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Chapter 30
I think he was talking metaphorically, because he does sleep – spooned against my back, while I struggle to drift off. I could never sleep with someone spooning me, but I don’t want to let go of him, so I just lie there, awake, a giant grin plastered on my face, wondering how long I have to wait before I can wake him up by kissing his neck. In the morning, after we’ve indulged in another extremely satisfying movie marathon, showered, and dressed, Ted cooks up the meal he bought us last night. I’m not convinced I’m going to fancy lobster for breakfast, but when he presents it on toast with eggs on the side, it turns out I’m ravenous.
Ted points out the fisheries on the headland, visible from the house, a converted bunker, built for war but now the site of fresh fish barbecues and rosé by the sea. I think of the history that bunker has seen, and I feel briefly disappointed that I won’t be writing my foodie mini-break article for Love Life now. Food is clearly taken seriously here, and so much history seasons every plate.
Ted and I sit at the patio table, and between mouthfuls just gaze at each other as though, if we blink, the other person might disappear.
I glance over to the next-door garden.
‘This is where Sandy comes out and says “Morning!” in that voice she does,’ I say.
He nods. ‘The number of times I’ve had Sandy give me that knowing “Morning”, I should put up a higher wall.’
‘You’ve cooked lobster breakfasts for a lot of lady friends, have you?’ I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.
‘I doubt there would have been a cooked breakfast when we were teenagers,’ he says. ‘My culinary skills are pretty limited now, let alone back then.’
‘Your parents were fine with you having girls sleep over? Growing up, Mum never let me have a guy in my room with the door closed, even when I brought boyfriends home from university.’
Mentioning my mum instantly puts her face in my mind, and I think how much she would have liked Ted – his easy demeanour, his complete lack of pretension, how thoughtful he is. It seems wrong that she went to her grave thinking Aaron was who I ended up with; Aaron who put the handbrake on at junctions. Then again, perhaps she knew me better than I knew myself and sensed that he would not be a long chapter.
‘I think when we were teenagers, it was more about sleeping out in the dunes than bringing people home,’ Ted says, shifting in his chair. ‘So, what would you like to do today? I’ll take you anywhere.’
‘I’m going to help you clean the house, get it finished.’
‘That doesn’t sound like a great way to spend the day – there’s so much of the island I haven’t shown you yet.’
He reaches out to cover my hand with his, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this content in my entire life. How can everything change, in a weekend? Then we hear a voice from across the wall.
‘Morning!’ Sandy says, standing right there, hand on hip, a clownish smile of satisfaction that her match-making ambitions have come to fruition.
‘Do you want to join us?’ Ted asks, leaning back in his chair. I catch a glimpse of his chest beneath his linen shirt, and a flash of what we were doing earlier this morning sends a tingle of heat across my skin.
‘I wouldn’t think to intrude,’ she says, making wide, embarrassing eyes at us both.
‘Sandy, I assume the incredible cabinet Laura gave me is Ilídio’s work?’ Ted asks.
‘He told me Laura had a big hand in the design,’ she says.
‘It’s now my favourite object in the entire house,’ Ted says, turning back to look at me with a twinkle in his eyes.
‘It’s pretty much the only object in the house,’ I say, following his eyes with mine. I love that I can just stare at him now. I don’t have to look away; I can just shamelessly stare at his ludicrously attractive face.
After breakfast, we set to work clearing the house, and I help Ted pull out a few of the small objects he wants to keep, things that will fit in the little drawers and windows of the memory cabinet.
‘I thought this compartment could be for one of your mother’s patchouli bags,’ I suggest, ‘and this one could hold a few pieces of her sea glass collection—’
‘I think I prefer seeing the sea glass on you,’ he says, pulling me into his arms.
‘Come on, we’ll never get this finished if you keep distracting me,’ I say, nudging him away with my head. ‘These little shelves here,’ I say, pointing to two of the rectangular openings at the bottom of the cabinet, my head feeling giddy as he starts kissing up behind my ear. ‘You could put little photos in, one of Gerry and your mum, and then something of yours here.’
‘Can I put you in the memory cabinet?’ he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. I admit defeat and give up all pretence of trying to keep the house clear-out PG-rated.
It takes us a while, but we finally do get the house empty, the carpet vacuumed, and the last bits and pieces into boxes for either the charity shop, the auction house or the skip. All that remains to keep, Ted has packed in cases, to either store or drive back to England on the ferry.
‘Will you take this back to London with you?’ I ask, nodding towards the memory cabinet.
‘I guess so,’ Ted says, a heavy look returning.
