Page 90 of One Summer

Alas for fate indeed.

The filmer pans around and a dozen other detectorists are whooping and hollering congratulations. This is, without doubt, the best moment of Max’s life.

I click off the video and rub my eyes.

I could have gone my whole life without watching my ex-boyfriend get engaged to Greta Honeycake, but no, I had to keep watching, I had to put myself through it, even when I knew which way it was going, and that I would never be able to erase this memory from my mind.

I can feel tears sliding down my cheeks and I don’t want them to. Max and I were never right for each other, and I think deep down I always knew that, but this still hurts. Four words come burning into my brain.

Max is gone forever.

Seventy-Four

Mistake

After I’ve tended to all of my reptile charges, I go for a quick jog around the island. It’s later than I realised, and the cliff paths are deserted. The breeze is blowing offshore, and the light has softened to its evening haze. I put in my earbuds and flick on my dancefloor classics playlist, which soothes me because it reminds me of my mum. Girls do just want to have fun, I think, as I hum along to the melody and try not to get spooked, which is somehow easier with Cyndi Lauper bellowing pick-me-uppers straight into my eardrums. It’s very unlikely I’ll be murdered on Loor as there’s no way for a murderer to make a quick getaway, and it feels especially unlikely while ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’ is playing. What would be the odds of that? Astronomical. Then the song changes.

Am I going to be murdered while ‘Karma Chameleon’ plays in my ears? I’m not sure if the karma or the chameleon would be most insulting. Karma suggests I deserve it and ‘chameleon’ is the derogatory description Henny used when describing my behaviour with Max.

When I get home, I hear Caleb’s voice on the wind. He’s on the phone, in the kitchen by the sounds of it, and the French doors are open. His tone is unmistakeable: he’s upset. He must have had bad news of some sort.

The sun is setting, the last rays of warmth are disappearing and the wind is beginning to build.

I don’t want to eavesdrop on his call, but he has a deep voice that carries, and I hear him say something that makes me stop in my tracks.

‘It’s not like that. She’s probably the most boring woman I’ve ever met. Her idea of a good time is watching mudlarking and metal-detecting videos on her phone. Yes, I know I watch dog-grooming videos, but that’s different. Everyone loves dogs. The Thames is gross – it’s full of sewage.’

I freeze. He’s talking about me. He has to be.

‘There is such a thing. Honestly. I watched over her shoulder once, and it was like watching grass grow.’

Mudlarking and metal-detecting videos are not the least bit boring. It’s people finding treasure, as proven by Max’s latest upload. More specifically, it’s Max and Greta finding treasure. He knows how much Max got in my head, and that I’m still getting over the break-up. And who is he even talking to? Does he have a partner back on the mainland? If so, why hasn’t he mentioned her before? Why hasn’t Betty?

‘We haven’t been flirting with each other, I don’t care what my nan says. She’s just a neighbour, Marlene, so cool your jets already.’

Marlene. He’s talking to a woman.

‘Not a special neighbour. Come on, give me some credit… I’ve seen her watching videos of a man with a circular saw cutting open rocks to see what’s inside… Yes, seriously.’

The rocks he’s referring to were septarian ‘lightning rocks’, and the guy cutting them open was hot as hell. He was thrilled every time he cut a stone with a nice pattern on the inside. Watching a person be passionate about their thing is my catnip. I appreciate enthusiasm and love seeing people get a kick out of their hobbies. Plus, he was going to polish up those rocks to sell. It was his livelihood.

And it was edge-of-the-seat tense. What’s not to love about watching a man push a baked potato-sized rock onto a huge circular saw? He might have cut his fingers off. And then there was the big reveal when he opened the two halves and held them up to the camera. That was not boring. That was drama. That was art. That was also quite the thirst trap.

‘Enjoy Hawaii. Yes, I’ll give Ted a cuddle from you.’

She’s in a tropical paradise. She knows Ted. If she was here right now, she’d want to cuddle Ted. Could it be Caleb’s sister?

No, it has to be a girlfriend. Or perhaps a more casual arrangement. Is she coming to Loor? Where will she stay? In his house, obviously – I’ll probably hear them drinking wine and laughing on the balcony. Worse. Much worse.

At that moment, he looks through the window and sees me. His mouth falls open, horrified to know I’ve heard.

I don’t walk – I run, chest burning with humiliation. My hand is shaking as I slot my door key in the lock, and I walk straight into the bathroom, shut myself in and bolt the door.

I should have suspected this was how he felt about me, since the moment we first met and bickered about seashells, but I thought after all these weeks hanging out together, with Ted, we’d formed some sort of bond.

No. He thinks I’m boring. He thinks my YouTube videos are as interesting as watching grass grow.

But then, what are all the things I could say about him?

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