‘Way too soon.’ He picks up the spare peg and tries again.
I grin. It’s far too easy to wind him up, and far too much fun.
Jamie gets the tent secured eventually, and we set up our bedding. I eye it with distrust. That foam pad does not look enticing. With the tent, we’ve rented the pads, sleeping bags, and pillows.
He points at the folded pillowcases. ‘Should we put the pillow sheets on?’
That cracks me up again. ‘They’re commonly known as pillowcases, but yes.’ Where the hell did I get this funny little human from?
‘Oh yeah.’
‘Sound familiar?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Go on, then.’
We kneel and unfold our pillowcases. He looks at his dubiously.
‘Like this.’ I ruche it up over my arms and show him how to hold it away from him and feed it over the far end of his pillow. ‘I’ll tell you an embarrassing story. When I went off to uni, I’d never changed my sheets. I had no idea how to do it. I got to St Andrew’s, and Mum had bought me new linen and a new duvet, but I didn’t have a clue how to get the duvet cover on. I was reading Economics, but I swear it took me an hour to figure it out. So let’s make a man of you and teach you how to put on a real, live pillowcase, yeah?’
I will saythis for the Aussies. Their barbecuing skills are worthy of their global fame. Even at a very basic campsite and caravan park, the barbecue they’ve laid on tonight is legendary. Jamie and I ate our bodyweight in sausages and burgers, and we’re sitting side by side in our old man folding chairs, doing a little stargazing. We’ve pushed our chairs right up next to each other, and his tousled head is lolling on my shoulder while I have my arm around him.
We’ve done a lot of this recently—just hanging about and staring at the sky—and it strikes me how much more life-affirming it is than watching Netflix. It’s prompted some big discussions too, about space and the meaning of life, as well as what should be straightforward questions from Jamie about the behaviour of the moon and the stars and the tides. His keen interest and smart questions have made me realise how woefully inadequate my working knowledge of astrophysics is.
There’s been a lot of hasty googling on my part.
‘What do you miss most about home?’ I ask him. ‘And if you don’t sayMum, I’m going to tell her.’
He laughs softly. ‘Mum. But also my PC, and playing Elden Ring.’
‘I get that. The stars are pretty cool, though.’
‘Yeah. They are. What do you miss the most?’
I consider. ‘Macchiato from that place on Portobello. And Soph.’
‘Oooh. You love her.’
‘You know it.’
‘You call her all the time, and you never want to hang up.’
This seems unfair. I’ve been consciously limiting my phone time with Soph so Jamie doesn’t feel as though I have one mental foot back in England. But it’s always gutting to hang up on her. ‘Well, I miss her. But also, we haven’t been together that long. Being away from her is a chance to get to know each other properly, you know? To have some good conversations.’Without constantly being distracted by trying to fuck her instead.
‘Are you going to marry her?’
I look up at the night sky. It’s a lot better lit here than it was at Tukkee Wurrow, but it’s still aeons better than the light pollution of London. I should probably be better at picking out the constellations by now. ‘I want to marry her. I love her very much, and I think she’s one of the best human beings I’ve ever met. That’s a pretty good basis for spending my life with someone, I think.’
‘Do you think she’s a better human being than Mum?’ he asks, and I jolt.
‘No! God, no. Your mum is an amazing person—she’s so loving. So warm. She’s incredible. But I wasn’t the best version of myself when I was with your mum, not by a long shot. And I didn’t even realise. So that made things really tough on her, and I’ll always regret that. Soph knows how to handle me. She has a lot of expertise in this stuff—in why we do the things we do, and why our different parts can struggle with different things. She’s the reason I’ve been on this journey. I have a lot to thank her for.’
‘She makes you really happy.’
‘Youmake me really happy.’ I rub my cheek against the top of his head. ‘But yes, she does, too. How would you feel if I asked her to marry me?’
He shrugs against me. ‘I dunno. It’s fine. I’m cool with it.’