They didn’t stay long at the beach. Billy and Pandora picked up their luggage and came to stay with them at the big gothic house. Richard Shepherd went back to his holiday with his wife and family.
While Amber fell into an exhausted sleep in the afternoon, Julia went with the others to explore the island on rickety bikes they found in the garage. It was scorching hot. The air smelt of the wide planes of salt marshes stretching out on either side of them as they cycled. They went past fields dotted with flocks of white herons, tiny roadside restaurants and white houses with battered palm trees in their gardens until they reached the sea and the rows of oyster beds. Fishermen shouted as they hauled in black crates of shellfish while a tractor launched a boat down the slipway into the water.
Julia paused to watch for a second, wishing Charlie was there, knowing he’d love this, before cycling to join the others who had stopped at a shack selling oysters.
Martin counted through everyone who would eat them. ‘I will,’ he said, ‘And Amber will, won’t she?’
Billy nodded. ‘Yeah and I will. Panda?’ he looked at Pandora who went over and inspected the shellfish.
‘Are they ethically sourced?’ she asked the tough-looking fisherwoman behind the makeshift counter.
The woman looked Pandora up and down, in her broderie anglaise smock, heart-shaped glasses and white-blonde top knot. ‘They are from the sea,’ she said, bluntly. ‘There.’ She turned and pointed towards the beds of oysters just behind them.
Pandora peered towards the water. ‘OK,’ she said, the answer appearing acceptable to her. ‘I’ll have a dozen.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ said Lovejoy, picking one up and giving it a sniff. ‘Love an oyster. Julia, are you having any?’ he asked.
Julia had been trying to avoid the question. She couldn’t think of anything more revolting – just the texture made her shudder – but she didn’t want to be the loser who said no. ‘OK,’ she said, voice clearly unsure.
Martin laughed. ‘I’ll eat yours if you hate them.’
When they cycled home, Pandora went rummaging through the house and came out with the big gold candelabra from the living room and sat it majestically on the long wooden garden table along with some paraffin lanterns that she hung from the tree branches.
Lovejoy found two tennis racquets and a dog-chewed ball and tentatively offered one to Billy. ‘Fancy a game, mate?’
Billy looked at the racquet. Julia saw Pandora pause while hanging a lantern to give Billy big-eyes, encouraging him to accept.
Billy put his glasses on and stood up, swiping his hair from his eyes. ‘OK but I’m not very good.’
Lovejoy held his arms wide and said, ‘Believe me, I’m no champion.’
Billy cracked a small smile.
Julia set the table and took orders from Martin to slice the lemons, wash samphire that they’d bought from the beach shack, and mix the gin and tonic, while Martin got busy shucking the oysters. Pandora dusted off an old record player and as the sun began to dim, loud French opera filled the garden.
Amber appeared in the doorway, bleary from sleep. She saw the gin and tonics and said, ‘Perfect. Just a dash of tonic in mine, please.’ Then settled herself down in one of the big armchairs out the back.
Julia came to sit next to her with the drinks. They watched the terrible game of tennis happening on the lawn. ‘They’re enjoying themselves,’ Julia said about Lovejoy and Billy.
‘Yes I hope so,’ said Amber, watching intrigued.
The peace was interrupted by the sound of Julia’s phone ringing.
Amber yawned. ‘Who’s that? Is that Charlie?’ she asked as Julia looked at who was calling.
Julia shook her head, staring at the name on the screen. She could feel her courage diminish. ‘It’s my mother,’ Julia said.
‘Don’t answer,’ Amber suggested.
‘I have to, otherwise she’ll ring and ring. And then call Charlie.’
‘Oh,’ Amber made a face. ‘Just remember you’re in control,’ she said, picking up her gin and tonic, ‘and just because they’re your family,’ she added, ‘it doesn’t make them right. Unless of course it’s to do with share prices.’ Then slipping on her sunglasses, she went over to stand on the sidelines of the tennis.
Julia took a deep breath. ‘Hi, Mum,’ she said brightly.
‘Are you still in France?’ said her mum without any hello.
‘Yes,’ Julia replied. Watching the tennis back and forth.
‘So what are you doing about the application for the promotion?’ her mother asked. ‘Your father was chatting to, oh I can’t remember his name, at the golf club and he said he hadn’t heard anything from you. Today’s the deadline, apparently. Can you do it from France? What’s that music?’
Julia turned away from the tennis. She moved into the hallway away from Pandora’s opera music, Billy’s shouts of triumph and Martin’s loud swearing at the oysters that wouldn’t shuck. ‘Hang on a minute, Mum. I’m just moving.’
Julia went into the living room. It was dark, huge curtains obscuring half the windows, the walls painted deep red. She stood by the mantelpiece, on it was a glass dome underneath which was a flight of tiny stuffed birds, none of them bigger than the palm of her hand. She took a deep breath and said, ‘I’m not going for the promotion.’
‘Why not?’ her mother asked surprised. ‘You must. Hold on, your father’s saying something.’ Julia heard her dad’s voice in the background. ‘Wait a sec. No, darling,’ her mum called to her dad, ‘She says she’s not applying.’ There was a pause, then she said to Julia, ‘He wants to know why not.’
Julia stared at the colourful little stuffed birds under the dome, their wings spread wide, their bodies pinned into place, all of them trapped forever mid-flight. And she said, ‘Because I’m OK as I am. I like my job and I’m good at it. I don’t want a promotion. If anything, Mum, I want less time at work, not more.’
Her mum was silent for a moment, then she said, ‘But what about the money for the house?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Julia, almost with a laugh, the freedom of having no idea intoxicating.
‘Oh Julia, don’t be silly. I don’t know what’s happening with Charlie but don’t lose your head over this.’
‘I haven’t lost my head,’ said Julia, smiling at herself in the huge mirror.
Then her dad came on the phone; they’d evidently put her on speakerphone. ‘Is everything alright, Julia,’ he asked concerned. ‘Should we be worried about you off in France alone?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘You don’t need to worry about me. Don’t worry about me at all.’ She paused. ‘Just know that I am a grown woman and I can totally make the right decisions for my life. OK?’ It was such a simple sentence but it felt like it had taken a lifetime to say. The relief of hearing the words left her hands shaking.
They were both quiet for a second. ‘What does Charlie have to say about it?’ asked her mum.
Julia said, ‘It’s not about Charlie. It’s about me,’ surprised at how confident her voice sounded.
‘You’re not getting a divorce are you, Julia? Because I was talking to Suzy Maynard just this morning at the gym and she says that the holiday in the Canaries was a bust and now they’re getting divorced and it’s all getting very nasty.’
‘No, Mum,’ Julia smiled again, ‘No I hope I’m not getting a divorce.’
‘Thank God for that,’ said her mother.
Julia walked away from the little birds under the dome and over to the window, looked out at the low sun feathering the garden, saw a tennis ball shoot into the flowerbed, saw Pandora pirouetting on the patio, Amber going to the kitchen to refill her drink, and Martin carrying a tray of oysters aloft.
‘Well, it is a shame,’ her mother went on, ‘about the promotion. But if you think you know what you’re doing…’
‘I know I know what I’m doing, Mum,’ said Julia firmly.
‘Fine,’ her mum replied, a little short. ‘Right, good.’
Everyone was silent for a moment. Then her dad said, ‘You really should get a Santander 1,2,3 card though, Julia. Those cash machines abroad are daylight robbery.’
And Julia had to suppress a laugh as she said, ‘OK, Dad, I will,’ because it felt suddenly easier to concede on the small things.
Her mum said, ‘Well, we must dash, Julia, we’re off to Waitrose.’
‘OK, bye,’ Julia replied, thinking how insignificant the chat was to them, yet how monumental to her.
Life really did just tick on, unchanging.
She was staring at her phone in proud awe of herself when she heard the creak of a floorboard and the heavy scent of Chanel. Turning, she saw that Amber had come to stand next to her.
She was looking out at the garden, hands behind her back. ‘Alright?’ said Amber.
‘I’m shaking,’ Julia said looking at her hands. ‘Time for a very large gin and tonic, I think.’
But, instead of heading into the kitchen, to Julia’s surprise, Amber reached over and put her arm round her shoulders, drawing her close. ‘Well done,’ she said. ‘I’m proud of you.’
Julia glanced across at Amber’s profile. ‘Thanks,’ she said.
‘Don’t mention it,’ Amber replied.
They stood, side by side, both staring out the window at Billy and Lovejoy’s tennis game that was down to its last ball, all the others over the fence or stuck in the guttering.
Julia took a risk and, putting her arm round Amber’s waist, said, ‘I’m proud of you, too,’ gesturing towards the laughing tennis players.
Amber laughed, deep and throaty. ‘Well thank you very much,’ she said. ‘I appreciate that.’
And Julia grinned.
Then they went outside and Julia ate her first and only ever oyster. Geckos sat poised for moths on the white walls, and the music drifted softly on a gentle breeze. The oyster was as disgusting as she thought it would be. But she’d tried it at least.