Chapter 8
I’m on a nice, relaxing trip away in Yorkshire with my family.
Well, no, if I’m being totally honest with you, ‘nice’ and ‘relaxing’ are not words I would use to describe my current situation, but ‘trip’ and ‘Yorkshire’ are accurate, and I am here with my family.
Gran and Grandad moved to the Yorkshire coast to enjoy their retirement in the sleepy coastal town of Marram Bay, but soon decided it wasn’t sleepy enough, so they moved to Hope Island, a tidal island that cuts itself off from the rest of the country twice a day, only a mile from the shore.
I was amazed when I first learned about it, the way it seemingly detaches itself from the rest of England, but trust me, you feel less into it once you realise you’re trapped on a tiny island with your family.
So I’m here, with my grandparents, my mum and dad, my Auntie Eleanor, Uncle Clive (her husband), and then there’s cousin Hannah and her hubby-to-be, Samuel, and as far as I can tell they still aren’t speaking to me.
I would say it had been awkward but, to be honest, with them and my auntie hardly speaking to me, it’s been relatively peaceful.
I know what you’re thinking: how’s a working girl (so to speak) like me able to take a trip away with her family in the middle of the week?
I’ll tell you why. Because Paige still has me waiting in the wings, still not giving me anything to do, and it’s so weird.
It’s like she hasn’t found a use for me yet – but then why does she want me?
It’s not that I didn’t have an interesting time in Paris, but in the end there was nothing for me to do there.
Paige didn’t have to hire me. I’m assuming that I’ll be replacing someone who hasn’t left yet, and maybe there’s just no work for me yet, because that’s the only thing that makes sense. It’s hard to complain, not when I’m getting paid regardless.
I grab my phone from my bag and fire up the WorkM8 app, the one they have us all socialise on. Oh, and I have a message!
MrLoveByte
So, NewGirl, when am I going to see you around the office?
I’m so intrigued by him. There’s something so… I don’t know, exciting, about messaging anonymously with someone. I mean, Paige did say I could only look, that I shouldn’t talk to anyone yet – and MrLoveByte, whoever he is, knows that.
My finger hovers over the keys. I know I shouldn’t reply, but…
My cheeks flush red as a call comes through from Paige. She can’t have known I was thinking about fraternising with colleagues, can she?
‘Hello?’ I answer brightly, trying not to sound guilty.
‘Hello, Liberty, how’s it going?’ she asks.
‘Great, thanks, having a lovely time in Yorkshire with my family,’ I reply – well, if I’m lying anyway…
‘You’re in Yorkshire?’ She sounds surprised.
‘Erm, yeah, you said I could?—’
‘Right, yes, of course,’ she replies. ‘When are you back?’
‘Tomorrow,’ I tell her.
‘That’s good, because I need you to go to Canada,’ she says with the sort of casual tone you would send someone to the corner shop for milk with.
‘I’m going to Canada?’ I reply, certain that’s what she said, but I can’t quite believe it. Yeah, she’s had me doing all sorts of paperwork, for going to different places, but she’s always made it clear that it would be a last-minute thing, if I was needed or not. I guess I’m finally needed.
‘Is that a problem?’ she asks.
‘No, not at all, I’m glad to have something to do,’ I tell her. ‘I’ve been feeling a bit useless – is there anything else I can be doing? I want to help…’
‘The best thing you can do is to be on call, should we need an assistant,’ she replies. ‘But, yes, okay, if we don’t call on you to assist with things, what you could do for me is, wherever you are, I want you to use Matcher.’
‘What, like… you want me to make a profile and swipe on people?’ I reply – again, in disbelief.
‘Yes, sign up, swipe, maybe meet a few people – you never know who you might spot on there – and then write me a report on each location you use it – how does that sound?’ she replies.
It sort of sounds like she’s inventing a task for me but, again, what else can I say?
‘Right, okay, yes, I can do that,’ I tell her.
‘Great,’ she says. ‘I’ll let you get back to your family. But straight back tomorrow to pack your things, yes?’
‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘Looking forward to it!’
We say our goodbyes and I’m careful to dial back the enthusiasm to something a bit more realistic, but I’m so excited to be going somewhere, and doing something, even if it’s still giving major red flags.
Going to Canada sounds great – using Matcher sounds awful, but I guess I’ll download it and give it a go.
For my report. I suppose it could be fun though, to try it out, to go meet someone maybe…
because as much as I love my family, I can’t face another night of falling out over boardgames and dancing to Elvis songs until 2a.m. – to paraphrase the man himself: no, thank you very much.
It’s the first time we’ve all been together, since the engagement party, and I’d always thought the worst thing would be people talking about what happened with Ben and asking loads of questions, but what’s happening instead is far worse.
It’s like people are talking about it, without actually talking about it.
They’re asking about my love life, if I’m seeing anyone – if I’ve seen anyone, even, just for confirmation that I can still attract a man.
I suppose when you’re bored, looking for an escape, and with everyone I love highlighting that I’m single, then a little boss-ordered time on Matcher might be exactly what I need to feel, I don’t know, like I’m not as hopeless as everyone seems to think I am.
My brief look on Matcher was on Ben’s phone and there were so, so many girls.
Here though, on the island, I guess there aren’t many takers, so all three (yep, just three) of my options are on the screen together.
I suppose when there aren’t that many people, if you get too swipe-happy, there’s no one left.
Okay, so, three men. Wow, I feel like I’m on Blind Date. Let’s see who we’ve got…
There is Arnold, from here on the tiny island. Tim, from here on the tiny island. And finally, there is Woody, from – you’ve guessed it – here on the tiny island.
Arnold, unfortunately, is in his late sixties, and the only daddy issues I have is that I thought mine was going to strangle me over a game of Scrabble yesterday, so he’s an easy no.
Potentially an even easier no still is Tim. Not only do I get a bad vibe from the line ‘no crazy chicks’ but the fact that he’s the local fishmonger puts me off because I’m imagining him being a bit smelly – but even if he likely isn’t, his attitude stinks, so that’s that.
Which means we have a winner: Woody, a thirty-two-year-old electrician with no immediate red flags on his profile.
I’ll drop him a message, see what happens, and if there are as few women on this app, on this island, as there are men, I might just win by default too.
I’m alone in the kitchen, making cups of tea for everyone, when cousin Hannah walks in.
‘Is that the Garfield mug?’ she asks me.
‘Yeah,’ I reply.
‘Remember how we used to fight over it, when we were kids?’ she says with a laugh.
I remember that she used to kick off if she didn’t get it.
‘This mug is older than us – it will probably outlive us too,’ I say instead.
‘You’re right,’ she replies, her smile unnerving. ‘Are you okay, after what happened at my… Are you okay?’
I feel like she stopped, right before she made it about herself, which I appreciate. I feel like she does really care.
‘Ahh, I’m fine,’ I reply. ‘I’m sorry for the way it came out. It was just such a shock and I was really mad at him.’
‘I get that,’ she reassures me. ‘I was just upset, because it was my day, but I’ve calmed down, and so I want to reinvite you to the wedding.’
I purse my lips – I didn’t realise I’d been uninvited. Information my mum probably kept from me because she knew Hannah would calm down eventually.
‘Thanks,’ I reply.
‘Let’s just keep it a normal day – my day – yeah? I don’t mind if you bring a plus one, but bring a good one,’ she suggests.
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘Thanks again.’
I did make a scene at her party and I am sorry. I have to do better at her wedding – I refuse to be messy, no matter what’s going on in my life. Perhaps Matcher can help me find a decent plus one?
‘Wait – can I have that cup?’ she asks quickly, just in time before I put a sugar in the Garfield cup.
‘Of course,’ I tell her.
She takes her cup along with one for her mum.
Alone again, I notice my phone vibrating on the worktop and it’s Woody, the only eligible man on the island, asking me if I want to meet up – wow – in twenty minutes.
I mean, yeah, it’s a small island, but that doesn’t exactly give me long to get dolled up.
Then again, beggars can’t be choosers, on an island that is probably less than two square miles in size.
Am I nervous? No, of course I’m not, because this isn’t a real date, is it? It’s work.
Thankfully, being a local, he’s suggested a place where we can grab a drink. A bar called DeepBlue, which sounds like a promising place to get a cocktail at least.
‘How are those drinks coming along?’ my gran asks, joining me in the kitchen.
‘I think I’ve got one for everyone,’ I reply semi-confidently. ‘And that I’ve got everyone’s order right.’
Gran casts an eye over them.
‘Wait, who isn’t having one?’ she asks.
‘Oh, me,’ I reply. ‘I’m going out – I have a date.’
‘How did you know?’ she asks, surprised.
‘What do you mean, Gran?’
‘How did you know about your date? Did your grandad tell you? I’ll be honest, I thought you’d be dead against it…’ she says, confusing me even more.
Erm…
‘Grandad knows?’ I check.
‘He was there, when Marlena and I set it up. I was just coming in here to tell you – I’m so relieved you’re okay with it,’ she replies, rubbing my arm. ‘I hate to think of you alone. I want you to be happy, and Marlena wants the same for Tom.’