Chapter 16
16
‘Oh!’ Marni says through tears.
‘This is all so beautiful!’
The table is covered with a red-and-white-checked tablecloth.
A central row of candles in old wine bottles is surrounded by cut lemons and bunches of fragrant basil, rosemary and thyme.
Jack Savoretti’s half-Italian version of ‘You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me’ – requested by Paul – is playing and the deck is lit with fairy lights.
‘I just heard the song!’
Marni turns to Paul, who slides his hand down her arm to take her hand and twirl her.
She wraps her arms around his neck and they start to dance, really just swaying in place.
It feels like we shouldn’t be here.
I feel like I’m intruding.
But at the same time it’s all so beautiful and romantic and my heart is cracking.
I don’t understand how everything could have gone so wrong with Adam so quickly.
How can he not want to be with me any more, after just one kiss?
I feel like there must be something I’m missing.
My Adam, the Adam I’ve loved for so long, would never do this.
But he did.
The song ends and I watch Paul and Marni whisper to each other, giggling, their eyes sparkling, and I want to run back to my cabin and cry.
But I can’t, because I have to bring up the meal and serve the guests and pour the wine and pretend not only that everything is fine but also that I’m so happy and thrilled at how in love the two of them are.
The Italian wedding cake is a massive success.
Marni and Paul both cry and then, once they’ve eaten, they get up from the table and dance.
We try to stay as much out of the way as possible, just keeping an eye out in case they need anything.
When one of the big cruise ships in port sets off fireworks and they go up to the sun deck to watch, I take the dishes down the stairs to the galley.
Adam is in the corridor.
He’s staring down at his phone and his face looks so stricken that my first thought is that someone’s died.
‘What’s happened?’
He startles and shoves his phone in his pocket before turning to me, shaking his head.
‘Nothing. It’s fine.
’
‘Adam.’
I know him.
I’ve known him. I know he’s not fine.
‘Leave it, Hope.’
He starts to walk away and I grab his arm.
He shrugs me off, but when he turns to look at me, his expression is soft and tears immediately spring to my eyes.
‘It’s nothing,’ he says.
‘I promise. Don’t worry.
’
I know he’s lying, but I don’t know how to make him tell me the truth.
‘I was planning to start the Sewing Bee tonight,’ Berry tells me, after everything’s cleared away and we’re back in our cabin.
‘Do you want to watch?’ She gestures at the small TV on the wall at the foot of her bed.
I was thinking more about crying myself to sleep or obsessively searching Adam’s Instagram for some sort of clue as to what’s going on with him, but I can’t do any of that with Berry here.
And I’m not even sure I’ll be able to sleep.
‘I can cast it from my phone,’ she says.
‘I think . . .’
‘To both TVs?’ I ask her.
Maybe Sewing Bee with Berry will relax me enough to get some sleep.
‘I don’t think I can do that.
’ She frowns. ‘But I could squeeze into your bunk.’
My brain goes white.
It’s a terrible idea.
But if it helps me stop thinking about Adam, I don’t even care.
‘We don’t have to . .
.’ Berry says.
‘No. We totally can,’ I agree.
‘That’s a good idea.
’
‘It’ll be cosy.’
I pile our pillows and cushions behind us and Berry manages to get the show to play on the TV, although the sound is very slightly out of sync.
We’re pretty much pressed together all down one side – my right side against Berry’s left.
It’s definitely cosy.
‘Oh my god,’ Berry says, shifting on the bed so her knee brushes against mine, sending a buzz of electricity up my leg.
‘It’s Claudia Winkleman!
’
I laugh. ‘How do you know Claudia Winkleman?’
‘ The Traitors . A British tour guest told me about it and I was obsessed! I watched the whole thing one weekend when I was horrifically hungover. I love her!’
‘She’s the best,’ I agree.
It takes a while before I can relax completely with Berry so close, but I’m so tired that by the high-street challenge I feel almost boneless.
I’m starting to drift off when my phone buzzes with a message from Mum that just says, Bed rest, ffs .
I push myself up against the pillows.
‘Oh no,’ I tell Berry.
‘My mum’s got to go on bed rest.’
Another message comes through before I can reply.
I’m fine. Don’t worry .
They’re being extra cautious because I’m geriatric.
Cheers for that. She’s added the gran, the knife and the skull emojis.
I show Berry and she laughs.
‘God, she’s going to be a nightmare,’ I say, but my eyes are pricking with tears.
‘I wish there was something I could do.’
Maybe I should go home.
I shouldn’t be so far away when Mum is struggling.
How is she going to look after the kids when she’s on bed rest?
I type a message to Mick.
Don’t worry , Mick replies.
Everything’s under control.
I shake my head at my phone.
I don’t see how it can be.
‘Could you send her, like, meal kits?’ Berry suggests, pausing the Sewing Bee .
‘Do you have Blue Apron in the UK?’
‘We don’t,’ I tell her, ‘but we have loads like it and that is a brilliant idea. Thank you.’
While the Sewing Bee contestants work on their made-to-measures, I pick and schedule meal kits to be delivered over the next few weeks, along with a box of doughnuts to arrive tomorrow, and, despite still being worried – of course I’m still going to be worried – I feel better.
‘You doing okay?’ Berry asks, once the show’s finished and the TV’s off, but she’s still in my bed.
‘Must be hard to be away from them.’
Tears well again and I see her face go soft.
‘Sorry,’ I say, wiping under my eyes.
‘I’m fine. I just miss them.
’
She smiles. ‘Of course you do. I bet they miss you too.’
I laugh.
‘None of the kids will even speak to me. Riley’s even stopped sending me TikToks.
’
‘It sounds like you’re really close to them.
’
I nod, swallowing down the lump in my throat.
‘Yeah. Mum works, so I looked after them a lot.’
‘While you were at college?’
‘Yeah. I know. It sounds like a lot, but I did English so I didn’t actually have to be there that much; it was mostly reading.
’
‘But could you do all the reading when you were looking after the kids?’
‘Sometimes. It was fine, though. I wanted to help. I mean, there wasn’t really any other option.
’
‘They’re not your kids, though,’ Berry says, gently.
‘Wasn’t it up to your mum to sort?
’
‘I like helping,’ I say, shrugging.
‘I’ve noticed,’ Berry says, smiling.
‘And, honestly, I’m making it sound like more than it was.
’
‘I bet you were called “most conscientious” at school.’
‘I was! And I was happy about it too.’
‘Typical oldest child.’
‘Are you a typical only child?’
‘I think so? Probably. Hyper independent. I don’t like to share.
Had imaginary friends for much longer than I should have done.
’
‘Yeah? Are they here with us now?’
Berry snorts.
‘No, but I could seriously conjure them up. I sometimes think, like, I wonder what Beeper’s doing now .
. . And then remember.
Nothing. Because it was literally a beeper I found in the trash.
’
‘Your best friend was a trash beeper?’ I say.
‘This is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.
How did it even start?
Like . . . you found a beeper and .
. .’
‘I found the beeper. I thought it was like an adult Tamagotchi and I was so pleased with myself. Like, “Aha! I knew you guys did this too!” It didn’t work, but I just pretended it did.
Like I imagined a little face on the screen.
’ She closes her eyes.
‘I can see it now. Blinking eyes. A shy smile.’
‘This is the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.
I hope you know that.
’
She gives me a look.
‘Then there was a hurricane. I woke up in the night and the power was out and the rain was hammering. I can remember this clap of thunder that I seriously thought had hit the house it was so loud. Like, it was right outside my window. I ran to my parents’ room.
My mom still talks about it sometimes.
She said the thunder woke her up and as she was coming to get me, I was running down the hall in my PJs, going, “No, no, no, no, no, no,” with the beeper in my hand.
I remember being in their bed, in the middle, between them.
They never let me do that.
I was sort of sitting up because I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep.
I remember seeing fork lightning through their window, even though the curtains were closed.
I saw this jagged . .
.’ She draws it in the air with her hand.
‘I thought the sky was splitting open.’
‘That sounds so scary.’
She nods.
‘I’m still afraid of storms. Which .
. . is not great in this job.
I thought it would be like aversion therapy, you know?
Like, if I can stand a storm on a yacht, I can cope with a storm anywhere.
Hasn’t worked out like that.
I still freak out.’
‘And no beeper.’
She shakes her head sadly.
‘No beeper. My mom was amazing, though,’ Berry says.
‘Because before the storm, there’d been a drought.
There’s almost always a drought in California, you know?
But there’d been a drought and then this terrifying storm that caused floods and landslides and power outages and traumatised little me.
But then she took me to see the superbloom.
Do you know what that is?
’
‘I think I’ve seen it?
’ I tell her.
‘Probably on Instagram. It’s a whole thing now.
There was one a few years ago and, like, hundreds of thousands of people turned up and there was gridlock and people trampled the flowers or pulled them up .
. . It was awful. But this was before all that.
It wasn’t even called a “superbloom”, I don’t think.
My mom just drove us there one day and it was just all these flowers, all different colours, as far as you could see.
I remember that when we got out of the car I thought it was painted.
Like someone had painted the grass purple and yellow and orange.
I remember being confused but thinking it was pretty cool, you know?
And then we walked through it, along this path.
It was like The Wizard of Oz .
’
‘It sounds so beautiful.’
She nods.
‘It really was. And then Mom told me that it was caused by the storm. That if we hadn’t had the storm, we wouldn’t have the flowers.
And that sometimes bad things, scary things, can turn into something more beautiful than you could imagine.
’
‘Wow. She sounds incredible.’
Berry smiles.
‘She is. And it really works for me as a metaphor, you know? And some of the seeds that caused it had been dormant for years and years just waiting for the rains to bring them alive. She said they were like the stars, you know? The past made visible.’
‘That’s amazing.
’
She nods. ‘One day I’d like a whole tattoo sleeve of flowers.
It doesn’t help me when there’s a storm though.
I’m still terrified.
’
‘Well, I’m here now,’ I tell her, nudging her with my shoulder.
‘I can be your beeper.’
She smiles.
‘You can be my beeper.’