As I’m stepping out of the shower, I hear Marilyn’s ‘Coooeeeee!’ as she bowls in and wince slightly.
Trying to put off the inevitable effort of conversation, I take my time getting dressed – noticing for the first time how loose all my clothes are on my frame – and then venture upstairs. Marilyn is already crashing about in the kitchen. Today, she’s dressed from head to toe in peacock blue – a jumpsuit with a bold, exotic print that involves jungly leaves and parrots. The only exception is towering yellow heels that match the rubber gloves she’s wearing. My eyeballs try to retreat into my head. So much colour is a shock this early in the day.
‘Morning, darling!’ She trills cheerfully and I wish she’d turn her volume down at least a notch or two. ‘Sleep well?’
‘Yes,’ I lie.
Marilyn purses her scarlet red lips. ‘An hour at best, I’d say. Look at you.’ She shakes her head in despair at my appearance. ‘You need some sea air on your ribs. And something to eat. Let me fix you a bit of breakfast. I brought some of my own jam for you to try. It’s blackberry and apple from last year’s pickings.’
‘That’s very kind of you, but I was thinking of walking down to the café you mentioned yesterday for my breakfast. It looks like a lovely day out there.’ Sun is flooding into the living area and, once again, I congratulate Bill on having done such a great job on renovating this boat. It looks beautiful bathed in sunlight.
‘It’s fresh out there,’ Marilyn warns. ‘You’ll need a big coat. The wind will cut right through you. It’s as sharp as a banana. I think it’s blowing all the way from Siberia or somewhere. It certainly feels like it. A drink before you go? The kettle’s just boiled.’
‘I’m OK, thanks.’ She’ll want to chat, find out why I’m here and I can’t face it. ‘I could do with some fresh air. I’ll get my coat.’
‘Anything in particular you want me to do while I’m here?’
‘It’s all immaculate, Marilyn,’ I tell her, glancing around. ‘Bill just wants you to babysit me.’ Check that I’m still alive. ‘Put your feet up and have a coffee. Read a magazine. Watch Judge Rinder.’
She laughs as if I’ve said something truly hilarious. ‘Go on with you. I’m sure I’ll find something to do. The sea spray plays havoc with the windows. And don’t get me started on those ruddy gulls. I love them to bits but they’re dirty things.’
I get my coat and button it up before I go out as I’m certain Marilyn would tell me off if I didn’t.
‘That’s not a coat!’ She looks at my neat single-breasted, dark grey cashmere affair with horror. ‘You’ll get draughts everywhere.’
‘It’s all I’ve got.’ Though she’s probably right. I’ve already realised that it’s more city slicker than beach stroller.
‘Scarf?’ Marilyn says. ‘Have you got a scarf?’
‘I haven’t.’
‘You’ll need one. A hat?’
I shake my head. I’m found wanting in the hat department too.
‘You’ll catch pleurisy,’ she warns.
‘It doesn’t look too bad.’ I peer out of the windows that the sea spray is supposedly playing havoc with.
She gives me a knowing look. ‘Borrow mine.’
‘I’m fine. Really. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ I head for the door.
‘You know where you’re going? You just walk along the esplanade and down the steps into the next bay. Go right the way along to the end. You can’t miss it. If you go any further, you’ll end up in the sea.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I can come and show you, if you like.’
‘I’m sure I can find it. Have a good day.’
‘Bye, lovely. You make sure you have a nice time. Give my love to Ida. They do a good crumpet. Homemade. None of your shop bought stuff. I’ll see you tomorrow. Phone me if you need me. Byeeeee!’
I step out of the boat feeling as if I’m five again. I take a deep breath as I close the door behind me and all the talking stops. It’s a long time since anyone fussed over me and I have to admit that I’m veering between finding it really annoying and quite liking it. She’s no doubt very well intentioned, but it is like being bulldozed with love.
On the gangway, the wind nearly knocks me off my feet. Marilyn’s right, of course. I do need a more suitable coat. And a scarf. A woolly hat wouldn’t go amiss either. Gloves might be useful too. Once again, I rue that I departed my old life so woefully unprepared.
Chapter Seven
Thankfully, as I turn in the direction of the café, the wind is at my back and I get blown along rather than having to battle into it. Coming back is going to be fun, though. As the tide is in, I can’t walk round to the next cove on the sand. Instead, hands in pockets, I walk towards the esplanade along the row of moored houseboats in the harbour, all looking pretty in their pastel shades.
They’re all shapes and sizes, modern and traditional all thrown together. The one next door to Sea Breezes is enormous, painted bright white and is covered in bunting and wind spinners. The boat beyond that is a smart Dutch barge, then a big, square modern one with a Mondrian-style painting on the side. I walk along and have a good look at them all.
Then I head away from the harbour and, as Marilyn instructed, down the esplanade that runs along from Cockleshell Bay and into Sandy Cove. The sea front is old-fashioned, how seaside resorts used to be years ago. Smart Edwardian villas look out onto the sea, most of them now guest houses or holiday rentals rather than individual homes. Instead of turning up into the main street – I can explore that another time – I carry on along the promenade. There are some wrought iron benches that look in need of a fresh coat of paint after the worst of the winter and an art deco style shelter that offers some cover from the elements. At the top of the steps that descend to the beach, there’s also a worn brass steampunk statue that seems incongruous in this setting.
As I pass by, the statue says, ‘Morning!’ and makes me jump out of my skin.
‘God, you scared me half to death,’ I say up at him.
‘Oh, sorry.’ Mr Steampunk raises his hat. ‘You looked a bit fed up, so I thought I’d cheer you up.’
My mind might be elsewhere and he’s higher than me on a raised plinth, but he makes quite a convincing statue. His skin is completely covered in bronze makeup and he’s dressed from head-to-toe in clothing also painted bronze – a frock coat, top hat, retro rivet spectacles, and he’s sporting a cane with a fancy handle. Now I look more closely, his plinth is a box covered with material and there’s a small collection box at his feet. ‘I thought you were actually a statue.’
‘Well, my work here is done,’ he says with a laugh and bows as he holds out his hat.
I look in my bag, fishing for change.
‘Oh, I don’t want any money.’
‘Isn’t that the point?’
‘Well, yes. But have this one on me. I needed to move. It’s freezing out here. You look like you need a big coat and scarf on.’
‘So I’ve been told.’ Everyone’s an expert on my welfare – even statues.