“I see, good.” Good? “If you have a tour guide sorted, you don’t need me.”
“It’s kind of you to offer, Ted,” I say. “It’s just Jasper invited me on this boat trip, and—” I glance up at the drive, where Jasper has climbed out of the car and is waving at me. He’s dressed in chino shorts with a cricket jumper around his neck; he looks like the Great Gatsby on holiday.
“I’m glad it’s all working out as you hoped.” Ted nods, turning to walk back up to the house.
The letter, I need to give him the letter! I was going to give it to him as soon as I saw him, but then I got distracted by his new face and— Well, I can’t just hand it over now, with Jasper standing there waving; I’d need a moment to explain why I have it.
“Ted—” I begin, not sure what I’m going to say.
He swings around, hands in his pockets, nods his head toward Jasper, and gives me a wink.
“Enjoy yourself, kiddo.”
RETURNED TO SENDER
4 November 1991
Annie,
Don’t be childish and send my letters back. If you won’t take my calls, how am I supposed to get through to you? You can’t just say you’re pregnant, and then not speak to me about it. Did you think this would change how things stood between us? You can’t blame me for not believing you right away.
I will send money whatever you decide, but I want you to consider all the options. We’re too young to be parents, Annie! I love my life as it is, you can’t ask me to give that up for something we didn’t plan. What about your dancing? What about auditioning for shows again, your dance school idea? You can’t do any of that if you’ve got a baby, Annie.
Al
PS I still haven’t received the coin. Can you confirm you sent it?
Chapter 20
“There you are,” Jasper says with a grin.
He is just as attractive in the light of day, like a lovely box-fresh Ken doll. No! Ken dolls aren’t sexy, Ken dolls don’t even have genitalia. Do not start thinking of Jasper as a Ken doll.
“Who’s that then?” Jasper asks, nodding toward Ted.
“My, er—my landlord, Ted. I’m renting his cottage down there. So, tell me more about the place we’re going to today,” I say, clapping my hands together, keen for us to leave as quickly as possible.
Jasper opens the car door for me. “You are going to love the écréhous. They are tiny islands between here and France, well, rocks, essentially, that don’t get covered by the rising tide. The fishermen’s huts there have been handed down through the generations, and made a little less basic over the years. It’s like camping at sea, that’s the best way I can describe it.”
As we drive across the island, Jasper tells me all about his family, about his father’s love of fishing. He says being at sea was one of the few times he got to be with his father alone, as none of his sisters were interested in learning how to fish. As he’s talking, I sink back into the pages of Jasper’s story. I have to remind myself that this is a story I want to be part of, the fairy-tale ending written for me. Ted’s new face is not relevant to the plot.
Gran tries to call me while we’re driving, but I silence the call and text instead.
Laura: Sorry, Gran, just heading out on a boat trip! Can we speak this afternoon? BTW did you know my surname is pronounced Le Cane, not Ques-ne???
Gran: You are having a busy time of it—keen to have a chat when you have time. Le Cane does ring a bell now you mention it.
Me: ??!??!
Gran: I think all the mums at your school kept pronouncing Ques-ne, and in the end, Annie couldn’t be doing with correcting people all the time. You know, I’d quite forgotten it was Le Cane until you said that—how funny!
How funny? How funny? I don’t think it’s particularly funny that I’ve been pronouncing my own name wrong my entire life.
“Everything OK?” Jasper asks, as he sees me frown at my phone.
“Fine, just work stuff,” I lie, putting my phone away. I don’t need another person laughing at my identity crisis.
* * *
*
Jasper’s boat is moored at St. Catherine’s Breakwater, a long, man-made promontory stretching half a mile out to sea at the eastern end of the island. Jasper tells me they started building a harbor in the mid-nineteenth century, but the project was abandoned as the bay turned out to be too shallow. The long breakwater wall is now used by fishermen and boats mooring in the sheltered water.
Jasper rows a dinghy out to fetch his motorboat from a mooring, then drives back to pick me up. Once we’re out on the open water, I look at Jasper steering the boat, the wind in his hair and the sun on his skin. He looks so at home at the helm. I try to adopt the stance of someone who is comfortable on a vessel this small and unstable.