AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 14
Having started to walk down Trinity Hill, I manage to intercept a bus to take me the rest of the way into town, so I’m back at the Weighbridge in ten minutes. Strangely, they don’t seem to have bus stops here – they just write ‘BUS’ at intervals along the road where the bus is going to stop.
‘Any luck with the man hunt?’ Ted asks when I meet up with him outside the hotel.
‘Not really,’ I say. I don’t want to tell Ted what I witnessed at Maude’s house; I’m too embarrassed to admit I walked into the woman’s home like that. I do tell him I found out that Jasper is due back from a lifeboat training exercise this evening, so I expect to get my suitcase back soon. He must have dumped the case before leaving and not even realised the mistake yet.
‘I bought you something,’ says Ted, handing me a brown paper bag on his lap, which I open with a curious frown. ‘Jersey wonders,’ he says. ‘You wanted to try the local cuisine. I know this lady who still makes them the old-fashioned way, only fries them while the tide is going out.’
Inside the bag are a dozen small knots of baked dough. I take one out and bite into it, then offer them back to Ted. They are soft and sweet and still warm, and I let out an appreciative moan.
‘Oh, those are good,’ I say, covering my mouth with a hand. Ted gives a small nod.
‘They remind me of— Have you ever been to New Orleans?’ I ask and he nods.
‘Beignets?’
‘Yes!’ I grin, amazed he knows what I’m talking about. ‘Beignets are the best.’
The summer we were twenty-six, Dee and I did a road trip across the States. It was one of the most exciting holidays I’ve ever been on; we felt like Thelma and Louise, but without the sad ending. ‘When were you in New Orleans?’ I ask.
Ted pauses and his face changes. The laughter lines around his eyes fade.
‘My wife, Belinda, she loved travelling,’ he says softly, and I’m worried I’ve unsettled the clear water of our conversation by reminding him of his wife.
‘Not you?’ I ask.
‘I used to,’ he says, eyes straight ahead. ‘When we met, we were fuelled by wanderlust. We both worked in conservation, took jobs in far-off places and lived out of backpacks. We were boundless.’ Ted sniffs, ‘I was the one who changed, I guess, decided that I was going to retrain as a doctor. I had to root myself in order to study, and then I found I’d outgrown the wanderlust.’
‘But she hadn’t?’ I ask gently.
‘She said she was happy to stay still for a while, but I always sensed this restlessness in her. I think she associated standing still with having a conventional life. In the note she left, she said she didn’t want a life full of gas bills and school-gate mums, washing the car, picking up milk, trips to the hairdresser’s.’
‘But you wanted all that?’ I ask.
‘Trips to the hairdresser’s?’ Ted says with a rueful smile and pats his beard in a way that makes me smile. ‘Well, yes, maybe the rest of it.’ He shrugs. ‘Though mainly I just wanted her.’
Looking at Ted, I imagine this is what heartbreak looks like, and I wonder for a moment if true love really is worth the risk. My mother said she never fell in love again after Dad died. If she’d had the choice, I wonder if she would have swapped those four intense years with Dad for a lifetime with someone else, even if the intensity had to be diluted.
As I watch the emotion on Ted’s face, it makes me feel strangely powerless. If you believe in fate leading you to love, do you also have to believe it is fate who leads love away? Are we all just floating in the sea, completely dependent on the tide and the universe to steer us to a happy harbour, or do we have oars? Do we have a chance to steer ourselves to shore?
‘Thank you, Ted, for the doughnuts, that was thoughtful of you,’ I say, moving the conversation away from heartbreak and back to food.
‘You’re welcome. I’ve got to give you a proper taste of the island,’ and as he says it, the smile returns to his eyes.
When we arrive back at St Ouen’s at around five, Sandy is folding napkins and stacking them onto paper plates on the table in Gerry’s garden. She introduces me to her husband, Ilídio, who is scraping down a greasy-looking barbecue to take down to the beach. He is short, with dark stubble, tousled black hair and bright white teeth, which I assume must be veneers. I ask if I can help them get ready for the party, but they insist they have everything under control, so I take the opportunity to have a shower and wash my hair. I now have yesterday’s clothes back from the hotel, but Sandy has kindly left me an emerald-green wrap dress to borrow. It’s too big for me, but it’s clean, and if I wrap the cord around my waist twice, it just about works.
I look at my laptop and feel guilty at how little work I have achieved today. I need an angle for the mini-break piece, reasons to visit Jersey outside the summer season. Suki wants something original, and I thought being here would inspire me. Then I think of Ted’s wonders, the story of only making them when the tide is right, the community fete with all the homemade produce, all the potato fields and the cows. Food does feel like a big part of the island’s identity. Could I tell the island’s story through food – ‘a Taste of Jersey’, perhaps?
As an idea begins to form, my phone buzzes.
Vanya: Did you escape the sex dungeon? Been thinking about what you said, about whether you can be a feminist and a romantic. Love this quote from the singer Eartha Kitt: ‘I fall in love with myself, and I want someone to share it with me. I want someone to share me with me.’ That’s how I feel. V
I love that Vanya has kept thinking about our conversation. How many nights have we stayed up late with a glass of wine, talking about Schitt’s Creek one minute and Dostoevsky the next? I will never find a flatmate who can replace her.
Outside, I hear voices and poke my head through the doorway to see a group of people gathering on the beach beyond the fields. Ted is fixing balloons to a wall that follows a narrow footpath down to the sea, and I walk down to join him.
‘How’s your puff?’ Ted asks, handing me two uninflated balloons.
