‘You too. Bloody weather.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘So, like I said, I saw you on the dock.’
‘Well, yeah. I had to walk across the dock to get on to the boat.’
‘No, but it was weird,’ she says. ‘You looked odd.’
I nudge her with my shoulder. ‘Thanks a lot!’
‘Hang on, stand there, so I can light my ciggie. This weather.’
I move to block the wind. ‘I lookedodd?’ I frown. ‘Odd how?’
‘I don’t know, Bells. You were just standing there like a lemon. Like you were worried about something.’
‘I’m always worried about something.’ I give a self-deprecating laugh.
She shakes her head. ‘No, but your hair was different, and your clothes...’ She trails off, studying my hair, as if trying to match it with what she saw on the dock.
‘Sounds like it was probably someone else.’
‘Could have sworn,’ she mutters, and offers me a drag of her cigarette, which I take, even though I’ve never liked the taste.
I nod towards her glass of champagne. ‘How many of those had you had when you saw “me”, Tori?’
‘Um, a few.’ She grins. ‘Ignore me, I’m actually pissed as a newt, in case you couldn’t tell.’
My phone pings again, and I jerk it out of my pocket, but it’s not from Harriet. I try to ignore how my hands are definitely shaking now, cigarette or not.
‘So, what’s new with you? How’s the property game?’ she asks. ‘Whatever happened to those flats you were flipping?’ She pouts and tilts her head. ‘Can’t believe you’ve turned into such a little business tycoon.’
I swallow down acid and brush off her question with a flick of my wrist. Thankfully, Tori’s attention is already wandering back to the cluster of bodies near the bow, where another chorus is kicking off. She asks if I want another drink, and I say, ‘Sure.’ While she’s gone, I gaze out over the water again, expecting to be steadier, but instead my legs feel soft and my head is full of static.
Tori is gone for longer than it takes to get another drink, but then I spy her in the midst of a group of forty-somethings, bellowing out the chorus to the Human League’s ‘Don’t You Want Me’.
I retreat to a quieter part of the rail and look down at the dock, and, for a moment, I think I see myself. Just for a second, standing hunched at the water’s edge. But when I blink, it’s just a coil of rope and a trick of the light, nothing more. I need to get a grip.
I stand there with the dregs of my drink, listening to the party echo above and behind me. I get another weather alert, of all things, and then, finally, a message from Harriet. But it’s agonisingly brief:Can you talk?
My stomach drops, giddy and terrified at the same time. I look for somewhere quieter, but the whole yacht seems to be awash with noise. I duck down the nearest staircase and find myself in a corridor lined with family photos and nautical kitsch. I call Harriet, and she picks up on the second ring.
‘Hi,’ I say, going for breezy, but coming off as strangled.
‘Bella?’
‘Hi, yes, this is Bella.’
‘Great. Thanks for calling me back.’
‘Hi, Harriet. Can you hear me? Sorry, it’s a bit noisy here.’
‘Yes, I can hear you fine.’ Her voice is professional but friendly. ‘I wanted to tell you myself.’
My heart races. A passing waiter nearly collides with me, and I have to curb the urge to snap at him.
‘We were very impressed with your presentation, but after further scrutiny... I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to pass on this occasion.’
‘Pass?’ My stomach drops.
‘We’re grateful to you for giving us the opportunity, though, and we’d like to wish you all the best for the future.’
