Epilogue #2
Jude leans closer to me, voice low. ‘You gonna cry, or am I?’
‘I’m already crying,’ Dot announces from two tables over, dabbing furiously at her eyes. ‘No shame in it.’
The interview continues, Isla speaking with increasing confidence about her gradual realisation of her situation, the isolation, the careful manipulation that made her believe her success depended entirely on Marcus Vale.
‘Many have asked why you didn’t report this behaviour earlier,’ Fiona says. ‘What would you say to those critics?’
Isla straightens, something fierce flashing in her eyes.
‘I’d say they’ve never been systematically isolated from their support network, manipulated by someone they trusted, and made to believe their entire career – their identity – depended on a single person’s approval.
When you’re in that situation, you don’t see it clearly.
You rationalise. You make excuses. You tell yourself it’s normal, or necessary, or temporary.
When you are groomed, you believe everything the person who has control of your existence says.
You will do anything they want for their approval.
And knowing I did that, that I let someone have that control over me… ’
My throat tightens painfully as she wavers.
‘That’s the hardest bit I’ve had to heal. How I view myself.’
‘What gave you the strength to finally break away?’ Fiona asks.
Isla’s expression softens. ‘Sea Salt Bay. Seeing the sea again.’ A genuine smile breaks through.
‘Being in the place where I last remembered what it felt like to be me. I remembered who I was,’ Isla continues, her voice stronger now.
‘The person beneath all those layers of careful polish and public image. And I knew I didn’t want to be anyone else anymore. ’
Maisie tucks herself closer to my side. ‘She means us again,’ she says, satisfaction clear in her voice.
‘She always does,’ I whisper back, heart lodged firmly in my throat.
‘And Kit Harding?’ Fiona presses gently. ‘Is he your happy ever after?’
The entire pub seems to hold its breath. Even Ayo stops wiping glasses.
Isla’s smile is soft, private almost. ‘I don’t think a woman’s happiness should rely on a man.
Every woman’s happiness comes from inside them, the truth they own, their belief in themselves.
But does being with Kit add to my happiness?
Yes. Do I plan to be with him for ever after?
’ Another glance to where I stood next to the camera. ‘Then, yes, I do.’
I duck my head, unable to meet the dozens of eyes I can feel on me.
‘What happens next for you, Isla?’ Fiona asks. ‘Will you continue acting? Return to London, Hollywood?’
‘I’ll act when the right projects come along.
’ Her face lights up with quiet passion.
‘I’m working with organisations that support young people in the industry.
It broke my heart when I discovered there were other women Vale had manipulated.
I thought there would be relief that I wasn’t alone.
But it wasn’t relief, it was just a kind of sadness.
This industry – no, not even this industry, the world as a whole – needs to open their eyes to the enormous marginalisation women as a whole experience.
It’s not just equal pay. Equal opportunity.
It’s about equal experiences. I plan to make sure that no woman will ever have to silently live through what I did. ’
She smiles directly into the camera, and for a moment it feels like she’s looking right at me, right at all of us gathered in this small village pub.
‘Most importantly, I’m building a life that’s honest, safe,’ she continues. ‘And this time…’ She takes a deliberate breath. ‘This time, I’m not leaving.’
The pub exhales collectively. Someone sniffles loudly. Jude thumps the bar with his palm.
‘To Isla!’ he calls, raising his glass high.
‘To Isla!’ echoes around the room, a chorus of voices and clinking glasses. Someone near the back attempts to play a few tinny notes of the Poldark theme on their phone and gets immediately shushed.
My phone pings.
Piper Chen: Nailed it.
Maisie looks up at me, eyes wide with wonder. ‘We’re famous now, aren’t we?’
I chuckle, ruffling her hair. ‘Not quite.’
‘She said your name on the telly,’ she insists. ‘Three times!’
‘Only because she forgot the word “idiot”,’ Jude cuts in, making her giggle, and Dad, who’s been silent most of the time, frown chisel-deep as he’s listened to her confessions, punches him lightly on the arm.
‘Uncle Jude!’ Maisie rolls her eyes, then rests her head against my arm, suddenly thoughtful. ‘She was really brave, wasn’t she?’
I watch Isla on the screen as the interview wraps up – still answering questions, still smiling that smile that costs her something but comes more easily now. Still telling her truth, and the world is finally listening.
‘Yeah,’ I say softly. ‘The bravest person I know.’
The interview fades to black, replaced with white text:
THREE MONTHS AFTER THIS INTERVIEW WAS FILMED, MARCUS VALE WAS FORMALLY CHARGED WITH SEXUAL ASSAULT AND COERCIVE CONTROL OF FOUR WOMEN.
When her key slips into the door, Maisie is fast asleep although refusing to leave the couch. I’m dozing myself, while pretending not to read the romantasy that Isla left by the bed.
‘What are you still doing up?’ Her smile as she comes through the door is like switching a fucking light on.
‘Shh.’ I point to Maisie and Isla nods, raises her index finger to her lip and hams up walking across the floor like she’s the baddie in a pantomime. I roll my eyes but then pat for her to come and sit next to me.
She sits on me, legs either side of my hips. Her mouth hungrily searches mine. ‘You taste of city,’ I grumble, hands holding her down onto me.
‘You smell of Sea Salt Bay,’ she murmurs back.
‘Fish and brine?’ I nip her lower lip with my teeth.
‘All my favourite things.’ But then she pulls back, hand across her mouth, and looks like she’s going to hurl.
‘What on earth?’ I’m no longer keeping quiet. Maisie yawns, stretches and then opens her mouth to catch flies again.
‘Sorry.’ Isla looks a little sheepish. ‘I think we’re going to have a problem.’
‘Uh huh. And what might that be?’
Biting on her lower lip she reaches into her leather bag she’s still got hooked across her body. ‘Don’t be angry. It suddenly hit me in the car on the drive up to London.’
She pulls out a white stick. A pregnancy test.
I grab it from her hand. Two pink lines. Clear as day. ‘Four to six weeks,’ Isla adds, voice shaking.
Then she pulls another one out. And another.
‘Christ, were you peeing all day?’
‘In the Ritz loo. I think Simone thought I had problems.’
I snort a laugh, sliding my hands into her hair. ‘In the toilets of the Ritz … and there I was at The Ship Inn crossing streams with Bill.’
Isla collapses into me, laughing into my jumper, and I hold her like she might just evaporate into thin air. ‘You’re okay though…’
‘No, I’m bloody not. Do you know what his piss stream is like? A blocked hose pipe, that’s what. Gave me bloody stage fright.’
She sighs, and the sound melts into my skin, and for a moment I fight back against this enormous crest that feels like it could drag me under, make me explode, and keep my heart beating until the end of time, all at once.
‘A baby,’ I whisper, arms tightening.
‘A baby,’ she whispers back.
‘If it’s a boy we’ll call it Peter.’
‘Yeah, love. Peter.’
Nina would love that.
Hell, Peter would have loved that.
‘I love you.’ Isla reaches up, kisses my mouth, and then slides back down, hugging my chest.
‘And I love you.’
And I do. I love Isla, I love Jess, I love Maisie, and this new baby we haven’t even met yet.
For the first time in my life, I understand what Isla’s been trying to teach me since she came back: people leave. Sometimes they have to. Sometimes they choose to. Sometimes they’re taken. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t love you. And it doesn’t mean you stop loving them.
Jess didn’t leave because I wasn’t enough.
Mum didn’t leave because I wasn’t worth staying for.
Peter didn’t die because I failed him.
Sometimes life just happens. And the people who love you – really love you – they come back. Or they stay. Or they live on in the people they left behind.
I press my lips to Isla’s hair, one hand on her belly where Peter’s namesake is growing. ‘We’re going to be okay,’ I whisper.
‘We already are,’ she whispers back. And for the first time in forever, I believe it.