Wondering what she was doing, Tilly considered sending a message to say something had come up or perhaps she'd just ignore the call if and when it came in. Why would she even consider going to Darling Island? At best, a sleepy summer town that beat to its own drum, at worst, full of no-hopers and dead ends with no prospects and even fewer jobs. Deciding she had nothing to lose as the time clicked over, she drained the glass of wine, ordered another one and waited. Not this time was she waiting for a man or an entertainer, but for something that might possibly change the trajectory of her life.
Ten or so minutes later, as her phone buzzed in her hand, Tilly pressed the green button before she could think too hard. She’d have a quick chat, read the room and let fate do its thing.
'Hello? Tilly? That's what the message said. Is this Tilly Bloomwood, was it?'
Tilly pursed her lips at the sound of an older woman's slightly out-of-breath voice. There was the sound of a tannoy in the background, footsteps on hard floors and banging. 'Yes. This is Tilly. Hello. Yep. Thank you for calling.'
'Sorry, love. Yes, it's Margery from the message you sent me. DM, is it called? I'm just coming out of the ward. Hang on a tick. There's a chair down by the window. I'll go down there where it's quiet.'
Tilly waited. There was a bit of muffled distance, the tannoy noises faded and then a small sigh. 'Right. There. That's better. Sorry, love. It's chaos in there today.'
'Not a problem. Are you okay?'
'Yes, well, no, sorry, sort of. My husband's here in hospital. Bill. They've found a rare cancer, and we're a few weeks in. He's having a bit of a kip, so this is a good moment, actually.'
Tilly put her wine down on the little table next to her without taking her eyes off her notebook. 'I'm sorry. I, err, I didn't realise. Would you like to reschedule?'
'Thank you, love. No, no. Anyway, yes, the Boat Shed. You messaged me, that's right, isn't it? You're abroad, didn't you say in your second message? Fuerteventura, was it? Tell me a bit about you.'
Tilly wasn't really sure what to say, and she was certainly a very long way from an island in the Canaries. Suddenly, she realised she was barking up the wrong tree. What was she actually enquiring about? Deciding she might as well not bother, she started to chat, telling Margery that she was English, had been working on cruises and in hotels abroad for a few years and that she was on her way home. That her dad had bought and sold small businesses years before, and that she'd grown up around that sort of thing. Not mentioning Lennixx or her ex-husband, she heard herself saying that she could move quickly.
Margery listened all the way through without interrupting. 'Well. You sound nice, love.'
Tilly closed her eyes briefly.You sound nice, love.She hadn't been spoken to like that for a very long time. 'Thank you. I'm flying back to the UK currently, and I'll see what happens whenI get there. My mum's in France at the moment, she goes every year with my aunt. They've been renting the same villa for fifteen years, and she Airbnbs her house out for the season while she's gone, so yeah, my plans are up in the air.' Tilly paused. 'I haven't told her I'm coming back yet. I didn't want to disturb her summer until I'd worked out what I was doing, if you see what I mean.'
'Where are you planning on going then, love?' Margery asked.
Tilly wasn't actually sure of the answer to that question. 'Honestly. I think probably a Budget Inn somewhere on the south coast for a few nights while I work out what I'm going to do. I, well, I, err, something happened here, and I just want to get home. I’ve been really homesick.'
'A Budget Inn?'
'Yes.'
Margery let out a small noise that was almost a laugh but a commiserating one. 'Oh, love. Surely not?'
'I know. It’s not the best plan, but it’ll do. I might even stay at the airport first off and take it from there.'
'Right. The Boat Shed. What do you want to know?'
Tilly had forgotten that she was enquiring about a business. 'Err, yes, umm. It wasn't actually clear what, you know, what the boat shed is?'
'What it is?'
'The business?'
'Oh, love. Well, back in the day, it was a bit of a, you know, a bit of an everything shop. Before the internet and all that.'
Tilly looked at her list. 'It says about turnover on the post?'
'Turnover! Ahh, Bill wrote that years ago when we were thinking about selling it back in the day. But, yup, certainly turnover was reasonable on a summer season in those days, I think, not sure. To be honest, we've not been open for alongtime. The last summer years back before we closed was a good one. The summer before wasn't, but that was the weather. I don’t really know a lot about the accounts. Bill's done all that side for years, but I can ask him when he wakes up.'
'And the building? Is it freehold?'
'We bought it outright in nineteen ninety-three. There's the Shed itself, the flat above and a bit of pontoon and decking. It's been shut up since we started going to Ibiza, you know, for the sunshine. Some people rented it for a bit, but they left it in a tip. Boating types they were. They used it to fix boats, I think and sell stuff. Something like that. I know the roof needs work. I believe the freezer's packed up, but the flat's liveable. All the utilities are still on. Since Bill went in, I just haven't had the time to even think about it.'
'Right. So, sorry, did you live there?'
'Oh, God no! We have a beautiful detached place on the mainland and a house in Spain. Before all this, the plan was to, well, you don't need to hear all that.'
