‘I’m a lawyer.’ Another half-truth; I’m nothing now. Maternity leave has slid into bereavement leave, which, surely, after my disappearance, has come to an end.
He lets out a low whistle, runs his hand through his hair. ‘Didn’t see that coming. What happened to being a scientist?’
‘I moved past it.’ As if botany was a teenage fad, no more than a hobby.
‘Are you here on holiday?’
I nod.
‘With family?’
My heart is in my throat. ‘They couldn’t make it this time.’
‘Well,’ he says, stretching out, his body still so lean. ‘Lucky I saw you.’ He appraises me from the other side of the boat. ‘You look exactly the same.’
‘Impossible.’ I cross my arms over my scar-ridden stomach, conscious of my thickened arms, the fat under my chin, all the things Daniel sees and now, I see too.
‘Yeah, you do.’
My cheeks flush.
‘You know I called you hundreds of times after I left you at the station.’
‘I thought you might have.’
‘You never answered.’
‘I threw my phone away.’ I remember opening my palm, letting it slip in the gap between the platform and the train, hearing it thud against the tracks.
‘Will you tell me what happened after?’ he asks gently. ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s just that I’ve always worried, wondered.’
I slip my hand into the hole of the life ring, feel its solid rubber under my fingers, I wish it could save me in the way I need to be saved but wishing is for children and I am all grown up now. ‘I had an abortion.’
He flinches and I hate myself, my words, my tone of voice, why did I say it so coldly? I don’t know him anymore, I have no idea what his beliefs are, his politics, but then he says, ‘Lauren, I’m so sorry,’ and I realise I’ve got this completely wrong. He isn’t flinching because ofwhat I did. He is flinchingfor me. And I think this is so much worse than his judgement, seeing the desperation of my choices reflected on his features.
‘I wish I could have been there for you.’
His words leave me breathless.Been there for me?During that time in Mrs Hannington’s study, I never let myself think about him, never let myself miss him, and I understand then, the tyranny of my shame, all the things it’s shut out.
‘You know, I tried to find you. But all I knew was your first name and that you were from London and you liked plants. Wasn’t much to go on. There are a lot of Laurens.’
In my chest, a firework bursts. ‘I found you on Facebook,’ I confess. ‘I read all your posts, watched all your videos.’
‘Why did you never message me?’
‘I didn’t know what to say.’ I still don’t.
His fingers toy with the rope. He is itching for the nets, for the winch, not this. Normal people don’t have space for the broken ones, like Daniel and me. That’s how it should be.
But Alex surprises me. He is as brave as an adult as he was as a child. ‘Were you okay?’
I meet his eyes, that transparent green. This is another chance, isn’t it? To let someone in. I could never do it, not completely, not with Alex or Mrs Hannington or Kit, I only ever gave them a sliver of me, never the whole. Even now, I still haven’t learnt that lesson, I can’t do it.
‘It was rough,’ I say. He waits to see if I will say any more but I can’t. ‘It’s not like you’ve had it easy either. I read you lost your father. What happened?’
He rubs the side of his face. ‘There’d been weeks of heavy snow, poor visibility so finally, when the forecast was calm, Dad and I were raring to get out. It was flat at the start and sunny, but then the swell grew suddenly, I’d never seen the sea change that quickly and then there was an entire horizon of water coming towards us, it sounded like a train.’ He cups one hand over his ear, as if he can still hear it. ‘I got tangled in the net, I was towed under but when I surfaced, I couldn’t find Dad. Nothing around me but fish boxes.’
My hand is over my mouth.