One Night on the Island(90)

There are only two pictures of us together. Mack turned his lens towards us once in bed, his arm outstretched. My head is resting on his shoulder, the white sheet tucked under my armpit, his fingers curved around my upper arm. In one shot we’re both looking directly into the lens, sex-drenched, and in the other my eyes are closed, his head turned away from the lens to press a kiss against my forehead. Love-drenched. I put the album back in its padded envelope. I don’t know when I’ll ever feel able to look at it again.

There’s an invitation tucked into the back to his exhibition at the end of February. I trace the bold black letters of his name slowly with my fingertip, thinking.

It’s five minutes to midnight on the last day of what has turned out to be the defining year of my life. I’m sitting on the boulder at the top of Wailing Hill, layered up because it’s freezing, a hip flask of whiskey in my pocket, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. I’ve come to sit up here with my thoughts, to let the year that’s gone by blow away on the wind and to catch the scent of the new one as it arrives from the east.

I whisper hello to Jupiter, wondering if Mack can see it too. He’s been heavy on my mind this evening. Looking through those photographs has brought him so near I can almost see the outline of him walking along the shoreline, his camera loose around his neck.

‘You know what?’ I speak out loud because I’m someone who talks to Jupiter now, clearly. ‘It’s okay. It’s okay to say it. I loved Mack Sullivan in the most sudden, spectacular, sexual, spiritual, protective, primal way imaginable, and for a little while he loved me back in all the same ways. It was proper human magic.’ I take a slug of whiskey, shuddering as it goes down.

‘Oh, I know what this island does,’ I say, conversational in that way whiskey makes you. ‘I’m on to it. Salvation has its own forcefield, spinning people in from across the globe to this tiny spit of rock at will. Barney came because Raff left. I arrived on the very same boat as Mack. I mean, come on! What are the odds of that?’ I sip again from the hip flask, shaking my head. ‘It’s the universe meddling on a grand scale. Audacious.’ I fall silent, thinking about the unexpected life I’ve found myself living here as I watch the rise and fall of the sea. One minute to midnight.

It occurs to me that I could end up living on this island for ever. I’ll be Carmen to Delta’s Dolores. It’s not the worst scenario I can imagine for myself. I mean, I probably won’t, but I’m happy here for now, which is big news. My mum’s coming over for a few days in February; I’m hoping some other visitors might make the journey at some point too. It’s an intentionally short-term plan; I’ll stay until spring and then see how I feel. How freeing, really, not to feel as if I’m striving for the next thing.

I check the time on my phone and as I stare at the screen it clicks over to midnight. London will be a riot of drunken kisses, the sky a blitz of fireworks. Here, nothing happens. It’s just me, Jupiter and the sea, and I’m okay with that. I don’t want to be my own flamingo for ever because I kind of liked loving someone else, but I’m content to be my own best friend and staunchest cheerleader for now. I’m my own temporary flamingo. I bump shoulders with the imaginary Emma Watson sitting beside me; I think she’d be proud of how far I’ve come. Out on the horizon, moonlight picks out the billowing ghost sails of the Pioneer.

‘Happy New Year!’ I didn’t plan on shouting, but my words come out at volume when I stand up and raise my arms, flask in one hand, phone in the other. ‘Here’s to you, Salvation, you’ve made a woman of me!’ I thought I might cry nostalgic tears tonight, but I laugh at my own keen sense of the melodramatic instead.

Sliding the flask into my coat pocket, I click open a message to Mack.

One – The photo album arrived today. Thank you! It made me cry, it’s so beautiful. I’m incredibly proud of you. Good luck with the exhibition.



Two – Happy New Year! I mean it. Do whatever it takes to be happy, Mack, you deserve it.



Three – X



I don’t type that I don’t regret him because, every now and then, I do. He’s set the bar unrealistically high, and I need to believe there are other people out there who can reach it. Maybe in time the universe will cast its love net wide for me again, bring a for ever love my way, but I can’t see how yet.

I push my phone into my pocket and head down towards the welcome lights of Otter Lodge. A brand spanking new year. Anticipation rather than fear bubbles behind my ribcage for what lies in the unshaped months ahead. The Pioneer won’t sail without me, because I am the pioneer.





Mack





17 January


Boston


I AM THEIR FOREST


‘Make a wish, Leo,’ Susie says, the huge birthday cake ablaze in her hands. Thirteen candles. The world has a brand-new teenager. How the hell do I have a teenage son? I think back to my own teen years and feel a very real fear. I was pretty rebellious back then, hard work for my mom, I realize now. Will Leo constantly push the boundaries too? Maybe, maybe not. He has a lot more people around him to lean on than I did.

‘Might be easier if you take the mask off, kid,’ I say. He’s pretty darn pleased with his new baseball gear, couldn’t wait to take photos of himself head-to-toe in the latest Sox uniform and catcher’s equipment.