Then we’re pushing clothes into suitcases, and hurrying through reception.
* * *
I know what happened in that hotel room was nothing compared to what some people go through, but it’s like a stone that I carry around in my chest that weighs me down. Before it I was light, it was easy to fly, but I took that carefree self for granted. This has tethered me to the ground.
I used to be wafty and ephemeral. I used to live life like nothing mattered, and now I know better. I used to feel invincible, but that certainty and self-belief was shattered in a single second. One crushing blow. My face smashed against a wall, my arm wrenched, the pain exploding as the bone in my wrist splintered.
And the most devastating part is that if I’d been a better, cleverer person it could all have been avoided. And it has always felt it was all my fault.
4
Boathouse Cottage, St Aidan
Less than zero
Monday
Ileft the blinds open last night, thinking I’d get up at first light and take Pumpkin for a stroll along the sands. But thanks to me only falling asleep hours after dawn broke and my head being buried in my sleeping bag, it’s almost eight by the time I’m leading Pumpkin along next to the frothing waves at the water’s edge.
I force myself to put the past back in its box and channel my lighter side. I pick up a stick, pause where the sand is still firm and write a thought for this morning.Waving from the beach.Then I add one for yesterday.Life is full of surprises. I pull out my phone and snap the sea swirling around my curly writing.
I mean, I hate what happened, but if I don’t keep it buried, where will that get me? It’s like Mason’s won every day.
At first I hid myself away and hoped I’d feel better as the bruises faded. But even when the splints came off and my wrist was stronger, I’d lost all my confidence. For a while I didn’t want to leave my room and even a quiet outing to the local pub was an effort. I used to feel big and now I felt small. I hoped it would pass, but it didn’t. But I couldn’t wreck every single moment by dwelling on it, and over the months I perfected a way of blocking out the bad bits and pretending to be fine, so I could distance myself and get the hell on with things. I grit my teeth, close the shutters in my head, and act airy.
Scarlett! That’s my job for today.
I’m about to ring her from the privacy of the beach when it hits me. ‘So much for an early morning call, Pumpkin! If New York is five hours behind, they’ll be in bed.’
I’m still muttering under my breath about it, standing by the stile later, giving Pumpkin his morning carrots, but when a shout from the kitchen door makes me jump, I’m cursing even more. It was too much to hope Mr Appleton would leave without forcing the issue.
I call across the garden. ‘I can’t call Scarlett until after three, Miles.’
In two leaps the man is at my elbow, his foot resting next to mine on the bottom fence rail. ‘I’m pleased you brought that up, Betty Bets.’ He rubs his thumb across his jaw. ‘On reflection, we might be better not to bother them with this on their first day.’
This couldn’t sound better. ‘If you’re happy to leave now, I’m good with that!’
He narrows his eyes. ‘Has it occurred to you that I could be the one who gets to stay?’
My blood runs cold. ‘That definitely won’t happen.’
He’s completely relaxed and unhurried when he replies. ‘There’s a fifty-fifty chance it might.’ He watches my eyes open wide with horror. ‘Or we could just both stay? That way neither of us is disappointed, and we don’t embarrass Tate and Scarlett. By the time they find out about their mistake, it’ll be old news, and we’ll all have moved on.’
The idea is so awful it takes me a moment to grapple with it. ‘How would that work?’
He shrugs. ‘You must have lived in a houseshare before?’
My mind flashes back to the nightmare of my first ever flat. ‘At uni I lived with a metal head, an insomniac archaeologist, two round-the-clock gamers, an acapella group and a shower hog. I come at life from the bright side, but it wasn’t my best nine months.’
‘We’re both old enough to be civilised.’ He pulls down the corners of his mouth. ‘I assume you won’t be bursting into song, and as I never played drums, that only leaves the bathroom to sort.’
I’ve never acted my age, but if it’s this or nothing, I’ll meet him halfway. ‘I’ll shower when you’re not here.’
He takes a breath. ‘That’s easy, then. I’m often out.’
I’m thinking of the size of this place. The utility room alone is bigger than any room I’ve had since leaving home. The levels of luxury are incomparable. I may never feel comfortable enough to poop again, but it shouldn’t be too hard to coexist with someone who’s never in.
He’s frowning. ‘Obviously there’ll be the usual house rules– clear up after yourself in the kitchen, and so on.’
