Passport to Happiness

by Carrie Stone

  Clapping her hands and howling with laughter, Shanice slaps me on the back. ‘You’re keen. Too keen. I reckon you’ve got six in you, max. Let’s make a bet. Loser brings the snacks for next Sunday?’

  ‘Deal.’ And I smile, knowing that no matter which way this bet goes, I can’t think of anything I’d like more than to bring snacks for my volunteer acquaintances next week. I’m already looking forward to it.

  *

  ‘The black or the cream?’ Tilly holds up two pairs of shoes, both inappropriate for the beach, and I frown.

  ‘Will you be able to walk in the sand in those?’ I glance at the high heels on each pair. ‘I was going to wear flip flops?’

  ‘Obviously I’ll take them off and hold them but I want to turn up looking nice.’ She slips on the cream heel and looks down at her feet. ‘Maybe the cream, they go better with the dress?’

  ‘Hmm yes, the cream ones look good. They match the lace part.’ The dress in question is a tight figure-hugging number and it fits her like a glove. She looks stunning, more so than I’ve seen her look for a long time. I also happen to know it cost the equivalent of a third of my month’s wages. So by my reasoning, it’s just as well that she looks off the chart. I’d want to look like a model for that money too. I just don’t understand why she’s wasting it on a beach party.

  ‘I think the taxi’s here.’ I glance down at my flowing orange knee-length dress, one that I bought three years ago in a sale and has been a life-saver since coming to Bermuda. I’m dressed far more casually than Tilly but I don’t mind. It’s not like I’m planning on a crazy late night. Besides, Tilly knows I’ve got an early start tomorrow, for an appraisal. I’ve also been promised a discussion about future job prospects, so suffice to say, I’m on tenterhooks.

  ‘OK, I’m ready.’ We turn towards the door and I can’t help but wonder why she’s so nervous. I can tell by the way she’s shifting from foot to foot waiting for me to get my bag. Come to think of it, she’s been acting peculiar all day.

  The BBQ is taking place at Jobson’s cove and the taxi ride takes half an hour. I can hear the SoCa music playing in the distance even as we make our way out of the car, thanking our driver. The short walk from the footpath to the beach is more treacherous than it should be for Tilly, thanks to her ridiculous shoes but despite my urgings, she insists on keeping them on. Thankfully the trees and dunes soon clear into an opening and a cove greets us, the brisk waves of the turquoise sea lapping at the powdery pink sand as a large fire lit in the middle emits a luminescent orange glow. Swarms of people are standing and sitting in cliques and the atmosphere is relaxed and chilled, the beginning of sunset making the sky appear a blended mix of pinks and purples above.

  ‘This looks fun,’ I say, observing the scene before me. I wasn’t keen on coming but seeing as I’d promised Tilly so long ago, it would’ve been hard to let her down. Still, it’s not all bad. In fact, I might even enjoy it. Tilly remains quiet beside me, seemingly scanning the crowd until her gaze rests on her boss.

  ‘Is that Daryl?’ I nod my head in the direction of a tall, darker-haired man near the firepit, noticing that he’s actually a lot younger and more handsome than Tilly had led me to believe. I’d only seen him from a distance on the boat that day but now he’s easily recognisable thanks to his arm around the waist of the willowy, leggy blonde I remember admiring. She looks equally phenomenal today in a billowing luminous yellow dress, her long, wavy golden hair hanging loose around her in a perfect beach manner. ‘His missus looks amazing.’

  ‘She looks tacky. That dress is cheap and awful. But yes, that’s him.’ Taken aback, I glance at Tilly, wondering what’s got into her. It’s not usually in her nature to be so catty. ‘Come on, let’s go say hi. I’ll introduce you.’ She practically drags me along, doing her best to use my arm to support herself in her heels.

  Making eye contact with familiar faces along the way, I nod hello until we’re just in front of her boss and Tilly finally decides to take off her shoes. I notice she deliberately takes her time, making sure that Daryl’s wife has ample opportunity to check out her outfit, as she coyly pretends she accidentally wore the wrong footwear.

  ‘You been out partying on the way here?’ Daryl jokes, eyeing Tilly with what appears to be amusement. ‘You’ve scrubbed up well tonight.’ He then turns to me, as I catch Tilly’s eye – I’m surprised to see a wry smile on her lips. ‘And this must be the famous Everly.’

  ‘I didn’t know I was famous,’ I quip, wondering what Tilly has been saying about me. ‘Nice to meet you.’ I hold out my hand, but he leans in for a hug and I awkwardly accept; it’s too familiar for my liking. His wife barely bats an eye in my direction, seeming more interested in a chiselled blonde guy brazenly flirting with her to my left. Tilly seems surprised and I notice a raised eyebrow in my direction.

  ‘Is that your partner?’ I nod at the blonde, hoping to change his focus back to his actual lover and away from me.

  ‘My wife. Christie, come say hi,’ Daryl suddenly barks, causing me to take a step back. I watch as a reluctant Christie walks over to us and gives Tilly the once over before twirling a piece of her blonde hair between her fingers, her other arm protective across her chest.

  She appears intimidated by our presence and I’m shocked to catch a sneer on Tilly’s face as she openly expresses her obvious distaste of Christie. The tension is palpable, and Daryl seems to sense the discomfort in the air.

  ‘Why don’t you go and see if everyone has enough to drink?’ he suggests, practically pushing Christie away in the direction of the cool boxes. Waiting until she’s out of sight, he winks at Tilly. ‘Not the sharpest tool in the box. Not like you.’

  Tilly narrows her eyes at him and I can tell that she’s wrestling with a witty retort. Instead, she glances across at Christie. ‘No one is like me, you should know that by now.’ She flicks her hair away from her face and grabs his arm. ‘Anyway we need drinks, if you’d care to assist?’

  ‘Sure. I’ll sort that.’ Daryl doesn’t need telling twice. He briefly puts his hand on the small of Tilly’s back as he passes and hurries off to fulfil her request.

  I turn to Tilly, bemused. ‘Erm, I thought you said he wasn’t attractive, he’s a total pig and is always bullying you?’ I look back at Daryl, now hastily pouring two glasses of champagne, which I presume is for us.

  ‘He has his moments I guess.’ She doesn’t meet my eye as she says this, instead spotting someone she knows and waving them over. ‘Let me introduce you to Shelby. You’ll like her.’

  Before I know it, two hours have passed, and I take a pause from the conversation that’s bouncing between the group I’m now sitting with and scan the beach for Tilly. The last I saw, she was chatting with Daryl.

  ‘Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me. I need the ladies’.’ I whisper to Shelby, who doesn’t seem to hear me for she is now clearly drunk. She’s just thrown a half-eaten sandy burger bun at a colleague in banter. To be fair, the group of people that I’ve been chatting to are a nice bunch. I’ve seen the majority of them out and about at various points over the last few months, but it’s been a good opportunity to chat and get to know them a little better. It makes me wonder why Tilly moans so much about her job. It surely can’t be that bad, when you’re working with a set of people who on the whole are not only polite, welcoming and a laugh, but also rather engaging.

  The loo is basically a concrete building with a tin roof, built under a tree on the outskirts of the beach. Despite the glorious surroundings, it doesn’t exactly fill me with joy having to use it. I’m just about to open the door, thankful that there’s nobody around, when I hear raised voices from around the corner. I’m instantly aware that one of them is Tilly’s. Uncertain what to do, I freeze for a moment and strain my ears to hear what’s being said. I know she’s not in any type of danger because her tone is more angry than fearful.

  ‘Well, if you don’t start making some changes soon, then I have no choice but to tell Christie.
I’m sick of waiting. It’s eating me up inside.’

  ‘I’ve told you, I just need time to work things out. We have to keep it on the quiet for now.’ The male voice is both familiar and anxious. He softens suddenly and lowers his tone. ‘Babe, you know full well that we will lose our jobs if news of our relationship gets out.’

  Relationship? Astounded and intrigued, I quietly walk a few steps closer to the back of the building, my heart beating ten to the dozen as through a clearing, I can just make out the back of Tilly, head in hands as she sits on a rock. Daryl stands over her, his face ashen, running his hands through his hair. Gasping, I step back in shock.

  Tilly and Daryl? Surely not? But as I quickly disregard using the loo and nervously hotfoot my way back to the beach, so Tilly will never know I overhead, I can’t help but feel slightly sick to my stomach. Why on earth didn’t she tell me? Suddenly everything makes sense; the supposed nights with ‘Cullen’, the unexplainable amounts of leave she is often granted, the bitchiness towards Christie, the fake hate towards Daryl… I marvel at how she’s managed to keep it up. Seeing her sitting there, looking practically broken, I want nothing more than for things to turn out right for her. But as I re-join the others on the beach, hoping that the colour hasn’t drained too much from my face, I see Christie sitting by herself near the water’s edge and feel an overwhelming sense of sadness for her. What Tilly is doing is wrong on so many levels. And I know I shouldn’t judge because it’s her choice and she’s supposed to be my friend, but she’s wrecking another woman’s marriage. In my book, there’s simply no excuse for cheating. I feel like I’ve lost some respect for my friend, knowing that she’s fully averse to Christie’s happiness and actively encouraging Daryl to sabotage it. Yet, she’s clearly in love with the guy. Why else would she be eaten up inside?

  Wracking my brains, I try to think of the last time Tilly dated, aside of the now apparent cover that was Cullen. I begrudgingly realise that I can’t remember her wrapped up or excited about a new person for well over a year. I bite down on my lip; a year is a long time to have been involved with her boss if that’s the case. I hope for her sake that I’m wrong. If it’s already been a year, she’s in head over heels. For some reason, Daryl doesn’t strike me as someone to honour his word. In fact, at various points throughout the evening, he’s looked more than happy stood with his arm around Christie. Snake.

  ‘Hey.’

  I spin around, startled as I’m caught off-guard deep in thought. Thankfully, I have a glass of untouched champagne in my hand and I’m sat back next to Shelby, looking almost as if I’m actually involved in the conversation going on around me.

  Tilly stares down at me and I can see the slight smudge of her make-up where she’s been crying. Had I not known what to look for, I’d most likely just think she was once again worse for wear.

  ‘Hey.’ I stand up, excusing myself and joining Tilly. ‘Sorry, I got carried away with a convo about volunteering. I should’ve come and seen where you were at.’ It sounds like a convincing lie, even to my own ears.

  ‘Don’t worry, I was mingling and doing work talk. You’d have been bored.’ She tries a fake laugh, but I can see straight through it. ‘I was wondering if you’re ready to make a move?’ I watch as she reaches up and rubs her left temple. ‘I’ve got a really bad migraine just come on. Think it might be that cheap wine.’

  I know for a fact that Tilly hasn’t been drinking wine, but I don’t comment. ‘Sure, I’m ready to go. It’s been nice but I’ve got that early start tomorrow.’

  The drive home is fraught, at least for me because Tilly is pretending to close her eyes to help with her migraine, and by the time we arrive at the marina, I’m thankful to leave the confines of the back seat of the tiny car.

  ‘I’m going to go straight to bed, I think. It’s the only way to get rid of this head.’ She waits for me to unlock the door, slipping off her shoes in preparation. ‘They don’t happen very often to me but when they do it’s a killer.’

  ‘Bed is the best place. I can bring you some pain relief if you need. Just let me know.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She slips past me into the apartment, heading directly for her room. ‘And thanks for coming tonight.’ Stopping, she suddenly looks at me with a genuine smile. ‘Everyone thought you were great.’

  ‘Well, I had a great time.’ It’s a lie but what can I say? She disappears and I set about my evening with a heavy heart. I’m still reeling from the night’s events. I know it’s not my business to keep hashing over it in my mind, but this is Tilly it concerns and for all of her faults, she’s still the woman I live with, a friend. I know in my heart of hearts that she’s not a totally innocent party but surely Daryl is the real instigator – after all, he’s the one still with a wife.

  Feeling slightly discomforted, I find myself sighing with relief. I’m suddenly very grateful for my settled relationship with Spencer, and even though I’m still not entirely sure how deep my feelings run for him, I wouldn’t trade a minute of our time together to be single again and navigating the tricky, dating game. I only wish that Tilly would see the huge mistake she is making with Daryl because it’s obvious it’s only going to end in tears.

  I switch off the lights and make my way to the bathroom. Despite everything, tomorrow is a big day for me with school and I’m so hoping it’s going to be bringing me the good news that I want to hear. An early night is in order.

  *

  ‘We will not be able to keep you on, I’m afraid.’ Jerome looks at me with an apologetic expression. His hands are clearly tied on the matter. ‘As I said, it’s part of the legalities of hiring.’ He drops his pen onto the pad in front of him, sinking back into his swivel chair and lowering his voice a notch. ‘But off the record, it’s seeming unlikely we’ll find a replacement locally as we had trouble filling the position originally. So as long as you leave the island, you’ll be able to resubmit your CV for the role.’

  ‘I appreciate everything you’re saying. I’d heard that it wouldn’t be straightforward.’ I bite down on my lip, willing myself not to cry. I wonder why hearing the news first-hand, even though I had a strong sense that it wasn’t going to be positive, has made me feel so wretched.

  ‘Well, I’ve got another meeting I’ll need to attend now. And I know you’ve got lessons.’ Jerome stands and re-adjusts his tie, before holding out a hand for me to shake. ‘But well done Everly, we’re very happy with the work you’ve been doing so far.’

  I reach out and take his hand, trying to muster a smile. Part of me wants to feel proud of the outstanding feedback I’ve received from my appraisal and yet the other part can’t focus beyond the news that I won’t have a job in two months’ time. What happens now?

  I don’t want to have to leave just as everything seems to be going so well for me. Just as I got so settled…

  Nevertheless, it’s clear that I only have two choices; stay and live with Spencer until a new job appears or go elsewhere and, in the meantime, apply for a job from there.

  Is that really what I want to do though? Leave Spence? Leave everything here? No, it isn’t.

  Yet, if I choose to stay, isn’t that basically forfeiting my career for a relationship? And if I’ve learnt anything it’s surely that the answer to my happiness isn’t a man at this point. So why stay here and wait for career changes, instead of trying to make things happen elsewhere?

  I sigh softly, willing myself not to get teary as I walk through the hallway to my next lesson. The thing is, if I’m really honest with myself, although this maternity experience has been a catalyst in terms of giving me back my passion for teaching and re-inspiring me to put the effort back into my lessons, it’s also made me comprehend that teaching in general will always bring with it the same responsibilities and heavy workload wherever I am. Sure, it’s been wonderful to be involved in a school with a good ethos and mission but on reflection, it most certainly isn’t my career alone that has been driving my newfound sense of happiness here in Bermuda
. It’s mainly been the volunteering that has given me a sense of contentment. However, for that to continue here, I will need a job and a working visa. I decide to stop overthinking and instead try and concentrate on the rambunctious class that awaits me outside Room 35B.

  I make it through the remainder of the day in a glum mood, ignoring the lunchtime message from Spencer as I’m not quite ready yet for the conversation about work and potentially leaving him and this island behind.

  I arrive home a lot earlier than usual, thanks to using my free last lesson to do the evening’s marking. The apartment is eerily quiet as I walk in. My mind is whirling with decisions about my future. I’m so dubious about the idea of living with Spencer and not working. The reality is, how will I ever apply for another job in Bermuda if I’m living here? I’m so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I don’t hear the front door open and Tilly sniffling into her mobile until I look up from the sofa.

  ‘Oh, you’re home already?’ She looks startled and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. She turns her attention back to the phone, pressed to her ear. ‘Listen, I’ll have to call you back. But this conversation isn’t over, do you understand?’ Although her voice is low, her tone is unwavering. She rings off and faces me with an anguished expression.

  ‘Are you OK? What’s happened?’ And I know something must have happened because her eyes are red-rimmed, and the colour has drained from her face.

  I watch as Tilly shakes her head, fresh tears springing to the corner of her eyes, and takes a breath, trying to regain her composure. But it’s no use. ‘Here, come and sit down.’

  I reach out for her, steering her to the sofa whilst she sobs heavily and for once I’m lost for words. This is not the Tilly I know. She’s a mess.

  ‘Oh god, it’s all such a shambles.’ She clutches a wet tissue in her hands, unaware that white bits are sprinkling her expensive navy shift dress as she dabs at her face. ‘I didn’t think it was possible. I’m on the pill, for fuck’s sake.’ She fixes me with a despairing glance before a fresh wave of misery escapes her. Her shoulders shake and her body wracks with sobs as her words sink in.