‘Am I exceptional?’ Susie asks, leaning her back against the wall with an almost-empty wine glass in her hand. Walt and Marie have taken the kids home with them for a sleepover and I’ve just seen my folks safely into a cab. The gallery is empty now beside a few stragglers hoping for a last free drink.
I swallow. ‘You’re an exceptional mom.’
I regret not being more generous with my words as she rapidly blinks away the sting, pushing herself straight to walk slowly amongst my images. I watch her pause to study Raff, then move along until she is standing in front of a black-and-white landscape shot of Otter Lodge. Cleo is sitting on the porch steps, coffee in her hands, the beginnings of a smile lifting her mouth. I’ve purposely not included many pictures of her, just this one and an accompanying shot taken the night she stumbled into the ocean. I shot it as she clowned around on the shoreline, shells gathered in the hem of her sweater, an expression of unguarded joy and daring as she laughs down the lens. I look at it now, at her eyes on mine, and I realize, belatedly, it’s a snapshot of the exact moment I fell a little in love. Susie looks at it in silence, her back to me so I can’t read her expression. We haven’t talked about Cleo again since I told her that it was over. We haven’t talked about much of anything, in truth, but it isn’t fair on either of us to stay in this holding pattern.
‘I can see it in her eyes,’ she says, quiet. ‘The way she looks at you.’
I swallow. ‘I didn’t include them to hurt you.’
‘We’ve hurt each other.’ She turns to me, forlorn. ‘I pushed you away, but I didn’t expect you to go so far that I’d lose you for ever.’
‘I’m here now,’ I say, wishing we could have this conversation somewhere else. Anywhere but here, where Raff’s eyes meet mine from beneath the brim of his fedora and the villagers raise their glasses to me in the Salvation Arms. I can’t bear to look at Susie with Cleo dancing around on the beach behind the rigid set of her shoulders. These two worlds cannot overlap.
‘But is here where you want to be?’
Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t. ‘You know I’ll always be here for the kids. And for you.’
‘That wasn’t what I asked,’ she says, looking again at Cleo. ‘You met someone exceptional, Mack. Your word. The connection jumps from these photos like live electricity.’ Tears brim her lashes. ‘It’s undeniable, and painful, and heartbreakingly beautiful.’
I can’t find any words that won’t make the situation worse.
‘I love you,’ she says, choked up. ‘Too much to hold on to you.’
‘I love you too.’ I reach for her hand, emotion thick in my throat. ‘You are exceptional, Susie.’
She studies me, then reaches out and brushes her fingers lightly over something on my cheek.
‘Chalk dust,’ she says.
Cleo
19 March
Salvation Island
OFFICIALLY AN ISLAND WOMAN
‘Are you sitting down?’
‘On a boulder on top of a windy hill,’ I say, jiggling my boot-clad foot with nervous anticipation. I called Abbie, my literary agent as of several weeks back, as soon as her ‘call me’ message beeped in. It’s a thrill to say ‘my agent’。 I’m dropping it into conversations like a freshly engaged fiancée flashing around a diamond.
‘Okay, so as you know, the manuscript went out on submission on Wednesday.’
I bite my lip, waiting. I’ve done a fair amount of shoreline pacing over the last forty-eight hours, imagining London editors reading my book. I’ve barely held back from sending ‘please love it’ messages in bottles bobbing from the shores of Salvation over to the whale-grey swathe of the Thames.
‘There’s been a brisk amount of interest, Cleo,’ she says. ‘I’ve had several offers already, and I know of at least two other interested houses. It’s become an auction situation, best and final offers by close of business on Monday.’
‘Whoa,’ I laugh, giddy. ‘Slow down. You’re saying impossible things and I’m struggling to keep up.’
‘Okay, deep breaths. It’s happening, Cleo. You’re going to be a published author.’ Her voice skitters towards excitement at the end. I love that she sounds as thrilled by this turn of events as I am. I feel as if I have someone well and truly in my corner.
‘Do you want to know the offers that have come in already, or wait until the bidding is over?’