Page 23 of One Last Thing
Taking a deep breath, I battle against the whisper in my head that tells me this is irresponsible and I go with the voice telling me not to think about it too much, telling me I’m not broken yet. His voice, I realise.
I hear Megan gasp as I leap forwards before the cold water engulfs me, a shock to the system that knocks at my chest and electrifies my brain. I come up to break through the surface, gulping in the air, tasting the salt water on my lips and grinning broadly.
Megan is staring down at me from the boat, horrified.
‘Would one of you mind passing me Henry’s box?’ I ask, swimming near the boat and treading water there, moving up and down with the gentle swell and dip of the waves.
Megan doesn’t move. Nico goes to the helm, picks up the box and then passes it down into my outstretched hand.
Megan balks. ‘What are you planning to do? Swim while holdingthat?’
‘Well, I’m not planning on using it as a float. I shall hold it up. Henry liked to swim to lunch and this isn’t my holiday, it’s his.’
‘And what if it goes under water?’ she asks, aghast.
‘I won’t let it go under water. The sea is calm, I’m perfectly capable of swimming the short distance while holding this above it,’ I say, a little more confidently than I feel. ‘And if a little water should seep in, then I’m sure Henry won’t mind. He was very fond of the sea in life. I’m sure in death he’s not averse to it.’
Megan presses her lips together in deep disapproval.
‘We’ll see you on the beach,’ I say, wanting to get moving.
It’s tough work, swimming whilst holding a box of ashes aloft, but it’s undeniably rewarding. The cooling effect is very welcome and as I swim nearer the pebbled beach and my feet finally find a place to stand on, I begin laughing as I slowly wade through the water.
‘We did it, darling,’ I declare to the box, a little wobbly on my legs. ‘I didn’t think I had it in me anymore.’
Later, when the harbour master finds me to inform me in stilted English that I’m not allowed to swim in, I shall feign ignorance and surprise at this news and tell him that it was all my husband’s idea and he should take it up with him, whilst gesturing to the box in my hands. He will look at me strangely and politely ask me not to do it again, beforewalking away. He will think I’m mad and I will wonder whether he’s right.
***
2026: Five months ago
I answer the FaceTime from Henry, holding my phone up as I sit back in my chair in the office. His face fills the screen and I automatically smile at the sight of him.
‘Sorry, am I disturbing you?’ he checks in his usual way.
‘The distraction is welcome when it comes in the form of you,’ I assure him.
He chuckles, a familiar twinkle in his eye. ‘Are you writing this morning?’
‘I thought I should, but in truth, I started reading a feature inThe Timesabout a book inspired by Catherine Howard and that prompted me to read an article on the woman herself, then another one, and it spiralled from there, and now I’m some kind of accidental Catherine Howard scholar.’
‘Impressive procrastination.’
‘Isn’t it?’ I grin at him. ‘How are you?’
‘Oh, you know.’ He shrugs and I nod, my heart sinking a little. We both know. ‘I was calling for two reasons. Firstly, I saw it was Milly Sullivan’s book launch last night and I know you two are old friends. Did you go?’
‘I was sorry to miss it, but I hear great things and I’ll be sure to purchase a copy.’
‘The classic publishing party line.’
‘I really was sorry not to be there.’
‘Yes, it’s a shame.’ He pauses and I prepare myself for the pep talk I know is due my way at any moment. ‘You don’t need to avoid these things, Dawn. I think it’s important—’
‘I’m not avoiding anything, Henry,’ I cut in, stopping his speech before it can begin. ‘I was busy. What was the other reason you were calling?’
He holds up a hand in peace. ‘All right. I’ll drop it. You know what I think.’
