‘Good,’ Anna said. ‘That should keep him out of trouble.’ Her dad liked nothing better than working away in his garden studio, making clay sculptures of the birds and wildlife he was so fond of. ‘I should get going really,’ Anna added, checking the time on her phone. ‘I’ve got a lot of packing still to do for the move, and Jon’s coming around in an hour.’
‘So,’ Vivien asked, a mischievous smile on her face. ‘Permit your nosy grandma a question. Is he the one – Jon?’
‘I think so,’ Anna said, feeling suddenly shy. ‘It definitely feels like the right thing to be moving in together.’
‘I’m glad,’ Vivien said. ‘Because you deserve a good man. You’re a strong woman, always have been, and a talented one. You’ll remember that, won’t you?’
‘Don’t go getting soppy on me, Granny,’ Anna laughed. ‘I’m not going anywhere. I’m getting nearer, not further away.’
‘I know that, love,’ Vivien said, placing her hand tenderly on Anna’s denim-clad leg. ‘But there’s no harm in reminding you that you’re special, is there?’
Imogen McAvoy leaned forward slightly in her crouched position to add the final touches to the tattoo. She dipped her fine paintbrush back into the pot of henna, squinted against the sun and outlined the last petal.
‘There you go,’ she said with satisfaction, sitting back so that her customer could see her handiwork.
‘I love it,’ the blonde British girl said, tilting her shoulder blade so that her boyfriend could admire it. ‘What do you reckon? Wish I could show it to Mum now, pretend it’s real – she’d go nuts.’ The teenage boy with her, bare-chested and wearing a pair of combat shorts, nodded his approval and took a swig from his bottle of Tiger beer.
‘Glad you like it,’ Imogen said, taking the 200-baht note from her with a smile, and tucking it under the string of her turquoise bikini top, against her tanned, freckled skin. Retying her elephant-print sarong, she stood up. ‘Enjoy your time on Koh Tao.’
As the couple walked away, Imogen counted through the notes she’d been given that day – enough for two nights’ rent
at her beach hut, plus some Pad Thai noodles and a beer or two that evening. Not bad for a morning’s work. She checked the position of the sun in the sky – it must be about midday. She could probably still join Davy on his afternoon scuba-dive if she got down to the beach quickly. She jumped on her beach bike and pedalled towards the shore; the island was so compact that it only took her a few minutes to get there.
‘Space for one more?’ Imogen asked Davy as he loaded his boat with oxygen canisters, picking them up from a crate on the pristine white sand.
‘You’re in luck,’ he said, turning to face her. ‘I’ve had a guy cancel today, so you can come along with this group if you want.’
‘Cool,’ Imogen said, tying her wavy, sun-lightened brown hair back with a band, then sifting through the pile of wet-suits to find one in her size. ‘Is it a wreck dive you’re doing?’
‘That was the plan, but I’ve just heard there might be something more interesting out there today.’
‘Not a … Don’t tease me,’ Imogen said.
‘I can’t promise anything,’ he said with a shrug.
She hurriedly pulled on one of the small wetsuits, still a little damp and with sea-salt crusting from its last outing. Lifting her small bag with her waterproof camera inside, she climbed into the boat. ‘Let’s get out there.’
They’d been out on the sea for about fifteen minutes when Davy settled on a good dive spot. The water was aquamarine and clear, the sun reflecting off it in sparkles. It was an intense beauty that after six months Imogen had almost
become immune to, but not quite. Together with the rest of the dive team, she turned her back on the ocean, strapped on her oxygen tank and helped her dive buddy with the regular safety checks.
Taking a seat on the side of the boat, she readied herself, and then tipped backwards into the water with a splash.
In an instant her world was transformed as she was surrounded by a cloud of brightly coloured clown fish, some darting away, others tentatively drawing closer to her, curious about the intrusion into their underwater territory. Imogen released some of the air in her lifejacket and slowly sank deeper, towards the vibrant pink and orange coral on the seabed below. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed Davy motioning to her, waving her over to join the group. And she would, she thought, spotting a tiny reef shark weaving in among the other fish. Just a few photos first. She took out her camera and snapped the wildlife around her, luminous against an even brighter coral backdrop.
Then a dark shadow passed above her, casting the fish and coral in a darker hue. For a moment she was frozen. She looked up and there it was – right above her. The creature she’d been longing to see, from the day she set foot in Thailand – and during the dozens of dives she’d done since.
She saw Davy’s group were getting agitated, some moving away and others heading towards the dark creature. Davy motioned to them to stop, to stay still and watch.
The whale shark, languorously slow, glided through the water, as big as a van, yet barely making an impression on
the watery environment around it. Pale dots were scattered over its skin and its large round head and barnacles clung to the underside of its body. The name ‘shark’ was so deceptive, Imogen thought. It was one of the calmest and most peaceful animals she had ever seen. A cluster of small fish hovered underneath its belly, moving in harmony with the gentle creature.
Steadying her breath, Imogen rose up closer to it, brought her camera up towards her goggles and began to take photos.
Back at the dive shop, Imogen handed back the equipment, thanked Davy and hopped on her beach bike, adrenalin coursing through her veins. The rest of the dive group were still chattering away excitedly behind her about what they had seen – a once-in-a-lifetime experience. She cycled down rutted, dusty roads towards the far coast, towards her beach hut – the horizon stretching out before her, uncluttered apart from the odd palm tree. The world above ground always looked different when you had just seen the wonders below.
As she neared the row of simple wooden huts on Koh Tao’s most isolated beach and the dust road turned to sand she got off the bike and pulled up outside the place that for half a year she’d called home.
Luca, the American guy she’d been seeing for the past two months, was resting in his striped hammock, a paperback in his hand.
‘Hey,’ she called out, making her way over, barefoot in the sand.
‘Hey, gorgeous,’ Luca called out sleepily. ‘How are you doing?’
‘Good,’ Imogen said. She hopped up onto the veranda and sat down in the hammock beside him. ‘Really good.’ He shuffled over to make room and kissed her hello gently. His deeply tanned skin and hands were warm, just as they had been last night, even after they’d gone skinny dipping at midnight.
‘Really good?’ he said, intrigued.
‘Fantastic dive this afternoon, got some beautiful photos. I think some might even be good enough to exhibit. We saw a whale shark … ’
‘Nice one,’ Luca said, with a mischievous smile.
Imogen’s sentence tailed off as Luca put down his book, then slowly traced a line up her arm and lingered close to the edges of her bikini top.
‘It was incredible,’ Imogen said, distracted, but trying to keep in her mind the majestic movement of the shark in the water. She didn’t want to forget any of it.
‘Sounds it,’ Luca said, meeting her eyes with his long-lashed ones. The chemistry between them was even stronger now, in the heat of the early evening. He pulled Imogen towards him gently and kissed her on the lips, running a hand over her hair, salty and sun-bleached.
‘So, do you feel like going to the full-moon party tonight? The boat leaves at eight, and I’ve got some Thai whisky here that we can get an early start on.’
‘That would be amazing,’ Imogen said.
Waves lapping on the white-sand shore, a night of dancing under a star-filled sky ahead … when she’d arrived in Koh Tao last October, Imogen thought, she really had stumbled on paradise.
The keys Anna McAvoy had been waiting for were finally in her hand.
Right there, with the estate agent’s keyring still attached. As she stared at the front door of her new home: Flat 12, 38 Marine Parade, Brighton. The years of working long hours and saving, then the rollercoaster of offering, getting gazumped, contractual toing and froing – it had all been worth it.
She jangled the keys gently, and smiled. At twenty-eight she was officially a home owner, and better still – she glanced back towards the street where her boyfriend’s car was parked – Jon was moving in. In the past she’d wondered whether this day would ever arrive. But here they were. Still together, in love, and taking a big stride forward as a couple. When they’d first met, introduced by their mutual friends Jess and Ed, Anna had thought about holding back – Jon was in the throes of a messy divorce, and his son was just over a year old. But they’d taken the leap together, and against the odds it had worked out.
Jon was still on his phone, his son Alfie, three years old
now, asleep in the car seat behind him. Anna walked back to the open car window.
‘Jon,’ she whispered. ‘OK if I go in?’ she asked, pointing at the front door.
‘Sure, sure,’ he said, glancing up at her, his green eyes bright, and covered the mouthpiece of his phone. He winked at her and then showed her his own set of keys. The faint creases on his forehead softened as he focused on her. ‘I’ll follow you in a minute. Just working out childcare for next week,’ he explained. ‘Nursery’s shut for two days.’
Anna glanced into the back window. Alfie looked so angelic when he was asleep, his cheeks rosy and a blond curl pressed against his temple. Her heart softened at the sight of his chest rising and falling. Beside him were two crates of Jon’s things – a tennis racket and some DVDs in one, another full of neatly folded polo shirts and chinos, and then a third with toys and books for Alfie. Jon worked hard as a brand manager and graphic designer, and what spare time he had was precious. Whether it was letting off some steam on the tennis court or taking Alfie to the park, he made sure he took advantage of every moment.
‘Watch out for him,’ Anna said, pointing to the parking attendant making his way up Marine Parade, stopping and ticketing the cars of everyone who’d stopped to admire the sunny sea view without paying.
‘Oh crap,’ he said, the phone still at his ear. ‘Sorry,’ he said hurriedly. ‘Not you, Mia. I’m about to get a ticket. I’ll call you right back.’
He put the phone down and turned to Anna. ‘You go in, hon – I’ll see you up there with Alfie once I’ve found somewhere to park.’ With a hasty kiss, Jon restarted the engine of his Audi and pulled away from the kerb.
Anna retraced her steps up the path towards her apartment building, then took out her own mobile and dialled her Grandma Vivien’s landline. It was the third time she’d tried that morning, and again it went through to answerphone.
Anna hesitated. She could drop by her grandma’s house now, it wasn’t far – just up the side streets to the quiet tree-lined road. But – she checked her watch – she and Jon would need to give Alfie his lunch soon. Vivien could always come and see the flat another day: the papers were signed now, and the place wasn’t going anywhere.
Anna opened the door and stepped inside the entrance hall of the block, saw the postboxes for each of the flats. She climbed the wide, grandly proportioned stairs that hugged the curves of the Art Deco building. With dark-red carpet on the stairs, and brass fittings, Anna could just picture how it had once been a hotel.
She took the stairs two at a time, striding easily – while it hadn’t always helped her when it came to dating, being just under six foot certainly had its advantages. She reached the third floor and opened the door to her flat, number 12. She looked into the hallway with a buzz of anticipation, and laid her handbag down on the floor. The carpet, cleared of furniture now, was a little grubbier than she remembered.
But, she thought, stepping forward into the living room, it was airy, and spacious. And out of the bay windows at the front of the flat – what a view. Waves crashed onto the pebbly beach, dogs ran up and down, and lights shone brightly on Brighton Pier. Vivien was going to love it. And Alfie always got excited about seeing Hepburn.
Working around the clock these past few years had all been worthwhile – because now she had her very own home.
Anna spotted Jon walking up the front path, with Alfie toddling along beside him. She tugged the sash window open, and felt a rush of cold air against her face and ruffling her grey silk blouse. ‘Happy new home!’ she called out. ‘Come up.’
Jon raised a champagne bottle and waved it in celebration. ‘Just you try and stop us,’ he called, laughing.
Anna closed the window gently. She couldn’t wait to toast the new flat – and to show Alfie where he’d be sleeping when he came to stay at the weekends. She crossed the living room and peeked into the small room next to the bathroom. The previous owners had used it as a study and now it stood empty, but Anna knew exactly how it would look once she and Jon had finished decorating it. They’d ordered a lovely wooden bed and a colourful toy chest and wardrobe with animals on them, plus a mobile and some pictures for the walls. It was going to be perfect.
She turned round, and took a look inside the master bedroom opposite. She chewed her lip in excitement – it was even more beautiful than she remembered. The large windows
overlooked communal gardens, and flooded the room with light. Carefully restored wooden floorboards and an original 1920s fireplace gave the room character – and once her cream fluffy rug was in there it would be cosy too.
Tomorrow, she and Jon would be waking up in their very own place. It didn’t matter who had put down the deposit. Jon’s situation was complicated, and Anna understood that. Two years after the divorce, he and Mia were still struggling to find a buyer for their three-bedroom, mid-terrace house, meaning he wasn’t able to pay into the new flat. But he and Anna had gone to the viewing together, and both fallen in love with the flat on Marine Parade as soon as they’d stepped inside. This place belonged to both of them: the flat was their new beginning.