He turns around, looking me straight in the eyes for the first time.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
His tone is so earnest that the words momentarily fluster me. I give the smallest nod of acknowledgment, then quickly lean forward to point at a picture in the album.
“Do you know where that is?”
“Hmm,” he says, rubbing his beard. “I’d say from the look of the harbor wall in the background, it’s Rozel Bay. This is your mother?”
“Yeah.”
“She looks like you.”
“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment, but she was far prettier than I am, certainly more flexible.”
In the picture Mum is balancing on a rock in a green swimsuit, her long brown hair covering her chest. She’s holding a dance pose, one long, toned leg jutting out at a ninety-degree angle. I’m tall like her, my hair equally straight, but blond. We both have full lips and lightly freckled skin, but her nose is smaller, perter. In the picture she’s younger than I am now. It’s strange to think that by my age she was a widow—a single mum with a four-year-old child.
He turns the page of the album.
“This is Plémont headland, before they tore the holiday resort down. It looks completely different now.” He flicks on through the pages to a picture of my mum standing in front of a hut by the sea. “This must be the Écréhous, these huts are still all there.”
He tells me where each photo is taken. This is exactly the kind of intel I need if I’m to retrace their steps—take the same journey that the coin took my mother on.
“Listen, how would you feel about being my island tour guide tomorrow? I want to go to all the places in these photographs.”
He shuts the album and hands it back to me.
“I’m afraid I only drive some evenings.”
“Oh right, never mind. It was just a thought.” I can’t hide my disappointment. I guess there will be other cabdrivers who know the island just as well as Beardy McCastaway. “Can I just write down some of the names you said in my phone? How do you spell Play Mont?” I unlock my phone screen to make notes, my other hand reaching for my pendant, twisting the chain. When I look up, waiting for him to answer, he’s looking right at me with those intense eyes of his.
He sighs. “I’ll take you. You won’t find half these places on your own.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“It’s not a problem. Shall we meet in the morning?” He pulls out a card from the glove box and hands it back to me. It has “Gerald Palmerston, St. Ouen’s Cabs,” and then a contact number printed on the front. “Wait, I’ll write my mobile number on there.” He takes the card back, finds a pen in the side door, and scribbles it down.
“You’re Gerald then?” I ask, biting my lip. There shouldn’t be anything funny about the name Gerald, but I wouldn’t put Beardy McCastaway down as one.
“Gerry’s my dad.”
“Family business?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, I’m Laura,” I say.
“Ted,” he replies. Yes, Ted, that suits him much better.
* * *
* * *
Back in my room, I order a club sandwich from room service and google J. Le Maistre to see if I can find a likely candidate or a phone number. When I have no success, I call Vanya.
“Hey, chick. How was the flight?”
“Fine—”
“Hey, I just remembered that literary potato peel pie film is set in Jersey, isn’t it? Maybe you should join a book club, meet some hot farmers. Worked for Lily James.”
“That was Guernsey, different Channel Island. Plus, that was set eighty years ago. Listen, Vanya, can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“If I told you I picked up the wrong suitcase from the airport, and the case’s contents made me feel like they belong to the person I’m supposed to be with—would it be insane to try and track that person down?”
“I knew it! I knew something like this would happen. Didn’t I tell you my Spidey senses were tingling? Oh, Laura, you would be insane not to track him down!” Her voice swoons through the phone.
“That’s what I thought.”
I can always rely on Vanya.
When my club sandwich arrives, I feel a sense of eager anticipation—mainly about the sandwich, because I’m ravenous, but also because somewhere on this small island is J. Le Maistre, my potential soulmate. And tomorrow I am going to find him, and the next chapter of my life can finally begin.
Jersey Evening News—23 June 1991
TWO HALVES OF A COIN, REUNITED AFTER HALF A CENTURY
A local pensioner has been reunited with her late husband’s love token, lost for half a century, after her grandson spotted an advertisement in the Jersey Evening News.
Yesterday, an emotional Margorie Blampied held the precious keepsake in her hand for the first time since June 1940. She said, “Holding the whole coin brought back the day William left as though it were yesterday. He was such a romantic man, and an exceptional craftsman. I will miss him until my last breath.”
Chapter 6
I wake up confused as to where I am. The bed is too big, the room is too dark, and I’m surprised to find myself sleeping naked, until I remember why: I have no pajamas. There was a vivid dream about drowning—sailing in a suitcase boat, trying to get to an island where my parents were waving to me, but I didn’t have a sail and the boat was sinking, because, well, it was a suitcase. My mother’s face was still so clear and full of life in my dream. My father’s was static—since I only remember his face from photos, I’ve always found it hard to imagine what he looks like in motion.
My phone is alive with messages and emails. It’s only seven a.m. and I last checked my phone at ten. Dee has sent a link to an article from Statistics Weekly entitled, “Where People Meet Their Partners—The Facts,” and there are three emails from Suki. I click on the first one.
From: [email protected]
Laura,
Had a few list ideas, additional content you could pull together while you’re away.
Most Romantic Skinny-Dipping Locations. Get your body skinny for dipping. We have a weight-loss bar looking to sponsor an advertorial.