Chapter Seventy-Four
Seventy-Four
Mistake
After I’ve tended to all of my reptile charges, I go for a quick jog around the island. It’s later than I realised, and the cliff paths are deserted. The breeze is blowing offshore, and the light has softened to its evening haze. I put in my earbuds and flick on my dancefloor classics playlist, which soothes me because it reminds me of my mum. Girls do just want to have fun, I think, as I hum along to the melody and try not to get spooked, which is somehow easier with Cyndi Lauper bellowing pick-me-uppers straight into my eardrums. It’s very unlikely I’ll be murdered on Loor as there’s no way for a murderer to make a quick getaway, and it feels especially unlikely while ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’ is playing. What would be the odds of that? Astronomical. Then the song changes.
Am I going to be murdered while ‘Karma Chameleon’ plays in my ears? I’m not sure if the karma or the chameleon would be most insulting. Karma suggests I deserve it and ‘chameleon’ is the derogatory description Henny used when describing my behaviour with Max.
When I get home, I hear Caleb’s voice on the wind. He’s on the phone, in the kitchen by the sounds of it, and the French doors are open. His tone is unmistakeable: he’s upset. He must have had bad news of some sort.
The sun is setting, the last rays of warmth are disappearing and the wind is beginning to build.
I don’t want to eavesdrop on his call, but he has a deep voice that carries, and I hear him say something that makes me stop in my tracks.
‘It’s not like that. She’s probably the most boring woman I’ve ever met. Her idea of a good time is watching mudlarking and metal-detecting videos on her phone. Yes, I know I watch dog-grooming videos, but that’s different. Everyone loves dogs. The Thames is gross – it’s full of sewage.’
I freeze. He’s talking about me. He has to be.
‘There is such a thing. Honestly. I watched over her shoulder once, and it was like watching grass grow.’
Mudlarking and metal-detecting videos are not the least bit boring. It’s people finding treasure, as proven by Max’s latest upload. More specifically, it’s Max and Greta finding treasure. He knows how much Max got in my head, and that I’m still getting over the break-up. And who is he even talking to? Does he have a partner back on the mainland? If so, why hasn’t he mentioned her before? Why hasn’t Betty?
‘We haven’t been flirting with each other, I don’t care what my nan says. She’s just a neighbour, Marlene, so cool your jets already.’
Marlene. He’s talking to a woman.
‘Not a special neighbour. Come on, give me some credit… I’ve seen her watching videos of a man with a circular saw cutting open rocks to see what’s inside… Yes, seriously.’
The rocks he’s referring to were septarian ‘lightning rocks’, and the guy cutting them open was hot as hell. He was thrilled every time he cut a stone with a nice pattern on the inside. Watching a person be passionate about their thing is my catnip. I appreciate enthusiasm and love seeing people get a kick out of their hobbies. Plus, he was going to polish up those rocks to sell. It was his livelihood.
And it was edge-of-the-seat tense. What’s not to love about watching a man push a baked potato-sized rock onto a huge circular saw? He might have cut his fingers off. And then there was the big reveal when he opened the two halves and held them up to the camera. That was not boring. That was drama. That was art. That was also quite the thirst trap.
‘Enjoy Hawaii. Yes, I’ll give Ted a cuddle from you.’
She’s in a tropical paradise. She knows Ted. If she was here right now, she’d want to cuddle Ted. Could it be Caleb’s sister?
No, it has to be a girlfriend. Or perhaps a more casual arrangement. Is she coming to Loor? Where will she stay? In his house, obviously – I’ll probably hear them drinking wine and laughing on the balcony. Worse. Much worse.
At that moment, he looks through the window and sees me. His mouth falls open, horrified to know I’ve heard.
I don’t walk – I run, chest burning with humiliation. My hand is shaking as I slot my door key in the lock, and I walk straight into the bathroom, shut myself in and bolt the door.
I should have suspected this was how he felt about me, since the moment we first met and bickered about seashells, but I thought after all these weeks hanging out together, with Ted, we’d formed some sort of bond.
No. He thinks I’m boring. He thinks my YouTube videos are as interesting as watching grass grow.
But then, what are all the things I could say about him?
He whistles to hits from the eighties. His idea of a good time is watching a dog get a wash, set and blow-dry.
Not even to mention that he wears the oddest clothes imaginable. When I last saw him, he was wearing an over-sized T-shirt with the words BORN FREE beneath a child’s line drawing of a lion. Admirable conservation efforts notwithstanding, still highly cringe: something that obviously does not worry him in the slightest.
No, he just crashes through his life oblivious to the opinions of other people.
Oblivious to their feelings.
When I’m no longer incandescent with rage, and have moved on to the ‘simmering with resentment’ stage that I know so well from every relationship I’ve had in my life so far, I decide that the best course of action is to open the vodka.
I bought it in case a snake sank its fangs into me while I was scooping its poop – as per the snake removal method outlined in the binder. Since none of my charges have mistaken my fingers for rodents and tried to eat them, I still have a full bottle, which I intend to hit hard.
I’m on my third full tumbler when I notice that I’ve inadvertently failed to close the sliding glass door of Cedric’s vivarium. He has some loose branches in there that he likes to slither over when he’s shedding his skin, and one has fallen onto the edge of the vivarium’s opening and stopped the door from closing. It’s left a two-inch gap, which might be wide enough to afford Cedric escape.
I check his bathing platform, which is obscured by fake ivy, and the ceramic hides down on the floor of his home, but they’re empty.
All this time I’ve been so careful, and now, because I’m stupidly upset with Caleb, I’ve make a rookie mistake and Cedric is gone. I check every area of the bedroom, and then search downstairs, but I can’t find him anywhere.
It’s a warm evening and all the windows are open. He could have escaped outside without me noticing, and if he has, and gets into the undergrowth of the cliff, I’ll have no hope of finding him. He’ll die, without question. He has no wild hunting skills, and he won’t survive a Loor winter.