Chapter 24
24
Brad wasn’t wrong; you’d think we were risen from the dead, the way Barry carried on when Cameron and I strolled into the Nautilus lounge last night. Thankfully, he was distracted by two more couples taking advantage of the fact that it was the penultimate night of the cruise to swap their badges for red ones.
‘I love each and every one of you so much,’ Barry had gushed. ‘I’ve never had so many new couples on a cruise. I expect invitations to all your weddings, do you understand? My contact details are in your packs.’
Sam, Robin, Cameron and I had grabbed a table together for dinner and, after a certain amount of negotiation, we agreed that we’d join the organised tour to Pisa today. I was a little disappointed to begin with because I was looking forward to seeing Florence and visiting the Uffizi gallery. Although Sam and Robin had said they were quite happy to spend another day in Florence, it seemed a waste of their time, and the fact that the Uffizi was sold out when I checked online sealed the deal.
‘Did you know it’s not just the tower that’s leaning in Pisa?’ Sam asks, her nose in a guidebook as the bus makes its way towards the city. ‘According to this, both the cathedral and the baptistery are also sinking.’
‘What’s a baptistery?’ I ask.
‘They generally date from the early church, when lots of adults wanted to be baptised into the rapidly growing Christian faith,’ Robin explains. ‘You’d often have an area where people would make their vows, before being led into the central chamber where they’d undergo full immersion baptism. Sometimes, baptisteries would be incorporated in the main church building, but they were often separate structures, like the one in Pisa.’
‘Who needs a guidebook when I have you?’ Sam remarks.
‘It is kind of my area of expertise,’ Robin replies with a smile.
‘Of course it is.’ She pats his knee and leans across to give him a kiss. Normally, a public display of affection like this would make me slightly uncomfortable, but they seem totally at ease with each other, and she’s not simpering in the irritating way she was the last time we saw them together. I have tried to imagine him wearing a clerical shirt and a dog collar, but I can’t see it.
‘Are you OK to chat to Sam for a bit today?’ I ask Cameron quietly. ‘I think things between her and Robin might be getting serious, so I’d quite like to find out a bit more about him.’
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ He looks dubious. ‘She might not thank you if she thinks you’re sticking your nose in.’
I smile. ‘Let’s put that to the test, shall we?’ I turn to Sam. ‘Sam, you don’t mind if I steal Robin for a chat, do you?’
‘Knock yourself out,’ she replies. ‘Of course, that means I’ll have to entertain Cameron. How do you feel about that?’
‘I have no secrets,’ I tell her before turning to Cameron and whispering, ‘Don’t tell her anything.’
‘I’m not sure there’s much to tell that she doesn’t know already,’ he murmurs back.
‘Just be careful, that’s all. Sam’s a Rottweiler if she thinks there’s hidden information.’
He laughs. ‘Oh, and you’re a pussy cat, I suppose. Robin’s not about to be grilled to within an inch of his life at all.’
‘I just want to check he’s on the same page as Sam, that’s all.’
To his credit, Robin seems completely relaxed as I fall into step next to him. Sam and Cameron are ahead of us and, from what I can see, their conversation is flowing naturally. I’m slightly anxious, knowing that they’re probably talking about me, but I make a conscious effort to focus on Robin.
‘It sounds like you and Sam are serious about each other,’ I begin.
‘I hope so,’ he replies. ‘I’ll confess that I didn’t have particularly high hopes of meeting a match when I was persuaded to sign up for the cruise, but she and I just seemed to click from the start.’
‘You know she’s not churchy though, don’t you? How do you see that working out?’
He smiles. ‘That’s one of the things I like most about her. You probably think I should be on the lookout for a clichéd vicar’s wife, don’t you? Someone a bit blousy, who’s an expert baker and feels her ministry is serving cups of coffee and running kids’ clubs.’
‘That does seem a more natural fit,’ I admit.
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ he continues. ‘Many of my colleagues are married to people exactly like that, and they’re lovely, but I’d feel stifled. Being a vicar is intense; it’s not like your average nine-to-five job.’
‘Don’t you only work on Sundays?’
He laughs. ‘I wish. It’s a six-day-a-week job and, if some of my parishioners had their way, I wouldn’t get a day off at all. I’ve got three parishes, which means three of every type of meeting on top of all the pastoral visiting and occasional offices.’
‘Occasional offices?’
‘Sorry, church speak. Weddings, baptisms, funerals. Any service that falls outside the regular schedule, basically. The point is that it’s full-on.’
‘OK, but surely a churchy wife would be an asset in that scenario? I’m not marrying you and Sam off, don’t worry. I’m just pursuing this to its logical conclusion.’
‘I get where you’re coming from, but if my wife was churchy as well, we’d be at risk of the church dominating every aspect of our lives. The last thing I want is to spend my precious downtime talking about the latest scandal in the flower arranging group, or whatever.’
‘Sam’s not a bad flower arranger.’
‘Yes, but she also has what I would describe as a healthy fuck-offness to her. She doesn’t stand for any shit, and that’s incredibly attractive. Let me give you a scenario, and you can tell me how Sam would react.’
‘OK.’
‘I come home from a meeting of the church leadership team. Someone’s made an anonymous complaint about something I’ve said in a sermon.’
‘Does that happen?’
‘Oh, yes. Anonymous complaints are a church speciality. So a traditional wife would probably trot out something Biblical about turning the other cheek. What do you think Sam would say?’
‘She’d say that someone who wasn’t prepared to put their name to a complaint isn’t worth the time of day and you should tell them to fuck off.’
‘Exactly. OK, here’s another one for you. It’s my day off, but I’m mulling a tricky parish situation.’
‘She’d probably let you discuss it, give you a robust assessment and then expect you to move on. If that didn’t work, she’d probably get naked to distract you.’
He laughs. ‘I’ll have to remember that. Forget the flowers and chocolates. If I want to get Sam naked, hit her with a tricky parishioner. The point is that someone like Sam would help me to stay balanced. I don’t want the church to dominate my marriage; it already has the rest of my life.’
I turn and study him. ‘OK, I get why she’d be good for you. Why would you be good for her?’
‘Ooh. Tough question, and one she’s probably better placed to answer than me. I like to hope, to use her words, that I’m not a dickhead at least. I’d do whatever I could to make her happy, does that count?’
‘I don’t think you’re a dickhead,’ I agree, ‘and I don’t think anyone could ask for more than someone who wants them to be happy. In fact, I think you’ll do very well, Robin.’
‘So I passed the test?’
‘With flying colours, not that it matters.’
‘It does matter. You’re Sam’s best friend, so it would be awkward if you didn’t like me.’
‘Trust me, my opinion carried absolutely no weight when it came to her previous boyfriends. Thinking of which, how do you feel about the fact that she’s not exactly pure as the driven snow?’
He grins. ‘Do you want the Biblical answer or the Robin answer?’
‘Both.’
‘The Biblical answer is “let he who is without sin throw the first stone”. Even if I didn’t have a sexual history myself, there’s plenty of other stuff you could hold against me. Wearing a dog collar doesn’t give me the moral high ground, whatever some people might believe.’
‘Nice. And the Robin answer?’
‘I couldn’t give a shit who she’s been to bed with in the past. It’s hardly unusual, is it.’ He lowers his voice and smiles. ‘I mean, if she was on Only Fans or Pornhub, that might be tricky, especially as I’m fairly sure a couple of my congregation are voracious consumers of that kind of thing and would recognise her. Is there anything like that I need to know about?’
‘You’re quite safe there,’ I tell him with a laugh. ‘Sam’s very open minded in lots of ways, but not that. Are you sure you’re a vicar though? Swearing and adult websites don’t seem very holy to me.’
‘Just because I love God doesn’t mean I don’t live in the real world.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’
* * *
‘Did you get everything you needed out of Robin?’ Cameron asks once we’ve returned to the ship and taken up our positions by the pool.
‘I liked him very much. He’s a fascinating mixture of holy and worldly. How did you get on with Sam?’
‘She’s full-on, but she obviously thinks the world of you. She had some pretty strong opinions.’
‘She always does.’
He lapses into silence, and I take a sip of my drink. Over by the bar, Brad and Gail are also in their usual spot, evidently engaged in a heart to heart, if their facial expressions are anything to go by.
‘Last night of the cruise,’ I observe. ‘Can you believe it? It feels like it’s flown by.’
Cameron smiles. ‘The fact that we missed two nights of it probably didn’t help. Barry’s Bonanza in Malta feels like ages ago though, doesn’t it?’
I consider his point and he’s right. Although time seems to have sped up since we rejoined the ship, our adventures in Barcelona and Cannes make the early part of the cruise feel like they happened a lifetime ago.
‘How do you feel about going home?’ he asks after a while.
‘I’m ready, I think. You’re right that it does feel like we’ve been away for ages, so I’m looking forward to getting back to the bookshop, even if I’m slightly worried about what I’ll find at the flat.’
‘Your sister Em?’
‘Not her so much as her boyfriend, Charlie. She swore he’d improved, but he’s one of those people whose perception of their cooking ability often outstrips reality. If my kitchen has escaped unscathed, I’ll be happy.’
‘And then there’s Samson. I expect he’ll be pleased to see you.’
‘Once he’s finished punishing me for going away, yes. Em will have spoilt him rotten, which won’t have helped. What about you? Looking forward to getting back to your guns?’
He stares at me for so long without speaking that I start to feel uncomfortable.
‘Hello?’ I try eventually. ‘Earth to Cameron?’
‘Sorry, I was thinking about something.’
‘Are you going to share?’
‘How do you feel about coming clay pigeon shooting with me? There’s a really good ground near Paddock Wood. It’s a bit of a flog from you, but I could collect you first thing and we could have a pub lunch afterwards. Make a day of it.’
‘Are you inviting me on a date?’
‘No. Absolutely not. Sam told me you’d run a mile if I so much as mentioned the D word. No, this is two friends enjoying a day out together, nothing more.’
‘Sounds awfully like a date to me.’
‘Let me put it this way then. We’re friends, right?’
Now it’s my turn to fall silent. What are we, exactly? Friends seems a bit anodyne given that we’ve shared two beds, been skinny dipping together and massaged each other’s naked bodies, even if only from behind. Our relationship feels like we’ve reached a deeper level of intimacy than just friends. But we’re not dating, and we’re not heading that way either. What is the correct term for more than friends but less than lovers?
‘I wasn’t expecting that to be such a difficult question,’ Cameron remarks, and I can hear the slight tone of hurt in his voice.
‘Sorry. Of course we’re friends,’ I assure him.
‘Right. And, unless the world has changed dramatically and nobody has told me, friends do stuff together from time to time.’
‘Doing stuff’ conjures up an image of us massaging each other, and I’m momentarily distracted again by the thoughts of where that could have gone.
‘Are you all right, Ruby?’ Cameron asks.
‘Yes, yes. Sorry.’
‘You seem a little distracted. Is there something on your mind?’
‘No, nothing. What were you saying?’
‘I was trying to invite you to come clay pigeon shooting with me without it being a date, but I suspect that you hate the idea and you’re trying to buy time to think of a way of letting me down gently. Forget I said anything. I just thought it would be nice to have something in the diary, but I don’t want you to feel pressurised.’
Shit. I’ve properly upset him now. Why am I making such a meal of this? I mean, I’m not sure about the whole shooting thing, but I know it’s important to him and I want to understand it. He’s not inviting me to move in with him. Come on, Ruby. Make a decision.
‘Do you know what?’ I tell him. ‘Friends do do stuff together from time to time, and I’d love to come shooting with you. As your friend.’
‘Great. Let me check my diary once I’m back and I’ll text you some dates.’
He settles back on his sun lounger, evidently happy, but I’m in turmoil. Part of me wants so much more than friendship from him, and I think he probably wants that too, but that would involve opening myself up to him and being vulnerable. I’ve protected myself for so long that I’m not even sure I’d know how to do that, even if I wanted to, which I definitely don’t.
You don’t do relationships , I mentally remind myself. Your life is perfect as it is. Don’t mess it up .
The problem is that I suspect I’ve already messed it up by allowing myself to fancy him. And, to make matters worse, the real reason I don’t do relationships is the one thing I definitely can’t talk to Sam about.