Forever is Now

DAY TWO

Monday July 22 nd , 2024

S ummer Taylor-Braddon : So, Adelaide, here’s how this is going to work today. I’m going to talk first. And I’m also going to introduce a couple of your most famous articles. You’ll then have your chance to respond—and I gather that you’ve invited some guests to the studio, for later today?

Adelaide James : I have, yes. And you may be sitting there all smug now, but you won’t by the time I’ve finished with you.

Summer Taylor-Braddon : If you say so. Now, let’s get back to the truth, shall we?

For a long time, Ruari and I had not been able to agree on where we were going to go for our honeymoon. We both loved natural places, and we wanted to explore somewhere we’d never been before, but there were just so many amazing places. That was our problem.

Eventually, we agreed to do a sort of tour of some of Indonesia’s islands. We were starting with Sumatra, then we’d go to Bali, then Lombok.

We got the train toLondon Heathrow Airport and then flew from London to Kualanamu International Airport in Medan. The whole flight took something like sixteen hours, and had one stop, and to be honest, we were both grouchy when we landed because we just hadn’t been able to sleep on the plane. I can’t even remember what time it was there when we arrived, but we were bone-tired and as soon as we got to the hotel, we just slept.

The next day though, we were able to explore Medan. So, it’s the largest city in the world’s sixth largest island. That’s what Ruari kept telling me. He’d looked up loads of facts about the places we were visiting, and I never checked any of them, but they sounded right.

It was kind of overcast, when we were exploring Medan. We visited palaces, mosques, museums, but it was the more everyday life that I really liked looking at. Getting a sense of how the people live . Don’t get me wrong, the Maimun palace was amazing. It was built by—hold on, I’ve got my notes here. Yes, built by Sultan Ma’mun Al Rashid Perkasa Alamsyah from 1887 to 1891. The palace has thirty rooms, and the interior is this combination of design that reflected Malay culture heritage, and Islamic architecture. There is Indian architecture too, inside, and the furniture and fittings are Spanish and Italian. So, there was this real sense of amalgamation. Vibrancy. And it was kind of overwhelming—and so different to what we’re used to in the West. But the bit that I found most interesting about that palace was walking around the gardens outside. It was extravagant, nicely designed—like, really nice—coconuts on trees, that sort of thing, but behind the palace, someone had set out a clothes horse. Laundry was just drying there. And I really liked that. The juxtaposition.

I liked the stalls in the city, too. People selling trinkets and ornaments, clothes, a whole array of fabrics that were just so vibrant you couldn’t look away. The people were friendly too—especially when they found out we were English. Complete strangers would wave to us as we walked around outside the palaces, children asking our names, saying hello, and they were so excited when we spoke with them.

It was hot there too. I’m used to Devon where the hottest we get is probably 25 degrees Celsius most years. But there it was in the early thirties pretty much every day. It was humid too. Muggy.

We stayed in Medan for two days, I think it was, then we were off to Bali.

Bali was also very hot. Very humid, too. We were visiting a lot of temples there, starting off in Manukaya, which is this village. There’s a mountain spring there. A holy mountain spring. Ruari had been reading about it in a guidebook he’d bought. It was so... tranquil. We did a lot of walking there, really taking in nature—and it was so beautiful. But hot. Each day, I was soaked in sweat, and I hadn’t put on enough sun cream one day, because my skin was on fire afterward. I could hardly wear clothes at one point. It was that painful.

We also went to the Sacred Monkey Sanctuary too, which had this temple complex inside which was just amazing. And the monkeys! So, one grabbed Ruari’s phone from him. The cheeky thing ran off with it, and Ruari went tearing after it, and I could not stop laughing—like, tears running down my face, can’t breathe because I’m laughing so much. We never got it back, his phone.

We had a day trip too to one of the nearby smaller islands, Nusa Penida. A day trip from Bali. And we took so many photos, and Ruari was—he just really lit up. He’s always liked rugged, natural places, and we found so many of them, but they were just so different to anything we’d experienced.

Then we went to Lombok. [ She takes a deep breath ] We were traveling around there too, and well, I honestly don’t really remember much from before... before it happened. It’s strange, too, because my brain has just wiped out a lot of the specifics, the details. Like, place names. Where we were staying, what we saw, where we went. A lot of people have said that that’s ‘convenient,’ like it’s proof I did something bad—you’d know all about the things people are saying.

But I didn’t. I didn’t do anything bad or wrong.

Ruari and I were at the beach. We were together, even though people like you seem to think I was way inland and he wasn’t. But that’s not true. We were both on the beach.

We were holding hands. I had this new beach dress on—mainly because it was a really floaty material, and it covered my burnt shoulders and didn’t cling too much down my back either. My skin was still super bad from the sun, and though it hurt having any fabric against my body, it was the lesser of two evils.

Ruari was wearing his old swimming trunks. He had sunglasses on the top of his head, even though it was really bright. I was wearing mine. We were walking along, hand in hand. The sand was warm—and the sand was really white too, but closer to the water it had this pink tinge. I remember being just in awe at the colors—that’s one thing I do remember really well. The sea was so vivid, so blue. Like turquoise-blue. So clear. And the waves lapping in gave this white plume-effect. It was like being in a painting.

I think I was carrying my shoes. Sandals. Yes, because I dropped one and had to pick it up, and Ruari made a joke about it. I can’t remember what, but it was funny.

We were still laughing about it, maybe ten minutes later.

And I said to Ruari, “I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

And he smiled as he turned to face me. We stopped. I looked right into his eyes, and he brought his free hand up—we were still holding hands—and he touched my face, and he said, “Forever is now.”

He had a bit of sand in his hair, and he looked truly happy—properly happy.

We kissed.

I tasted the salt on his lips, and there was something about him that was so... magnetic. I didn’t want to let him go. Our arms were around each other—I guess I’d dropped my sandals again—and... and he was being careful where he put his hands, what with my sunburn, only it was like I couldn’t feel it.

Even though there were other people on the beach, right then, in that moment, there was only him and me. The two of us.

My heart just surged with my love for him. I was so overwhelmed by it, and being with him, embracing him like this, kissing, it just felt right .

Then something rumbled, and the beach just shook. Really badly. We both fell. Something hit the back of my head—his elbow, maybe, I don’t know. But then people were shouting. The locals, they were all running about—and the land was still shaking. And there was this deep rumbling sound that just drilled right through me. The tourists weren’t running, trying to move. They were screaming, panicking now, but I remember looking back up, at where there were like huts. Well, shops—that’s what they were. Like, open-fronted, with colorful, hand-painted signs saying that Indonesian food was available there. Or cold drinks. And some had clothing, all hanging down, almost like walls of the shops—because some of these huts were just like frames, really. So the things they were selling kind of made up the walls. Like the bags! I remember the bags. Really beautiful ones, all different colors and patterns—and they were shaking so much. Falling down.

I was looking to see how the locals were reacting, because something told me this was important.

A huge roaring sound filled the air—and every hair on the back of my neck stood up. I remember inhaling sharply, feeling my chest expand, but when I tried to speak, no sound came out.

But I knew what it was, just instantly. Just like that.

I looked out at the sea, and the water was drawing backward. Away from the shore. Like this huge hand had just pulled it all back. It was this really low tide, all of a sudden. You could see the ocean floor. I remember the fish. Actual fish—suddenly flopping about. And the reefs—the textures.

I couldn’t look away. There were rushing sounds in my ears, like the pounding of my own blood, as I stared. And it felt like an eternity, looking out, at the ocean floor.

Then there was...

[Silence for five seconds]

Summer Taylor-Braddon : A tsunami was coming. That was what it was. The locals were all moving inland, like, higher up. They were abandoning the wares they were selling, everything. Just moving. And shouting at the tourists, too.

I didn’t know how long we had. But then the tourists—everyone on the beach was moving now as well. There was a family in front of us and they had five small children, and I remember the dad was just trying to grab all of them. Literally, all of them, in his arms.

I hadn’t realized just how many people were around, until then. And... and Ruari and I got separated. It was... I was shouting for him, trying to see him. Like, doing everything I could, but everyone was panicking. I sort of got swept up in this crowd, and all I can really remember is this roaring in the air. Before the water hit. It was like thunder. And there was a really loud boom.

Then a huge wall of water hit us. It was fast. Really fast. And I could see things in the water—like arms, legs, fish. A deck chair or something hit me, in the water—not hard or anything, but it hurt. My arm. And the force of the water, it carried me.

Next thing I remember I was farther up the shore—farther than I’d realized, I think—and there were people everywhere around me. Soaked, drenched. Um, some were injured. Everyone was still trying to move. Screaming. There was lots of screaming.

I was looking for Ruari, and I was trying to go back, but someone grabbed my arm, pulled me the other way. There was this tide of people then—tide’s probably not the best word to use here. Sorry. But we were all moving. There was a child next to me, injured, crying, and I picked her up. She clung to me, screaming in another language. Spanish, maybe.

I was looking for Ruari, but I assumed that he’d be in the crowd too. I thought everyone was okay.

More water came. Another wave. This was maybe thirty minutes later. That wave was worse. Bigger. Stronger. We were on higher ground then, but it still reached us. It was just this constant battle of trying to move, trying to get away. Choking on the water. And that’s when I saw what I think was my first body.

I... I didn’t get a clear look at it, mind. The person just sort of floated past me, carried by the water. I was clinging to a palm tree at that point, and I just thought something like, Oh, they’re dead.

It was strange. Because I felt calm. It wasn’t until later that...

There were a series of waves. I knew tsunamis come in waves.

All I remember, after, super clearly, is the visuals. Everything was broken. And everything just kind of looked the same color. All this... rubble, I guess you’d call it. It was like this gray-brown. Everything. Broken wood—like, whole houses. Just... collapsed. Either the earthquake or the tsunami. But the water had moved everything, carried it around.

When... when the water receded, it was hard to actually comprehend the whole level of damage. Like, everything was gone.

And people were missing.

People were dead.

I was searching for Ruari.

I... I couldn’t find him.

I didn’t find him.

And I...

We’re going to take a break now.

##

S ummer Taylor-Braddon : I had known at twenty-two that I couldn’t live without Ruari. He was my world, and I was his. I’d spin out of control without him, with no one to orbit. We were... well, we were closer than I ever thought two people could be. It’s a cliché to say that we share the same soul, but that’s truly how I felt.

How I still feel.

Everyone was saying he was dead. So many people were—that was the fact of it.

I was looking and looking for him. I joined search parties. We’d find people alive, but mostly we were finding them dead.

You also couldn’t really get to Lombok easily, after all the damage. Like, you just couldn’t. We needed a lot of help, but it took a while for others to arrive, like from other countries. The hospitals were overrun with, well, people needing help. I wasn’t really injured at all, so I didn’t go to one, but they were amazing. Just the way all these Indonesian people pulled together.

I stayed there, in Lombok, a long time. There were parts of the island that were okay. Just small pockets. Everyone was sort of being housed there. Like, hundreds of people in one building. It was a school, I think. Where I ended up sleeping. We had blankets on the floor. We were going out every day to search.

One morning before it was properly light, I got up early and left the school. There was a faint, lingering warmth to the air that managed to penetrate through my thin clothes and keep me warm, though I barely felt it. That was the thing—even though it was hot, suddenly I was cold all the time. Even in the day.

But that morning, I just needed to walk. Walk and walk and keep walking.

Every day, bodies were being recovered. The list of the dead was growing, but also the list of the missing was too. Ruari was on that list, and as time went on, more and more people were also found to be missing. There was just this whole heap of names, so many lives, and I remember thinking how selfish it was to want Ruari back, to beg God for his safe return, when I wasn’t also begging for the other people to be returned, safe.

Ruari was all I could focus on.

I fell to my knees, and it felt like a chasm had opened inside my chest. A huge, gaping chasm.

Ruari was dead—I was convinced of it. truly.

I could not live without him.

I... I couldn’t.

I stared down at the sea. Still dark and murky, debris floating around it, parts of buildings and furniture just floating. And I wondered, really wondered what it would be like to be inside that water. That darkness. To be hit by an armchair or a TV. To be ensnared in wires or vines or seaweed, to be held down.

I wondered if that was what Ruari had faced. If he’d been scared as the sea drowned him.

And I knew his body was most likely in there. This huge gothic monster that was a mortuary for so many.

I stared at the water—that was where my love was.

Where my life was.

I walked slowly. I couldn’t hear anything but rushing sounds in my ears, like there was already water inside me. Yes—there was. That was what had been weighing me down ever since this all happened.

That’s why I’d felt like I wasn’t really here. Like this was happening to someone else.

Like this couldn’t actually be my life.

Because my life was underwater, and that’s where I was supposed to be. That’s where I was.

I’d defied some law of physics, able to be in both places at once—underwater and on land. That’s why I was so exhausted, because half of me was already in the dark depths. And I needed to reunite the two halves of my body. Then everything would be okay.

I was so confident of this, and as the cold water lapped my feet, as it got higher and higher up my legs, until I was waist-deep, I felt a sense of peace spreading over me.

This was what was supposed to happen.

“Everything will be okay,” I said. My voice didn’t sound like mine—that’s one thing that really struck me at the time. Sort of jolted me out of the state I was in. Only for a few seconds. But I remember it, the sudden awareness of what I was doing, how that hit me.

How the next wave washed it away and I walked deeper into the sea.

I didn’t drown. Obviously. You know that.

Two men pulled me out. My head hadn’t been underwater for long. Seconds, maybe. They were local fishermen, and they’d been watching me.

I was sent to a hospital, but I didn’t really need to go there. I wasn’t drowning. I hadn’t been drowning. I just stared at the neon lights and listened to the shouts and words of everyone around me, most of which I couldn’t understand.

“We need to get you back home,” Mum said to me, on the phone. I’m sure she must’ve said some other things too. I wanted her here, I wanted her sitting tenderly at my bedside as I waited for my blood results to come back—blood tests that I didn’t even need. But Mum’s words are the only ones I recall filling the room.

“I can’t go back.” I shook my head, clinging to the phone. I can’t remember whose phone it was, but someone leant it to me. I’d spoken to Mum before that day. Called her, I think, maybe the evening that the tsunami hit. She knew I was okay. But she knew I hadn’t found Ruari. “I can’t leave him,” I told her.

“Ruari’s...” She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t have to.

“I can’t leave him,” I repeated, my voice steely.

“I can’t lose you,” was all she said, some minutes later, and I remember imagining that she was holding my hand, just like she used to when I was four years old.

Finally, I cried.

[Silence for three seconds]

Summer Taylor-Braddon : So, the problem with all this was that Swept Away , my first novel, was about a couple who get separated by a tsunami. It wasn’t Indonesia, but that didn’t matter. The love interest—the man—died in my book, and now my life was following the script I’d written.

That book was the fourth I wrote but the first to have sold to a publisher, but it hadn’t sold well. It had underperformed and I had no chance of earning out on this one. That means paying back the publisher the amount they’ve already given you in the advance. So, if they gave you ￡5,000 upfront when you got the deal, then you don’t get royalties until they’ve made that money back. So it was kind of lucky, I guess, that I’d actually signed another deal before Swept Away did so badly—initially anyway.

And this book was a flop, despite all the marketing that the publisher did.

But the media picked up on that. Like, the press found out that I was there. They were suddenly touting me as one of the UK’s best writers, which was weird. Really weird. But it made people pay attention. And I thought it would be good because then more people would be looking for Ruari.

Or rather, for his body.

There weren’t, uh... There were a lot of people dead, and a lot of people missing.

But yeah, I think we got to when Mum was helping me on the phone, right after Ruari disappeared. And... and it is difficult to talk about. I mean, I did fly home later, without him. It was October 2017, then. So, I’d stayed for three months—longer than we could’ve afforded really—but I had to fly home. I got a boat to Bali, I think, and I flew from there.

On the plane, I took sleeping pills. I don’t know if that was a good idea or not, but it was the only way I’d be able to get through the journey, if I was out of it. Because just boarding the plane had me feeling so guilty. Like I’d just given up on Ruari. Like I was turning my back on him.

I remember the dream I had though, that pill-induced dream. I actually wrote it down, and I used it as the basis for a scene in one of my books, later on.

##

I can’t feel anything , apart from the thing inside me.

I think it’s a baby. Everyone tells me it’s a baby. But it doesn’t feel like a baby to me. It feels like something else. This... this swirling. This creature inside, and soon, I know, it’s going to tear its way out of me, like a scene from Alien .

I don’t want to be ripped apart.

But here I am, lying on a trolley. My belly is a mountain of possibility—and of fear—rising up in front of me. I cannot see my feet, and I cannot feel my legs.

All I can feel is the thing that everyone tells me is a baby.

##

S ummer Taylor-Braddon : So, that’s the scene. And in that dream I had, I was pregnant. I was pregnant with Ruari’s baby, but it didn’t feel like a baby. It felt like something else—something unknown. And it terrified me, that I would have this unknown thing inside me, heading into this unknown life, without Ruari.

None of this ever stops resonating with me. It’s always here, in my heart. This whole thing, it’s always a nightmare that I can’t escape from.

And now let’s have one of your wonderful articles, Adelaide.

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