How to Find Your (First) Husband

by Rosie Blake

  ‘Right,’ I said with phoney gusto. ‘So…’

  The storm had passed and the sand had soon started to dry out. The air felt fresher and cooler and the clouds had left leaving a blank expanse of gorgeous blue. I’d told Mel what Andrew had offered and she sent me off with a slap on my ass and a lecture about the list (play it cool, make sure he’s in an excellent mood, be beautiful et cetera) so I was pretty buoyed up by the time I was back on the beach meeting him. He arrived carrying a bucket, a bait box and two rods and we loaded up the boat.

  ‘Alright, me hearty,’ I said to him in my best pirate voice but he must not have heard as he didn’t respond. I dropped my pirate salute before he could see.

  Dragging the tiny turquoise boat across the sand, its faded wood littered with splinters, I started to feel woozy again. Everything seemed to take more effort than normal and my stomach felt empty and vulnerable. As it bobbed in the shallows of the water, I put out a hand to steady myself, the cloudy yellow patchwork of sand around my ankles wobbling and then I was in and sitting on the hard plank in the middle, a dribble of water down the middle of the base, staining the wood a darker blue. The boat tipped as Andrew stepped in, too, nudging me up so that we were sat side by side, legs touching. He coughed as if he too recognised how intimate this felt, us out on the high seas together. My stomach stirred again.

  Andrew tugged on the engine cord, placing a loop around his ankle and with a juddery putter the boat started up on the third attempt, slowly moving off out into the deeper sea, a trail of white foam in our wake, water coursing out in waves from the channel we had made. The sun was directly overhead, blazing and insistent, and I was glad to have my hat on, holding it with one hand when we got some speed up. Andrew tried to shout above the noise of the engine but his attempts proved pretty futile and we both spent the journey bouncing gently on the wood as we headed out and around the headland.

  Ambling to a stop, the boat gently rocking on the surface, Andrew pointed to a basket in the corner of the boat. Loading us up with bait, he handed me a spool of twine, a loaded hook dangling ready to be dropped into the water. With a gentle plop I threw it down and felt the hook sink deeper into the navy-blue water below.

  ‘What do I do when something bites?’ I asked nervously.

  ‘Haul it up and I’ll deal with it,’ he said, smiling at me. In the bright sunshine he seemed to dazzle, his skin lighter than mine, his sandy hair flecked with blonds and browns, his parting red from recent sunburn. I couldn’t believe we were finally alone, together, doing something – hello – incredibly romantic. Oh sure, I would love to fish with you in the middle of the South China Sea alone in a tiny boat where we have to be pressed up against each other.

  I realised this was my opportunity to seal the deal, so to speak. Here was an opportunity for me to dazzle him with my witty repertoire and excellent personality. My time to shine. I opened my mouth to speak, wavering as I realised I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  ‘Did you get something?’ he asked, seeing my mouth half-open like I was Finding Frickin’ Nemo.

  ‘Oh yes, I thought I felt a…tug, but no, I think it was just the…waves.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okaaaaaaay,’ I said in a voice that made it sound like I was copying him.

  He raised an eyebrow at me and I laughed, one short bark of laughter that, if I was close to landing a fish, would have scared it away.

  ‘So what if we catch a shark?’ I asked. Great question, Iz.

  ‘We won’t.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Did you ever see Jaws and the bit where the shark tipped the whole boat up and ate the skipper?’

  ‘Yes I did.’

  ‘Me, too.’ Of course you have. Why else would you have mentioned it, Iz? Also, why all the shark chat? That is not going to help the mood. Actually, the thought had really freaked me out. I glanced over my shoulder, the sea ominously dark behind me, a huge expanse of small waves. Could you even see a fin if it was there?

  ‘So, just to check,’ I coughed, ‘there are no sharks of note in these waters.’ ‘Of note’ aka Could Tip Over the Boat and Halve a Man.

  ‘Well, there are but we won’t be seeing them.’

  ‘Duh, da, duh, Da, duh, da…’ WHY ARE YOU DOING THE THEME MUSIC, Isobel? PULL IT TOGETHER.

  I trailed off and Andrew stared pointedly out at his line.

  No more shark chat.

  ‘So,’ I said in a sing-song voice.

  ‘Ssh,’ Andrew said, gesturing with his hand for me to turn the volume down.

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ I whispered.

  ‘The fish,’ he indicated.

  ‘Gotcha,’ I said, and then winked at him. Winking? What are you, Iz, a fifty-five-year-old amateur magician? No one winks.

  The silence dragged on and there was nothing on my line and I was getting a bit bo-r-ed.

  ‘Andrew,’ I whispered, holding up two fingers. ‘Charades?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Okay, probably right, I rock at charades,’ I whispered, going back to staring.

  This obviously was enough of a competition for Andrew to show some interest and he waved me on so I panicked, thought of something fish-related and proceeded to mime the excruciating two-word film, Free Willy, much to my horror, and his. COULD THIS BOAT TRIP BE GOING WORSE FOR YOU, DOOFUS? What had come over me? When the hell had I decided charades would work? Christ.

  Andrew had cheered up after catching two fish in an hour. He hauled them up, thrashing around on the end of his line, and I tried not to be squeamish about things as he removed the hook, smashed their heads on the side and put them in the bucket he had brought along.

  I gave him a thumbs-up after the second catch and went back to staring at my line that had not been nibbled on by anything. I was so bored by now I was half-hoping a Great White might start circling simply to distract me. My last thoughts had included: what nail varnish was I going to wear later? Why had I never seen a bat in my life? Had people really fancied Bates from Downton Abbey or had they been lying? And which nineties band would reunite next? So many thoughts, so many lofty thoughts.

  ‘So what do you do for a living?’ Andrew asked me in a half-whisper when perhaps it had been clear I was drifting off. I realised this might be the first thing he had asked about me. Getting per-so-nal I thought, then realising I still hadn’t replied.

  ‘Oh, TV,’ I said loudly and then really quietly as he put the finger up to his lips again. ‘Well, I was trying to be a presenter but recently I have been doing other jobs, too.’

  ‘I know someone who was trying to be on TV,’ Andrew said.

  ‘Really?’ I whispered.

  ‘Yeah. He didn’t make it.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘So what do you do for a real job?’

  My heart sank at the question. A real job. What did I do?

  ‘Stuff,’ I mumbled. ‘Mostly promotional work and sales, so I am employed to represent brands and, oh, it’s pretty dull,’ I said, feeling hopeless.

  Andrew nodded. ‘So the fish might not come if we are being this noisy,’ he said, doing the zip thing on his lips and then adding, ‘So ssshh’ because he clearly thought I was shit at mime.

  ‘Okay,’ I said, putting my finger up too and feeling a momentary sense of relief that the conversation was ended.

  Should I feel relieved the conversation had faded off? Why weren’t we connecting on a deeper level? Was it me? What happened to that friendship we used to have all

  those years ago?

  These thoughts consumed me throughout the day and I felt a little knot in my chest release as we dragged the boat back into shore. Maybe, a little voice piped up, maybe I didn’t need to try harder, didn’t need to find a way for it to work?

  The sun, weaker now that a lot of the midday rage had passed, shimmered over the horizon.
Walking back across the beach, hands swinging by my side, one momentarily brushed against Andrew. I thought of saying something then, of turning to him and asking him straight there, on the sand, whether he felt anything between us. Was I just clinging to an old memory? Opening my mouth to say something I stopped, squinting at a figure with a backpack on the terrace of the cafe.

  ‘Dex?’ I ground to an abrupt halt, taking in Dex standing there, his stubbled hair dark in the daylight, his backpack brand new, creases still on the sides, clutching it to him like a stuffed toy.

  ‘Dex! What the hell!’ I started jogging towards him, one hand on my hat as I ran. ‘You left American soil!’

  Dex looked up and grinned at me, jumping down off the stairs of the terrace to come over. Dex who only got a passport to be served alcohol in bars. And now, here he was, looking utterly bewildered, taking in his surroundings, sweating in his jeans and black shirt which made him look like a nightclub bouncer.

  Hugging him tightly, feeling like a bit of home had arrived, I grinned at him, punching an arm. ‘I can’t believe you’re here.’

  ‘Is Mel?’ he said, looking behind me as if I might be shielding her from view. He pushed his hair back with

  a hand.

  ‘Yes, well not with us, with Du—’A momentary panic made me stumble across his name. ‘Friend, our friend.’

  Oh no – where was Mel? She’d told me earlier she was going to find Duncan. Hopefully she hadn’t found Duncan and now was just reading quietly, the Bible or some­

  thing, nearby.

  ‘She’ll be along soon,’ I said, quickly turning around. ‘Dex meet Andrew. Andrew, Dex.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Dex, his face lighting, eyebrows lifted. ‘You’re Andrew, eh.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Andrew slowly, confusion crossing his face.

  Oh my god, what was Dex about to say? How much had Mel told him? How much had I told him? He couldn’t ruin this.

  ‘Andrew is a friend, weirdly, that I knew when I was younger,’ I said, my eyes concentrating on him in a way that said, ‘NOTE THE TONE, DEX’.

  ‘Yeah I know,’ he chuckled. ‘I know you guys go way back,’ he added. Not picking up on it then.

  ‘And you know that because,’ I paused, turning to Andrew, ‘because I used to tell him all about my school and all the people in it, everyone, teachers, pupils, the caretakers, well, Dex calls them janitors, and well Dex has a GREAT memory for small things, don’t you, Dex?’ I asked, not stopping to let him intervene. ‘So weird that we often say, “Gosh, Dex, how do you remember that ha ha?”’ I had definitely started to perspire during my speech and was casting about for something else to say when I spotted Mel at the other end of the beach. ‘Mel!’ I slumped in relief.

  Mel was walking slowly back towards us, laughing up into the face of Duncan, oiled bare chest on display.

  Dex had turned, pushed his hair back once more, eyes sparking with energy. ‘Where?’

  Wanting to stop him seeing her, I faltered. Could I point somewhere else? Oh god, Mel, don’t touch his arm and STOP SMILING like you’re an extra in a Peter Andre video.

  Too late, Dex had spotted them.

  ‘Who’s that?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘My mate Duncan,’ chipped in Andrew.

  ‘Yes, Andrew’s mate,’ I said, trying to quietly send Dex a subliminal message that Duncan was not a threat, was gay or a eunuch! Think eunuch, Iz. Eunuch. I attempted to send him this message telepathically.

  ‘He’s like Ken,’ I explained. ‘You know the Barbie doll guy,’ I went on, hoping Dex would think eunuch.

  ‘What, smooth?’

  ‘Yes, smooth,’ I said, wondering why Dex still looked put out. ‘And we wonder about him, you know,’ I whispered, trying to turn my body away from Andrew.

  ‘What do you wonder about him?’ asked Andrew, narrowing his eyes in question.

  ‘Oh.’ ARGGHH, I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t endanger our afternoon. ‘Just, we wondered what kind of guy he is, he’s a closed book.’ I shrugged, realising I had just made him sound more mysterious and exotic.

  ‘Well I think he’s pretty bloody easy to read,’ Dex muttered.

  At that moment Mel spotted us and started waving, her teeth pearly white in her newly tanned flesh, water droplets on her torso and arms from a swim then, when she spotted Dex, she stopped dead still on the sand. Duncan walked a few paces on still talking and then turned to see her standing there, jaw dropped, planted in the sand.

  ‘Well, let’s go and say hello,’ I said, striding towards Mel. ‘Mel,’ I called in my mum’s super-posh, high-pitched voice. ‘Melissa.’

  Mel walked past me, eyes on Dex, and we all sort of melted into the background looking at things: the ocean, the sand, the…

  ‘Ooh, Andrew, Duncan, look – an ant! It’s carrying another ant on its back,’ I said, pointing at the ground.

  ‘Where?’ asked Andrew, crinkling his eyes and examining the ground.

  ‘Oh they were just there,’ I said, pointing vaguely, one eye on Mel and Dex, not wanting to interrupt but also sort of wanting to witness the big reunion. I couldn’t believe he had travelled so many miles – and he hates travelling – to see Mel. It was gorgeous, like a beautiful romantic movie and I felt a pang in my gut that I couldn’t imagine anyone doing something like that for me. Hey be happy for her, Iz. And I was, it was lovely.

  They were talking in low voices and gesturing. The hug was a long time coming, and then I heard Mel’s voice raised, her hands gesticulating at Duncan. Oh no. And Dex looked mad, his chin jutted out, pouty bottom lip.

  ‘I didn’t ask you to come!’ Mel screamed at Dex.

  It seemed the whole beach fell silent. Andrew froze, look­ing off at the reef, I stared at my toenails, coughed quietly.

  ‘All this way and you’re draped over another man…’

  Soooo this was not going well. It seemed the romantic reunion was not really happening. I needed to fix this, it was ridiculous. They loved each other. Mel had been thinking about him the whole time, putting up with Duncan’s posturing but never serious. Only, before I could step in, someone else did.

  Duncan walked across. ‘Hey, mate,’ he said in a voice that did not suggest he was, in fact, Dex’s mate.

  ‘Duncan, don’t,’ I said.

  ‘No, Duncan,’ said Mel, one hand up to her left. ‘Leave it.’

  ‘I don’t like to see you upset,’ he said.

  ‘Seriously, who is this guy?’ said Dex, throwing his hands up in the air.

  ‘A friend,’ Mel stressed. ‘And this isn’t about him.’

  ‘Look, I’m tired, I need a shower, I need a drink.’ Dex rub­bed his face. He did look tired: pale face, red-rimmed eyes.

  Mel stood, arms crossed, breathing out heavily. ‘Okay, okay.’

  ‘Hey, Mel,’ I said, forcibly dragging her off to the side leaving Dex eyeing up Duncan, Duncan crossing his arms in the way that he thought made his muscles look bigger. Oh man.

  ‘Go.’ I smiled at her. ‘It’s Dex. I’ll give you guys some time, you know, stay out of the room a bit.’

  ‘But I…’ She looked pale.

  ‘Hey, he’s here,’ I said, trying to bring it home to her.

  She nodded. ‘Thanks, babe,’ she said, drawing me in for a hug.

  ‘It’s a lovely thing to do,’ I reminded her in her ear.

  ‘I know, I got a shock and…’

  ‘Don’t.’ I cut her off, laughing at her cross expression. ‘Go play nice.’

  I watched them leave, Mel leaving space between them, not talking, and I bit my lip. Would they be okay? Mel could be so volatile when she was backed into a corner. And Dex had done this wonderful thing.

  ‘Right,’ said Duncan, an arm snaking over my shoulders. ‘Drink?’

  Andrew started walking away. ‘Definitely.’


  ‘Iz?’

  ‘Oh I don’t know,’ I said, not wanting to go to a bar and laugh along as Duncan put Peter Andre’s ‘Beautiful Girl’ on the karaoke machine to spend the next five minutes with his shirt off running a hand over his stomach. I was worried about Mel. I couldn’t go back to my room yet, though, I needed to give them time.

  ‘I think I’m just going to read my book,’ I said, pointing to a lounger down the beach.

  ‘Sexy.’ Duncan nodded. ‘Do you need me to come and read the sex scenes out to you?’

  ‘Er, I’m okay,’ I said, backing away.

  ‘Do you need me to act out any of the rude bits?’

  ‘It’s Pride and Prejudice,’ I explained. ‘So there aren’t many rude bits in it.’

  ‘That is a tragedy,’ Duncan said solemnly.

  ‘Is that the one with Hugh Grant in?’ asked Andrew.

  ‘Um…No.’

  ‘Oh.’

  I thought briefly of my old fantasy, the well-read Andrew reading passages to me from old classics as he gave me a foot massage on the swing set. He wasn’t that man. Not that it should matter I thought hurriedly.

  I stood on the sand as they both stayed where they were. ‘Okay then,’ I said, patting my bag, ‘best get on.’

  Turning away, I wondered whether I should have gone with them. I wasn’t going to read my book, I wasn’t sure I had my Kindle. Maybe I felt a bit disloyal about Duncan and Mel. Maybe seeing Dex had reminded me about LA and why I was out here. Had I really got anywhere? Andrew had seemed keen today, last night, so why was I pulling away? Why did I feel relieved to have got rid of them?

  I lay down on the lounger, pushing the straps of my bikini down, and rootled around in my bag for my book. Bingo. Darcy and Lizzie, you can take my mind off things.

  Half an hour and some considerable amount of dribble later, I was dreaming of darkness. I was wading through a stagnant river, dead leaves collecting on the surface, reeds wrapping themselves around my ankles as I moved slowly across. It was getting deeper and I was trying to reach the little turtle in the middle but I was afraid, my pulse thumping through my body, my head twitching at every sound but I had to reach it and the water was getting higher and…