‘I’m also feeling anxious,’ I add for good measure. He is silent for a while, and I can imagine the disgusted look on his face. I know I may well regret this, but right now it feels satisfying – to finally assert myself. To at last say no. I have never been adept at saying no, and while it’s made me useful at work, it’s also been part of the reason I’m so bloody miserable. I’ve let myself get eaten alive by this job, and maybe part of me even welcomed it – it made me feel useful as Beth got older and needed me less. It made me feel valuable in a life where I often struggled to see my own worth.
Enough is enough though. If everything that has underpinned that lack of confidence was based on the lie that Rory’s parents and mine told, then maybe I can change – maybe I can rebuild. It won’t be easy, but if I don’t start with the basics, I don’t stand a chance.
‘I see,’ John finally responds. I think he’d been waiting for me to crumble and backtrack, but this is the new me – and the world can just feck off right now. ‘Well, I’m sorry you feel like that. We’ll discuss it when you’re back in the office.’
With that, he hangs up. I immediately start to tremble a little, the shock of my own defiance finally sinking in. I basically just told the chief exec of the company I work for to go stuff himself. It feels liberating, but also completely terrifying.
I quickly get up, and mooch around gathering my toiletries. No point lying in bed worrying about it. It’s done now. I head to the bathroom to do my ablutions, taking the world’s quickest shower. I usually just wrap a towel around myself and wander around until I’m dry, but not today. Not with the risk of bumping into Rory. I harbour no schoolgirl fantasies about us getting back together, but I also don’t want him to see my wobbly bits. It is fascinating, though, seeing his stuff – sniffing his shampoo, seeing his razor, smiling at the basket of shells and pebbles on the windowsill. Even in here, there are things of beauty. Me not included, I think, grimacing as I catch myself in the mirror.
Dressed, I pop my head into Beth’s room. She is asleep, but rouses when I sit on the end of the bed and poke her. ‘I’m going into the village,’ I tell her. ‘Want to come?’
‘No. Bugger off.’
I’d fully expected this, but it still makes me laugh when she tries to kick me off the bed. Hah. Nice try – I’m way too hefty. ‘I’ll bring the car back up later,’ I say. ‘And then we can decide what we’re going to do.’
Her head emerges from the sheets, hair ruffled, eyes gunked up. Still beautiful.
‘I want to stay here,’ she says firmly. ‘We said we would, and it’s a dick move to change your mind now.’
A dick move. Right. Of course, she knows nothing about what’s going on beneath the surface, and now is not the time to tell her. I have no idea if Rory and I can navigate our way through this maze, and until I do I will not commit to staying.
‘I guess I must be a dick then,’ I say lightly. ‘See you later – I’ve got my phone if you need me. If you leave the house, be careful.’
‘Why? Do you think I’ll get kidnapped?’
‘I live in hope. Behave yourself, okay?’
Ironically, now I know our host is Rory, I feel far calmer about leaving her here without me. Turns out we’re not staying with a stranger after all.
There’s no sign of Rory in the lounge or the kitchen, and I am both disappointed and relieved. I’m sure there are other choices – his bedroom, probably a studio, the outbuildings – but I’m too much of a coward to go and search him out. I need time to deal with this mess, and I’m sure he does too.
Outside, the day is absolutely glorious. It’s not even eight, but the sun is already high in the sky, and from our perch up here I can see for miles – endless rolling waves, a blue horizon that disappears off into infinity. I pass the piles of metal and scrap, see heaps of industrial-looking equipment, and wonder what he’s working on now. I stare at the shapes for a while, picking out the different surfaces, textures, even variations in colour. Not all junk is created equal, and I’m fascinated by how this can be used to produce something beautiful. I can’t even begrudge him all this now, knowing what I do.
The walk down into the village takes me a while, because there is so much look at. Flowers, little streams, pockets of such wild beauty that I have to stop and stare and take photos. I bombard Beth with them on WhatsApp, my spirits lifted by the sights, by the sounds of the birds overhead, the smells of the sea and the vanilla-scented bright yellow gorse. It’s intoxicating, and helps clear my mind.
I arrive in Bonnie Bay feeling lighter, more whole, strolling along the beach on my way to the bookshop. I hadn’t planned specifically to go there, but it seems it’s been my destination all along. It’s already my happy place.
I realise when I get there that it’s early – it might not be open. I stand in front of the lilac building, and catch a glimpse of somebody moving inside. The door opens, and a tall woman with gorgeous long dark hair blinks at me in surprise. She looks tired, and rubs her eyes.
‘Oh. You are real,’ she says. ‘Which means you’re probably Jane! I’m Kate, come on in. Coffee?’
‘Always.’
‘Apologies in advance if I’m a bit groggy,’ she says, after three attempts to get the pod into the Nespresso machine. ‘We got back late last night, after a flight from Chicago and then London. Plus the baby decided she was going to deal with her jet lag by staying awake all night.’
‘Don’t they say that’s the best way to do it?’ I ask, taking the mug and following her through to the main room. She sinks into one of the comfortable chairs by the fireplace, and I join her.
‘In that case, she’s a tiny genius! Moira told me you found one of her invitation cards, just like me. What do you think of Bonnie Bay so far?’
That’s a complicated question. It’s possibly the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. It’s made me question my life and career choices, and led to me defying my boss for the first time.It’s made my sometimes-sulky daughter beam with happiness, and oh yes, it’s also reunited me with my ex, and completely rewritten our past. All in all, pretty hard to sum up.
‘Um… it’s been great,’ I say, shrugging and sipping my coffee. Kate’s eyes narrow slightly and she points a finger at me.
‘There’s more going on, I can tell,’ she says, smiling. ‘As Moira might say, Bonnie Bay is working its magic! I was… well, I was a mess when I arrived here. I didn’t know how broken I was until I met Brody and started to mend. It’s… it’s a special place.’
She looks a little misty-eyed, gazing around the bookshop fondly. I know she’s been a driving force in giving the Edge of the World a whole new lease of life, and her love for it shines through. It is special, I think, taking in the gleaming shelves and their precious cargo. Full of charm, full of stories – not just the ones inside the many books, but the ones being lived by people like Kate, by Moira, by this lovely little community.
‘Moira mentioned your plan to manage our grant process, and a new art project doing portraits of some of the elderly residents,’ Kate says, which comes as a bit of a surprise.
