Chapter 10
When she got to the pedestrian access at Bankside, there was a chill in the breeze and a smell of algae.
The Thames brooded, dark and uninviting, and the lights of the city bled into the water.
At their agreed meeting place there were three people but no Phyllida.
Gemma waited and looked up at the sky and the most striking moon she’d ever seen.
Collecting the leftover light from all the sunrises and sunsets happening around the world at the same time, it glowed an orangey-red against the murky sky.
It was like a motionless balloon which wanted to fly away but couldn’t.
‘Who suggested getting up so early in the cold and the dark?’ Phyllida startled her from behind. She was swaddled in a green jumper and matching beanie, her curls exploding out the bottom like a bloom of black flowers.
‘Well, I don’t think I’d have come down here on my own, so thank you for the invite,’ Gemma said. ‘Just look at that moon.’ She couldn’t take her eyes off it.
For a moment, they both gazed up in awe.
Then, breaking the silence and reaching into her rucksack, Gemma said, ‘Before we do anything else, let me give you the earring.’
Phyllida pressed the bag with the earring in it to her chest. ‘You’ve no idea how much this means to me.’ Phyllida shook her head as if she couldn’t imagine it either. ‘It’s incredible you found it.’
‘The detectorist, you mean,’ Gemma said. ‘It was just lucky he was near me.’
‘It was meant to be! What if I hadn’t met you and told you my Instagram handle? And what if you hadn’t gone back to the foreshore? I’m a big believer in fate and karma.’ Phyllida nodded sagely. ‘Did you get the man’s number? It’d be nice to thank him personally.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t.’
‘Never mind.’ Phyllida looked down at the earring, sighed, then tucked it into her bumbag. ‘Shall we go further down the river so it feels like we have the moon to ourselves?’
They made their way slowly in the opposite direction of the other mudlarkers and moon-gazers.
It was hard to focus solely on mudlarking, though, and they probably spent as much time staring at the moon as they did looking down at the mud.
Still, they made some finds: a fragment of an eye ointment pot (possibly nineteenth century), a green-glass marble that once sat in the neck of a Codd bottle to keep fizzy drinks from going flat, a rusted key that was so small Gemma imagined it had once unlocked a diary, a Boy Scout badge, and a couple of passports.
By 6.30 a.m., the moon was becoming fainter, the sun brighter and the air a little warmer.
‘I brought coffee,’ Phyllida said. ‘And oat bars. Do you have time for breakfast?’
‘Sure, thank you,’ Gemma said. ‘I just have to be at work by nine.’
‘What do you do?’ Phyllida asked as they found a dry spot closer to the embankment.
‘I’m an oncology nurse.’
‘I love that. But it must be hard.’ Phyllida poured two cups of coffee from a Thermos and unwrapped two large slices of homemade muesli bars.
‘Sometimes,’ Gemma said. ‘I love my patients and the routine. It doesn’t involve shift work, I’m a Monday to Friday nurse. And when it gets tough, I like coming down to the river.’
‘Do you have a partner you can unload on?’
Here we go, her new reality of having to explain her personal life. ‘Not anymore,’ Gemma said. ‘My marriage recently ended.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Gemma shrugged as if it was no big deal, even though she was still hurting acutely. ‘It’s been an adjustment, that’s for sure.’
Gemma played with the engagement ring she was still wearing. Perhaps it was wrong to keep it just because she liked it. She could always give it to the river for another to find and enjoy. What story would someone in the future make of it, she wondered?
‘You poor honey.’ Phyllida patted Gemma’s knee.
‘I was with the father of my son for three years. We never married and he did a runner when Samuel was born. Couldn’t handle it or something.
Anyway, I’ve been married to Robert for ten years, he is the most gorgeous, caring man I’ve ever been with.
What I’m trying to say is, decent men are out there.
You’re young, you’ll find someone else.’
‘I can’t think of anything I’d like to do less than start dating.’
‘Give it time. You don’t want to be on your own forever.’
‘These oat bars are delicious,’ Gemma said in a bid to change the subject.
‘Thank you.’ Phyllida nodded appreciatively.
For a minute, they sat in silence watching the sun light up the incoming tide and a used Coke bottle bobbing in the shallows.
The peach-coloured horizon reminded Gemma of the gold-rimmed glassware her mother inherited from her grandmother.
There was nothing better than being caught between the then and the tomorrow, cocooned in the now.
Gemma closed her eyes and let the new day warm her face.
‘You know,’ Phyllida began. ‘I’ve been thinking lately how great it would be to be part of a club.
Yet the only one I’ve been able to find is the Society of Mudlarks and Antiquarians which is very exclusive.
It only ever has fifty members, a permanent waitlist and you have to have some decent finds under your belt. No good for amateurs like us.’
‘Oh,’ Gemma said. She’d never thought of mudlarking as a group activity before.
‘I’m talking about a bunch of enthusiastic larkers like us who meet up once a month or so to talk to about what they find. I fear I’m boring my husband to death with all my stories.’ Phyllida chuckled.
Gemma laughed too, although she hoped that wasn’t why Adam had left, because she’d been boring him to death. Although, perhaps that would be a more preferable reason than finding out she was unlovable.
‘Anyway, it’s something to think about. If you hear of one, let me know,’ Phyllida said, pulling out her phone. ‘Let’s exchange numbers so we don’t have to rely on social media messaging. I’d love to go mudlarking again.’
Gemma was a little taken aback by Phyllida’s assumption that they were now regular mudlarking buddies.
Still, she gave Phyllida her number. Phyllida immediately sent her a text and Gemma’s phone pinged faintly in her backpack, as if someone was trying to make contact from across the other side of the world.
‘I’m in Hackney, so getting to the city part of the river is easy,’ Phyllida said. ‘What about you?’
‘I’m out west on the train line.’
‘Lovely. There are plenty of good spots to mudlark right along the Thames, aren’t there?’
Gemma nodded, quietly absorbing Phyllida’s unbridled enthusiasm.
‘Well, I really enjoyed that.’ Phyllida stood up and brushed the foreshore from her trousers.
Gemma looked out at the river stones by the waterline that were slick with the tide and realised that she had enjoyed it too.