Sunny Days and Sea Breezes

by Carole Matthews

  I copy. ‘Namaste.’

  ‘It means the light in me honours the light in you.’

  ‘That’s lovely.’

  Ned grins as he pulls on his T-shirt. ‘That wasn’t too bad, was it?’

  ‘I rather enjoyed it,’ I confess.

  At the end of our little session, I do feel a little lighter, surprisingly supple and feeling as if everyone should start their day with yoga on the beach. My hangover might even have gone.

  ‘I’m here nearly every morning,’ Ned says. ‘In all weathers. There’s not much can keep me away. You’re more than welcome to join me.’

  ‘I can think of worse ways to start the day than with the wind in my hair and sea spray on my face.’

  ‘We’ll call it a date,’ he says and then we both laugh a bit shyly.

  ‘I’d better get back.’ I pick up my litter and Ned collects his hoodie. I look towards Sunny Days. I should call Bill and let him know that I’m still alive, and Della too. I know she’ll be worried about me. So will someone else. ‘Marilyn will wonder what’s happened to me.’

  ‘Marilyn misses very little.’

  ‘That, I’ve already realised,’ I assure him.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  We stand at the gangway to my houseboat. Ned lingers, seeming reluctant to leave, and I feel strangely disinclined to part company too.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘For making me do that. I have really enjoyed it. I’ll see you tomorrow. Hopefully.’

  He goes to turn away then pauses. ‘I don’t know what you’re up to for the rest of the day, but I’ve got a commission to complete.’ Ned runs a hand through his hair, leaving flecks of sand in it. ‘If you want peace and quiet, I’ll leave you alone. However, if you want some company, I can take you up to my workshop. If you don’t mind the noise, you could come with me and watch me do it. If you’d like to see how I work.’

  ‘I’d love that.’ I’ve answered before I think. It’s not that I’ve got any other plans.

  ‘Cool.’ He looks pleased.

  ‘I need to make a few calls and then I’ll come over?’

  ‘Sure. I’m in no rush. It’s only a short drive from here. Take your time.’ He waves a hand as he wanders off and it takes me a moment to stop watching him and go inside.

  I kick off my shoes at the door. If Marilyn has just finished cleaning, then I don’t want to incur her wrath. I resist the urge to shout, ‘Cooooeeee!’

  She’s packing her bag when I go into the kitchen.

  ‘That was good timing,’ she says. ‘I was just about to send out a search party.’

  ‘I was persuaded against my better judgement to try a little yoga.’

  Marilyn nods towards Ned’s boat. ‘He could sell ice to cannibals, that one.’

  ‘I like him,’ I tell her and hope that it’s not all round the island before noon.

  Her eyes narrow as she asks, ‘Are you going to do some more of that yoga with him?’

  ‘I might. I’d like to. I’ve only got jeans and posh joggers with me though. Neither of which are really ideal for exercising.’

  This time her eyes light up. ‘We could go shopping again?’

  ‘Oh, I’m not so sure. Let me decide if I’m going to do it first.’ That should put off another alarming shopping trip.

  ‘Well, let me know if you change your mind. You should do it. It might be good for you. That Ned’s a good lad, you know,’ Marilyn says. ‘One of life’s nice guys. He’s had his wild times, but I won’t hear a word said against him.’

  I wonder what the ‘wild times’ might have involved. ‘He told me about your son,’ I venture. ‘What happened and how he was friends with him.’

  ‘Ah. He was close with Declan. They were like brothers.’ Marilyn’s eyes fill with tears. ‘There’s not a day goes by that I don’t think of my boy. I still see him everywhere and in everything. Sometimes he’s still so close that I feel him right next to me and it surprises me that, when I turn to talk to him, he’s not actually there.’ She shakes her head, bemused. ‘A mother’s love never diminishes.’

  ‘No,’ I agree.

  ‘I thank Jesus, Mary and the holy hostess of angels that I had him for as long as I did.’ She sighs to herself and I see a rare moment of sadness on her face. ‘I’d better be going,’ Marilyn says with a sniff. ‘I’ve got to run round with Mr Sheen at Mrs Smith’s house. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you, Marilyn,’ I say softly. ‘I do appreciate it. The place is as spic and span, as always.’

  She allows herself a proud smile at that. ‘Dirty house, dirty mind.’

  ‘So true.’

  She clip clops from the boat and I watch as she sashays down the gangway and feel nothing but admiration for her. How does anyone get over the loss of a child? How do you continue through the rest of your days without them, still putting one foot in front of the other? How do you become like Marilyn, so relentlessly optimistic and cheerful, despite having life throwing at you one of the cruellest blows that it can?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Alone again, I make myself comfortable on the sofa with a view straight out to sea and take a moment to watch the little boats bob about in the harbour. It must be a good day for sailing as there’s lots of activity on the water. Before it sends me into a trance, I pick up my phone and call Bill at the office. ‘Hey,’ I say when he picks up.

  ‘How’s it going, sis? You sound quite chirpy.’

  ‘I feel a bit chirpy,’ I tell him, realising that there is, indeed, a modicum of chirpiness at my core. ‘I’ve been doing yoga on the beach.’

  ‘Yoga? Have you gone all hippy-chick on me?’

  ‘I enjoyed it,’ I tell him. ‘Didn’t think I would.’ Bill will assume it’s a class, so I don’t reveal that I had a very personal and private lesson. I’ll fill him in on that another time. My brother would like Ned – maybe a bit too much. I look across to Ned’s boat and I can see him pottering about on the back. He’ll be waiting for me and I should go round there as I promised. I can’t wait to see him doing some more of his superb chainsaw carving. Perhaps I’ll get Bill something for the boat.

  ‘I’ll never get you home,’ Bill complains as I muse.

  ‘I’m not ready yet,’ I confess. ‘I’m still up and down. But this seems to be a good day.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Then Bill clears his throat. ‘I don’t want to rain on your parade, but I’ve had Chris on the phone. He’s desperate, Jodie.’

  ‘You didn’t tell him where I was?’

  ‘Of course not, but you’re going to have to face him at some point.’

  ‘I know. But not today.’ And maybe not tomorrow either. I’ve no desire to speak to my husband.

  I can hear the sigh in Bill’s voice, but he lets it rest. ‘Della’s messaged me a dozen times too.’

  ‘I’ll call her,’ I concede. I owe Della and Bill that much.

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Right now,’ I agree. ‘As soon as I hang up. How’s work? Are you all managing without me?’

  ‘Managing, but not enjoying being without you,’ my brother says.

  ‘How did the meeting about the eco-hotel go?’

  ‘They liked what we proposed and have asked us to provide some more detail before we go to the next stage,’ he tells me. ‘Now I have everything crossed. It would be a great project if we can get it.’

  ‘It sounds so interesting.’

  ‘You’d love it,’ he assures me and it does seem right up my street. ‘I definitely need you on board for that one if it comes in.’

  I get a pang of longing. I miss Bill. I miss my job. I miss my colleagues. ‘Keep me posted on it.’

  ‘Will do. I have to run,’ says Bill, who pretty much spends his life having to run. ‘I’m due on site across town.’

  ‘I love you,’ I tell him. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

  But, as I hang up, I wonder if that’s really true.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A
fter talking to Bill, I take a deep breath and stare at my phone, summoning up the courage to call Della. I don’t know why I’ve avoided my best friend. Normally, we speak or message a dozen times a day. Perhaps I just can’t face being the bearer of yet more bad news. I’m sick of being miserable myself so heaven knows what it’s been like for my friend. For whatever reason, I haven’t taken her into my confidence and I should have. That’s what best friends do. Then I put it off as I knew she’d be cross with me.

  I tap her number. Della answers after one ring.

  ‘Where the fuck are you, woman?’ is her opening salvo. ‘I’m out of my mind with worry.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I had to get away from everything.’

  ‘And you couldn’t tell your best mate?’

  I can picture Della in her office, pacing in her sharp, black suit. My friend works in a high-powered asset management company - one of those that work hard and play hard. Even at the gym, she spends half of her time on the phone and most nights she’s out schmoozing ultra-wealthy clients. Della’s been so busy that it’s been difficult to see her lately – even before I absconded.

  What else can I tell you about my friend? She’s very much a live-for-today type of person. She doesn’t give two figs for tomorrow and I admire that in her. I worry about everything, but I don’t think she knows what the word means. I look back on a life lived with small regrets – I should have done this better, I should have said that, I should have tried harder – while Della has none. I’m a perfectionist, while Della works in broad brush strokes.

  My friend owns a fancy black sports car that spends most of its time under a dust cover in a basement garage while she Ubers around town. She has an extensive collection of designer handbags and shoes that occupy a walk-in wardrobe in her spare bedroom. She earns a fortune and spends even more. Handily, she lives a couple of Tube stops from my place in an open-plan loft apartment that could have come straight from a flash American sitcom. Our offices are also a few streets away from each other so we can share the same gym. We’re such different people, but I don’t know what I’d do without her now.

  ‘It all became too much,’ I confide. ‘I didn’t really think it through. I just grabbed a bag and left.’

  ‘And went where? Your brother was annoyingly tight-lipped.’

  ‘I’m at Bill’s houseboat. I’m sure I’ve told you about it. He’s been renovating it for ages.’

  ‘The one on the Isle of Wight?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fuck’s sake, Chummie! Couldn’t you have gone to Mauritius or somewhere? The Isle of Wight?’ She puffs her disdain at me down the phone. ‘That shows a distinct lack of imagination.’

  ‘In my defence, it required minimum thinking and planning. This place was available and relatively close by. Mauritius would have been a step too far. I couldn’t have managed that.’ I couldn’t have got on a plane or coped with the hubbub of an airport, but I can’t explain that to Della who spends half of her life breezing both. I look out at the sea ahead of me, the strong fort on the horizon, Ned’s boat comfortably close next door. ‘Besides, it’s lovely here.’

  ‘I can come straight out to see you. Tomorrow. I can be on a boat or a plane or however the hell I get there.’

  ‘There’s no need. I’m fine. Really.’

  ‘We could sink a few bottles, check out the local hot spots. It’d be fun.’

  Does it sound bad that I couldn’t cope with Della here either? She’s too much of a whirlwind, too bossy. I don’t want ‘fun’ – especially at Della’s particular brand of fun is exhausting. I want calm. Besides, I feel I don’t want to share this with her. It’s just for me.

  ‘I can bring my bucket and spade,’ she teases.

  ‘Can I pass for now? I need some time alone to think.’

  ‘Don’t stew by yourself, Chummie. I know that you and Chris have had some difficulties because of . . . well, you know.’

  I take a deep breath before I say, ‘It’s gone to a whole new level. He’s been acting very strangely . . . ’

  ‘It’s not surprising,’ she chips in. ‘With all that you’ve both been through.’

  ‘He’s having an affair,’ I say bluntly. ‘I’ve suspected it for a while.’

  There’s a pause on the phone, but I can hear Della breathing deeply. Eventually, she puffs out, ‘Wow.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You said nothing to me about it?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure. It was just a feeling.’

  ‘And now you are sure? Do you have proof?’

  ‘There were all kinds of things. Too many late night meetings, phone calls that he could only take in private. You know the kind of thing.’

  ‘You could be reading too much into it. You’re still not yourself.’

  ‘I found a hotel bill. For a double room. He was supposed to be at a conference that night. Yet he was miles away in some boutique love-nest. I confronted him,’ I tell her. ‘He told me it was all a mix-up, but I could tell that he was lying.’

  ‘Shit.’

  I feel bad that I haven’t confided in Della. She thinks Chris and I are the perfect couple, so this has clearly come as a shock to her too.

  ‘On top of everything else, I couldn’t face looking at him, hearing his blatant lies.’ I sigh. ‘I had to get away.’

  ‘Do you have any idea who it might be?’

  ‘It’s probably someone at work.’ Someone younger, prettier, less needy, less tearful. ‘That’s where he seems to spend all his time these days. I think that Meg is the most likely candidate.’

  ‘The work wife? Oh, Jo-jo. I thought that was a big joke?’

  ‘Me too. Doesn’t seem so funny now.’ He used to talk about Meg all the time and now he hardly mentions her at all. Isn’t that a telling sign? ‘Probably the easiest way to have an affair is to do it in plain sight. I never used to question all the work-related dinners or overnight stays he had with her. Now I wonder exactly how long it’s been going on.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  My friend makes a sympathetic noise and, at this moment, I wish that Della was here with me. She’d have handled all of this differently. She’d have marched into Chris’s office and would have confronted Meg, made a huge scene. She’d have given Chris an ultimatum. I haven’t done either. Neither would she have let it grind her down or tormented herself the way I have. She’d have given them both what for. I’ve hidden from this as I’ve hidden from everything. Perhaps I deserve to have my husband cheating on me.

  ‘I wish you’d told me. I could have helped.’

  ‘Yes, well, it’s too late now. I bolted rather than deal with it and here I am in splendid isolation in the Isle of Wight.’

  ‘But you’re coming home soon?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know,’ I confess. ‘I need some space, some time to think about things without all the madness around me.’ And I do feel as if I have stepped out of a maelstrom even though I haven’t exactly had the peace and quiet that I sought.

  ‘Then maybe you should stay out there for a while. All we want is your happiness. You know that.’

  ‘I think all that Chris wants is his own happiness. I’m not sure that I come into the equation any more.’ It’s heartbreaking to have to give voice to these things. A year ago we were filled with such joy, such hope, such wonderful plans for the future we’d have together. It’s frightening how quickly that’s turned to dust.

  ‘I’m absolutely sure that you’re wrong,’ she says. ‘He loves you. Both of you have had a tough time.’

  We have. A tough time in which we should have pulled together like loving couples do. Isn’t it the hard times that define a relationship? Any couple can skip along happily when it’s all hahaheehee. It’s what happens when the shit hits the fan and your world crumbles beneath you that counts. That’s when you find out whether you’ve got each other’s back or whether you turn on each other instead.

  For me, it’s over, but for some reason, I don’t feel able to share that wit
h Della. It’s too heavy a conversation and I should have the courtesy to tell Chris first.

  ‘I should go,’ I say. ‘Leave you to your day.’

  ‘I miss you, Chummie. Tell me you’re going to be OK. Otherwise, I’m coming straight out there.’

  ‘I’m fine. Honestly. I’m sure I’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Good. You and I need to have a bloody good catch up over a decent bottle of red or two.’

  ‘We do,’ I agree. I miss my friend.

  ‘Love you lots,’ she says.

  But when I hang up, I have a strange feeling that I can’t quite put my finger on. Della didn’t sound her usual ebullient self. Perhaps she was just distracted because she was at work. Or maybe it was something more.

  Chapter Thirty

  I don’t know if we need a picnic, but I make some sandwiches from the bread and stuff in the fridge that Marilyn has brought every day without fail. I could feed an army – possibly two - from this fridge. Wrapping the sandwiches in foil, I take them round to Ned’s boat. He’s outside putting equipment into the boot of his car.

  I hold up my foil packages. ‘I brought lunch. Is that OK? Marilyn puts half a supermarket of food in my fridge every day, so I thought I’d better start to make a dent in it.’

  ‘All contributions gratefully received,’ he says. ‘I was going to stop and pick something up for us on the way, so you’ve saved me a job.’

  ‘I did look at bottle of wine and thought “no”.’

  ‘Chainsaws and wine don’t generally mix,’ he advises me with a grin. ‘Probably for the best.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’ll ever drink again after last night.’

  ‘It was a good evening,’ Ned says and his eyes twinkle. ‘You’ll have to come to another one. Get to know the band properly.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘Jump in,’ Ned says, opening the passenger door for me. ‘Sorry about the mess. I would have cleaned up if I’d known I’d be having visitors. My other car is a Porsche.’