From: a.cameron@myemail.com
To: cameron.a@myemail.com
Date: 4 Feb, 02:02
Subject: Phone call
Hi Cameron,
I have something to confess to you
I stared at the words on the screen for a solid minute before I lost courage, hit the delete button, and slammed my laptop shut. Perhaps it was better to sleep on it before I rushed into doing something I might later regret. I gently scooped up Eliza, who was still out for the count on my lap, and deposited her on the sofa next to her brother. He blearily opened an eye to see what was going on, let out a dainty but pointed yawn so I knew that he didn’t approve of me disturbing him, and then went back to sleep.
Alas, it wasn’t so easy for me to switch off. I lay in bed, as wide awake as if it was the middle of the day, replaying my conversation with Cameron and wondering what I should do now. My guilt had grown exponentially. Throughout the email exchanges, I’d somehow managed to gloss over the fact that it was a real human being I’d been communicating with, someone with the capacity to get hurt through my thoughtless behaviour. Now that I’d heard his voice and felt the things I’d felt, the situation was different. I liked the guy. Really liked him. And he’d seemed to like me too. But whatever we had or could have, friendship, or perhaps even something more, it was built on false foundations. He valued honesty and I had been lying pretty much from the start.
I should probably say something. But what exactly? That the person he’d been communicating with was a work of fiction? That the real Amy Cameron was a shadow of the person she should be, too frightened to achieve any of the accomplishments that had been so casually talked about, too trapped in her ways to know how to make things better. That was guaranteed to frighten him off, if the very act of confessing to having been deceitful wasn’t enough to make him block my email address and never want to hear from me again. I knew I owed him the truth, but how to bring it up without the danger of losing him altogether?
By the time my alarm went off to signal it was time to get up and get ready for work, I’d come to a decision. I couldn’t bear the thought of my correspondence with Cameron ending in this way. But equally, it was not right for me to carry on playing so freely with the truth. I was going to be honest from now on. No more pretending I was Miss Violin Big Shot, no more references to amazing fictional nights out. Whatever I told Cameron from now on was going to be one hundred percent true, no marketing exaggerations, no positive spin. And if that meant that he lost interest in me, then that was the way things had to be. But coward that I was, my new policy of honesty wouldn’t include confessing to my previous glossy depictions of my life. And the way that I justified this to myself was that I was going to make them come true.
Despite having had a terrible night’s sleep, I set off to work with a veritable spring in my step. The brand new and improved Amy was determined to make a fresh start, with a positive can-do attitude, and she was not going to let fear get in her way anymore. I knew it was easier said than done, but during the wee small hours, I’d berated myself for how much time I’d wasted through fearing the ‘what ifs’ and believing the negative voice of my own self-doubt. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that acknowledging the problem was going to stop it and make everything instantly better, but I had to start somewhere. If I didn’t have faith in myself, nobody else was going to.
I passed the bagpiper who was in his usual spot by the Scott Monument, and experienced a wave of queasiness when I remembered that I’d told Cameron I had been busking. I swallowed and forced myself to step back and examine the problem dispassionately. Most people were hurrying past the bagpiper, wrapped up in their own little worlds, headphones on, or deep in conversation with friends. Even those who stopped to listen only hung around for a few moments, and when the player let slip the occasional wrong note, they gave no sign of noticing it. For them, it was an enjoyable but brief interlude in their busy lives. It was nothing like performing on stage in front of a paying audience, and there was absolutely no reason why I couldn’t have a go.
I promised myself that when I got to work, I’d choose a date to go busking and I’d write it in permanent marker on the calendar on my office wall so there was no wriggling out of it. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust myself, but I knew I needed all the help I could get to find the courage to follow through on my good intentions.
‘Good morning, Amy,’ said Colin, pouncing on me as soon as I stepped foot over the threshold of the Variety. ‘You’ve got a twinkle in your eye this fine day. Good night? I bet I could have made it better.’ He looked me up and down, the suggestive implication clear in his gaze.
I ignored my natural impulse to shrink in on myself and instead stared back at him in what I hoped was a cool, unbothered attitude.
‘It was a wonderful night, thank you so much for asking, Col. Not that I did much sleeping, of course.’ Let him make of that what he will. ‘I doubt there’s anything you could have done to improve upon it.’
To my surprise he blushed and looked away. Funny how he didn’t like being played at his own game.
‘How are you getting on in the Cellar Bar?’ I asked. ‘You must be nearly finished by now. Or not far off at least. I’ll come down to inspect it at the end of the day. I’m looking forward to seeing the result of your hard work.’
I didn’t wait for an answer. I marched upstairs and into my office.
From: cameron.a@myemail.com
To: a.cameron@myemail.com
Date: 4 Feb, 11:14
Subject: Re: Phone call
Hi Amy,
It was great to chat last night, or should I say this morning?! Thanks for staying up way past a civilised hour to make it happen. Next time, I should be the one to take the hit on the time difference. I’m so happy that there will be a next time. Although it would have been good to see you, I’m glad in the end that the storm meant the video call didn’t work. At least on the phone we got to speak for longer and it was lovely to hear your voice at last. There’s no way of making this sound not cheesy (hopefully not creepy though, it’s meant genuinely) but I could listen to you talk in your soft Scottish accent for hours. I wish I’d kept my Cornish burr, but on my first day at uni someone took the piss, saying it made me sound stupid, and being an impressionable teenager, I of course decided that the best thing to do was to suppress it. I worked hard at pulling back the R sounds, until I sounded wonderfully (in my mind) neutral. But nowadays I’m sad that I rejected such an important part of who I am. Now I’m a ‘grown up’ I try not to take other people’s opinions so much to heart. They can think what they like, but as long as I’m not hurting anyone, I will live my life in the way I choose to. *Gets down from hobby horse.*
What I meant to say last night before the storm cut us off was this: I’m wishing you the very best of luck for your big audition. I can’t believe we didn’t get on to talking about that properly. Is this for another concert series? I’m sure you’ll smash it.
Oh, and don’t forget to send me a link to those amazing reviews you mentioned in previous emails. I tried to google them when the internet finally came back to life, but maybe it’s because I’m in South America at the moment and it’s throwing the algorithms off, but I couldn’t find anything. I’m looking forward to seeing them when we next return to port. We’re setting sail in half an hour. (I still find it weird that we refer to it as ‘setting sail’ as the expedition ship couldn’t be further from the simple sailing vessels which that phrase suggests.) I’ve already taken my seasickness medication so I’m hoping that this time it will be better. The doc says it’ll work miracles, and I’m sure she knows what she’s talking about … unless her confidence is part of the placebo effect? I probably shouldn’t think too much about that in case it undoes it. And fear not, as per your advice, I’ve got a stash of ginger biscuits too, so I know I’m well covered.
This first part of the voyage means doing my least favourite kind of photography—getting snapshots of the guests on board before they go into the formal welcome dinner with the captain. It’s nothing against the guests personally, but I’d take penguins any day over having to dress up in black tie, although I suppose we all do resemble those creatures when we’re togged up like that. Here’s hoping I can remember how to fasten my bow tie later. The captain is a bit of a stickler for tradition, so no clip-on ones for us.
Right, I’d better disappear as it’s nearly time for muster drill.
Hope you have a lovely day.
C x
PS: thanks for letting me go on about the steward situation. You’re right, you really are a good listener. The guy has left the boat now. Thankfully he went without causing any difficulties. I do feel for him, but there wasn’t really another option.
PPS: I’m blaming the storm for this, although that might be unjust, but I’ve been having trouble connecting my camera to the computer, hence no penguin photos attached. I’m really sorry and I’ll do my best to send them at the end of this voyage instead. Speak soon x
I allowed myself thirty seconds of feeling guilty and inadequate, then I pulled myself together, forcing myself to channel Amy 2.0 and follow up on my intention to make her a reality. Cameron had asked me about a supposed music audition. I’d already promised myself I was going to go busking. Now I needed to add the small matter of ‘auditioning for something’ to the list of things to do to make up for my little white lies. It didn’t mean committing myself to going after a place in the Royal Scottish National Orchestra. But perhaps I could look into joining a local amateur orchestra. It would be good to find a group to help me reignite my passion for music, and maybe make new friends along the way. After all, a big part of the reason why I’d got myself into this mess in the first place was because of my loneliness.
I did a quick online search and sent off some speculative messages to a couple of Edinburgh-based orchestras before I could change my mind.
From: a.cameron@myemail.com
To: cameron.a@myemail.com
Date: 4 Feb, 11:29
Subject: Late night/early morning!
Hi Cameron,
So, you’re a West Country lad, are you? I’ll restrain myself from making any jokes about cider and combine harvesters. I’m sure that kind of thing was part of the reason why you decided to ditch your natural accent, plus I know how infuriating it is when people make tartan jokes, or worse, sleazy comments about what a Scottish person wears under their kilt, such a weird obsession.
As you can probably tell from the way I’ve rolled out the West Country clichés, I’ve never actually been there. Of course, I’ve seen gorgeous pictures, but nobody can really know what a place is like until they experience it in real life. Perhaps I’ll visit one day. That sounds like I’m shamelessly angling for an invitation. Maybe I am!
I paused. Was I coming on too strong? But the new, bolder Amy wasn’t going to waste precious time worrying about that kind of thing. I carried on typing.
I’m sending all my best anti-vomiting vibes your way. I’m hoping that right about now you are skipping merrily about the ship, getting ready to snap away at the penguin-dressed passengers later and inspiring the rest of the crew with your renewed zest for maritime life. If not, keep on nibbling at those ginger biscuits and pray for steady seas.
If you don’t mind, I won’t say anything more about my audition just for now. Us musicians can be a superstitious bunch, and I don’t want to jinx anything. But I will be practising hard, so keep your fingers crossed for a good outcome. I’ll let you know how I get on once it’s over and done with. I’ll admit I’m feeling as nervous as I did for my very first violin audition way back when I was in school. Maybe one day I’ll be able to feel blasé about these things. But I’m not sure that would be a good thing. Remember that advice I gave you about nerves being a good sign, and an indication we really care about the thing we’re doing? Well, I pinched it from my sister Liv, and she’s a wise one, and I really should listen to her, although I’ll deny it if she finds out I’ve said that! Do you have any siblings? I can’t remember you mentioning any. Sorry for not having asked before.
Love,
Amy x
PS: How frustrating that your camera’s been playing up. I hope it doesn’t cause problems on the trip. I shall settle for looking at the Edinburgh Zoo webcam penguins until your photos come through.
PPS: I’m going busking on my next midweek day off to raise money for a wildlife conservation charity. Wish me luck!
Now I had to make it true.