by Jenny Oliver
Julia shook her head. ‘That was funny!’
‘There you go then, you’re funny.’ Amber laughed, eyes creasing at the sides. ‘And you’ve got great tits!’
‘Stop it,’ Julia thwacked her on the thigh. ‘I’m blushing.’
Amber grinned and sat back, eating her crisps and picking up Julia’s phone to go back to scrolling through Pandora’s Instagram.
Julia turned off the motorway, they passed an industrial estate and went through a little village with a tabac and boulangerie, and people sitting outside cafés enjoying the evening sun.
Julia was mulling through everything they’d said. As she looked out at the café tables with people enjoying a vin blanc or a last espresso of the day, she said, ‘So what do I do about Charlie?’
Amber put the phone down again. ‘What do you want to do about Charlie?’ she asked.
Julia circled a roundabout with a palm tree and a statue of a man with a hunting dog. ‘I want to sort things out. I want things to go back to how they were – before everything got in the way.’ Then she paused and said, ‘When we were good for each other. When we worked as a team, I suppose, but that sounds so clichéd.’
Amber shook her head. ‘It sounds fine to me. I think you’ve just got to do it. Tell him. Be…’ she paused for emphasis, ‘honest,’ she said in a tone that conjured up their past conversation in the van. Mocking, like it was the word of the day.
Julia smiled and nodded.
Amber rolled her window right down and breathed in the smell of the sea as it appeared on the horizon, then she added, ‘And I always think, when one is away, a bit of phone sex never does any harm.’
‘Oh my God,’ Julia blushed scarlet, making a face. She giggled to herself at the idea. Then she thought about it a bit more and said, ‘Really? No. I couldn’t.’
‘Just a quick sext then.’ Amber sat back, feet up on the dash, and grinned, ‘You’re brave, remember. And you may as well put those giant pants to good use!’ She added, cracking herself up.
Julia blushed even more.
When they came to the Passage du Gois, the four-kilometre causeway that joined Noirmoutier to the mainland, outside it was dusk, the outlines of the trees fading.
There was a sign with a picture of a car underwater that said, ‘Risk of drowning.’ Julia looked hesitantly at Amber, who just shrugged. Then there was another sign that said, ‘Danger Route Submersible’ with pictures of cars being slowly flooded as the tide came in till they eventually disappeared under water.
‘Amber, is this safe?’ Julia asked, feeling her palms start to sweat on the wheel.
‘It’s fine,’ Amber said. ‘Pull over so I can read that board.’
Julia pulled over. In front of them was a giant noticeboard lit up with numbers and times and lots of stuff in French.
An old, toothless fisherman was ambling past with his red bucket in one hand and the stub of a cigarette in the other. Julia watched as he and Amber struck up conversation. They laughed. He even proffered Amber the cigarette which she waved away. Then she came striding back to the van.
‘You can cross up to an hour and a half after low tide,’ she said, doing up her seat belt.
‘And what are we now?’ asked Julia.
‘An hour and twenty minutes.’
‘So we can’t cross?’ she said.
Amber looked at her. ‘He reckons we’ll make it.’
‘Him?’ Julia frowned at the ancient fisherman.
‘He looks like he knows his stuff,’ she said, holding in a smile. ‘And anyway, there are towers along the way in case we get stuck.’
‘Amber! We could drown.’
Amber rolled her eyes. ‘We’re not going to drown. Well not if you get a move on, anyway. Come on.’
A text beeped on Amber’s phone. ‘It’s from Martin,’ she said. ‘“Booked us into an Airbnb – we’re here and it’s effing fabulous!” Bollocks, they’re already there. Let’s go, come on. I don’t want them running into Billy without me.’
‘Amber, it’s a whole island, they’re not going to run into Billy. What’s the other option, if we don’t drive this road?’ Julia asked, creeping the van forward to the start of the causeway. The evening light fading. It felt stupid and reckless.
‘We wait twelve hours for the next low tide.’ Amber clicked her fingers. ‘Come on, it’ll be fine. You just said you wanted to be less risk-averse.’
Julia blew out a breath. ‘Shit.’ She stared out at the crossing. ‘OK.’
They edged forward. The road was covered with seaweed. Julia had to hold tight to the wheel. ‘I’m slipping, Amber.’
‘No you’re not, you’re alright,’ Amber said, using a tone that seemed perfected on Billy.
Julia could feel her breathing get shallow. They passed one of the rescue towers. ‘The water is really high.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Amber.
Julia checked her mirrors. ‘There’s no one behind us.’
The sea was dark with tiny flicks of white water on the surface. The blue of the sky seemed mockingly jolly in comparison.
Amber peered out the window. ‘Well obviously no one else wants to come to Noirmoutier.’
‘It’s four kilometres, yeah? And ten minutes. That’s four hundred metres a minute. That’s doable, isn’t it?’ Julia said, needing the validation. The tyres losing grip as they skidded over bright green seaweed.
‘Well, eight minutes now actually. So you’d better speed up.’
‘Shit, Amber.’ Julia could feel her panic rise with the water. ‘We should have waited.’
‘Where would the fun be in that?’ Amber laughed. ‘Where’s the fun in this?’ Julia asked, peering right forward, clutching the wheel.
‘This is fun, it’s exciting.’ Amber leant out the window again to look down at the water. ‘It is rising very fast.’
‘Shut up, Amber.’
She laughed again.
‘You’re doing this on purpose to wind me up.’
‘No I’m not.’ Amber sat back again. ‘It seriously is coming up fast, so if you don’t want to sit in that tower for the night you really had better put your foot down.’
‘Shit, shit, shit.’ Julia wiped the sweat off her forehead. ‘Oh my God, I’m going to die.’
‘Stop whining and just drive. Faster!’ said Amber.
It felt like driving into an abyss. Water everywhere. Their little scrap of road disappearing into the distance.
‘Why did we do this?’
Amber leant across to look at the speedometer. ‘You’re halfway. Just keep going.’
Julia checked the mirror again. ‘Oh God, Amber, behind us some of the road is actually submerged.’ She really thought she might cry.
Amber had a look. ‘Bit faster then?’
It was the first time Julia had sensed any sign of panic in Amber’s voice. She put her foot down. The car skidded on the seaweed.
‘Careful,’ warned Amber. ‘Focus. Breathe.’
Julia breathed.
‘You’re doing well,’ Amber said.
Water was just starting to lap the edge of the road ahead, running in rivulets on the tarmac.
‘Just keep breathing, Julia.’
Julia nodded.
‘Enjoy it,’ Amber added.
Julia didn’t take her eyes off the slowly sinking road. ‘How can I bloody enjoy it? I’m going to die.’
Amber snorted. ‘You’re not going to die.’
Julia laughed slightly manically.
Water sprayed from their tyres.
They passed another tower. ‘Last kilometre, Julia. Hold your nerve.’
The tide was coming in fast now. Julia could barely see anything but water behind her. Ahead it was getting harder to see where the road was. ‘Do you promise we’re not going to die?’
‘Julia,’ Amber looked at her, ‘I promise, we’re not going to die.’ She paused, then added, ‘As long as you drive a hell of a lot faster.’
Julia floored the
van. Tyres slipping. Arms cramping on the wheel. Teeth clenched. Eyes wide staring at the disappearing tarmac. ‘I hate you,’ she said to Amber.
‘I thought you wanted to be like me,’ Amber laughed.
‘I take it back.’
Amber laughed again, unexpectedly cracked up. Julia smiled.
The water was mid-tyre height. The resistance tugging heavy at the van. Julia’s body ached.
‘OK, I can see land,’ Amber said, pointing at the windscreen, rising out of her seat. ‘You’ve got about two fifty metres. Go! Go! Go, Julia!’
Julia was panting with exertion. Foot to the floor. She could see the end but she could barely see the road any more. It was stupid and dangerous and they shouldn’t be doing it. But it was the most alive she had felt in possibly her whole life. The most in the moment. The most afraid and focused and relied upon.
Amber was going, ‘Come on, come on, you can go faster than that.’ Then when Julia did speed up, she’d say, ‘Watch out, keep it steady.’ Julia could tell she was itching to be behind the wheel herself.
The last stretch was almost the equivalent of driving straight out into the sea. No road behind them, nothing ahead. Just a quiet plea that there was something beneath their wheels.
And then finally they were on dry land. And Julia screeched to a halt, put her hand on her heart and bent her head over, gulping in air. ‘Oh my God. Oh my God, I am never doing that again. I really seriously hate you.’
But Amber was beaming. ‘That’s was brilliant!’
‘It was not brilliant,’ Julia said, turning the engine off and getting out of the van, just to give herself a moment. She stood with her hand on the door, deep breathing. Amber opened her door and sat with her legs dangling out of the van.
As Julia stood getting her breath back she watched a man in a fluorescent yellow vest approach Amber. He looked annoyed and said something in French as he got closer.
Amber said, ‘Sorry, I’m English. Non comprends pas?’
The man shook his head. ‘It’s dangerous,’ he said louder, this time so Julia could hear, gesturing to the causeway. ‘Next time, you take the bridge. Oui?’
Julia narrowed her eyes. ‘The bridge?’ she said.
‘The bridge.’ He pointed into the distance.
Julia swallowed. Then she nodded. Then she got back into the van. ‘There’s a bridge?’ she said to Amber, incredulous. ‘Did you know there was a bridge?’
She watched as Amber tried her best to suppress her smile. ‘No.’
‘You liar!’ Julia gasped. ‘You did know.’
Amber shrugged. ‘So what if I knew? You wouldn’t have done it if I’d told you there was a bridge.’
‘We could have died.’
‘We were never going to die. It was an adventure.’
Julia slammed the door of the van and sat for a moment in fuming silence.
She felt Amber watching her. ‘Tell me you didn’t enjoy it just a little bit.’
‘I didn’t enjoy it just a little bit,’ said Julia flatly as she started the engine.
Amber’s mouth twitched. ‘See! You’re funny.’
Julia started driving again in silence, staring hard at the road ahead. Had she enjoyed it? No. But she felt strangely high now. Like she had a story under her belt. The kind that kept people listening in the pub. The kind that wasn’t safe or reliable. That had required heart-thumping courage and made her feel alive. And now invincible. It made her think that maybe Amber was right on another count, maybe she was brave. She glanced over at her, trying not to smile, ‘I maybe enjoyed it a tiny bit. But only this much’ – Julia held her finger and thumb a millimetre apart.
‘Well see,’ said Amber, bare feet up on the dash, ‘that’s better than nothing.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
They followed the directions Martin had WhatsApped, and arrived out the front of a gothic mansion positioned off the Bois de la Chaise, a shady promenade surrounded by oaks and pine trees with a view of the sea at the very far end. It had dipped into evening, the sky threaded with navy. Clouds like mountains. The last of the sun a dazzling orange slice at the end of the road. The air through the open windows smelt of salt and tree sap, cicadas and crickets buzzed in the heat and they could hear the roll of the surf in the distance.
Lovejoy’s van was parked in the driveway. Martin was standing on the front step, as if he’d been waiting for them to arrive, arms outstretched to emphasise the glory of the building. ‘Better than sleeping in the van?’ he shouted.
Amber got out, peering over the top of her sunglasses. ‘How the hell have you wangled this?’
Julia stared up at the house in awe. There were tall French windows on every room with peeling white shutters that shadowed stripes on the brickwork in the late sun. Two little balconied attic windows poked out of the slate barn roof. The house was painted white, the colour fading to grey where it needed a refresh. There was a brick path leading to a dark wood front door beside which were two giant rhododendron bushes hot pink with flowers.
Martin trotted over. ‘I have a killer eye for an Airbnb.’
‘Where’s Lovejoy?’ Amber asked, hauling her case out of the boot of the van.
‘Gone for a brooding walk,’ said Martin.
Amber laughed despite herself.
‘Come on,’ Martin beckoned them up the red-brick path and in through the big front door. ‘I’ll show you the rooms, it’s bloody marvellous.’
Inside it was immediately cool. The ground-floor rooms all opened onto the big hexagonal hallway where they stood, blue and gold tiles underfoot. The plasterwork was cracked and giant oil paintings in elaborate gold frames half-covered peeling wallpaper.
‘I call it, dilapidated faded glory,’ said Martin with a flourish. ‘There’s bread and cheese in the kitchen and some wine,’ he gestured towards the huge kitchen table just visible through one of the doors. Then beckoning them towards the living room, he said, ‘Let me give you the tour.’
‘I love it already,’ said Amber, entranced.
Julia’s eyes opened wide as they walked round the house. Amazed at the grand disrepair. The bare plaster wall in the dining room reminded her of their kitchen at home but here it had been made a feature, draped with hanging plants and fairy lights to give it character. Here, the mismatched chairs looked quirky and off-beat. The living room was all white with bare floorboards, a Persian rug worn with splodges of damp and a threadbare sofa. But despite being faded, everything was beautifully, artfully arranged. There was a bold poster from a modern art exhibition heroed above the fireplace and a giant, oversized vase on a side table. All the papers and magazines were stored in a couple of old wooden wine boxes. And in the centre of the room hung a prized crystal chandelier, twinkling in rainbow prisms.
They followed behind Martin, up the stairs that were bare of carpet, sanded and white washed. Julia looked at them thinking, I could do that with ours. Tendrils of houseplants escaped over every surface, even winding down the bannister, and on the landing was a huge stuffed swan wearing a crown.
It was impossible not to appreciate the majesty of the place, however shabby and old it was.
‘This is my room,’ said Martin, pushing open a bright turquoise door. ‘That’s Lovejoy’s,’ he added, pointing to a giant room with black walls and a bare wooden floor. ‘That one’s the bathroom,’ he said, pointing to doors as he walked down the corridor. ‘There are two more on this floor and three on the top. So unless you want to be upstairs on your own, it’s between these two.’ Martin gestured to the two doors side by side.
Julia poked her nose into the first one. On the dark red wall behind the bed was a collection of deer skulls ranging in size from the tiny to the gigantic. She made a face. Amber laughed. ‘I’ll have this one.’
‘Yeah,’ Martin nodded, ‘The other one’s much more up Julia’s street.’
Julia just crossed her fingers for no skulls or taxidermy as she turned the door handle. Like the living room, it was pa
inted all white, even the floorboards. There was an old wooden French bed with a white throw and a chintzy flowered sofa. Shabby cream velvet curtains looped over floor-to-ceiling windows with glass so old it made the view wobble. The furnishings reminded her of half the stuff they had boxed up in the attic left behind by the previous owner and ready for the charity shop. But here, what Julia would have considered a dreadful ornament of a white horse galloping looked suddenly covetable on its own on a side table with a plain metal lamp. Even the ceiling, cracked like a spider’s web, looked artful here simply because it was embraced – the problem reframed from a crisis to a celebration.
‘It’s perfect,’ she said.
Martin looked suitably thrilled.
They explored the rest of the house, then outside where the last of the sun was flickering through the branches of giant firs onto a rotting Wendy house and a long picnic table.
Amber said she was knackered and went off to her room. Martin got his phone out and started taking selfies with his hair loose against a backdrop of the bright yellow mimosas. Julia stood in the kitchen watching through the big glass doors, picking at the bread, her body still tingling with adrenaline from the causeway drive. Her limbs restless. She had to do something.
She tapped her fingers to her lips. She watched Martin a bit more. Then she slowly backed away till she got to the hallway and then skidded up the stairs two at a time. She was going to attempt the phone sex. Courage, she thought. She had courage.
Going into her bedroom, Julia locked the door and closed the curtain. Then she perched on the edge of her bed, psyching herself up with a deep, steadying, you-can-do-this breath before she undid her belt and unzipped her dress, pulling it off so she was sitting just in her underwear. She wasn’t quite sure what to do next so decided to start with a simple photo – ease herself in gently.
Looking down though, all she could see were the little rolls of her stomach. She crossed her arms around her waist. It was so embarrassing. She went to stand in front of the cracked wardrobe mirror. Standing up, her stomach looked better. The pants were so huge they somehow accentuated her waist. She’d been wearing the yellow striped bikini top as a bra, and knew she should take it off but she couldn’t bring herself to go topless.
