Page 99 of In the Same Boat

I feel like I’ve somehow managed to ruin the best thing my dad has had in years. That’s the worst part about all of this. Possibly the best thing I’ve had too.

Dad stands slowly from the table, as though there might be a bomb underneath it.

‘Maybe everybody just needs a minute,’ he says carefully. ‘Tensions are high. Why don’t we all have a little siesta, calm down, then talk properly later?’

‘We’ll go pack,’ Chrissy replies. ‘But, truly, thanks for having us, it’s been wonderful.’

Well, it was until it wasn’t.

As Sammie and Chrissy turn back towards the cabins, Dad catches Chrissy’s hand briefly. Just long enough for her to give him a sad smile, a look of something silently transmitting between them, before Chrissy leaves.

You can tell neither of them wants this.

I don’t know what to say. Neither does Dad. What I do know, though, is that this is all my fault. I got myself involved when I should have just kept out of it, kept my head down, let the holiday be about Dad and Chrissy finding each other.

And I’ve no idea what I can do to fix it.

24

SAMMIE

When my phone alarm goes off, I briefly forget where I am. Then reality sets in.

Mum and I came back to the cabin, after dropping the bomb that we were flying home later today. I started packing my case, but I could tell that something was on Mum’s mind. She said she needed to speak to Hank, so she left me to it. I packed a bit but I was so tired I decided to rest my eyes – ensuring I set my phone alarm, so I didn’t oversleep and miss my flight.

Waking, I notice that my mum must have come back, got in bed and fallen asleep too.

‘Mum,’ I say, rocking her gently. ‘Mum…’

She’s sleeping so deeply – I think last night took it out of us all.

‘Mum?’

She stirs awake.

‘Morning, darling,’ she says – then reality sets in for her too. Her smile only falters for a second. ‘We’d better finish packing.’

‘Yeah,’ I say, stretching my back, trying to release some tension that probably isn’t going anywhere for the foreseeable.

Mum stands up, brushes the creases from her outfit, then starts gathering up her things from her bedside table.

She doesn’t say much. It was like this before our nap too. Moving. Folding. Packing. Picking up something else. Doing the same again. Zipping. Unzipping. Refolding something that didn’t need folding in the first place. From a distance, it looks like efficiency, but I think we both know that it’s avoidance.

I didn’t give my mum a reason for leaving, not really. I tried to style it out as work, but she could see I was upset, that it was about more than that. I suspect she knows the general outline, even if she can’t see the whole picture.

‘I booked the taxi to the airport, before I fell asleep,’ Mum says, still not looking at me. ‘We need to leave by four.’

‘Okay, thanks,’ I reply.

We should talk – I should tell her, but it’s probably best saved for the plane. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway. Planes are excellent places for difficult conversations because nobody can storm off – plus, there is usually booze, which helps.

I sit up slowly and pull my knees to my chest. The cabin looks different now that we’re leaving. Smaller, somehow. Less charming. The little porthole that seemed cute two days ago doesn’t look as bright and twinkly, it’s just blue – which is exactly how I feel. Leaving is absolutely the right thing for me to do – I’m just not sure it’s right for Mum.

‘You really should stay,’ I say eventually.

Mum pauses with a pair of sandals in her hand.

‘No, you know what, I think it’s time for me to go home too, I think the holiday is officially over…’