Page 54 of One Summer

‘You’re not afraid of snakes?’

I shake my head. ‘Well – I’m afraid of how much time I’m going to be spending looking after them. According to my notes, some of them won’t have a bowel movement unless they’re belly down on grass and enjoying some fresh air.’

She widens her eyes.

‘I didn’t realise snakes were so particular,’ she says. ‘You’re going to need a solid-gold routine.’

‘I’m starting to realise that.’

‘You aren’t going to be able to deviate, or you’ll end up stressed out of your head. Are you disappointed?’

Am I disappointed? This question hits me in the gut. Am I?

‘It’s just not what I had in mind for this period of my life.’

‘I understand that well enough, but real life is compromise with a few spicy moments thrown in to ease the tedium,’ she says and then adds, ‘Oh!’ as if she’s just remembered something. She begins rummaging in her large, leather handbag and brings out a massive can that she hands to me.

‘I heard about the bitey bastards.’

Flea spray. Lord knows how she knew, but I could kiss her.

‘Thank you,’ I smile, garden roses in one hand, enormous can of pesticide in the other. ‘How did you know?’

‘Ah, news travels fast on Loor. Spins around like a whirlwind,’ she says. ‘There’s a deep circularity to this island, you know?’ She’s looking me in the eye, as if this is important.

‘A circularity?’ I enquire, frowning slightly.

‘Not in the shape of the coastline; Loor is crescent-shaped, as you must have noticed, hence the ancient Cornish folks calling it Loor, which means moon in Cornish,’ she says.

This I did know. Not through noticing the geographical contours of the island, but because it’s mentioned in the first paragraph of every article about Loor that I’ve read on the internet.

‘But it’s circular in the way the people live their lives,’ she continues. ‘The way they tell their stories; the way information moves. I suppose it’s the same everywhere, really, but the effect is amplified here, the island being so small. Nothing says secret for long.’

I look at her face again, at her wrinkled skin, cornflower-blue eyeshadow and cherry-red lips. She gives off the vibe of having been through a lot in her life, but has somehow come out of the other side smiling.

‘I tell you what, girlie: why don’t you come for a little walk with me?’

‘Now?’

I look down at my body, which is very clearly wearing pyjamas.

‘It’s no bother,’ she says, misunderstanding me entirely. ‘If you’re going to live on this island, you might as well invest an hour of your time talking to someone who’s lived on Loor her whole life. There are things you need to know. “Known unknowns” but also “unknown unknowns” as that American bloke said.’

‘But I’m not even dressed. I’m still in my jammies.’

‘Nobody on Loor cares about that. Put a coat on if you’re chilly.’

‘Okay…’ I say, reluctantly grabbing my parka, not quite sure why I’ve agreed to this, but also not knowing how to get out of it.

‘First stop: next door. It’s time your neighbour gave you a proper welcome!’

She turns abruptly and walks up my steps towards the magnificent house next door, which stands a little further back from the sea and has a neatly mown lawn sloping towards the cliff.

I try to imagine the look on the owner’s face when he opens the door and sees Betty and me standing there.

I spot a Ring doorbell, which Betty presses, with no response. She knocks three times, but the door doesn’t open.

‘Strange,’ she says. ‘Oh well, we’ll come back later.’

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