Chapter 11
Even with a whole team of professionals spending hours setting them up, the ridiculously idealistic dates on “Love Lodge” have nothing on my perfect morning with Tom. He doesn’t tell me much about where we’re going, but he does clue me in on what I’ll need and how we’ll get there and back, and he shows me a cropped screenshot of a menu – not that the name means anything to me. He takes us to some kind of swanky hotel a short taxi ride away. He’s never been, but he’s always wanted an excuse to come here.
We’re kicking back on our deckchairs, enjoying the view from high up on the island, having spent most of the morning in the infinity pool, where Tom kept us afloat while I clung to him like a weightless koala. It’s so quiet here, and the few people around aren’t of the demographic I need to worry about. We’vemade the most of having a few hours to ourselves where we don’t need to hide, talking about everything and anything, as well as engaging in an ungodly amount of PDA. This man kisses the same way he works: with great enthusiasm and genuine skill.
I’m enjoying my breakfast soul bowl while Tom digs into his chocolate milkshake and “fries” like the big kid he is. It’s a “special occasion”, which means he can order whatever he wants, and I can’t argue with that reasoning. I never would anyway. I’m actually a little envious, because even though my choice is nice, his looks…nice.
“Sure you don’t want one?” He holds out a thin chip.
“Sure you don’t want to try mine?” I deflect.
“Quinoa is my Kryptonite – you know this,” he says, pronouncing it “key-no-wah”.
“Keen-wah,” I correct him playfully, “doesn’t taste of anything, so it’s probably the one thing you’d survive trying.”
“Still rather not take the risk. You know what does taste of something…?” He holds out a new chip for me.
Temptation makes my mouth water and I take a quick look around. Jesus, I can’t believe I’m actually considering it. Stuff it, we’re safe here. I lean forward and steal the chip from his hand with my teeth. So worth it. And the smile that greets me when I come to from my foodgasm? Also worth it.
Even though this was a spontaneous trip, it’s clear a lot of thought went into it. What Tom couldn’t have planned for, though, was the massive horde of rowdy holidaymakers turning up and instantly disturbing the peace with their caterwauling. Judging by the matching orange towels, they’re from our rival cruise liner, which must’ve recently docked next to ours. Where Neptune is a family ship, catering to all age ranges, theirs is adults-only and very much targeted at a younger crowd who want to let their hair down.
With the noise momentarily forcing us into silence, I take Tom’s phone from the small table between us and pull the camera up. I film a panoramic shot of him admiring the view in his swim trunks – while I admire that view for a moment – then I follow his gaze to the pool and the island beyond it. I’m about to hand his phone back when a better idea strikes me.
“Wait! Look at me. Tip your head down. Tiny bit more. Perfect.” I let a few seconds tick by and then stop recording.
“Did you just film the reflection of your boobs in my shades?”
“Maybe.”
He laughs and shakes his head, taking his phone back from me. “Gretel’s allowed a day off, you know.”
“I know, sorry. I saw an opportunity and I had to take it.”
“On that note…” Tom gets up and takes a seat next to me. With our backs to the view, he holds the phone up in front of us to take a video, and I shift away, out of the frame.
“Don’t worry – it’s not for them. It’s for the grandkids.” He wraps an arm around me and I sidle up next to him.
Tom has no idea how much I’d love to have a photo of the two of us together. But he also has no idea how much power he’d have in taking it.
Noticing I’m not exactly champing at the bit, he lowers the phone and looks at me. “What, you don’t want them to have pictures to go along with the story of how we fell in love? ’Cause that’s kind of a dealbreaker.”
It’s impossible not to smile when he says stuff like that. Grandkids. He’s such a wally. I shake my head with a smile, trying to downplay how happy the thought of a future with him makes me.
“Oh, is it now?”My eyes are drawn to the cheeky smile on his lips that mine are now matching.
“Mm-hmm.” His eyes drop to my mouth too.
“Take the picture,” I say, replacing my lips on his.
He snaps a selfie of us kissing. “All right, that one’s solely for us. Everyone knows grandparents kissing is gross. Now a PG version for them,” he directs, and we both smile for the photo.
My chest feels like it’s vibrating with all the little butterflies floating around inside of it. I’ve had millions of photos taken of me, but this one will forever be my favourite.
I take a sip of my water and enjoy watching him look through the photos, his dimple prominent on his cheek as he smiles to himself.
“Have you always been such a forward-thinker?”
“No, not always.” He nibbles on another chip.
“What changed?”
“You don’t know?”
I shake my head, not understanding.
“Oh, you always seem to know all kinds of stuff about me that I never told you,” he teases before taking a moment to think before he speaks again. “So I lost my dad a year and a half ago. He was sick for a long while before that, and I spent all that time living for just one more year, one more month, one more week. I was stuck in that headspace until only recently. I had to really force myself to work out what I wanted long-term. And I’m living for it now.”
A lump forms in my throat. I can’t reply. Can’t work out what to say that would be the right thing. Instead, I take his hand and give him a smile that says, “I’m sorry, and I’m here for you.” Nan always says, “Find someone who’s known loss and they’ll hold you tighter than anyone else can.”
“Can I ask you something?”
I nod.
“I saw that photo of you dressed as a princess in your room…”
I knew I couldn’t avoid this topic forever. “I was hoping that nickname was just a consequence of you hitting your head.”
“Oh no, baby. That name isn’t going anywhere.” Breaking the tension, he flashes me his trademark grin. “It’s totally fine if you don’t wanna talk about it. That’s part of your past, and?—”
“It’s okay. What would you like to know?”
Clearly expecting me to shut down, he straightens and considers his question, but he struggles to pick one. “When…? Who…? What…?” He gives up. “I’d like to know as much as you wanna tell me.”
I take a deep breath, preparing myself to tell Jessie’s story. “My Auntie Nina – not my real auntie, but my mum’s best friend – had Jessie when I was eleven, and suddenly I had the little sister I always wanted. I was obsessed with her. I got to look after her while Mum and Nina did ‘mum things’, and I honestly counted down the days until I was old enough to babysit her for real. And then, not long after she turned five, she was diagnosed with Leukaemia. It was…” I shake my head, welling up. “Awful. She spent so much time in hospital, and we all did what we could to make it better for her, but it never felt like enough. Then one day, we all decided to dress up as fairy-tale characters when we visited her, for fun, and I will never forget how happy it made her.”
Tom smiles, a tear falling down his cheek as he blinks, but he wipes it away, finding a napkin to give to me to dry my eyes.
“I visited her as much as I could, sometimes dressed up, sometimes as plain old me. She was meant to be one of the lucky ones…” I shake my head. The pain is too much to bear, but Jessie deserves to be remembered. “The last time I got to hug her goodbye was as a princess, and she said, ‘Don’t worry, I know it’s you.’” I let out a little laugh. “Turns out she’d been playing along the whole time, as if the dressing up was for me, not her.” I shake my head, the laughter easing the strain in my chest and letting the tears flow freely. I allow myself to smile at the happy memories. “In all the times I went to visit her, I got to meet her friends too, and it didn’t feel right not to go back to see them. I hated knowing they didn’t have the same escape Jessie had. So I spoke to the hospital, and the next thing I know, Mum and I are setting up a charity and gradually hiring a whole team of performers to help us visit more kids in hospitals all over Sussex.”
“You’re incredible,” Tom whispers.
I tell myself off for the state I’ve worked myself up into. “I swear I don’t always cry this much.”
Tom wraps me in a hug and doesn’t let go. “Yeah, you’re the person I wanna grow old with.”
I giggle, feeling his tears drop on my shoulder as I’m sure he can feel mine. I think he’s that person for me too. “I’ve never been on a real date before, but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to cry on one.”
He chuckles. “Nah, it’s good luck, I think.”
“I hope so.” I smile.
“Thank you for sharing.”
I excuse myself to freshen up in the bathroom, and once my sinuses are clear and my eyes are de-panda-fied, I check myself once more in the mirror, examining my hair in case I missed a spot when touching up my roots the other day.
A surprised gasp leaves the girl washing her hands in the sink beside me. “It’s you!”
Our eyes catch in the mirror and my heart rate skyrockets. I’m too fear-stricken to reply.
She goes on. “Gemma from ‘Love Lodge’, right?”
Fuck.
“Who’s that, babe?” I ask in a spontaneous accent, taking on the caricature of a person I’ve never met. Scouse. Okay, we can work with that.
Her excitement falters, awkwardness marring her features. “Oh, sorry. Never mind. Hang on – you mean you didn’t watch ‘Love Lodge’?”
I shake my head, feigning confusion. “No, never heard of it.” I swallow the bile burning the back of my throat.
“It’s a new dating show. You have to watch it! You look exactly like a brunette version of that girl.”
Nod like you care.
“Don’t worry, it’s a compliment. She’s like a model or something. But also, good thing you’re not her – she’s a psychopath. No one’s seen her in months. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she was currently locked up in a padded cell.”
I can’t respond, can’t stick up for myself, but I have to say something. “It’s easy to show the dragon burning down a village and not the teenager with a sword who tried to slay it.”
With her being thick enough to believe everything she sees on reality TV, I’m not surprised when the penny doesn’t drop. She leaves the bathroom thinking she’s given a compliment to some tipsy, rambling Liverpudlian, and my peripheral vision blurs. I keep blinking, but I can no longer make out my hands in front of me. All my limbs feel like jelly in an earthquake while my lungs feel both too empty and too full.
Shit, shit, SHIT!
She believed me. Didn’t she? No, she did. She had to have believed me, or else…this little safe haven I’ve built for myself here, with my crush, whom I promised minutes ago I’d grow old with, will disappear in an instant.
Tom.I have to get back to Tom.
I pull myself together as best as I can and find my way to him.
“Hey, whoa, are you okay?” His concerned voice breaks through the fog in my brain like a beacon of hope, and the relief hits me like a captain spotting a lighthouse in a storm. His comforting hands take hold of me. I must look as unsteady on my feet as I feel.
“Can you take me home, please?”
“Yeah, okay. Just let me pay the bill.” He whips his head around, trying to find a member of staff. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked about?—”
I shake my head. “It’s not that.”
“What happened?”
Dammit, why didn’t I go along with it? I can’t tell him who I am. It will ruin everything.
“I don’t feel too good,” I lie. “There’s money in my purse.”
We fumble with our things for a second – me trying to get my cash out with shaky fingers; him trying to stop me as he flags down a waiter. I feel everything. I don’t have supersonic hearing, but it’s as if I’m tuned in to every frequency around me. Though this place was a serene spot a few minutes ago, in a matter of seconds it’s become my own version of hell. Every conversation happening around us is amplified, every cackle of laughter from other guests going through me like a shock of electricity. Are they laughing at me? Have they recognised me too?
Tom settles up and asks the hotel staff to call us a cab while I put on my sundress and hide behind my sunglasses and a large sunhat. My bikini straps are too tight, digging into my shoulders, and my new flip-flops rub between my toes. There’s a menacing mosquitobuzzing around us, sizing me up for its next meal, which I don’t even bother to swat away. Even bugs want to use me for something.
Tom grabs my bag with our things in it, takes my hand, and guides me out to the waiting taxi. We don’t talk on the way home, but he leaves his open hand on the middle seat between us in case I want to hold it – which I do, because I can feel the opportunities I have left to hold him slipping away from me with every minute that passes. We pull up by the ship, the need to be incognito like we were this morning having fallen off Tom’s priority list.
“Can I take you to the medbay?” he offers. You should get a sick note.”
“It’s all right, I’ll head there in a sec. I need to find Oscar first.”
“Oh, okay.” He wants to know what’s wrong and why it’s my brother who can fix it, not a doctor, but he doesn’t ask.
“Sorry I ruined our date.”
“No, you didn’t ruin it. I’m sorry you don’t feel good.” I can tell he wants to reach for me.
“Thank you for organising everything. It was perfect.”
Was.
I move quickly in the direction of Oscar’s office, hoping he’s there so I won’t have to go on a wild-goose chase around the ship looking for him. I wish I could be honest and tell Tom everything so I wouldn’t have to hide from him anymore, but the second he finds out who the world thinks I am and why I’m here, he’ll run for the hills. And he’d be right to. It feels like it’s only a matter of time before that happens now.
Despite my urgency, I knock on the door with Oscar’s nameplate on, and relief hurries through me when I hear him call out. I fly through the door and shut it behind me, leaning against it, my lungs finally able to receive the air they’ve been deprived of.
“You have to get me off this ship. Now.”