Chapter 25
It is six o’clock by the time I get back to Sans Ennui. All the lights are off in the house, and I walk down towards the cottage wanting nothing but an early night and my laptop. Then I see the outside light on at Sandy’s. She’s sitting on her patio with Gerry, Scamp snoozing on her lap.
‘Laura!’ she calls. ‘Get over here.’
I clamber over the wall, pleased to see them, despite the siren call of solitude.
‘I thought you’d gone this morning, Gerry?’
‘I made a break for freedom,’ he says with a wry smile, but there’s a sadness in his eyes.
‘He rang me this afternoon, saying he needed to see the sea one last time,’ says Sandy, shaking her head. ‘As if he’s moved to the flipping Sahara or something rather than ten minutes up the road. You won’t get to like it if you don’t give it a chance, you old pickle.’
‘They said I’d have a sea view from my room, but I can’t see a speck of water. I won’t be able to sleep without the sound of it.’
‘Didn’t Ted make you a CD of sea sounds?’ asks Sandy.
‘Not the same.’ Gerry sighs.
‘Speaking of Ted, have either of you seen him this afternoon?’ I ask, in my best ‘casual enquiry’ voice. Sandy gives me a knowing look. ‘I see his car’s not back?’
‘Probably picking up fares – it’s where he goes when he doesn’t know what to do with himself,’ says Sandy, raising both eyebrows and slowly nodding.
‘I gave him the letter,’ I tell Gerry.
‘Ah,’ Gerry says, and bows forward in his chair.
‘What letter?’ Sandy asks, eyes darting between us.
Gerry and I explain about Belinda’s letter.
‘And now I’ve given it to him, and he’s gone,’ I say mournfully.
‘He won’t have gone far,’ says Sandy, reaching out to squeeze my arm. ‘He’ll call her; he’ll want to get the divorce rolling now. I don’t know what planet Belinda was on, thinking she could just dance off into her hippy dippy sunset and ignore all the gritty details of a separation.’ Sandy sounds angry.
‘He’s going to think I hid that letter from him,’ says Gerry, pressing his palms against the sides of his head.
‘Yeah, he’s definitely not going to pay up for that sea view now,’ Sandy says, and then she and Gerry start giggling like children.
‘Hey, this is serious,’ I say, looking between them. ‘Who knows where he’s gone?’
Sandy narrows her eyes at me.
‘How was your day with Mr Suitcase Man? I saw the red sports car this morning – very fancy.’
Ted was right about living on a small island, no keeping secrets.
‘Fine,’ I say, flustered. ‘I’m just worried about Ted, as a friend.’
‘We all are,’ says Sandy.
We sit in silence for a moment, all looking out to sea, and I breathe in the quiet.
‘That watery horizon is a spirit level for the soul,’ says Gerry. ‘When you look at it for long enough, it puts life straight again.’
In that moment, I know exactly what he means, and I don’t know how I’ve stayed in the city so long, where there’s no chance for recalibration, no clean horizon to level you. Even with all the emotion this trip has thrown up, there’s something about watching the ocean that puts everything into perspective. Maybe Jersey is rubbing off on me; I don’t think I’ve even checked my phone for the last— Hang on, where is my phone? I pat down my pocket, and search through my bag.
‘Oh no. I think I’ve lost my phone.’