Page 43 of The Next Chapter

I open my mouth to say I’ve changed my mind. I want to go back down. I don’t want to be the sort of person who does adventurous things. I want to be the sort of person who stays in bed with a book. It’s a myth, we don’t contain multitudes, we should just pick a lane and stay in it.

But Steve is saying that it’s time to jump and the plane door is open.

How am I at the edge of a plane?

Don’t they need to check that I’m sure for one last time? They asked a lot on the ground.

Steve is counting down. What happens next?

Oh my fucking Jesus, we aren’t in the plane anymore.

The wind hits me like a wind tunnel turned up to the max. Steve has manoeuvred us so that I’m on my stomach, riding on the wind.

‘Open your eyes!’ he calls.

‘No!’ I call back, thinking that I’d be really panicked right now if I could actually draw breath.

Why is my mouth so wide open?

‘Look!’ he calls.

I open my eyes, thinking that whatever I look at might be the final thing that I see and I’m… well, I’m blown away.

The loch is there in the distance, stretching out to the ocean. Everything is so small down there, so insignificant.

I can’t cry. My eyes are too dry.

I see Noah and his diver in front of us. He actually waves. Lunatic.

There’s a massive tug on the harness and we’re flying upwards again.

I scream, but it’s carried away on the wind.

The parachute is up and it looks like all of Steve’s checks paid off.

I find the bit with the parachute up much more genteel. Giant wedgie aside, it’s civilized, almost. Why we left it so long to get it out, I’ll never know. I hang like a ragdoll off Steve and wonder why my cheeks are so wet when my mouth is so very, very dry.

I’m happy to report that I manage an excellent landing in the castle grounds. Steve taught me well. He tells me that it’s one of his best landings this week, in fact.

When I’m detached from Steve, I fall to my hands and knees. Lovely grass. I’ll never abandon you again.

‘That was amazing,’ I hear Noah call behind me. I’m still stroking the grass.

‘It was… something.’ Like a religious experience, almost. I think that maybe I’m being dramatic, but I did just throw myself out of a plane.

‘Do you want to head down to the beach, or we could go look around the castle, when you’re, er, done,’ Noah says. I desist from stroking the grass, sit back on my heels. My legs are still shaking.

‘Let’s go to the beach, that would be lovely.’

With some effort, I stand up. We say our final farewell to the Skye from the Sky team and turn away from the castle, heading towards the shore of the loch.

I expected to feel, I don’t know, drained after the skydive. But instead, everything feels heightened. Like I’m looking at the world in high definition.

‘It’s really beautiful here.’ I sit down (or rather my legs give out) on a small mound of sand close to the shore. The perimeter of the loch stretches out on all sides around us.

It’s all so big. That’s what I thought at the top of the mountain, from the infinity pool, from the sky. Everything on Skye makes it impossible not to feel inconsequential. It makes me think, who cares what rubbish you have going on, look how big the world is?

‘It is.’ We sit and take it all in until the afternoon sun gets hazy, then venture down the cliff and along the beach.

Neither of us talk much. It’s like we shared something, jumping out of that plane.

I don’t even think about what the skydive did to my hair.

Chances are, all the Frizzease in the world couldn’t save me now, but I’m not thinking about that as I kick my sandals off and walk in the water so that the waves lap at my ankles.

Noah holds my hand, the one not carrying my shoes, that is, and for the first time I truly let myself think about how nice it would be, to have more of this.

Not just with Noah, but with Lola too. What it might be like to make space for her in some capacity in my life.

The thought of telling her who I am, of having her reject me again, fills me with dread. But maybe I could keep pretending and she need never know.

Maybe Noah will take that job, the one that means he could be around more.

‘You’re crushing my hand.’ Noah laughs.

I relax my iron grip.

‘Sorry.’

Noah tugs me to face him, then he’s looking down at me intently and his features seem softer around the edges somehow.

I’m sure we’re about to kiss. We’re on a beach and the sun is starting to set – it’s the perfect backdrop to some gold star kissing.

Except he doesn’t kiss me, he hugs me. I bury my head in his shoulder, breathe him in and hug him back as if my life depends on it, as if hugging him tight enough will be the thing to keep him here.

When we break apart, he’s frowning.

‘Is everything okay?’ I ask him as we turn and start to walk back.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Well, actually, just over there is a caravan park. I lived there with Mum and Dad for a few years. Coming back here always brings it back.’

‘God, Noah, I had no idea. I’m sorry, we didn’t need to come.’

‘It’s fine. I like it here. I used to escape down to the loch as much as I could.’

‘Okay, good, okay. Do you, er, ever miss them?’ I ask him, feeling like I should say something but not sure what.

‘Sometimes.’ He shrugs. ‘I’ve seen them on and off. If they get wind that I’m in the country they pop up now and then, normally to ask for money.’

‘That’s so awful.’

‘Yep. But it’s just… addiction, right? It’s not really them. Even when I lived with them, it was like being on my own. I guess I got used to it over the years and now it’s just the way things are. Aside from Lola, I don’t really have anyone.’

And well done me, for not ruining this beautiful moment of Noah opening up by screeching ‘Me! Have me!’ at the top of my voice.

Plus, I get it, what it’s like to feel alone. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to meet Lola after Dad died, because despite all the hen dos and weddings and gender reveal parties, I sometimes feel like Seb is the only person who really knows me.

‘I understand that,’ I say, squeezing his hand again.

‘What are your parents like?’ he asks, and my stomach falls a little, at them being described in the present tense.

‘Great,’ I say without thinking. ‘The best really. They always just had so much time for me, you know? It meant that they put a lot of effort in. With all these traditions. Like every Christmas we’d get a new bauble each and have a competition about who could pick the worst one.

I got a hot dog one from Paperchase that I loved.

And every birthday we’d have birthday hugs instead of birthday bumps.

Sorry.’ I stop myself. ‘I’m being insensitive. ’

He brushes a thumb along my cheekbone, and I lean into him, just a little.

‘You aren’t. It makes me happy, that you have that.’

I do a slow breath out as we look at each other. In my head, I’m thinking that we’re more alike in the parenting stakes than Noah could possibly know. The urge to tell him is there then, thrashing around in my chest. But how can I admit that I lied? What a mess.

I stamp the urge down. Noah must see that I’m wrestling with something because he says ‘Urgh’ and shakes his head, as if he’s trying to actively dislodge the melancholic thoughts. ‘I didn’t mean to get all maudlin. Let’s walk some more. Unless you want to get back?’

I want to drive on the back of the motorbike in the dark less than I want to get root canal work at the dentist, but I don’t want to leave the beach. I don’t want the day to end.

‘Let’s walk some more.’

It’s a shame, really, that the story of me and Noah doesn’t get an ending where we walk off into the sunset together.