills, cared for Freda, wrote letters, bolted the door, and checked on her mother to make sure she wasn’t going to vomit in her sleep, or that the man she was trying to sneak up the stairs wasn’t an axe murderer. And yet there she was: giddy. That word in itself reserved for flighty teens and romantics, the butterfly girls who flitted from beau to beau.
Tawrie was not and never had been one of those, and she hardly recognised herself, as she stood in the window of her bedroom, looking out over the pink blush of a summer morning. She could see his face dancing in the clouds, hear his voice above the call of the gulls and if she closed her eyes ... She shivered, as if able to recreate the way she had felt when the universe saw fit to make them collide. Aware of how it sounded, making her utterly, utterly certifiable, she was also unable to deny that it was an important collision, a life-changing event for her. Excitement surged in her veins and hope and happiness had a new name and that name was: Ed!
‘Taw?’ Her mother called from the green bathroom on the half landing, drawing her from her delightful musings, as she rushed to get changed for the start of her shift.
‘Yep?’
‘I’ve got the shits and there’s no loo roll, can you grab some from the airing cupboard?’
And just like that, real life was restored.
‘Morning, Needle! Early start?’ she called as she passed the King Billy where Needle was loading crates on the pavement.
‘Yep, got a delivery.’ He looked up. ‘What in the world?’ He clutched his chest and leaned dramatically on the wall. ‘I thought you were Tawrie Gunn. I mean, you look like her, you sound like her, a bit, but you can’t possibly be her, because you’re smiling and chatting so I know you’re an imposter! Where’s that sour-faced, half-hearted hand wave that you give as you walk on by?’
‘Very funny!’ she tittered, knowing that if her mother’s shits hadn’t dented her mood, Needle’s sarcasm wasn’t going to come close.
‘I’m pulling your leg, Taw, but I have to say it’s good to see you looking happy!’
‘It’s good to feel it!’ she confirmed.
‘So what’s all this in aid of? You won the lottery?’
She stopped and looked at the man she had always known, as an image of Ed topping up her wine glass before counting out the Uno cards floated to the fore of her mind. Then that kiss! Oh that kiss on the step ...
‘I have kind of, yes.’
‘Well, in that case, lend us a fiver?’ He winked. ‘Oh and don’t forget to—’
‘I know, I know’ – she waved as she walked away – ‘ask Connie if she’ll go out on your bloody yacht!’
‘Atta girl!’ he called after her. ‘I’ll wear her down, you know! Or I’ll die trying!’
CHAPTER TWELVE
HARRIETSTRATTON
AUGUST2002
Harriet sat at the kitchen table and thought about how much she would miss her sister. Ellis had left the day before and Harriet had taken it particularly hard. Her sister’s very presence – willing ear, unfailing support and love – had made the biggest difference, made Harriet feel less alone.
‘You’re up early?’ Hugo spoke the half statement, half question, as he stood in his shorts and his old rowing club t-shirt.
‘Couldn’t sleep.’
She glanced over her shoulder and did her best to let her eyes crease into a smile. The look that said,All good here, nothing to worry about; let’s just carry on!A look that she had perfected over the last few weeks but one that was built on foundations of deceit. It was a look that was growing harder and harder to make convincing.
‘Kids are still zonked out. Late night last night – that competitive Uno battle got them riled. It makes me laugh how Dilly is sucha stickler for the rules and Bear’s just happy to win a bit, lose a bit; for him it’s the fun in taking part.’
‘Mmm.’ She nodded, feeling this was preferable to dissecting his words, wanting to point out that yes, Dilly was a stickler for the rules, as was she.Don’t cheat at Uno. Don’t cheat on your wife. Don’t cheat your family out of their lovely, lovely life.It felt easier to say nothing, better not to start the day in a way that would be challenging, hostile.
