Page 76 of One Summer

‘But I bet you had fun,’ she says, with a knowing look I don’t like at all.

‘What are they doing with the pound coins?’ I ask, as Goodithea and Radigon continue their game. They appear to be taking turns at sliding pound coins around the table.

‘It’s hard to explain,’ Betty says. ‘But it’s called Who’s Next?’

Radigon turns over a coin which seems to have something written on it. She whoops and hollers and holds it aloft.

‘Come and look,’ she says to us. ‘I’m the winner!’

She passes me the pound coin in her shaky hand, and I see what’s written on it in black Sharpie.

The word is DEAD.

‘I’m next,’ she says, cheerfully. ‘And in the meantime, I get to spend all this money.’

‘Best of three,’ Goodithea says, her face souring.

Sixty-Two

Loorians

I have a truly wonderful few hours with Betty, getting to know all her friends. I have a conversation about London tourist spots with Ancilla – Maud’s daughter, who tells me she’ll chuck anyone out of the Merry Maid, no matter the size of them or the heat of their temper, if she hears them use a slur. Half vinegar, half sunshine is how she describes herself, and which half you get depends on her mood, the phase of the moon and whether she approves of the expression in your eyes, which she insists are windows to the soul – and she can spot a dirty soul a mile off.

There’s also Clemence, who’s on Loor working as a waiter in the main hotel. He does very well with the tourist crowds, both in terms of tips and his love life.

I meet Mair Eluned, who’s Welsh, and here because she likes the Celtic connection. She feels an affinity for the island because she had a great-grandmother from Loor, who’s buried here somewhere. She’s never found the grave, as it wasn’t marked on account of her being a fallen woman – at least, that was the family rumour. Mair runs the Age Concern group, Knit and Natt, and she does the Tuesday bingo. But it’s cat bingo, bird bingo and bug bingo – never numbers bingo. She’s very diverse about her bingo. And she’s always hated maths.

I meet Ian, who cleans the public toilets. He moved down from Yorkshire and makes sure to post a disgusting ‘bog of the day’ picture on his social media feed, just so that his northern friends and family don’t think it’s all stunning views and hippie beach fires.

I meet Kattren, the Merry Maid’s most recent employee, who’s just here for the summer but is already deeply in love with Halloon, who – according to Betty – doesn’t know she exists, as he’s so busy with his small herd of cows and the making of cheese.

Finally, I speak to Adeliza – who has her own coffee and pastry stand at the harbour. Betty warns me in advance that she’s very private, well-mannered and never complains, except about one thing: Amos, the ice cream man who got a permit a few years after she did, and repeatedly damaged her business by stealing the younger half of her customers. Apparently, they started out as enemies, but after three seasons of animosity, they’ve grown to be friends and she’s currently pregnant with his child. Later, high on alcohol-free beer and laughter, Adeliza tells me in confidence that most of the islanders think she and Amos are still mortal enemies. They’re all very confused by her pregnancy, as for the first few months, they just assumed she’d taken to eating her own pastries. She’s eight months pregnant now and no one’s asked her about it, as they don’t want to cause offence. She’s waiting to see how long it will take. Amos thinks it won’t be until she has a newborn baby strapped to her chest and even then, he thinks they won’t like to presume it’s hers.

I’m boggled by the depth and breadth of the locals who live on Loor, and wish I had my notebook so that I could make a note of everyone’s names and reasons for being here. They’re so generous with their time and so warm in the welcome of a complete stranger that it’s overwhelming. I feel like I’ve been wrapped in one of Radigon’s blankets and it’s heating me from the soul outwards.

After one of the most joyful, laughter-filled afternoons of my life, I finally leave the Merry Maid, but Betty stays to spend more time with her great-aunts.

Out in the garden, there’s a hunched, broad figure that draws my eye.

Caleb is sitting out here, green beanie on his head, drinking a pint and reading a book, sea fog swirling around him. He looks so completely downcast and alone that I almost feel bad.

Ted lunges powerfully, and I drop his leash. Before I can stop him, he’s bombing towards the table, as if he’s about to greet his favourite person in the world.

In the seconds before he notices Ted, I see him rub his eyes as if he’s tired. No, it’s more than that. He’s upset. Is he crying?

He told his nan he wouldn’t come; she told me that he firmly declined her invitation, but he’s here.

What made him change his mind?

Ted leaps onto his lap and, before he breaks into a smile of surprise, I see it. There are tears on his cheeks.

Sixty-Three

Astronaut

‘What’s wrong?’ I say, when he looks around at me. ‘You’re crying.’

‘My eyes are watering. It’s hay fever. All the stupid spring flowers are killing me.’

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