I notice a line of sweat forming on his upper lip and am about to reply with a sarcastic quip when Spencer waves his arm in my direction, barely missing me with spray from his glass. Clearly tipsy, he doesn’t seem to notice.
‘Leave her alone. You can’t talk bro, what with your British skin – you’re a lobster without your factor 50.’
Tilly laughs as Jools turns a slight shade of red. ‘Now, now boys. No fighting over us girls.’
I chuckle and am suddenly aware that Spencer keeps glancing at me and has angled himself closer. I catch his eye. ‘It’s OK, I’m very much used to it. Many a man has fought till the end in my honour.’
He smirks, and I watch as the corners of his twinkling eyes crinkle. ‘I don’t disbelieve it.’
I don’t know if I’m imagining it but I’m aware of an underlying energy between us. Next to me, Tilly makes a sudden turn to the bar and I glance at the empty glass in her hand. Before she has the chance to walk away, I make the executive decision to call it quits on my night.
‘Sorry everyone, but I think I’m going to have to head back. I’ve got an early start tomorrow. Got to set up a bank account so I can actually get paid.’
Tilly pouts, grabbing my arm. ‘Don’t go yet, one more drink and then I’ll leave with you.’
‘Yes, you should stay, one more won’t hurt,’ Spencer adds, turning to me fully. When he’s facing me, it’s hard not to notice how muscular his frame is. His thick neck meets broad shoulders and the stretched taut material across the upper arms of his shirt allow me to take in his biceps. My eyes flit back to his large nose and only then do I notice what looks like a hint of cauliflower ear.
‘I’m sure it won’t be the last we see of her,’ Jools cuts in and I’m surprised to see there’s a small smile.
I smile in return. ‘Of course not. Once I’ve kicked this jet lag, I’ll be a bit more social.’ Handing my drink to Tilly, I re-adjust my handbag and dig out my house keys. ‘Here, you take this. I’m going to make a move now and I’ll see you at home later.’ She’s looking at me with a sulky expression, but I choose to ignore it and finish saying my goodbyes.
The walk home is barely fifteen minutes and despite being eight-thirty in the evening, it’s still light and although tired, I feel full of the joys of life. It’s hard to believe how much Tilly has crammed into a few days. As I approach the marina, I spot her boat in the distance, bobbing ever so slightly on the water as a bigger cruiser’s wake draws closer.
I hadn’t expected something quite as luxurious as the almost-new eighteen-foot cabin cruiser with cream leather seating, which Tilly claimed to have bought ‘for a steal’. Even more unexpected was the fact that there are no requirements for a licence to drive it. As we’d taken our first spin on the water, Tilly in the driver’s seat and me opposite her, I’d felt like I’d been transported into a Bond movie. I’m not entirely sure she fully understood the maritime code, and I’m certain we were in the wrong channel at times, but with the sun burning into my skin and the spray of water as Tilly recklessly revved the throttle, I still couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. Waving at other boaters we passed seemed to be the norm and once we reached the open water, the reality of Bermuda’s stunning delights hit me full force. The green turquoise sea had stayed calm and transparent around us. The abundance of darker reef – which I had been charged with the task of spotting in order to avoid crashing – were clear to see with the visible eye. Aside from the many fish, I certainly wasn’t expecting the turtles. Spotting two on our short journey as they swam a short distance from the boat, Tilly had laughed at my excitement, telling me to get used to it. It was the moment I realised that coming to Bermuda was the best risk I could have taken. The life here is so very different to that which I’ve left behind; there’s so much more adventure and opportunity available to me. There’s so much of the unknown and unfamiliar still to explore. Every day so far here has given me a new experience and I seriously can’t remember the last time I found life this thrilling or fun.
The heat hits me as I walk into the apartment and I shake off my shoes, immediately reaching for the air-conditioning remote. It might have only been a matter of days but as I open the door to the bedroom which I’m now able to call mine, I feel that sense of contentment that has eluded me for so long. ‘How lucky I am,’ I whisper to myself as I look around the neat, tidy room, thankful that Tilly had the foresight to clear out her clutter, as she called it, and make it homely for me.
I’ve barely settled on the sofa with a cup of tea, when my phone rings and Amy flashes onto my screen.
‘Hi, how’s it going?’ Amy’s high-pitched voice booms into my ear.
‘Wow, someone’s been on the happy pills.’ Giggling, I’m thankful that she can’t see the weird look I give to the phone. ‘It’s great actually. I’m loving it here. Today was another busy one – Tilly showed me Front Street which is the main parade of shops and we did lunch.’
‘Well, it’s alright for some.’ Her tone is sharp, and I wait for the return of the high-pitched excitement, but it doesn’t come. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be doing more important things than clothes shopping and playing at being a lady that lunches.’
‘That was as well as the important stuff I did earlier,’ I respond, a slight edge to my voice. ‘So, tell me what’s going on there.’
‘Oh, you know, the usual. Cleaning up after the kids, the dogs, Jack. Not to mention cooking breakfast, lunch, dinner and being a general skivvy all round.’ There’s no hint of the usual playfulness or irony in her voice – instead it’s a fed-up attitude that I seldom hear from Amy.
‘Are you OK?’ Concerned, I put down my tea and reach for my laptop on the table in front of me. ‘I’m about to load up Skype, do you want to do a face to face so that I can see you properly?’
‘No, don’t bother. I wouldn’t want to keep you from all your important tasks. You’ve probably got late night cocktails and new friends to waste your time on.’ The irritation and sarcasm in her voice is palpable.
‘Amy, what’s up with you? Why are you being so moody?’ I’m aware of the exasperated tone of my voice but I don’t care. There’s no way I’m letting her ruin my evening.
‘Nothing’s wrong, I’m just sick of hearing how perfect your life is. Anyway, I don’t want to argue about it. I’ve spoken to you now, so there’s no need to carry on this conversation.’ She goes silent and I can’t help but feel shocked. I’ve never in my adult years heard Amy be so catty towards me.
Taking a moment to gather myself, I bite my bottom lip in irritation. ‘OK, well clearly you’re in a bizarre mood tonight, so yes let’s speak another time.’
It takes less than ten seconds for her to say her disgruntled goodbyes and I’m left staring at the phone in disbelief. What the hell was that all about?
Hearing the key turn in the lock, I quickly switch on the TV and try to dispel my confusion. In our teenage years, we’d always been at one another’s throats. There’d always been a hint of competition between us and Amy had regularly tried to put a dampener on things when I was happy. But I thought we’d grown beyond that as adults? Sure, in the last few years – since becoming single – I might have relied more upon Amy’s support and opinion. And yes, that has sometimes led to contention due to her to believing that she knows what’s best for me. However, I honestly thought that me being so far away would’ve softened any doubts and antagonism she had about
