“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” I say. “About Jason.”
“Yeah, well.” Sof jams her sunglasses back on. “I don’t tell you all my secrets.”
“About Jason,” I say, not any lighter for telling her. “You’re the only one who knows…”
“And you want me not to tell Ned,” she says, standing up. Ever since the time capsule, Ned’s been popping up between me and Thomas like a jack-in-the-box. Lurking in front of the bathroom door and in the kitchen like a Roman centurion. Never leaving us alone. “Shall we swim?”
The ferns sway as we walk silently to the prow of the boat. At the edge, we stand side by side, together but not.
“Best summer ever?” I ask Sof. It’s so, so far from that, but that’s what I always used to say.
And she always used to say the same thing back: Nah—next year will be better.
This time, she doesn’t bother to answer. Instead, ahead of me in everything like always, she dive-bombs into the mirror-smooth canal, shattering all that blue into a thousand pieces.
Swimming with Sof—that was the plan. But by the time I jump in after her, the canal’s a wormhole.
I let myself sink into the cool, clear water.
*
After I come bursting up for air, I turn onto my back, and float. Earlier, when we were kissing, Jason persuaded me to take my hair out of its topknot. Now it’s drifting out around me in the water. I’m a mermaid.
I close my eyes as the sun washes over me, enjoying the contrast of warm on my stomach and cool underneath. When Jason calls my name, it sounds far away, as though we’re in two different places.
It’s only after he says “Margot” for the third or fourth (hundredth) time, I bother opening my eyes. He’s upside down above me, leaning over the prow of Sof’s boat. Her whole family’s on vacation, and I’m on plant-watering duty. The canal is the perfect Ned-free and everyone-free zone.
“Hi.” I crinkle my nose, wishing I could reach up and topple him into the water.
“Hi, daydreamer.” He smiles down at me, love and sunglasses. “Are you ever planning to get out?”
“Nope.” I splash with my hands a little, and he laughs. “You could get in…”
“I didn’t bring my bikini,” he jokes.
I close my eyes, because I don’t dare say this with them open: “So swim naked.”
Shortly afterwards, there’s a splash. I tip myself upright, treading water, and Jason’s beside me. Wet hair flopping into his eyes, bare chest, warm eyes inky blue. And as he looks at me, I suddenly get it. This isn’t the Big Bang. It’s just summer. But it’s still love. It’s still something.
“Now you,” he says, cocky. His arm slides around my waist, holding me steady, and we half swim to the side of the boat. Our gazes don’t break as I reach behind me to unhook my bikini top and fling it over the boat-rail, where it drips cool and steady into the canal next to us.
When I shuffle off my bikini bottoms, they sink away from me. I don’t bother diving down to find them. Instead, I say to Jason: “Race you.” And kick my feet off the side of the boat, slicing through the water, turning circles, living in 3D.
Every inch of me is electric. Without that polyester layer, I feel the water differently against my skin. The sun is hotter on my shoulders, Jason’s mouth when he catches up to me and kisses the back of my neck, it’s all just so much more. This is the most alive I’ve ever been.
Monday 4 August
[Minus three hundred and thirty-seven]
It’s midnight, or thereabouts. A Cinderella time. The witching hour. The mood is magical: dark and starry, hot and close. And I’m wide awake. Ever since I burst out of the past, back into the canal, I’ve got superhero hypersense. It’s like someone cranked the world’s volume up and it’s all blazing color. No more wormholes—I’m here.
It feels both better and worse than before: intense and alive, but farther from my grandfather than ever. Being here means letting him fade away. The diaries are just words on a page.
The kitchen door is open, and the night jasmine drifting in from the garden mingles with the lemon drizzle cake Thomas has just put in the oven. It’s his first practice run for the gluten-free promise I made to Sof. Papa went to bed hours ago. Ned’s finally given up and left us alone. And every inch of my skin is alive. Tingling.
“Here. It’s the best bit.” Thomas hands me a wooden spoon, the air stirring as he passes me on his way to the sink, our fingers fumbling.