‘Of course we will,’ promised Summer. ‘Is there anything we can bring you?’
Di thought for a moment. ‘Mango!’ she said with a big smile. ‘Oh, ’ow I miss mango! They never give us any exotic fruit in ’ere.’
‘We’ll bring you mango!’ Jude promised.
Summer and Jude made sure to visit once a week after that, always bringing a perfectly ripe mango with them, which Jude dexterously peeled and chopped for Di with a penknife. He sometimes recorded Di’s tales on his phone, too, so that he could play them back later, immersing himself in his family history as though he were going to be tested on it by his grandmother as soon as he made it through the Pearly Gates.
‘There’s so much to learn about, so much to know . . . It’s like I’ve only just realised,’ Jude explained to Summer one evening, clearly agitated. ‘I feel like I’m running out of time. How am I going to make sure I do everything – learn everything? Time’s slipping through my fingers like sand.’
‘You have to try not to panic,’ Summer said, gently stopping Jude as he paced up and down the living room. ‘If you panic you won’t enjoy it, and that’s the aim, isn’t it? Quality, not quantity?’ But her words fell on deaf ears and in the end she went to bed alone while Jude continued to pace.
Eventually he downed a large glass of brandy, then went to bed, where he slept not the sleep of the dead, but the twitchy, panicky, fruitless sleep of the dying.
Chapter Eighteen
JERSEY
SUMMER
A few weeks after they first met Di, Jude and Summer decided to take her out for afternoon tea. Jude’s panicky phase seemed to have subsided, thanks to Summer’s patience and reassurance, and he was looking more relaxed than he had in a while.
Di was thoroughly enjoying a rare outing and had been regaling them with more tales about Sabine. This time about the work she did for women’s rights in the years following the war, as well as more stories of her innate bravery during the years of the occupation.
‘Sabine’s mother – your great-grandmother, Odette – was an incredibly strong woman. You might ’ave imagined that, running an ’air salon – as she did in the thirties and forties – she would ’ave only been interested in making women look good. But she was a real feminist. She refused to take part in the 1911 census. Women ’adn’t been given the right to vote in Britain or the Channel Islands at that time and the suffragettes decided to protest by staying out the night when the census was taken or refusing to complete it, just writing their complaints on the form instead. It weren’t until 1919 that women were able to vote in Jersey, a year after the UK. She were ever so modern, Odette, and she ’ad Sabine quite late in life, like mothers do nowadays. It rubbed off on Sabine – during the war the entire population was suppressed, but afterwards she campaigned for women’s rights in an era that was particularly focused on family and ’ome. The forties and fifties were tricky times to be a woman. It weren’t an easy ride and she ended up moving to England to join up with like-minded women there for a while. She only moved back to Jersey later, just before I did, when she married and ’ad your mother and her sister. Are they feminists too? I always wondered about that.’
Jude looked like he was thinking about the question for a moment. ‘I’m not sure about Auntie Irene. But my mum, Beryl, seems the opposite of a feminist at first glance – a cosy, stay-at-home mother with no interest in a career. But she never lets my father get away with any prejudice against women in conversation, so I suppose, in her own way, she is. And she was very adamant that Daisy should make a career for herself. In fact, when you talk about Odette and Sabine, it sounds like you’re talking about my sister. I know now where she got her spark from.’
Di smiled, but she was looking tired. ‘I might just close me eyes for a few moments. Do you mind?’ Jude shook his head and Summer poured more tea. Moments later, Di was dozing in her chair while they chatted quietly.
‘It’s quite amazing,’ breathed Summer. ‘I’m blown away by all these stories. It makes me a bit embarrassed about how much I’ve tried to be the perfect headmaster’s wife for Seth. I’m a free spirit at heart and I let him, and my role, change me.’
‘But not permanently,’ Jude remarked.
‘No,’ Summer smiled. ‘Only a twenty-year blip . . .’
They were enjoying their tea in the grounds of Longueville Manor, the only sound the chirruping of birds pecking at the leftover crumbs beside their outdoor table, the sun catching the emerald in Summer’s necklace so that it shone. Jude was intrigued by this piece of jewellery Summer wore every day, without fail – a silver pendant with two hands reaching towards the emerald in the middle. He wanted to ask her if Seth had given it to her, but dreaded the answer.
‘Do you think you’re a feminist at heart? Despite trying to be the perfect headmaster’s wife?’ asked Jude.
‘I’ve always felt it sounds somehow derogatory, that word. My mother, Vita, is a true feminist – she was burning her bras back in the sixties. It would have been impossible for some of that not to influence me. I’d say I’m a quiet feminist. Don’t get me started on equal pay, for example! How is it justified in this day and age for a man to be paid more than a woman for doing exactly the same job?’ Summer stopped and smiled. ‘Actually, once I get started I can get quite irate.’
‘I don’t blame you. And I think I’m a feminist myself, although as a man you don’t admit that to too many people. Perhaps a better word is an egalitarian. Equality. Maybe one day . . .’
‘Hmmm, maybe. But your grandmother. How incredible she sounds. But perhaps not so surprising, knowing you as I now do. A quiet warrior, that’s what you are.’
‘Me?’ asked Jude, his face shocked. ‘Summer, I’ve never done anything brave in my life. I’m the complete opposite to my granny.’
‘That’s not true – you chased down that student who stabbed you. And look at how you’re dealing with a terminal illness,’ Summer whispered. ‘Jude, you don’t know it, but you’re every bit as brave as your grandmother. You’re the most courageous person I know.’
She looked at Jude, to try to work out if he believed in his bravery yet himself, but she could see in his eyes that – even now – he didn’t agree with her.
Chapter Nineteen
JUDE’S BUCKET LIST:
2. LEARN TO SURF
The day after their afternoon tea, Jude decided to tackle his bucket list, thinking they should focus on something fun in the wake of his period of panic about the short time he had left. Summer had been incredibly patient but he wanted their relationship to go back to being fresh and fun, as it had been just after they’d met – not burdened with his woes.
‘Have either of you surfed before?’ asked the Aussie surf instructor, Chaz, who was tall, bronzed and muscly. He was the definition of ‘cool’ and Jude felt instantly dorky in his rather too-tight wetsuit. It felt like it was choking him.
‘No,’ he answered in a slightly strangled tone.
‘Me neither,’ said Summer. ‘But I’m so excited.’
‘You both swim though, right?’ asked Chaz, a frown momentarily crossing his perfect features.
‘Oh yes,’ agreed Summer, breezily. ‘Shall we get started?’
They began with some instructions on dry land, lying on their boards, making paddling motions with their arms, and then trying to get the hang of pushing up and springing to their feet. This all seemed fairly pointless to Jude. Surely it would be completely different on the water? But he’d always been a good student and he wasn’t going to start rebelling now. After a slightly tedious half an hour on the beach, they were finally told to follow Chaz into the water up to their waists. It was icy, even at this time of year and in a wetsuit, and after a couple of minutes Jude could no longer feel his feet. Summer’s lips went blue.
‘You’ll warm up soon enough once you start moving,’ Chaz assured them, shouting above the splash of the white water. They spent some time chest-deep in water, catching the broken waves and
trying to stand up on their boards. After both Jude and Summer had managed this a couple of times, Jude shouted towards Chaz.
‘Mate, can we go in a bit deeper?’ he asked boldly, determined to test his bravery with this challenge.
Chaz looked a bit uncertain but he agreed. ‘Okay, we’ll paddle out a bit deeper – out the back, into the green waves. But guys, you really need to use your chest and arms for this bit. Put a bit of welly into it.’ They did their best and eventually reached Chaz, who’d quickly paddled out. Jude was exhausted already – probably more down to lack of fitness than anything to do with his illness, he had to admit to himself.
‘Here’s a big one coming in,’ Chaz said, scanning the horizon. ‘So remember, you want to jump up on to the board just before the wave rolls in then get your balance and you’re off.’
He made it sound so simple. It wasn’t. Jude and Summer wibbled, wobbled, were battered around and swallowed a huge amount of sea water. They didn’t catch a single wave but they laughed a hell of a lot – both rather pleased that at least the other wasn’t excelling.
‘Right, guys, there’s a bit of a rip developing – can you feel the pull? I think we’d better head in . . .’ But Chaz was too late and all of a sudden their laughter only moments before seemed absurd. They could feel the water sucking them out to sea and no amount of paddling was making any difference. It was strange because, even though Jude stared death in the face on a daily basis, this danger felt far more immediate and – as a consequence – quite terrifying.
‘Shit, I’ve never had this happen before,’ Chaz told them. He was looking panicked, which wasn’t reassuring. ‘We’re going to have to let the current take us out and then paddle out of it alongside the shore once it settles down. But if you see a wave coming in you’ve got to try to catch it into the beach.’
Seeing as neither Jude nor Summer had managed to pick up a single wave so far, the idea of catching one into the beach didn’t seem particularly realistic.
But a minute later Jude and Summer saw a roller approaching. A big one. They looked at each other, understanding passing between them. This is it, the look said. We do this and we do it together. Just as the wave reached them, Jude and Summer paddled their boards towards the beach with an almost superhuman strength. The wave jacked up and they were tipped down its face as it broke, inelegantly clinging on to their boards for their lives and swallowing more water as the frothing wave bumped them around. Neither of them knew how long their one ride took, but they made it, crashing into each other as they fell from their boards and submerged. They pulled themselves out of the water. Shallow. But even here the rip was pulling hard. They staggered from the water on to the sand, both shaking now, and scanned the sea for Chaz. They saw him. He was coming, riding the next wave in perfectly. He waved.
‘Bit of fun and games!’ he grinned as he swaggered out of the water, composure recovered. ‘I don’t charge extra for that,’ he told them. ‘You did fantastic, though, guys. You gonna come back for another lesson tomorrow?’
Jude and Summer, still trembling, looked at each other, eyes wide. Jude shook his head. ‘Think we’ll take a rain check, but thanks, mate. It was fun,’ he said weakly. They shook hands and Jude and Summer ran up the beach to the spot where Summer had left her bag, collapsing on to the softer sand and laughing hysterically – purging all their fear with tears of laughter.
‘What on earth made you choose learning to surf?’ Summer asked eventually as she peeled off her wetsuit.
‘I had no idea it would be that difficult! My friend Eddie makes it look so easy! If I’m honest, I wanted to test myself physically – to see how I’d get on with a sport that requires a decent amount of upper-body strength. It hasn’t exactly boosted my body confidence, but it was just as exhilarating as I’d hoped it would be. You can’t tell me you’re not feeling the endorphins after all that adrenaline!’
‘That’s true,’ Summer agreed, drying herself with a towel. ‘We survived it! And that feels good!’
‘But it’s also made me realise that perhaps I’m better off just accepting my limitations for now. I don’t want to die even more prematurely than necessary.’ Jude smiled ruefully but Summer didn’t smile back. He knew she hated him to joke about his situation, but sometimes it felt like the only way to handle it.
Jude watched as she delved into her bag and then shrugged on one of her mini-dresses, before looping her necklace over her head and throwing one of his hoodies over the top.
‘I love your dress,’ he said. ‘Those retro clothes really suit you.’
‘Thanks,’ Summer smiled. ‘All the sixties and seventies clothes I’ve got were my mum’s when she was young.’
‘Ah, that explains it then. I thought they smelt a bit fusty when I found them in the case.’
‘How embarrassing! I meant to wash them once I got here – I have now, of course. I used to wear those clothes as a teenager. They represent one of the happiest periods in my life. I probably look like a has-been in them, but they’re just . . . Well, they’re just sort of “me”.’
‘They are,’ Jude agreed as he got dressed himself. ‘They’re totally you. A change from all the skinny jeans everyone seems to live in. You’re beautiful in them.’ Jude blushed, unused to giving compliments so naturally, and looked at the ground. Summer kissed him, then took his hand.
‘Come on!’ she said and, cocooned in their hoodies, they made their way up from the beach and sat outside the Watersplash bar for sundowners. Jude had told Summer about the incredible sunsets there and this one didn’t disappoint. They sat together at a picnic table, looking out to sea, and drank bottles of beer as the sun began to dip in the sky. They looked scruffy, with damp hair full of sea salt and slightly sunburnt noses, but after the exhilaration of their surfing adventure – and their subsequent relief at not drowning – they felt almost euphoric.
‘Have you got your phone?’ asked Summer suddenly. ‘Let’s take a selfie, with the sunset in the background.’
Jude laughed. ‘A selfie? You sound like you’re part of the Suki generation.’ Jude had been telling Summer all about Suki from his work the night before.
‘It’s my boys – they’re forever taking them. Come on,’ she said. They hopped over to the other side of the picnic bench so that the blood-red sun would be in the picture and Summer snuggled into Jude. ‘You take it – you’ve got longer arms.’
He did. And by some stroke of genius he captured everything in that one shot. Joy. Laughter. Sadness. Friendship. Love. It was the only photo they took that summer – their time spent creating memories rather than recording them – but it was a picture Jude hoped Summer would treasure for ever.
Chapter Twenty
A BAD DAY
SUMMER
Despite Jude’s determination to focus on fun while they began to work through his bucket list, there were still good days and bad days for him as his illness progressed. This one was a bad one. He’d woken up looking pale beneath his tan.
‘My head . . .’ he groaned.
‘Let me get your pills,’ Summer said, jumping up and grabbing the tablets from the bathroom and a cool drink of water. ‘Here you go,’ she said, smoothing his hair back from his forehead and kissing it. He felt clammy. ‘Do you want any breakfast?’ she asked. She knew he hated her to fuss over him, but he clearly had no idea just how much she wanted to look after him. She might be a free spirit but she was also naturally nurturing and the love she felt for Jude made her desire to care for him unequivocal.
‘No, no food. I’m so sorry – it’s a bad day. Will you be okay?’
‘Don’t worry about me – I ought to get some work done anyway. I haven’t done anything for days. I’m just sorry you feel so rubbish. Can I do anything else? Do you want me to call the consultant?’
‘No point. He said this would happen. I’ll be better by tomorrow.’ He put a couple of enormous tablets in his mouth and washed them down, wincing, while Summer threw on some clothes.
> Then she smoothed the covers over Jude as he lay back against the pillows, adjusted the blinds and left him to rest. She went through to the living room and sat on a sofa, fiddling anxiously with her necklace. Worry, worry, worry. But it wouldn’t achieve anything, so she grabbed her purse and walked up the hill to the nearby honesty stall to see what vegetables were on offer. Everything she’d need for ratatouille – onions, garlic, herbs, tomatoes, courgettes and aubergines. She bought them then walked for a little longer as fast as she could – trying to expel her angst – before she returned to the cottage and started chopping up the vegetables, immersing herself in domesticity.
After a while Summer abandoned her preparation and went to check on Jude. He lay sleeping under the starched white covers, his head slightly propped by a square goose-down pillow. A small frown indicated that, though sleeping, his head still throbbed. Summer crept on to the bed and snuggled into him, listening to his heart steadily thumping beneath his T-shirt. She could hear the sounds of the radio drifting through from the kitchen. Coldplay’s ‘Adventure of a Lifetime’, a favourite of the local radio station. After hearing it several times, they’d adopted it as their song.
It was a bit mainstream for Jude (so far, Summer had been introduced to the lesser-known likes of Gene, The Weird Ians and Feeder) but the lyrics rang true for them: they really did make each other feel alive again.
Summer began to cry silently, her tears soaking Jude’s T-shirt. His heart sounded so strong and regular and normal. And yet he would die. Within a year. Summer had gently asked him about it a couple of days before.
‘What will happen, Jude? I mean, when things get worse . . .’
‘I’ll start to sleep more,’ he’d explained, gazing into his gin and tonic, not looking at her. ‘I’ll get drowsier and drowsier and eventually I’ll slip into unconsciousness. I guess there are worse ways to go,’ he’d mumbled.
Summer had jumped up from her chair and gone to stand behind him, putting her arms around him. She’d felt a heavy sadness dragging her down, though – as ever – she’d tried hard to be brave for him. ‘I’ll be there for you. Whenever it happens.’
Christmas by the Lighthouse Page 10
