Page 31 of The Typo

To my surprise he blushed and looked away. Funny how he didn’t like being played at his own game.

‘How are you getting on in the Cellar Bar?’ I asked. ‘You must be nearly finished by now. Or not far off at least. I’ll come down to inspect it at the end of the day. I’m looking forward to seeing the result of your hard work.’

I didn’t wait for an answer. I marched upstairs and into my office.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: 4 Feb, 11:14

Subject: Re: Phone call

Hi Amy,

It was great to chat last night, or should I say this morning?! Thanks for staying up way past a civilised hour to make it happen. Next time, I should be the one to take the hit on the time difference. I’m so happy that there will be a next time. Although it would have been good to see you, I’m glad in the end that the storm meant the video call didn’t work. At least on the phone we got to speak for longer and it was lovely to hear your voice at last. There’s no way of making this sound not cheesy (hopefully not creepy though, it’s meant genuinely) but I could listen to you talk in your soft Scottish accent for hours. I wish I’d kept my Cornish burr, but on my first day at uni someone took the piss, saying it made me sound stupid, and being an impressionable teenager, I of course decided that the best thing to do was to suppress it. I worked hard at pulling back the R sounds, until I sounded wonderfully (in my mind) neutral. But nowadays I’m sad that I rejected such an important part of who I am. Now I’m a ‘grown up’ I try not to take other people’s opinions so much to heart. They can think what they like, but as long as I’m not hurting anyone, I will live my life in the way I choose to. *Gets down from hobby horse.*

What I meant to say last night before the storm cut us off was this: I’m wishing you the very best of luck for your big audition. I can’t believe we didn’t get on to talking about that properly. Is this for another concert series? I’m sure you’ll smash it.

Oh, and don’t forget to send me a link to those amazing reviews you mentioned in previous emails. I tried to google them when the internet finally came back to life, but maybe it’s because I’m in South America at the moment and it’s throwing the algorithms off, but I couldn’t find anything. I’m looking forward to seeing them when we next return to port. We’re setting sail in half an hour. (I still find it weird that we refer to it as ‘setting sail’ as the expedition ship couldn’t be further from the simple sailing vessels which that phrase suggests.) I’ve already taken my seasickness medication so I’m hoping that this time it will be better. The doc says it’ll work miracles, and I’m sure she knows what she’s talking about … unless her confidence is part of the placebo effect? I probably shouldn’t think too much about that in case it undoes it. And fear not, as per your advice, I’ve got a stash of ginger biscuits too, so I know I’m well covered.

This first part of the voyage means doing my least favourite kind of photography—getting snapshots of the guests on board before they go into the formal welcome dinner with the captain. It’s nothing against the guests personally, but I’d take penguins any day over having to dress up in black tie, although I suppose we all do resemble those creatures when we’re togged up like that. Here’s hoping I can remember how to fasten my bow tie later. The captain is a bit of a stickler for tradition, so no clip-on ones for us.

Right, I’d better disappear as it’s nearly time for muster drill.

Hope you have a lovely day.

C x

PS: thanks for letting me go on about the steward situation. You’re right, you really are a good listener. The guy has left the boat now. Thankfully he went without causing any difficulties. I do feel for him, but there wasn’t really another option.

PPS: I’m blaming the storm for this, although that might be unjust, but I’ve been having trouble connecting my camera to the computer, hence no penguin photos attached. I’m really sorry and I’ll do my best to send them at the end of this voyage instead. Speak soon x

I allowed myself thirty seconds of feeling guilty and inadequate, then I pulled myself together, forcing myself to channel Amy 2.0 and follow up on my intention to make her a reality. Cameron had asked me about a supposed music audition. I’d already promised myself I was going to go busking. Now I needed to add the small matter of ‘auditioning for something’ to the list of things to do to make up for my little white lies. It didn’t mean committing myself to going after a place in the Royal Scottish National Orchestra. But perhaps I could look into joining a local amateur orchestra. It would be good to find a group to help me reignite my passion for music, and maybe make new friends along the way. After all, a big part of the reason why I’d got myself into this mess in the first place was because of my loneliness.

I did a quick online search and sent off some speculative messages to a couple of Edinburgh-based orchestras before I could change my mind.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: 4 Feb, 11:29

Subject: Late night/early morning!

Hi Cameron,

So, you’re a West Country lad, are you? I’ll restrain myself from making any jokes about cider and combine harvesters. I’m sure that kind of thing was part of the reason why you decided to ditch your natural accent, plus I know how infuriating it is when people make tartan jokes, or worse, sleazy comments about what a Scottish person wears under their kilt, such a weird obsession.

As you can probably tell from the way I’ve rolled out the West Country clichés, I’ve never actually been there. Of course, I’ve seen gorgeous pictures, but nobody can really know what a place is like until they experience it in real life. Perhaps I’ll visit one day. That sounds like I’m shamelessly angling for an invitation. Maybe I am!

I paused. Was I coming on too strong? But the new, bolder Amy wasn’t going to waste precious time worrying about that kind of thing. I carried on typing.

I’m sending all my best anti-vomiting vibes your way. I’m hoping that right about now you are skipping merrily about the ship, getting ready to snap away at the penguin-dressed passengers later and inspiring the rest of the crew with your renewed zest for maritime life. If not, keep on nibbling at those ginger biscuits and pray for steady seas.

If you don’t mind, I won’t say anything more about my audition just for now. Us musicians can be a superstitious bunch, and I don’t want to jinx anything. But I will be practising hard, so keep your fingers crossed for a good outcome. I’ll let you know how I get on once it’s over and done with. I’ll admit I’m feeling as nervous as I did for my very first violin audition way back when I was in school. Maybe one day I’ll be able to feel blasé about these things. But I’m not sure that would be a good thing. Remember that advice I gave you about nerves being a good sign, and an indication we really care about the thing we’re doing? Well, I pinched it from my sister Liv, and she’s a wise one, and I really should listen to her, although I’ll deny it if she finds out I’ve said that! Do you have any siblings? I can’t remember you mentioning any. Sorry for not having asked before.

Love,

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