Making Waves
Flick stopped talking and looked at Maggie, who was standing opposite. She hadn’t said a word. Just listened while she spoke. She waited for her to say something.
‘I’m sorry he did that to you and your mum,’ she said finally.
‘I’m worried I’m going to be like him.’
‘You’re nothing like him.’
They were on a ferry from Ibiza, heading to Valencia. Flick was leaning against the railing, the wind blowing her hair away from her face; Maggie stood beside her, looking out across the churning waves as they made the five-hour journey.
After Flick had dropped her bombshell that morning, Flea had appeared from inside the tent, wondering if everything was OK, and so the subject had swiftly been changed.
Instead, the next few hours were spent dealing with the practicalities of packing up, thanking their hosts for their hospitality, making arrangements to get to the port.
All the while Maggie was reeling with shock at what she’d just been told and bursting with a million questions.
Only once they got on the ferry and they left dry land did Flick open up.
‘I’m not talking about looking like him, I’m talking about inside, my genes, my DNA . . . what if I’ve inherited his personality?’ she was saying now.
‘That’s ridiculous—’
‘I’m not being ridiculous! Have you any idea what it’s like to find out your father is a criminal?’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean—’
Maggie quickly bit her tongue. She was trying to reassure her – Flick was nothing like the man who’d lied and stolen from her – but it had come out all wrong and dismissive.
‘I read about it; some studies say as much as 60 per cent of your personality is inherited. I mean, what if there’s a criminal gene?’
‘Seriously, you want me to answer this?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you ever broken the law?’
‘No . . . well, maybe once when I forgot to scan an item in my basket and walked out of the supermarket without paying.’
‘What did you forget to scan?’
‘Frazzles.’
‘Frazzles?’
‘Yes. You know, they’re those bacon-flavoured crisps—’
‘I know what Frazzles are.’
‘A family-size bag too.’
‘OK, well, I think you’re safe. I don’t think you’re a criminal for stealing bacon-flavoured corn snacks. Now, maybe if it was a bottle of wine . . .’
Maggie was trying to joke, to lighten the leaden mood, but Flick had the weight of the world on her shoulders.
‘But what if it comes out . . . later in life, you know?’
‘Look, I’m not a geneticist, but all I know is you are who are you are. Doesn’t matter who your parents are, or if you’ve got the same colour eyes—’ Maggie broke off, arrested by the realization that Flick had the same distinctive green eyes as Him. ‘You’re you . . . and you’re a good person.’
‘I don’t feel like a good person. I’ve lied to everyone – to you, my editor, myself . . . I hurt my boyfriend . . . I slept with my girlfriend . . . I don’t know who I am or what I want . . . I’m a total mess.’
Bare-faced, her hair pulled into a ponytail, and without her signature eyeliner, Flick looked much younger than her years and Maggie felt a sudden maternal protectiveness.
‘I didn’t feel like a good person for a long time either,’ she told Flick. ‘After everything that happened, losing the business, my home, my fiancé, my mind . . . I felt so stupid and so ashamed. I hated myself. I didn’t know what to think or who to trust – I was just so lost. And then I met you.’
Maggie’s eyes welled as she cast her mind back to the person she was less than two weeks ago.
‘And you made me feel like me again . . . Driving the car was like getting back behind the wheel of my life . . . it got me out of my head, gave me some control, a purpose, some fun.’ She smiled, remembering all the laughter they’d shared, laughter she hadn’t been expecting.
‘You brought me back to life, gave me myself back, you listened, let me tell my story.’
‘That’s my job as a journalist.’
‘That’s not your job, Flick – it’s who you are. People talk to you because they like you. Because you understand, you’re empathetic, you’re kind.’
‘I wasn’t very kind to Rory.’
‘Yes, you were. You stopped him sleepwalking into a marriage, saved him from spending years with someone that wasn’t the right person, from you both being unhappy.
You had the courage to speak up, to listen to your gut.
It means you’re both free to be with the right person.
Believe you me, many husbands and wives would wish their partners had been so honest.’
Flick turned to look at the waves crashing against the hull of the boat.
‘Trust me, I should know. I got married in my twenties and it was a disaster, both of us knew from the start but we just did it anyway. It was short-lived, thankfully. We didn’t waste years of our lives, but we did waste a lot of money on a stupid wedding and a dress that made me look like Princess Leia—’
‘Wait. On purpose?’
‘The groom was a huge fan. I even wore my hair in two buns on the side of my head.’
As she cringed at the memory, Flick started laughing.
‘Please tell me you have photos.’
‘Nope, all evidence has been destroyed.’ Maggie shook her head. ‘See. Look what you’ve avoided.’
Flick gave a small smile, then sighed. ‘I’m just so confused about everything.’
‘That’s OK.’ Maggie shrugged. ‘Truly, most people are confused about most things most of the time.’
Flick looked at Maggie. ‘Why are you being so nice to me? You should be angry.’
‘I am, but not with you.’
‘But I’ve lied to you this whole time.’
‘You haven’t lied, you just haven’t been completely truthful and I think we’ve both been guilty of that.’
They looked at each other, both wondering how they got there, both realizing they didn’t want to be anywhere else.
‘So what are we going to do when we get to Valencia?’
‘Meet George and celebrate my birthday.’ Maggie smiled ruefully.
‘Oh God, of course – happy birthday! I’m sorry, what with everything, I totally forgot.’
‘Lucky you, I’m trying hard to forget. I can’t believe I’m fifty.’
‘I can’t believe I got wasted and slept with one of my girlfriends.’
‘I can’t believe I slept with your dad.’
It just came out.
‘Shit, I didn’t mean—’ Mortified, Maggie cursed at her crassness. ‘Honestly, me and my big mouth.’
‘I think we’re past the point of worrying about hurt feelings, don’t you?’ Flick smiled. ‘And anyway, you gotta laugh.’
‘What? Or we’ll both cry?’
They both looked at each other, their shared sense of humour bubbling up underneath the surface, the realization that it wasn’t the only thing they had in common. If they were close before, they felt even closer now.
‘And then what happens after we’ve celebrated your half-century?’ grinned Flick.
Maggie gave a mock grimace, then her face fell serious and she turned to gaze at the horizon. Her mind was made up.
‘And then I’m going to go home.’