‘It’s fabulous. Amazing taste must run in the family.’ Except for men. Bill and I both fall down on that front. I don’t think my brother has ever had a relationship for longer than a year. I had great hopes for a few of the partners that Bill’s had over the years, but as I’ve said he has very exacting standards and he’s a workaholic – neither of those make relationships easy. Now I think he’s become too used to doing his own thing. ‘You’ve done a great job.’
‘Yeah. I must get out there one day.’
‘I thought it was going to be your weekend place for the summer? Party central.’
‘That’s still my plan,’ Bill assures me. ‘But we’ll see how things go.’
What he means is that he won’t be going anywhere over the summer if I’m not back in the office by then. He’ll be working 24/7. The worst thing about this is letting Bill down. Well, it isn’t the worst thing, but you don’t know that yet and I’m in no fit state to explain it.
‘Sunny Days, though?’ I’m glad he can’t see my nose wrinkling. ‘I thought you would have chosen something more cool, more on message.’
‘That was what the previous owner called it and, apparently, it’s bad luck to change the name of a boat.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes. You have to go through all kinds of rituals if you do – a purging ceremony to appease the sea gods.’
‘Marilyn told you this, didn’t she?’
‘Of course.’ Bill laughs. ‘She knows everything. And everyone.’
Just my luck.
‘Sorry, sis. Got to run. I can see the team assembling round the table.’
The offices of WJ Design are in a trendy area of Shoreditch and are very fancy indeed – which is only fitting for a design company. The main floor is furnished with an enormous table that is industrial chic teamed with brushed steel café chairs and we have a company breakfast here every morning. The rest of the office is open plan, except Bill and I – as senior partners – have offices that are glass boxes set at angles to each other.
We’re lucky to have a great team of loyal staff and Bill will have to break the news to them that I’m not going to be around for a while. They know why – some of it, anyway – and they’ll probably all make the right sympathetic noises but, equally, they’ll more than likely be a bit pissed off that they have to pick up the extra workload. There’ll be some very late nights at the interior design coal face and it will all be my fault.
I get a stab of regret that I’m not there at the sharp end of it, but I simply can’t cope at the moment. It’s all too much. Everything’s too much.
‘We’ll speak soon,’ Bill says. ‘I’ll be checking up on you every day.’
‘I wouldn’t expect anything else.’ Then my throat tightens with emotion. ‘Thank you for letting me come here. I didn’t know what else to do.’
‘I’m glad I could oblige. Fortunately, the timing was perfect. I can’t wait to see it finished. Let me know when you feel up to it and I’ll try to come over for the weekend. ’
‘I’d like that. You’re the only person I’m going to miss.’ That’s not strictly true. There’s my friend, Della, too. I’ll be lost without her as well. She’ll be furious when she hears that I’ve skipped town without telling her. That’s another phone call I’ll put off.
‘Well, we’ll all miss you. Hanging up now,’ Bill says. ‘Love you.’
Despite saying that I want to be alone, I miss Bill more than you can know and I’m reluctant to hang up the phone.
When he’s gone, I’m not sure what to do with myself. I go to the back of the boat and the view has changed completely. The lone paddle-boarder has taken his leave, boats have come and gone, the tide is rushing out. The sun is starting its slow descent and I stand to watch the sunset with marvel. It’s absolutely stunning. The golden glow lights up the living room and the rays spread out from the sun until they’ve tipped all of the clouds with a peach hue. Then they persist until the whole sky is ablaze with gold.
‘Oh, man,’ I say to myself. ‘That’s a sight for sore eyes.’
When the sun finally sinks below the horizon and the dusk is gathering, I realise that I haven’t eaten. The café that Marilyn recommended will probably have closed a long time ago. So I rummage in the fridge to find what she has left me. Despite me moaning to Bill, that was really very good of her. I’m grateful now that there’s a loaf and cheese as I rustle up a toastie.
I feel bad that I was off-hand with Marilyn and so I text her. Thank you for the food, very useful. Jodie.
Within seconds I get back. No problem, sweetie. Mxxxxxxx followed by a row of totally random emojis – a heart, a poodle, a snowman, two champagne glasses and a fish. Plus a dozen other things that I can’t even identify.
I take my toastie to the kitchen table and nibble on it. I have no appetite, but I do try to remember to eat regularly. I used to love my food, but everything now tastes like sawdust. I eat just to stay alive and, sometimes, I confess that there seems little point in that.
Before long, I realise that I’m sitting in the dark and put the light on in the kitchen. As I do, I note that there are lights on in the boat next door. So it is inhabited, after all. I stand to the side of the kitchen window and have a little peek over in case I can get a glimpse of anyone, but I can’t. I don’t want my neighbours to think that I’m spying on them, even though I am.
As the night begins to close in and there’s nothing but the darkness of the sea ahead of me, I take what’s left of supper and sit in front of the television, letting Celebrity Antiques Road Trip go past my eyes.
This is what I need. No conversation, no company, no stress. No past, no future, only the present. Just myself and my thoughts.
Marilyn texts me again. Four Weddings and a Funeral is on telly tonight. Best film ever. That Hugh Grant would so get it. Mxxxxxxx A frog, a Canadian flag, a man surfing, three pandas and a glass of wine.
I shake my head, totally confused. Then think: actually, the last one might not be a bad idea.
Chapter Six
I don’t sleep a wink. But then that’s nothing new. I haven’t slept in months. As advised, I stayed up until the small hours watching Four Weddings and a Funeral. What else was I to do? I’m sure Marilyn will quiz me on it. In fairness, though it’s not my usual kind of film, I enjoyed it even though I cried through most of it – even the funny bits.
Now I lie awake listening to the creaks and groans of Sunny Days as it rises and falls on its mooring posts with the incoming and outgoing tide. When the light comes in through the portholes and I can hear the gulls calling, I get up.
There are more messages on my phone – the majority from Chris – and I delete them without reading. There’s one from Della too and I promise myself to call her later. She’ll be distraught that I didn’t turn to her first before doing a runner.
The water in the en-suite shower is hot and plentiful. That, again, must be down to Marilyn as I didn’t even think to look where the controls for the hot water or heating were. The boat is warm too, so the central heating must be on.