The Burnout(75)

I remember sitting on a plastic chair. Hot and sweaty and uncomfortable because everyone was waiting. I held the whole family up. We couldn’t leave for home till I’d seen the police. How could I have forgotten that?

“I saw them the day after the accident,” I say slowly. “One of the policemen had a red beard. And there was a really annoying electric fan in the waiting area. It kept stopping.”

“Yes.” Finn stares at me. “But why did you have to see the police? You weren’t even in the sea.”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head helplessly. “Don’t remember.” I glance down at the message. “Could it be related to this?”

“Who knows?” Finn is silent for a moment, his face screwed up in thought, then he makes a frustrated exclamation. “Nothing makes sense! The accident wasn’t even a big deal. James Reynolds was fine. Everyone was fine.”

“Apart from Pete,” I point out. “He lost his business.”

“Well, OK, Pete,” concedes Finn. “But he shouldn’t have loaned out a dodgy kayak. And aside from that, it was basically a nonevent. Lot of excitement over nothing.”

“James Reynolds nearly drowned,” I point out reprovingly.

“Yes, but he didn’t drown,” retorts Finn, mimicking my tone.

“I’m going to ask my mum why I saw the police,” I say with sudden determination. “She must remember.”

I open my phone and type a WhatsApp to Mum and Kirsten.

Hi, both. Hope all is well. I am still trying to gather info about that kayak accident. Did I speak to the police? What about? All good here. Surfed yesterday!! xxx

I press SEND, but there’s no signal. Still, they’ll get it later.

“So, what shall we do?” I look at the message again, then take a photo of it.

“Let’s leave it for now.” Finn shrugs. “Get on to … what’s on our wellness agenda for the day? More yoga? Seaweed-eating? Stone-hopping?”

Our wellness agenda. He wants to be friends. It’s quite clear. He wants to be platonic, burnout-buddy friends, and that makes me feel all churned up with conflict, because of course I want him as my friend, of course I do. It’s a dream come true, to have a strong, loyal, wise friend like Finn.

It’s just, I had other dreams. Which I will now put away in my dreams cupboard.

“Hula-hooping?” I suggest, just to wind him up, and he laughs.

“What happens when you’ve done all twenty steps? Do you get a medal?”

“I turn into Wetsuit Girl, of course.”

“Don’t do that.” Finn’s voice deepens a smidgen—and something about his expression makes me catch my breath. “Don’t change into Wetsuit Girl.”

I reach for some light, jokey retort … but I don’t have one. For a weird, tense beat, we’re silent, our eyes locked, and I’m just feeling as if we might stand here forever, when Finn’s gaze shifts to something over my shoulder. I breathe out, almost in relief, then turn to see what he’s looking at. Adrian is picking his way down to the sea, his face as dejected as ever, and I feel a wave of pity for him. He lifts a hand to greet us, and we both wave back.

“His wife confided in me last night,” I murmur under my breath to Finn. “She was crying. She’s finding a divorce lawyer. It’s so sad. What did he tell you? He must have said something. You seemed like best friends at the concert.”

“He latched on to me at the bar.” Finn lowers his voice further as Adrian approaches. “Started on a bit of a rant. All she does is find fault. At least that’s what he says.”

“Did he mention a set of shelves?” I can’t help asking.

“Yes!” Finn turns to face me, looking surprised. “She’s obsessed by some shelves he didn’t build. Can’t leave it alone, even though he says he keeps apologizing.”

“That’s the problem!” I explain eagerly. “He just says, ‘Sorry.’ But he doesn’t ever say why he wouldn’t build them. Like, was he too tired? In which case, why didn’t he just say, ‘I’m too tired,’ instead of saying he’d do it, then blanking her for a year?”

I look expectantly at Finn and he laughs.

“I guess he had his reasons. Is it a big deal?”

“Of course!” I retort. “She felt hurt! You know he’s a qualified carpenter? And he said he would do it. But she had to hire a handyman in the end, and when they were done, Adrian didn’t say a word. Just ignored them. They were for her grandmother’s antique plates.” I add, “Royal Doulton.”

Finn seems taken aback by my level of knowledge, and I clear my throat, suddenly feeling embarrassed. I may possibly have overinvested in this relationship. I may also have taken Hayley’s part without hearing Adrian’s point of view.

“I mean, I only heard her side of the story,” I backtrack. “But you have to admit, it’s weird. If he’s a carpenter and he’d said he would do them.”

“Bit strange,” agrees Finn.

He shrugs and stretches out his arms, as though the conversation is over and that’s the limit of his interest. But I’m just getting going. I survey Adrian’s stiff, wretched back as he kicks a stone into the waves. He’s miserable. She’s miserable. They’re both going on about the shelves. If they could just sort that one issue, then maybe it would help everything.