When I’m finally ready to go, and I open the cottage door, I hear a voice call down from Sans Ennui. “Laura, morning!”
I turn around to see someone bounding down the slope toward me. It takes me a second to realize who it is: It’s Ted, but he looks totally different—he’s shaved off his beard.
“Hey, how are you feeling? How’s the cut on your leg?” he says, his face dancing with energy.
I stare at him, my mouth agape. Wow. It turns out, beneath the Castaway beard, Ted is incredibly attractive. I don’t mean good-looking, in a “clean-shaven suits him” kind of way; I mean he’s the real-life love child of Brad Pitt and James Dean. He has a chiseled jaw, a dimpled smile, and those dark expressive eyes stand out all the more from a cleaner canvas. He’s also far younger than I assumed him to be. When I first got in the cab, I thought he must be nearly twice my age, but now, I see he’s definitely only late thirties. He’s the real-life Benjamin Button, getting younger and younger every time I see him. Perhaps tomorrow he’ll be a teenager, heading off to the sea for a surf before school.
“Ted, you— Your—”
My mouth can’t find the words, so I finally resort to pointing at his face.
“I thought it was time to de-fuzz,” he says, stroking his jaw and then running a hand through his hair, which I swear looks styled somehow. It had been a shapeless mess on Thursday night and now it looks textured, as though he’s run some wax through it. Whatever it is, it’s hair you want to grab and— Whoa, what? Where did that thought come from?
“You look different,” I say, biting my lip in case any of the thoughts in my head accidentally fall out of my mouth.
“Different good?” he asks, holding eye contact with me until I have to look away because it feels as though someone is flipping pancakes in my belly. I have a flashback to last night, to the feeling I had as he walked me to my door. His lips look so much more accessible now. Why am I thinking about Ted’s lips? Gift from the universe Jasper is going to be here any minute.
“How—how old are you, Ted?” I ask with a frown.
Ted laughs at the question. “Thirty-seven, why?”
“It’s just, well, you had a gray beard—it’s confusing for people.”
“Well, I apologize that the follicles on my face grow a different color to the ones on my head.” Ted looks bemused.
With a silent nod, I shift my gaze out to the safety of the sea. My heart seems to be pounding unnecessarily loudly in my chest.
“Thank you for your help last night, Laura. With your system in place, the whole task feels a lot more manageable this morning.”
Words come to my throat, but I swallow them before they can emerge as sentences. Beardy McCastaway might have been easier to talk to than Hotty McFace here. Really? That’s the best nickname I can come up with?
“No problem.”
“Listen, I know we hardly got to any of the places you wanted to visit yesterday. How about we head out now, and I can take you to the southern beaches. There’s a great spot for brunch, this little café right on the sand where—”
The gravel on the drive crunches, and we both turn around to see Jasper’s red sports car drive in.
“I can’t today,” I say, feeling my face tighten into a wince. “Jasper is taking me to the Écréhous.”
Ted pulls a hand through his hair and nods, his brow briefly knitting before ironing out into a smile. His face is so much more expressive now that there is more of it to see—a pulsing muscle in his jaw and these dimpled smile lines around his mouth.
“I see, good.” Good? “If you have a tour guide sorted, you don’t need me.”
“It’s kind of you to offer, Ted,” I say. “It’s just Jasper invited me on this boat trip, and—” I glance up at the drive, where Jasper has climbed out of the car and is waving at me. He’s dressed in chino shorts with a cricket jumper around his neck; he looks like the Great Gatsby on holiday.
“I’m glad it’s all working out as you hoped.” Ted nods, turning to walk back up to the house.
The letter, I need to give him the letter! I was going to give it to him as soon as I saw him, but then I got distracted by his new face and— Well, I can’t just hand it over now, with Jasper standing there waving; I’d need a moment to explain why I have it.
“Ted—” I begin, not sure what I’m going to say.
He swings around, hands in his pockets, nods his head toward Jasper, and gives me a wink.
“Enjoy yourself, kiddo.”
RETURNED TO SENDER
4 November 1991
Annie,
Don’t be childish and send my letters back. If you won’t take my calls, how am I supposed to get through to you? You can’t just say you’re pregnant, and then not speak to me about it. Did you think this would change how things stood between us? You can’t blame me for not believing you right away.
I will send money whatever you decide, but I want you to consider all the options. We’re too young to be parents, Annie! I love my life as it is, you can’t ask me to give that up for something we didn’t plan. What about your dancing? What about auditioning for shows again, your dance school idea? You can’t do any of that if you’ve got a baby, Annie.
Al
PS I still haven’t received the coin. Can you confirm you sent it?
Chapter 20
“There you are,” Jasper says with a grin.
He is just as attractive in the light of day, like a lovely box-fresh Ken doll. No! Ken dolls aren’t sexy, Ken dolls don’t even have genitalia. Do not start thinking of Jasper as a Ken doll.
“Who’s that then?” Jasper asks, nodding toward Ted.
“My, er—my landlord, Ted. I’m renting his cottage down there. So, tell me more about the place we’re going to today,” I say, clapping my hands together, keen for us to leave as quickly as possible.
Jasper opens the car door for me. “You are going to love the Écréhous. They are tiny islands between here and France, well, rocks, essentially, that don’t get covered by the rising tide. The fishermen’s huts there have been handed down through the generations, and made a little less basic over the years. It’s like camping at sea, that’s the best way I can describe it.”
As we drive across the island, Jasper tells me all about his family, about his father’s love of fishing. He says being at sea was one of the few times he got to be with his father alone, as none of his sisters were interested in learning how to fish. As he’s talking, I sink back into the pages of Jasper’s story. I have to remind myself that this is a story I want to be part of, the fairy-tale ending written for me. Ted’s new face is not relevant to the plot.