Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I shrug and we head down to the arrangement of huts by the waterside. “Probably husky mushing. I’ve always wanted to learn how. You want to come?” The guy who does the mushing emailed me the other day and I haven’t gotten back to him. It’s not like me. I don’t know if it’s getting knocked back—quite literally—by Coral. Or maybe it’s my thirtieth looming. I just don’t have the same desire to get away.
In fact, I can’t stop thinking about a business idea I’ve been turning over in my mind for the last couple of years: adventure travel for disabled children. I was lucky to survive my burn injuries without any lasting impact other than the physical scars. Other kids aren’t so lucky. They miss out on so much.
“What?” He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You’ll disappear for a month or something. I don’t want to leave Sutton.”
I groan. “Invite her. We can all go.”
“I come from a place of authority when I say husky mushing doesn’t make Sutton’s list of top ten things she wants to do before she hits forty.” He pauses. “You thought about maybe getting a girlfriend to go on these adventures with you?”
I shrug. He doesn’t know about me asking Coral to move to London.
“I used to go on trips with Coral.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, but she wasn’t your girlfriend. You two are just fuck buddies who travel together.”
Apparently so. “Yeah, well not anymore,” I grumble.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing.” He doesn’t need to know about Coral. He doesn’t even know about my dislocated shoulder. I can’t tell him without it getting back to Mum and she’d just worry. It’s easier to keep it to myself.
We head to the changing rooms and start to change.
“There’s a new doctor in A&E. Australian. He was telling me about a shark attack he worked on in Perth. You could always go swimming with sharks after husky mushing.”
“The idea isn’t to get killed, or even attacked. I’m not interested in a near-death experience.” My brothers just don’t get it.
“I’m sure most people don’t get killed.”
“Oh good,” I reply, not trying to hide the sarcasm in my voice. “It’s still a no from me. It’s not danger I’m interested in, Jacob. I just want to make sure I don’t miss out.”
Jacob shakes his head at me, unbelieving.
I think back to chatting with Vivian earlier today, her hair stuffed in a cap and sunglasses on, pleased to be getting her own coffee. Is she miserable hiding from life like that? She can’t even walk into Marks & Spencer and pick up a prawn sandwich. What must that be like? I suppose I don’t know her well enough to understand the flip side—the parts of her life making up for the lack of M&S prawn sandwiches.
“Would you want to be famous?” I ask as we head outside.
“I think it would depend on why you got famous. I imagine Louis Pasteur felt pretty good about it. Or Marie Curie. But if you’re Ian Brady? Not so much.”
“I’m not suggesting you might want to start murdering people to get your name in the papers. But I don’t know…did you ever want to be a pop star?”
Jacob groans. “Fuck me, mate, is that your next project? Have you ever sung a note in your life? And ‘Swing Low Sweet Chariot’ when you’re five pints in doesn’t count.”
“I’m not saying I want to be a pop star. I’m just thinking it’s probably more difficult than we think.” I can’t imagine a life in which getting myself a coffee is a big deal. A treat even.
“If you say so. But it’s not something I’ve given much thought to. Why are you asking?”
We come out of the changing rooms and head over to the water. It’s a balmy sixteen degrees, but not bad for September—not great for swimming in open water. “Where are the inflatables?” I ask. “And the cocktails?”
“Funny,” Jacob says.
We climb into the water, Jacob first, and I don’t miss his grimace at the cold as he lowers himself in. What did I sign up for?
“So what’s got you obsessed with being famous?” He’s holding on to the steps. “You feel like you missed out by being a GP?”
“No, I…” I’m not sure if I should tell Jacob about Vivian. She was clearly guarding her privacy really carefully. But it’s not like Jacob is going to alert the press. “I ran into Vivian Cross.”
“The singer?”
I nod as I climb in. The cold is barely noticeable—to me. Jacob’s lips are practically blue.
“Where?”
“Just getting coffee. Do you know her? Are you a fan of her music?”
“Not particularly. Sutton plays her in the car sometimes. In fact, I think she has tickets to see her live next year. So how come you ran into her? Was she swarmed by fans?” His teeth are chattering. “I’m freezing, let’s swim.”