Page 53

Eighteen Months Later

Amelia’s bare feet glided over the wooden floor, the soft hum of the record player filling the room. She twirled, her amber curls catching the light, her body moving to the strains of Mamma Mia.

Amelia had heard a lot of music since she’d moved to the mainland. But nothing could compete with ABBA. And it was all about vinyl. After a serious audiophile phase, she knew it was the only way to listen to music. Even though she’d lived in the modern world now for a while, culturally, she’d only made it as far as the seventies.

At least that was what she said when someone asked her why she didn’t have a smartphone yet. She loved modern convenience. But smartphones, Amelia had decided, were dreadful things. She’d borrowed Tara’s once and gotten sucked so deep into TikTok that day had turned into night without her realising. She didn’t need that in her life. She had things to do.

Tara stood in the doorway, arms folded, a lightly lascivious smile playing on her lips. ‘I love to watch that body move.’

Amelia stopped, a playful gleam in her eyes. ‘I wish you’d bring yours over here,’ she pled, spinning again, more slowly this time for her girlfriend’s benefit. She wanted Tara’s eyes on her as much as Tara wanted to watch.

Tara shook her head. ‘I’m more of a rock girl.’

Amelia smirked at her. ‘Are you afraid I’ll outdance you?’

Tara scoffed, stepping closer. ‘I’ve got moves you wouldn’t believe. But I’m saving them for later.’

Amelia stopped and grinned, flicking her hair over her shoulder. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’ She pulled Tara into the centre of the room. ‘Which is now.’

Tara rolled her eyes, but she grabbed Amelia’s hand anyway. She swayed, starting to move with the beat—awkwardly, at first, but with more confidence as she went.

Amelia laughed, the sound bright and genuine. ‘There it is! I knew you had it in you.’

Tara chuckled, her cheeks flushing with the exertion of trying to keep up. ‘I don’t get how you’re so good. You’ve only been dancing for five minutes.’

Amelia rolled her eyes. ‘We had dances on Solhaven all the time.’

‘Yeah, but like, Jane Austen-type stuff,’ Tara said breathlessly. ‘You shouldn’t be doing all these fancy moves already.’

‘Then you shouldn’t have let me see Saturday Night Fever.’

Tara nodded. ‘I regret that now.’

She pulled Tara a little closer, and for a moment, they simply swayed together, letting the music wash over them. This was part of what Amelia had come to love about modern dancing. The chance to press up against someone you wanted.

The record finished, and Amelia took a breath as she looked around the living room. Did she have enough chairs for everybody? Six kids, six chairs. Oh, wait! What about Amelia and Tara?

Amelia slapped her forehead, feeling like a fool. ‘We have to go to Ikea,’ she announced.

Tara’s eyes brimmed with horror. ‘What? Why?’

‘I miscounted the chairs. I forgot that you and I need somewhere to sit too.’

‘We can just stand,’ Tara begged. ‘I’m good with that. They say sitting is the new junk food now, anyway.’

Amelia shook her head. ‘Come on. I could do with a few more lamps anyway, for the bedrooms.’

‘They’re used to candles and oil lamps. You’ll make their eyeballs explode,’ Tara warned her.

Amelia shook her head, looking at the house she and Tara had completed the sale of only a month ago. It had seven bedrooms, and it was on the outskirts of the city. Seaweed money went surprisingly very far, but it wasn’t massive-house-in-the-city-centre far. Still, it was a wonderful place, and it was hers and Tara’s. And soon, others would call it home. ‘We’ve got to go. The place has to be perfect.’

Tara rolled her eyes. ‘Any bloody excuse.’

‘It’s just convenient and cheap,’ Amelia said with a shrug, grabbing her denim jacket.

Her wardrobe was getting very denim-heavy. She liked its hard-wearing practicality. She also liked how it made her bum look.

‘Admit that you love Ikea, and I’ll go with you,’ Tara said.

Amelia groaned. ‘Fine. I love it. Get your shoes on.’

***

Amelia stood in the IKEA showroom, breathing it in, content. The faint clatter of flat-pack boxes being wheeled on big metal trolleys, combined with the occasional sound of couples snapping at each other, provided an oddly comforting air. It reminded her of the Long Hall on exchange day.

She glanced down at the shopping list in her hand, which had expanded far beyond what she'd planned. The very first Crossing weekend needed to be perfect, and it was on her to make it so. Her role as guide and chaperone was a duty she took seriously. The programme was her brainchild, after all.

It had begun a few weeks after Amelia had left. She’d paid a visit to the island to let them know that the lease was renewed for another ten years. It wasn’t hard to understand why.

‘So, maybe we could talk more about this seaweed business?’ Geraldine had asked a few days after Tara submitted the application. ‘When you say it could be adopted by the mainland… Did you mean in general or specifically here in Harborbrook? And this Dulse, where does it grow? Exactly?’

Hoping to ride the goodwill of the lease extension, Amelia pled her case to the residents of Solhaven that she not be locked out of the community forever. She wanted to be allowed to visit Solhaven regularly. Because she still loved it, even if she needed more than it could give her.

After some back and forth, it was agreed. As she’d saved the island, she would be allowed to be a visitor.

Her mother had started crying in front of everyone. ‘I thought I’d lost you forever,’ she’d wailed.

Amelia had patted her back and told her, in no uncertain terms, that if that was really a concern, she’d have to start being a bit nicer. Her mother, snot-faced, had said she’d try and asked her to stay with them on her visits now her cottage had been given to a young couple. Amelia had agreed. Her dad hadn’t said anything, but he had smiled, a rare expression on his normally stoic face.

On one of those visits, the kids had clustered around her, brimming with curiosity about the mainland. They wanted to know about the buildings, the food, the trains. One of them had asked if it was true that there were cities so large you couldn’t see the end of them.

Amelia had answered as best she could. But then the youngest of them, a bright-eyed girl called Sally, had asked, ‘Do people love each other out there? Or are they just on their own?’

The question had caught Amelia off guard. She paused, her mind sifting through the complexity of the relationships she had witnessed on the mainland—the rush, the detachment, the constant shifting. There was a certain speed to it all, a way people sought connection without always understanding it.

But then she thought of Tara and what they had.

‘They do love,’ Amelia said softly, her voice distant. ‘But sometimes they forget how. When they remember, though, they love just like we do. And in some ways, better.’

‘Better?’

Amelia hesitated, then nodded slowly. ‘There are lots of different kinds of love,’ she said. ‘Some you might not expect. But when you can see all the different kinds, when you can experience those loves, the world inside you becomes so much bigger than you could have imagined.’

The kids had seemed moderately satisfied with that answer, though their faces still held a thousand more questions. As Amelia arrived back to the mainland, their questions echoed in her mind. They weren’t just asking about the mainland—they were asking about life, about love, about their future. It made her realise that they were already dreaming of what was beyond Solhaven. They needed to know about it—not just the surface, but the realities, the choices, the struggles.

And that was when the idea of the Crossing had truly taken root.

The programme was Amelia’s attempt to bridge the gap between Solhaven and the world outside. It offered a new path for the younger members of the commune—an experience beyond the island. She’d pitched it to The Elders as a sort of Solhaven version of the Amish Rumspringa, explaining how it strengthened their community by making staying a more educated choice. People would be happier members of Solhaven if leaving didn’t seem so taboo. If they knew exactly what was good about it by comparison.

It hadn’t been easy. She’d argued for it through countless Long Hall meetings, where voices had risen, and accusations of betrayal had been hurled her way—mainly by her mother. The Elders had questioned her motives. But Amelia had stood her ground, knowing Solhaven wouldn’t last another hundred years without compromise.

Harriet, usually the first to attack any kind of change, had stayed unnervingly quiet, letting the debate rage. Amelia had been grateful for her, if not exactly support, then at least her lack of vitriol.

In the end, she’d worn them down. The Crossing had been approved as a trial—a weekend for the first batch of newly minted eighteen-year-olds to see the world beyond the island. To choose for themselves. The first one started tomorrow.

But this weekend wasn’t just their trial—it was hers too. She had to nail it.

Tara appeared beside her, picking up a brightly coloured cushion from the trolley. ‘Do you think they’ll actually use this, or is it just going to end up shoved in a corner somewhere?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Amelia gave a small laugh. ‘Even if it does, it will be such a lovely corner.’

Tara sighed and tossed the cushion back into the trolley. ‘Are you nervous?’

Amelia hesitated, her gaze drifting to the towering shelves that loomed over them. ‘Not really.’ She pushed the trolley past some ferns. ‘No, that’s a lie. I’m bricking a shit.’

Tara nodded. ‘Umm… It’s shitting a brick, Honey.’

Amelia looked at her. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. But say it your way. I prefer it,’ she assured her, kissing her cheek.

Amelia supposed the transition to mainlander was not fully complete after all.

Tara’s phone beeped.

‘Go on, check it,’ Amelia encouraged her.

‘I know you hate it. I thought it was on silent,’ Tara said.

‘Check it,’ Amelia smiled.

Tara looked at her phone. And then her eyes widened. ‘Well. OK.’

‘What?’ Amelia begged.

‘My article. It’s being optioned,’ Tara said with a baffled smile.

Amelia cleared her throat. ‘Umm…’

‘Some film production company wants to adapt my articles about you and Solhaven into a movie,’ Tara explained quickly, grinning. Somehow, no matter how often Amelia asked for translation, Tara never seemed to mind.

‘They do?’ Amelia asked, amazed.

The article Tara had ended up writing was a personal essay about how she had gone to Solhaven expecting a story she could sell to a tabloid, something sensational that would get her clicks, attention, and money. She wrote about how she had arrived on the island, cynical and eager to uncover some dark, gritty truth. Her mind was set on a story about a backward, insular community, perfect for a tabloid headline.

Then Tara wrote about how, as her journey progressed, it took an unexpected turn. Tara found herself less interested in the community’s secrets and more drawn to the people. One in particular. And then, somewhere along the way, in the middle of that rigid, antiquated world, she had stumbled into something she didn’t expect to find at all: herself—not to mention the love of her life.

The Guardian had bought the article, something Tara had been deeply proud of. Then they asked for a follow-up article about Amelia, their relationship, and her adaption to the mainland.

Tara hadn’t been sure about that. She didn’t want to exploit their relationship like that. But Amelia had told her she wanted her to do it. She knew Tara would write something beautiful and meaningful. And she did.

The article was a joyful tale about how Amelia had thrown herself into mainland life, trying everything, seeing everything, eating everything. The love in it was clear. Amelia had read it many, many times.

She wasn’t the only one who loved it. The article trended globally. It had made Tara’s career as a journalist. These days, she never chased work. It chased her.

And now, there could be a movie about Tara and Amelia.

‘That’s incredible,’ Amelia said, the awe in her voice impossible to mask. ‘So, who’s going to play me, then?’ she teased.

Tara snorted. ‘I’m seeing… Emma Stone.’

Amelia chewed the inside of her cheek. The name rang no bells whatsoever.

Tara smiled. ‘I’ll put on La La Land later. You’ll see what I mean. She’s almost as sexy as you.’

Amelia tutted. ‘Stop it.’

‘Look,’ Tara said. ‘You should probably know the movie won’t necessarily get made. They just bought the rights to the story.’

‘Really?’ Amelia asked, disappointed.

‘Sorry to disappoint. But the good news is, there’s a decent option fee. It’ll probably pay for your sustainable development degree.’

‘Oh!’ Amelia exclaimed, excited anew.

‘Yes. You could start this September,’ Tara said, almost as excited as Amelia was.

‘You think I could fit it in around the Crossing?’ Amelia asked anxiously.

‘When were you ever afraid of hard work?’ Tara asked with a smile.

Amelia nodded happily. ‘True.’

They carried on around Ikea, filling the trolley with items for the Crossing. Each choice felt weighted with meaning—new beginnings for the young ones leaving Solhaven and for Solhaven itself.

‘You can’t blame me for being nervous,’ Amelia admitted as they paused near the checkout. ‘It’s a big change. For them. For us all.’

Tara leaned against the trolley handle, her sharp edges softening. ‘It is. But sometimes, you have to shake things up.’

Amelia nodded. ‘You don’t have to tell me that.’

Tara suddenly cleared her throat, a glimmer of nervousness appearing on her beautiful face. ‘In the spirit of that, I, um, did something that I hope you’re going to not hate.’

Amelia stopped the trolley. ‘What have you done?’ she asked nervously.

‘I booked a trip to Paris.’

Amelia blinked. ‘What?’ Her heart pounded at the idea of another country. ‘Paris?’

‘It’s just a holiday,’ Tara replied, her tone light but encouraging. ‘You’ve been adjusting so well, and this is the perfect next adventure. A ferry, a train, and voilà. It’s not as far as it feels.’

‘It’s not that I don’t want to go,’ Amelia said. ‘It’s just… I’m still adjusting to this city. A whole new city feels… overwhelming.’

‘It must,’ Tara said compassionately. ‘But I’ve been thinking about what you said. About the kids needing to see the world beyond Solhaven. You’ve fought so hard for everyone else to have that chance. You should get it too. Because there’s so much more to see.’

Amelia felt the tension in her chest ease slightly. ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Take your time,’ Tara said, her tone teasing now. ‘Well, take six weeks. That’s when it becomes non-refundable.’

Amelia laughed despite herself, feeling a flicker of excitement rise through the lingering doubts. As they stepped up to queue for the till, Amelia let the idea of Paris settle in her mind. With Tara by her side, perhaps the journey didn’t need to feel so daunting.

After all, love had brought her this far. Why not see how much further it could take her?

Thanks for reading!