Chapter Sixteen
I almost run to the kitchen and close the door behind me. I want to cry. No, make that scream. Loud and at the top of my lungs. Hurl things around the kitchen so they crash around me and throw a punch through the wall. I do none of these things and sink into a kitchen chair instead.
How can this be right? How can she not want to wake up because that’s better than living her life? Why do shit things always happen to the people who don’t deserve them?
Sophie has always been lovely to me. As fifteen-year-olds, Jackson and I had made stupid choices, and she’d supported everything we decided to do and even brought my mum around to that way of thinking.
After running away from her and Jackson, there was no hint of animosity when she came into the café and met me again all those years later.
I’d been scared of facing her, but there was never any judgement, only compassion and a kind smile.
And even today, now I know what she’s going through, she held me and told me she believed in me.
I thump a curled fist down hard on the kitchen table at the injustice of it all.
And then a sadness cloaks me from head to toe.
It clings to me as if I’ve been wrapped tight in cling film and can’t remove it.
All those years I wasted hiding from the people who probably knew me the most. And now there’s no time left.
I bite down on the cuff of my hoodie to stop the wail that wants to erupt out of me. The last thing I want to do is wake Sophie up or make her feel guilty because I’m crying. She has enough to deal with.
My phone dings from inside my bag on the table. It’s a text message from Jackson and my heart lifts a little.
JACKSON: How’s Mum?
ME: All good. She ate something, now she’s having a nap. How are you getting on?
JACKSON: Nightmare.
I wait for him to elaborate, but there’s silence.
Shit. I cannot do anything right. I’d be better if I stayed away from everyone.
A knock on the front door breaks my destructive train of thought.
I wonder for a second if I can ignore it.
But whoever it is knocks for the second time.
I stand and brush myself down, as if that’s going to sort everything, and go to open the door.
There’s a small lady with a perfect silver-grey bob and a wide smile standing on the doorstep.
‘Hi. I’m Roz. Sophie’s friend. Jackson said you were filling in for him while he had to go out.’ Her eyes are soft and gentle as she speaks. ‘How’s she doing?’
I step back a little, opening the door wider. ‘She’s good. Just in bed. Come in.’
‘I can stay with her now, if you like?’
I have an initial flash that I shouldn’t abandon Sophie, then I remember she mentioned a good friend called Roz and I really could do with getting out of here.
‘That’d be great, if you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all.’ She squeezes my arm in a friendly gesture. ‘Thanks for being here.’
I grab my bike and wheel it. My head is too full to even think about pedalling. Another text comes in from Jackson.
JACKSON: We have to shut the café.
I stare at the screen. After the day I’ve had, I didn’t think it could get any worse.
My finger hovers over the phone keyboard, but no words come.
None that I want to write, anyway. I wonder if I should offer to let Milo move the van to The Beach House, but almost immediately shelve the idea.
Much as I love Milo, I don’t think I could handle seeing Jackson every day.
I have a sudden urge to hear Mum’s voice. I want to tell her I love her while I still can, before time runs out. I dial her number and listen as the phone rings. I’m about to hang up when she answers.
‘Hello, love. Everything OK?’
‘Yes, all good.’ There’s a distinct wobble to my voice. ‘Mum, I want to say sorry for how I acted back then.’
She knows exactly what I’m talking about. ‘Is that what’s bothering you? Don’t be silly. It was your way of coping. I never blamed you.’ She pauses. ‘Don’t be living in the past, love. Look forward.’
My fingers are aching from gripping my bike handles.
When I don’t reply, Mum asks, ‘Is anything else bothering you?’
‘I’ve had to close the café.’ My voice breaks, but I plough on. ‘I couldn’t keep it going. Will you tell Dad? I don’t think I can.’
There’s a slight hesitation before she answers. ‘If you want me to. You are looking after yourself, aren’t you? Do you need anything?’
‘I’ll be fine, Mum. Thanks. I love you.’
‘I love you too, love.’
I click the phone off and push it back into my bag, out of sight, wishing I could bury everything else so easily.
I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.
Time passes in a daze and before I know it, I’m back at home.
I park my bike and put my key in the front door, then stop.
The thought of going in and staring at the walls makes my skin itch.
On impulse, I open the door and sling my bag through it.
Then shove my key back in my pocket and head towards the beach.
Unusually, the air is perfectly still and there are fluffy cotton wool clouds hovering across the picture-perfect cornflower-blue sky.
I walk past a couple of preschool kids with their mum throwing a bright pink-and-yellow beach ball to each other and giggling when it hits their heads and bounces off down the beach.
Their free and easy frivolity bites hard.
Tears spring to my eyes and without thinking, I tip my head back and let out a shout almost as if my wail will let all my hurt, guilt and fear out into the world, freeing me.
The laughing behind me stops and I swing around to find the kids and their mum staring at me. Embarrassed, I mumble ‘Sorry,’ and put my head down to continue walking.
The loose sand near the dunes feels too safe.
Too familiar. I walk on the diagonal until I’m walking on the firm sand near the water’s edge.
Even that’s not dangerous enough. I stop to take off my shoes and socks, then tie the laces in a knot and sling them around my neck.
The sand is damp and gritty beneath my bare feet.
My toes curl up as I walk, digging an imprint into the beach.
A wave rolls all the way up to me and I stop dead.
My throat constricts as the cold water covers my toes.
I can’t move again until the water’s withdrawn.
I watch, mesmerised, as the next wave breaks and heads in my direction.
The urge to step backwards is huge, but I force myself to stay put.
The sea water runs around my feet and splashes at my ankle bones.
It’s cold and tingly and the sensation of the sand disintegrating as the waves withdraws is weird.
As the sea retreats, I walk forwards a few more steps.
I need the water to go higher. I need to drown out all the voices in my head.
To only have the terrifying water to think about and have no gap in my head to think about anything else.
A new wave is coming, its foamy white top rising until it breaks and rushes towards me.
I take two bold big steps towards it. I can feel my sharp intake of breath all the way down my windpipe as the cold water dances around my calves.
My heart is thudding in my chest and I close my fists tight to stop myself from fleeing.
The wave is sucked back and it pulls me forwards with it.
The next wave swirls below my knees, splashing up onto my hands.
‘I’m impressed.’ Jackson’s voice gives me a fright and my surroundings come into full focus.
What the hell am I doing?
I dash back towards the dunes and Jackson, a wave chasing me to the shore. He’s standing out of reach of the water, Tippi on a brown leather lead next to him.
‘Hi.’
He acknowledges me with a nod, his eyes catching mine, and my whole body tightens at his proximity. Even with everything coursing through me, he still manages to make me feel like an awkward, horny teenager.
‘I’m getting the hang of it. Slowly.’ I wiggle my toes in the mushy sand the wave has left behind and look down towards the little terrier at his feet. ‘Tippi looks happy.’
He waves the brown leather lead Tippi is attached to. ‘If I didn’t have her on this, she’d be diving into the sea. I’ve already had to stop her once.’
Tippi looks up at him as if she understands every word.
An incoming wave takes me by surprise and I suck in a lungful of air as the cold sea water rushes up my leg.
Tippi has no such qualms and takes a couple of steps forwards, straining on her lead.
Jackson gives a gentle chuckle. ‘Come here, you rascal. You are not ready to tackle the sea yet. All in good time.’ The little dog ignores him and continues to pull.
‘You’d think she always had three legs,’ I say, still marvelling at how Tippi is totally at ease. ‘I don’t think I’d be in such a hurry to get back in the sea.’
‘She’s a tough nut and the vet’s happy with how it’s healing. She’ll be back swimming before she knows it.’
Without saying anything, we both turn and fall into step alongside each other. I stay on the drier sand and Tippi paddles through the remnants of the incoming waves with Jackson between us.
‘Thanks for looking after Mum. She said you made soup.’
My body is racked with tension strolling alongside him, but I keep my tone neutral. ‘I thought it might be easier to eat.’
The wind has picked up a little and the breeze is lifting my hair and pushing it across my face along with his familiar scent.
‘Did you get my text? We’ve got to close.’
Fright spikes me as nausea rises to the back of my throat. ‘Is there no way to stop it?’
He shakes his head, angry, the muscle pulsing in his jaw. ‘I’m sick to death of people. Why can’t they mind their own business?’
‘Can I do anything?’ I ask, desperate for a way to fix what I broke.
‘No. I’ll have to apply with the correct paperwork again. And Milo will have to go back to his garage work full-time. Good job he enjoys it.’
The tension enveloping me becomes heavier and I rub at my nose.
Jackson tries to shift gears. ‘On a brighter note, how’s the photography night prep coming? Please tell me you’ve thought about it?’
I tuck my flying hair behind my ear only for the breeze to whip it free again. ‘It’s a really good idea. I’ve already started designing an advertising poster.’
‘Good on you.’ He pauses to turn to face me. ‘You’ll be brilliant at it.’
I smile at him, but it’s only half-hearted. My letter to the council is consuming me. He reaches to touch my arm and I flinch, stepping back out of reach.
His eyes narrow in a frown. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’ I shrug as nonchalantly as I can.
He tilts his head at me, sceptical. ‘Is it the camper?’
‘No.’ The word shoots out of my mouth and without thinking, it’s followed by, ‘Yes. I mean yes.’
‘You don’t have to worry. I’ll sort it.’ He reaches for me again and I curl my hand away, avoiding his touch.
‘It was me. I sent the letter to the council,’ I blurt out. I’ve kept enough secrets for one lifetime. I can’t start keeping them all over again.
There’s a horrible stretch of silence.
‘You did what?’ The soft tone in his voice has disappeared.
‘I was mad at you. You wouldn’t move it and I …’ My voice fades to nothing and I stare at the sand.
‘What the hell, Ellie?’ It’s not a shout, but his words are hard enough that I recoil from him. ‘Do you even know the trouble you’ve caused? That’s our main income because Milo has scaled right back on his mechanic work. He just wanted to do the car restoration as a hobby.’
‘You’ve got your business in Australia,’ I say, clutching at straws.
‘I can’t take money out of that while I’m here. Milly’s running it single-handedly as it is. Fucking hell.’ He spins away and his disappointment in me stings.
My hand aches from wanting to reach out and touch him. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Anything else you’re hiding while we’re at it?’
I swallow and saliva sticks in my throat. I’m saved from having to answer as a lady with a black Labrador stops by us.
‘Hi, Jackson. How’s your mum doing?’
‘Really well, thanks.’ I can hear the strain in his voice and his smile hasn’t quite made it to his eyes. ‘She’s getting a little stronger all the time.’
‘That’s so good to hear. We do miss her at tennis. Tell her we’re thinking of her, won’t you? I must call over and say hi.’
‘Please do. She’s looking forward to getting back on court.’
The lady smiles and continues her walk, leaving us at a standoff.
‘Will she?’ I say, my brow creasing.
He looks at me, confused. ‘What?’
‘Play tennis again?’
‘Well, why wouldn’t she?’
I take a breath. This could well be none of my business, but at the same time, I feel like it is. They all mean so much to me that it physically hurts. ‘Jackson, your mum isn’t well.’
He looks at me as if I’m mad. ‘You think I don’t know that?’
‘No, I mean, she’s really not well.’ My whole body feels like it’s at breaking point. If saying this out loud is tearing me apart, what the hell must it be doing to Jackson? But him pretending everything is fine is worse, so I keep going. ‘She’s not going to get better.’
‘Why would you say that?’ There’s a crack in his voice. I want to pull him towards me and hold him close, but it’s his turn to step away. ‘She’s going to beat it. You got her to eat today, and she looked really well when I left her.’
‘This isn’t something you beat because you try hard enough.’ I say it as gently as I can. ‘Don’t put that pressure on her.’
‘So what am I supposed do? Give up on her?’ His voice breaks, raw and desperate.
‘That’s not what I meant.’ Instinctively, I reach out for him, but he takes another step away putting even more distance between us. ‘Stop burying your head in the sand over it.’
‘I’m not.’ His voice has hardened. ‘She’s my mum and I know what’s best for her. I can’t believe you’d even suggest I wouldn’t.’
He begins to walk away.
‘Jackson, where are you going? I didn’t mean …’
‘I’ve had enough of this conversation. I’m leaving before I say something I’ll regret.’ And without another word, he strides away from me, so fast that Tippi has to canter lopsidedly to keep alongside him.