I would rather be anywhere– literallyanywhere–than having a drink with Jon tonight.
‘I’ve actually already been invited out before the gig,’ I lie quickly, before my rational brain can intervene. ‘But I’m sure I’ll see you there.’
I mean, I’m going to do everything in my power to avoid bumping into him, but he is still my boss. I can’t push my luck.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment or two, and when he does, there’s a strange quality to his voice. ‘Yeah, I mean, that’s fine. It’ll be good to see you.’
And then he hangs up before I can say goodbye.
Not that I particularly mourn the loss, of course. He’s got a nerve, lying to my face– well, to my ear– and then askingme out in his next breath. Not to mention that he lied about his mum being in hospital, for God’s sake. I don’t know if it’s because of what happened with Mina or because of what happened with Gilly, but that one just hit below the belt.
I’m buzzing with anger, the kind I know I’m not going to be able to shake if I stay cooped up in here, and so I grab my jacket and head out of the annexe. There’s a path down to the East Pier just to the right of the cottage, and I follow it down, feeling the sting of sea breeze on my face. It shocks some of the adrenaline out of me straight away.
It’s a colder day today, still bright but with a definite autumnal bite in the air, and I wrap my jacket around myself as I march down onto the pier. It’s much quieter here than on the other side of town. I can only see one person ahead of me, and they look like they’re coming back in this direction. It doesn’t matter anyway– I know where I’m going, and I’ll wrestle someone away if I need to.
Who am I kidding? I’m angry, but I’m still me. What will happen is I’ll stand to the side and politely wait for someone to leave if I need to.
I reach the end of the stone pier and cross the narrow footbridge onto the pier extension. The further I walk out, the more I feel it– the same thing I felt on the other pier with Bram. The wind is so strong out here that it seems to catch the feelings right out of my chest and throw them to the sea below.
By the time I reach the end of the pier extension and grip onto the metal rail, I’m already feeling better, but as I stare out into the vast waters of the North Sea, I do something which is very unlike me.
I yell.
I yell so much that after a while my throat burns and my eyes water and I feel every ounce of tension empty out of me, lost to the churn of the waves below. At this moment, with the roar ofthe wind in my ears and the sting of saltwater in my eyes, I feel absolutely free.
Free from the rage I feel towards Jon.
Free from the anxiety of Mina being ill.
Free from the rejection of my mother being more interested in her readers than she ever was in me.
At this moment, I feel like I could do anything. And as all of the negative energy rushes out of me, I suddenly know exactly what it is that I need to do.
I need to write Mina’s article, exactly as she would have.
I’m not going to exploit Bram to make a headline. I’m going to do what I do best instead. I’m going to be his cheerleader, showing the world how brilliant he is. It’s what he’d do for me, and, most importantly, it’s the right thing to do. I’m a habitual doer of the right thing, and no one’s going to make me feel bad about that. I’m proud of it.
I holler one more time into the open sea before I walk back up the pier, my mind clearer than it’s been for a very long time.
As I climb back up the sloped footpath to the cottage, I see Peggy on the front steps. She waves as she sees me, like she’s been waiting for me.
‘Lucy,’ she chirps as I get closer. ‘I hoped I might see you. We’re having a get together here before the gig.’ Her face breaks into a warm smile. ‘It’s nothing fancy, just a bit of food to fuel us up for the night. I’d love it if you could join us.’
I can’t believe it. I didn’t lie to Jon after all. Turns out I do have plans, I just didn’t know about them.
‘I’d really like that,’ I reply, beaming back at her, and it makes her squeak to herself excitedly, clapping her hands together with glee.
‘Amazing! Come round any time after five,’ she says, and she gestures to the door like I might have forgotten where she lives.‘We can all walk round to the bar together, too. Save you having to make the journey on your own.’
There’s a warmth to her words, a protectiveness about them, which makes me smile. I’m not really used to being looked after, and I like it a lot. I leave her with a thank you and pop back round to the annexe to get myself ready.
But first I have some business to attend to.
I open my laptop and delete every version of the document I was working on. I even go into the other document where I’d been keeping my rough notes and delete that, too– the revelations about Bram’s mum, his reputation as a womaniser, the fight with Dean, even his fear of bats– all of it gone with a few clicks of my trackpad.
It feels good to see it all disappear. It’s like I’m keeping his confidence rather than betraying it. I even feel good about keeping Dean’s secrets, however much of an arsehole he may be. I’ll start again in the morning with a clean sheet and a clear conscience.
Because, although I can’t deny that the idea of Jon not getting what he wants is pretty satisfying, this is really more about me. It’s about me finally not caring about pleasing other people and making what I know is the right choice.