‘Oh, I know what this island does,’ I say, conversational in that way whiskey makes you. ‘I’m on to it. Salvation has its own forcefield, spinning people in from across the globe to this tiny spit of rock at will. Barney came because Raff left. I arrived on the very same boat as Mack. I mean, come on! What are the odds of that?’ I sip again from the hip flask, shaking my head. ‘It’s the universe meddling on a grand scale. Audacious.’ I fall silent, thinking about the unexpected life I’ve found myself living here as I watch the rise and fall of the sea. One minute to midnight.
It occurs to me that I could end up living on this island for ever. I’ll be Carmen to Delta’s Dolores. It’s not the worst scenario I can imagine for myself. I mean, I probably won’t, but I’m happy here for now, which is big news. My mum’s coming over for a few days in February; I’m hoping some other visitors might make the journey at some point too. It’s an intentionally short-term plan; I’ll stay until spring and then see how I feel. How freeing, really, not to feel as if I’m striving for the next thing.
I check the time on my phone and as I stare at the screen it clicks over to midnight. London will be a riot of drunken kisses, the sky a blitz of fireworks. Here, nothing happens. It’s just me, Jupiter and the sea, and I’m okay with that. I don’t want to be my own flamingo for ever because I kind of liked loving someone else, but I’m content to be my own best friend and staunchest cheerleader for now. I’m my own temporary flamingo. I bump shoulders with the imaginary Emma Watson sitting beside me; I think she’d be proud of how far I’ve come. Out on the horizon, moonlight picks out the billowing ghost sails of the Pioneer.
‘Happy New Year!’ I didn’t plan on shouting, but my words come out at volume when I stand up and raise my arms, flask in one hand, phone in the other. ‘Here’s to you, Salvation, you’ve made a woman of me!’ I thought I might cry nostalgic tears tonight, but I laugh at my own keen sense of the melodramatic instead.
Sliding the flask into my coat pocket, I click open a message to Mack.
One – The photo album arrived today. Thank you! It made me cry, it’s so beautiful. I’m incredibly proud of you. Good luck with the exhibition.
Two – Happy New Year! I mean it. Do whatever it takes to be happy, Mack, you deserve it.
Three – X
I don’t type that I don’t regret him because, every now and then, I do. He’s set the bar unrealistically high, and I need to believe there are other people out there who can reach it. Maybe in time the universe will cast its love net wide for me again, bring a for ever love my way, but I can’t see how yet.
I push my phone into my pocket and head down towards the welcome lights of Otter Lodge. A brand spanking new year. Anticipation rather than fear bubbles behind my ribcage for what lies in the unshaped months ahead. The Pioneer won’t sail without me, because I am the pioneer.
Mack
17 January
Boston
I AM THEIR FOREST
‘Make a wish, Leo,’ Susie says, the huge birthday cake ablaze in her hands. Thirteen candles. The world has a brand-new teenager. How the hell do I have a teenage son? I think back to my own teen years and feel a very real fear. I was pretty rebellious back then, hard work for my mom, I realize now. Will Leo constantly push the boundaries too? Maybe, maybe not. He has a lot more people around him to lean on than I did.
‘Might be easier if you take the mask off, kid,’ I say. He’s pretty darn pleased with his new baseball gear, couldn’t wait to take photos of himself head-to-toe in the latest Sox uniform and catcher’s equipment.
‘I can blow between the bars,’ he laughs, his chest heaving as he sucks down a deep breath and blasts out the candles in one go.
‘Good job,’ Susie says, placing the cake down on the table as Leo heads off to grab a knife.
‘Think he’s planning to eat between the bars too?’ I say.
‘You know it,’ Susie says, removing the chocolate-encrusted candles from the cake.
‘Mom, Dad!’
Nate skids across to the window, warp speed as usual. ‘Grandpa’s here!’
Susie glances at me and frowns. Her parents are up in Maine visiting Marie’s sister. I shrug, assuming Nate’s mistaken, when the doorbell rings. I glance out of the window as I get up, but I don’t recognize the slick black SUV on the street outside.
‘I’ll get it,’ I say, a bad feeling grumbling low in my gut as Nate bounces around me along the hallway. I swing the door wide, braced for the chill wind and bad news.