As I quietly open the front door, Ray turns over and farts. Hearing Ray fart is quite a rare occurrence. He’s not one for being demonstrative about his bodily functions.
Unlike some other men I could mention . . .
Gah.
Fresh air, woman. Go and get some.
Taking the key card from the cabinet at the side of the door, I go through and close it softly behind me.
Outside, it’s glorious.
There aren’t many places on this planet where it’s wonderfully warm and calm at two o’clock in the morning, but the Maldives is certainly one of them.
And just look at that sky!
I still marvel every night at how incredible the stars are here. You can see so many of them. If nothing else, this little starlit sojourn will give me the opportunity to look at that properly in peace.
And boy is it peaceful. I can’t hear anyone or anything, other than the soft lapping of the gentle water beneath my feet.
Anywhere else, this would feel a little creepy. The complete absence of humanity, and the absolute darkness can do that. But it’s a little hard to do creepy when you’re on a Maldivian island. They’re just too damn warm, pretty and serene.
I get to the end of the walkway that leads to our bungalow and firmly walk left. I have no intention of looking at the stars above my head anywhere near where I had to take an outdoor shit.
This instantly reminds me of why I despise my ex-husband so much, and why it’s so strange for me to feel any concern for him whatsoever.
Grumbling to myself, I make my way down the main walkway leading back to the island proper, and arrive at the beach just as a soft wind picks up, giving me a thrill down my back, as my toes dig into the soft sand.
Well . . . this is quite marvellous. I feel like I have the whole island to myself.
Where will I go?
If I head left, it will take me down the more populated side of the island, where the bars and restaurant are. There’s a chance I might bump into someone, and I would really rather like to be on my own for this entire walk.
Going right takes me down the far less busy side of Wimbufushi, with only the beach bungalows of the resident guests to worry about. Much better.
This way also gives me a chance to come close to where we saw the dugong yesterday, and I would dearly love to see it again, even if it’s only a black shape cresting the waves in front of me. That’d do. Just to know it’s still there, and still happily grazing for food as the island’s inhabitants sleep off theirs.
The soft wind continues to caress my skin in a way that I would dearly love to experience every night of my life, and the sand beneath my feet remains soft and yielding. I’m aware that the darkness has heightened my senses somewhat, and that’s just fine with me. My eyes get all the fun during the day. It’s nice to give the others a go in the driving seat.
It takes me only a few minutes to reach the rough middle point of the island. Wimbufushi really is tiny. It’s here where I decide to stop and look out to sea.
There’s no moon again tonight, and the water is calm, so I can actually see the starlight reflecting off the water. Can I even begin to describe how incredible that simple thing is? To see the light from stars a million miles away, caught in the rippling shimmer of the night-time ocean?
Probably not. Best I just stand here and admire it, instead of trying to trap it into things as crude and unsuitable as words.
I take a deep, long breath, and close my eyes.
What an exquisite moment.
For the first time, I actually feel incredibly pleased that I couldn’t get to sleep. If I had drifted off as normal, I wouldn’t get to experience this, and that would have been a terrible thing.
If only the reason for my sleeplessness had been something nicer than thoughts of my ex-husband.
Still, never mind about him. He’s probably safely tucked up in bed with Cara, snoring away like a camel with adenoids, and farting like a dugong that’s wolfed down way too much seaweed for one night.
‘Lovely, isn’t it?’
‘Bloody hell!’ I scream, heart jumping into my throat.
I whip my head around to see that someone is sat up the beach from me, just under the overhang of a palm tree.
Oh, how fucking special. I’m going to get murdered in the Maldives.
That’ll be what they call the ITV docudrama they make about it. Murdered in the Maldives: The Story of Amy Caddick and Her Run-in with the Coconut Killer.
‘It’s okay, Amy. It’s only me.’
‘Joel?!’
‘Yeah. Who else?’
He stands up, brushes sand off his board shorts, and walks down the beach to join me. There’s a look of resignation on his face. There are also small white tubes of cotton wool shoved up his nose, and even in the starlight, I can see that both eyes look a little black.
‘I don’t fucking believe it,’ I say, hand on my chest.
‘Don’t you? We seem to keep bumping into each other, no matter how hard we try not to.’ He looks up. ‘Somebody up there clearly doesn’t like us very much.’
I roll my eyes. ‘There are just stars up there, Joel. The fact we keep running into each other is entirely down to us.’
He gives me a quizzical look. I return it with a long-suffering one.
‘Why are you here on the beach tonight?’ I ask him.
He shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I just couldn’t sleep because my nose really hurts, so I thought I’d have a walk, and came down here because I—’
‘—wanted to see the dugong again,’ I finish for him, which makes his blackened eyes go wide with surprise.
‘Yeah, that’s right. How did you—’
I roll my eyes. ‘Because, while I hate to admit it, there are things about us that are quite similar, Joel. We both loved seeing that big, fat, beautiful thing, so it’s no wonder we’d both want to get another glimpse of it.’
‘At exactly the same time, though? In the middle of the night?’
I cock my head. ‘Alright, I concede it’s a bit strange, but I’m not going to entertain the idiotic idea that there’s some god or higher being shoving us together for its own amusement.’
‘Sounds pretty believable to me.’
‘Well, you believe a lot of strange things, Joel. Including thinking that it’s a good idea to jump into a TV.’
His face takes on a maudlin expression. ‘You saw that, did you?’
‘Well, of course I saw it. It’d be a bit hard to bloody miss.’
He doesn’t need to know about my kneejerk concern for him. That would do neither of us any good.
Joel’s fingers gently touch his nose, making him wince.
‘Leave it alone. You’ll only make it worse.’
Oh God!
What is wrong with me? I still sound like I give a shit!
‘Okay,’ he replies, and for an instant I am transported back five years, to a time when this kind of conversation was appropriate.
‘I guess I’ll leave you to it, then,’ I say, wanting to get away from this unwanted wander down memory lane as fast as possible.
I don’t move an inch however, clearly indicating that I actually want him to be the one doing the leaving.
‘Okay.’
‘Though I was enjoying the view.’
‘Right.’
‘But maybe it’s best we’re not here together. One of us should certainly leave.’
‘Okay.’
Aaargh! Why can’t he pick up on any bloody signals! I don’t want to leave. I want him to leave! I want to stay here and watch the stars on the water for a little longer. I don’t want to have to go away just because I don’t want to be around Joel. He’s already ruined my sunsets. I don’t want him ruining my starlight!
‘Don’t you think you should be in bed resting, though?’ I say. ‘That does look painful.’
‘I keep rolling on to it,’ he says forlornly. ‘Every time I do it sends a stabbing pain up into my brain.’
>
‘Yes, well, that’s probably your body’s way of telling you not to act like such a bloody idiot.’ I’m annoyed now. I’ve got over the shock of seeing Joel at this ungodly hour, and am comprehensively irritated by his presence.
‘Alright, Ames. Give it a rest, will you.’
That’s the first time anyone’s called me Ames in years. Mainly because it was only ever Joel who called me it.
‘You give it a rest, Joel. Your constant need to be the centre of attention always results in this kind of thing. You nearly got me killed yesterday with that bloody kayaking.’
‘You didn’t need to do the race,’ he says sullenly. ‘It was between Ray and me.’
‘Oh, for crying out loud. Ray wanted no part of your need to massage your ego, Joel. He’s not that kind of man.’
‘And what kind of man is he?’ Joel says with a sneer. ‘The kind that nicks someone’s wife out from under them?’
I stare at him. ‘Don’t be so stupid, Joel. Ray and I didn’t get together until long after you and I split. Ray isn’t the kind of man to do something like that. And I’m not that kind of woman. He’s very honest. And kind. And hard working. And . . . reliable.’
Don’t go there, Amy. Don’t say it. Just walk away and don’t let this conversation escala—
‘Unlike some men I could mention.’
Oh for fuck’s sake. Carry on, then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Joel’s face changes from largely self-pitying to highly irritated. ‘What’s that supposed to bloody mean?’
My hands go to my hips. ‘You know exactly what I mean!’
He throws his hands in the air. ‘Are you on about Goblin Central?’
I cock my head to one side. ‘Well, you weren’t exactly reliable back then, were you?’
‘Aaaaarggh! That wasn’t my fault!’
‘Then who’s fault was it?’
Oh, Jesus Christ. Here we go again!
The same argument. The same anger. The same bullshit.
I want to just run away from it – because the definition of insanity really is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results – but I can’t.
I can’t be the one to back down.
The problem is, Joel thinks exactly the same.
‘Not mine, Amy! I did what you told me to! I arranged that meeting just fine! You must have accidentally changed the appointment time after I’d made it!’
‘No! No, Joel! I did no such thing! I was always the one who was careful about that kind of thing. It’s you who were disorganised, Joel! You who were reckless!’
‘No, I wasn’t! I’m not like that!’
‘Oh no? Tell your fucking nose that, Joel! You’ve got two miniature tampons up it! I’d say that’s a healthy indicator that you’re a bit of a reckless idiot, wouldn’t you?’
‘I did not get the appointment time wrong!’ he shouts.
‘Yes, you did!’ I retort at the same volume.
A light comes on in one of the beach bungalows up in the island’s dense foliage.
‘Oh for the love of God,’ I snap in a lowered voice, looking over at it. ‘I’m not doing this anymore with you, Joel.’
‘No! No! You don’t just get to walk away from this!’ he replies in an angry stage whisper.
‘What more is there to say?’ I hiss back at him, as we both move further down the beach, so that we’re right on the water’s edge, and hopefully far enough away from the bungalows not to disturb anyone else.
‘I want to hear you admit that I didn’t screw up! That it could have been you!’ he demands.
‘But it wasn’t!’
‘It must have been, because I put the right time down!’
‘No, you didn’t!’
‘Yes, I did!’
‘No! No, you fucking didn’t, Joel! You screwed up! Just like you screwed up earlier, and smashed that TV to pieces! You’re the one who fucks things up here, not me! You messed up the meeting!’
‘No, I didn’t!’
‘Yes, you did!’
‘No, I fucking didn’t!’
‘Yes, you fucking di—’
From about ten feet away in the water, we both hear a loud, animalistic harrumph. It’s the sound of a clearly irate large sea mammal, not happy about having its night-time grazing disturbed by two extremely angry humans.
We can’t really see much of our friendly dugong in the gloom, but the stars provide just enough illumination to know that it’s him.
‘Oh my God,’ I say, and this time the whisper in my voice is driven by amazement rather than rage.
‘He’s back,’ Joel remarks, sounding equally astonished.
‘Yeah,’ is all I can reply, as I watch the dugong spin slowly around to face us. I can’t see his face, but I know there’s probably a look of ancient wisdom on it that I couldn’t fathom if I had all the time in the world.
The dugong harrumphs again, right at us, as if he’s chastising Joel and I for ruining such a gentle night with this stupid argument that’s been had a thousand times before.
This isn’t the place for that, the harrumph seems to say. This is a place for peace and quiet. And eating sea grass.
Okay, I’m the one who eats the sea grass. I don’t expect you to join me. That would be a bit ridiculous – and there’s really not enough of it to go around these days anyway. It’s a bloody miracle I’m still here, quite frankly.
Fundamentally, though, what I’m trying to say is that you two silly humans should just both give it a rest. Your loud voices are not conducive to easy digestion, and this sea grass is hard enough on the bowels at the best of times.
Dugongs can convey an awful lot of information in one long harrumph, I’m sure you’ll agree.
Both Joel and I are completely silent. There’s not really much else you can do when you’re being told off by a dugong. It’s a little hard to make a counter-argument against an animal that’s all but extinct. It would just feel wrong. On behalf of the entire human race, it’s probably best we just stand here and take it, given what we’ve done to all of his blubbery mates over the last few decades.
Eventually, the dugong grows tired of giving us a disapproving eye and sinks back below the surface of the water, no doubt satisfied that it’s got us to shut up.
Both of us continue to just stare at the empty patch of water where the dugong was for a few moments.
Joel is the first one to break the silence, in quite an unexpected fashion.
‘What the hell happened to us, Amy?’ he says in a quiet voice that’s heavy with regret.
I sigh equally heavily in response. How exactly am I supposed to reply to that? ‘We got lost, Joel. We made stupid mistakes and got lost,’ I tell him, not really able to be any more coherent.
I’m still referring to Goblin Central, of course, but to pretend that it was the only mistake in our marriage would be churlish. The rot had started to set in long before then.
Hell, if I’m being brutally honest, getting together in the first place was probably our biggest mistake. One that Joel is also cognisant of, as I discover when he speaks again.
‘I keep . . . I keep thinking . . .’ he says, still in that hushed tone, ‘ . . . that we should have never . . . got together. Just stayed friends. Business partners. We would have been far better off. Things wouldn’t have got so fraught. Things wouldn’t have . . .’
‘Wouldn’t have hurt so much,’ I finish for him, closing my eyes and thinking back to how I felt when I had to leave Rowntree Land & Home.
‘But . . . but . . .’
‘But what, Joel?’
‘But I couldn’t help loving you,’ he eventually says, voice cracking a little.
My shoulders drop. ‘No, Joel. Me neither. Even though I look back and wish I hadn’t, I couldn’t help loving you either.’
He turns to face me, and suddenly I’m very aware that there isn’t that much space between us.
‘I never meant for any of it to happen,’ he says, now
speaking quickly. ‘I didn’t know you’d have to leave. I didn’t want that. I never wanted that!’
‘Neither did I.’ I can’t help but allow a little steel back into my voice, even if I really don’t think it’ll help matters right now.
‘It wasn’t the same after you left,’ he continues, still talking in almost a babble. Joel is clearly getting some stuff off his chest. ‘Things haven’t been great. I haven’t been great. Not since you . . . were gone. I’m under . . . under a lot of pressure, and . . . it’s not been easy for me to . . . cope.’
No.
No, Amy Caddick.
You do not feel sympathy for this man.
‘At least you got to stay in your job, Joel,’ I remind him, but the steel has melted a little. This is clearly not a man happy with his lot in life. And can I honestly say the same thing? I work for the man I love, in a job I enjoy.
. . . okay, selling small- to medium-sized boats for a yacht company doesn’t quite have the same thrill as selling gigantic, expensive mansions, but it’s a good job. Well paid. Pretty easy. Nice office. Lovely boss.
It’s fine. It’s a fine job.
. . . oh, who am I fucking kidding? I miss being a high-end real estate agent every bloody day. And if I’m honest with myself, part of the reason I miss it so much is because working with Joel was great. It was exciting, fulfilling and profitable – in multiple senses of the word. That’s why it hurt so much that it all fell apart and I was forced out. And that’s why it hurt so much that Joel was so bloody disorganised, and screwed up so badly with Goblin Central. Why did he let us down like that? Why wasn’t he as careful and as protective of our relationship as I was?
Joel’s shaking his head now, quite slowly. I think there might be tears in his eyes, but the starlight might be telling me lies. ‘It’s not a job you’d still want, Ames. Things aren’t . . . good at the agency. The old man is getting increasingly strange, and Michelle has hired some young, cheap new talent that are more concerned with how good they look for Instagram than selling houses.’
I wince. Michelle Hardacre – the one-woman human resources department of Rowntree Land & Home – is someone for whom the word ‘employee’ is something that applies to everyone else, but not her. It was only Roland Rowntree who seemed to keep her in check, and if he’s not on the ball anymore, then her reign of terror has nothing to stop it.
You Again? Page 19
