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‘Nothing,’ says Ralph. ‘But – well, it’s just nice to hear you say this sort of thing. It’s progress. And from the state of you when you first stepped through that door – I could never trust a person that made someone like you into someone as fragile as that.’
Cate nods vigorously, then shifts, loops her arm through mine, her dressing-gowned arm warm, lavender-scented cushioning between us. ‘You were always infatuated with him,’ she says softly. A candle dances on the coffee table. ‘I know Alexis used to bang on about that, but he had this .?.?. hold over you, you know? Where you had him on this pedestal. Like you couldn’t believe he was with you. And he’d sort of perpetuate it? It was almost like you were nervous of stepping wrong. In case he left.’ She looks up at me then, her face just inches from the side of my face. ‘And I can see that, because I was the same with Nicholas. They make it that way. You become only who you are, through their lens.’
I let the words sink into me, bittersweet, like lemon syrup. Because I can’t argue with it. I know it’s true. I did worship him, in a way, and I hated myself for it. A feminist. An independent woman. Someone with all this energy, all thesethingsI wanted to try and see and do. And there I was, trying to impress my own boyfriend, feeling grateful when he’d pay me a compliment, even though he paid plenty to strangers on Instagram or women he’d meet at the gym who were strictly ‘just workout buddies, why don’t you trust me?’ Owen made me feel like I needed to be something, to hit the right notes, for a prize.
‘And then enter Bad Jacky Shurlock,’ says Cate, giggling next to me.
‘Bad Jacky Shurlock?’ I laugh. ‘You make him sound like a wrestler.’
‘Well, he had you pinned down, didn’t he?One! Two! Three!Oh, it seems poor Millie Chandler is all shagged out and can’t get up.’
‘Cate, we did notshag.’
‘Yet,’ Cate says, pointing at me. ‘You have not shagged him,yet.Maybe it’ll happen on the boat. When’s that happening again?’
‘Wednesday. And it’s almost December, Cate. My coat’s staying on.’
‘Killjoy,’ says Cate.
Ralph chuckles to himself, shaking his head, picking up yet another piece of cauliflower.
‘What?’ says Cate, smilingly. ‘Look, just because my gall bladder is screwed, does not mean I no longer need to get laid.’
‘Hm,’ says Ralph. ‘Well, sex is at least an alkaline activity.’
‘Ooh.Well, aren’t I lucky?’ scoffs Cate. ‘Cauliflower and sex. What else can a girl ask for? Might not bother having it removed.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Text Message from Jack:Half-day approved here. Think they’d approve anything I requested, mere days from leaving.
Text Message from Jack:Mute Martin acting as my desk for 24 hours.
Text Message from Jack:Seven hour lunch breaks.
Text Message from Jack:A golden goose shitting out golden eggs right onto Michael’s head.
Text Message from Millie:Hahaha. Mine’s approved too! Tell Instinct to gird his loins.
Text Message from Jack:No need. Instinct is always ready.
Text Message from Millie:Instinct is such a hunk.
*
I’m on a boat. I amactuallyon a boat. The jetty behind us is getting further and further away, like one of those old moving sets they’d have in the olden days, a man pedalling a bike to make it move. And oh, it’s so lovely to be drawing further and further away. Something eases inside of me; breathes.
‘Oh God, we’re swaying .?.?.’
‘Yep,’ says Jack, concentrating, pulling the lever to one side, straightening us, as we drift further out to sea. The boat rumbles, quietly, sloshes through the water, and Jack stares straight out to see, eyes on the horizon, both of us, zipped up in coats.
‘I’m on a boat.’
‘You are indeed,’ says Jack.
‘On a Wednesday afternoon,’ I repeat, like a mantra, so it sinks in, ‘here I am,on a boat.’
Jack chuckles. ‘Call him by his name, Millie.’
