Chapter 4
When I saw that photo of Theo and Ari, it was like all my worst nightmares were being played out right in front of me. And what shocked me the most was that the intensity of the nausea wasn’t just about Theo. Or Ari.
I wasn’t just seething with jealousy that Ari had taken my boyfriend.
The worst thing was that I felt stupid. And I hated feeling stupid.
I kept getting flashbacks of so many other times we’d hung out.
Other parties when Ari and Theo would be whispering about something.
Were they wishing I’d leave so they could be alone?
And the amount of time they were alone. I tried to force myself to stop thinking about it, but every single thought led back to them and the mess that was my life.
I scrolled to our WhatsApp group messages, my hands shaking with rage. Me, Ari and Theo.
ME: Well, Ella’s Snap was a fun way to find out. Really classy doing it where everyone could see. Thanks for the heads up …
I posted a screenshot of Ella’s message and watched as the ticks turned blue. Both of them had read it. I stared at the screen, waiting for someone to reply. But there was nothing. Not even any typing, and no private messages either. And just like that, I’d made myself feel even worse.
Almost without thinking, I scrolled to my last message from Priya.
About a year ago, she’d sent me message after message, trying to convince me to come back to swimming.
Until one day, the messages just stopped.
Suddenly, I missed her. The way she smiled so much, making everything bad feel like it wasn’t the end of the world.
I took off my sunglasses and squeezed my palms into my eye sockets, willing the tears to go away, because crying in public, alone, was almost as bad as feeling stupid.
I took a deep breath and twisted an escapee blonde wave in my fingers.
I glanced around at the couples, the families, speaking French, English, Dutch and wondered how they could all look so happy.
It reminded me of Mum, Dad, Wren and Rue, how from the outside they just looked like this perfect little family.
Wren and Rue with their blonde curls and the way Mum and Dad laughed so easily with them, playing games and talking about the future.
And then there was me. I looked like I should fit.
Long legs, blue eyes, blonde curls, just like them.
But I didn’t. I was the spare part that thought she was happy until Theo threw a grenade. I picked more nail varnish.
‘Vin rouge?’
I glanced up to see the waiter looking down at me with a smile. I hid my messy nails under the table and his expression changed to concern as he studied my face.
‘You are OK?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine,’ I said, looking away. Despite how good-looking he was, I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I just wanted him to go away.
But he wasn’t going anywhere. ‘Can I?’ He motioned to the chair opposite me and set the glass of wine on the table.
I shrugged as he sat down.
‘I can help?’ he asked.
I shook my head and put my sunglasses back on. ‘I’m fine, seriously.’
‘You are sure?’ he said gently. He leaned in close, bare forearms on the table, one knee touching mine underneath.
I nodded. ‘I just got dumped.’ I tried to laugh, but a strangled noise came out instead. I don’t even know why I said it out loud. It was so embarrassing, but I had nobody else to talk to, and there was something about this place, his presence, that felt like shelter.
His forehead creased and he tilted his head in confusion. ‘Dumped?’
‘Ah sorry, my boyfriend … We aren’t together any more,’ I explained, feeling a wave of nausea churn in my stomach. I mimed my head exploding and tried to force a laugh.
‘Ah, I understand. Se faire larguer, we say in France.’
‘Good to know, I guess.’ I took a sip of bitter wine.
‘What is your name?’ He moved his chair closer, so he was beside me now instead of opposite.
‘Sorry to be so close, I am trying to keep out of sight of Yves.’ He nodded towards a man in his sixties with thick, dark hair and wearing an apron, then shielded his eyes and grinned at me with straight white teeth.
I noticed that he smelled like food and aftershave, lavender, vanilla, but in a masculine way.
‘Margot,’ I answered, barely.
‘C’est jolie,’ he said, ‘like you.’ And I couldn’t help but smile. ‘English?’
‘Irish. Northern Irish actually,’ I replied.
‘I went to Dublin once,’ he said. The same thing everybody says if you tell them you live in the North. ‘How long are you staying here?’
‘Four weeks.’ I held up four fingers as if he wouldn’t understand four even though he clearly spoke almost perfect English. ‘What about you?’
He smiled. ‘I work here, so, all of the summer.’
I was about to ask him his name when an angry male voice called from somewhere behind the bar.
‘Felix!’
‘Merde, he has found me,’ he whispered, then smiled at me again. ‘I must go. But maybe you will return? Tonight? I work until midnight.’ He backed away, looking right into my sunglasses.
‘Maybe,’ I said, even though I had no intention of returning tonight. As lovely as he seemed, and looked, my head was filled with Theo and Ari, and it was hot with rage.
‘Felix,’ I whispered to myself. It was a nice name.
I finished my wine, left some Euros on the table, and got up from my seat. I thought about going back to the mobile home, but I wasn’t ready yet, so I turned in the opposite direction, following a little wooden sign to la plage.
The air smelled different here. Hot, salty, the scent of the pine trees in the breeze. I could already hear the rush of waves on the shore. And even though I had been avoiding the water, any water since my swimming disaster, I’d always loved the sea.
It was further than I thought, down the sandy lane. But then I turned a corner and there it was. Miles of perfect beach. The sun was low and getting ready to set.
I watched kids running into the sea, couples sunbathing, topless women just walking about like it was entirely normal. Fair play to them. I don’t think I’d ever have the balls to do that; I shuddered at the image of trying it and my dad somehow seeing.
I looked down the beach and saw a blue hut with multicoloured surfboards lined up outside.
A guy was setting them on a rack. Even though he was far away, I could see how dark his hair was, and the tattoos on his bare chest. I sat and watched him until he disappeared into the hut and out of sight.
Dad had mentioned something about this area being good for surfing, and like everything Dad said to me these days, it hadn’t really registered, but there was something inviting about the coloured boards catching the day’s last rays.
Then I remembered Theo’s offer of teaching me to surf, and it was like someone hit a dimmer switch on the sun.
I took out my phone and scrolled through the photos of me and Theo.
Theo with his smooth brown hair and eyes so dark I got lost in them.
Everyone fancied Theo. Including Ari clearly.
I could feel the tears coming again, but I stopped them, pushing the sand hard with my foot, digging my toes into the warmth and staring out at the sun setting over the Atlantic coast. Then my phone buzzed.
DAD: Coming back Gogo? We have pizza
ME:
I pulled myself to my feet and gazed out to sea again before walking back through the camp to try to find our mobile home.
Rue and Wren were kicking a football in front of our place. Rue was wearing her new Man United kit.
‘You’re shit, Wren,’ Rue yelled at her.
Wren’s face scrunched and she toe-poked the ball back in Rue’s direction.
‘Shut up!’
I messed up Rue’s hair when I walked past her and kicked the ball from under her feet. ‘You’re shit too.’
‘I am not,’ said Rue.
‘Pizza, everyone!’ Dad called, way too cheerily, from the doorway. Mum had set the plastic table with knives and forks and glasses. There were boxes of pizza piled in the middle.
‘I thought we could play a game,’ Dad said when we sat down.
‘No thanks,’ I said, stuffing my mouth with pizza.
‘What game?’ Wren asked, a goofy, hopeful smile on her face.
‘Why don’t we all say something we’re grateful for,’ Dad suggested.
I pretended to retch.
‘Margot,’ said Mum.
‘OK, I’ll start,’ said Dad. ‘I’m grateful for being in southwest France with my lovely family.’
‘Oh God, Dad. This isn’t a game.’ I cringed.
‘I mean it,’ he said.
‘What about you, Wren?’ Dad asked, looking at her. She glanced up from under the peak of her hat.
‘I’m grateful for Rue and Margot, because I never get to see Margot at home, and here she might talk to me more.
’ And she meant it. Wren never said anything she didn’t mean.
And yeah, I felt shit. But it wasn’t my fault Mum and Dad had left such a big age gap.
Sorry, but I didn’t want to spend my weekends hanging out with kids.
‘She will, love,’ said Mum, and Wren smiled so hard it must have hurt her face. Mum looked at me pointedly.
‘Course I will. If you want to talk about how cool I am.’ I stuck my tongue out at her and hoped she couldn’t feel the fakeness of it all.
‘My turn!’ shouted Rue, then she almost knocked over her bottle of Orangina. ‘I’m grateful for Orangina, because we only drink it on holiday, and it feels special.’
‘That’s nice, Rue.’ Mum smiled at her.
‘I’m grateful for this lovely weather,’ said Mum. Coward.
‘And you, Gogo?’ Dad asked.
‘I’m seriously begging you to stop calling me that,’ I said, frustrated.
‘What am I grateful for? I’m grateful for the fact that my parents have taken me away to a stupid campsite for four weeks.
The kind of place that’s impossible to enjoy unless you’re Rue’s age.
Oh wait … I think I got the game wrong.’
I stood up and picked up a bit of pizza before walking away, back across the campsite, with Wren calling after me. I headed towards the Brasserie, because I didn’t know where else to go.
What were they thinking? I never should have agreed to this. I kicked the stupid little bits of bark that lined the paths and got some stuck under my flip-flop.
It wasn’t always like this. This weird disconnect with my family. Everything used to make more sense.
I kicked the ground again and kept walking away from the mobile home. Away from them.
I needed a distraction.
From whatever my life was now.