Maxine Morrey - Coming Home to Wishington Bay

The ultimatum had come after I’d gone off the deep end about a report he wanted. One that, despite practically living at the office, I still hadn’t had time to get around to. As I’d begun assuring him that I’d have it done by the end of the week, without having the faintest idea how, my chest had got so tight I could barely breathe, the room had begun to swim and I’d ended up sliding down the side of Gerald’s desk in what I don’t imagine to be the most elegant of ways, getting more and more panicky as I found I had less and less breath.

At this point, Gerald had had a little panic of his own and in my fuggy, lack-of-oxygen state, I’d heard him on the phone, trying to find out who the First Aider was. With the tiny bit of energy I’d had left, I’d flung my tingling arm out and yanked the phone away from him, and the desk, cutting off the call as I shook my head. This was already an embarrassing enough situation without more people coming in to gawp at me and comment as to whether that particular shade of waxy white my face had taken on was really my colour.

Gerald had tried to wrangle the phone back from me but I’d kept him at bay and instead flapped my hand about on his desk until it had reached his paper lunch bag from the posh sandwich shop just down the road. Scattering the contents across Gerald’s desk, I’d quickly shoved the paper bag up to my face. After a few breaths in and out, the room spun a bit slower and I’d focused on trying to calm my racing mind. The pain in my chest was still there but it would go in time, like it usually did. Although, this was by far my most spectacular, and most public, experience of it. I hadn’t admitted it to anyone – and barely to myself – but I was terrified.

Gerald had been my boss, and friend, for over ten years. Once I’d calmed down and returned to a much more normal colour, he’d sat me down and given me the ultimatum, telling me that with the way I was going, my next position was either going to be a sabbatical at the seaside, or a stay in hospital. Put like that, the decision was kind of made for me. I arranged for my post to be forwarded to Gigi’s place, packed a suitcase and drove down. The further I got from London, the more I had tentatively started looking forward to it. I still wasn’t sure how I was going to cope without going into the office every day but I had my phone and laptop so it wasn’t like I was going to be cut off from civilisation entirely.

That night, I’d gone to sleep surrounded by peace and quiet and woken to the sound of real waves gently washing over a real beach. I’d lain there feeling a little of the long-held stress leave my body with each return of the tide, confident that this little break was all I needed to see off the attacks I’d had.

And then Gabe McKinley had appeared at my window, seen me in my scrap of silk undies, and spoiled it all.

* * *

I’d succeeded in accomplishing very little today. The morning’s encounter with my neighbour had put me out of sorts and disrupted my equilibrium. I hadn’t felt able to concentrate on anything after that, which wasn’t like me at all. I’d fiddled about, moving bits from one place to another before moving them back again, looked half-heartedly over paint charts, and wandered out into the garden to deadhead a few flowers before finally giving up. Pulling out a big box of photos I’d found in a sideboard, I sat on the overstuffed sofa, tucked my feet up underneath me and proceeded to lose the next two hours looking through them.

Many of them I hadn’t seen for years or had never seen. I smiled at a photo of Gigi and Grandpa laughing together and cried at one of my dad and me building a sandcastle on the beach outside this very house. For once, he actually looked happy. Eventually deciding I’d had enough emotional pummelling for today, I gave my phone another quick check for market news and possible emails then headed out and took a long walk on the beach, making some notes on my phone about jobs I needed to get done in the house as I did so.

It was nearly three hours later I returned to the house, feeling both mentally and physically calmer. Even just approaching the house from the beach, knowing that was where I was headed, had sent a ripple of calm through me that I couldn’t remember feeling for many years. And not one I could remember ever feeling anywhere else. Thankfully there seemed no signs of life from next door and I settled down on one of the steamer chairs on the patio with a stack of interior design magazines to study for ideas for the house. The huge UV protective sail that stretched across both sides of the house provided perfect shade – which was just as well because the next thing I knew it felt cooler and there was a large shadow over me. I opened my eyes to find Gabe McKinley back, and loitering by my patio door.

‘What are you doing?’ I snapped, waking properly and pushing myself into an upright position.

He jumped and spun around. ‘Oh God! I thought you were asleep!’ he said, his words slightly muffled because his face was all squished up by the crash helmet he still wore.

‘Lucky I woke up before you got a chance to case my house properly then, isn’t it?’ I said, standing up.

‘Oh for …’ The rest of the sentence got lost as he pulled the crash helmet from his head, revealing a very recently acquired neat short back and sides. ‘You’re officially nuts. You know that, don’t you?’ He turned away and began walking back towards his own side of the house.

‘And that’s your professional medical opinion, I suppose?’ I returned, with more than a hint of sarcasm.

I really don’t know why I was having such trouble believing this man was a doctor. I know you’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover and all that, but he just didn’t look like one. Not one I’d ever seen anyway. Which was probably just as well because he had a habit of raising my blood pressure dramatically – and not only because all we’d done so far was bicker. But right now, I was doing my best to put that particular nugget of information to the back of my mind and pretend it wasn’t there.

He continued walking away from me, his gait slightly stilted due to the stiff, protective motorcycle suit and boots. At my comment, he threw his hands in the air in resignation, not bothering to turn around. A moment later he disappeared inside and the patio door slid back into place with a little more help than it probably needed.

I shook my head and checked my phone for the time. My brother and his wife had invited me for dinner this evening, but I still had a bit of time to kill before I needed to get ready. Retaking my seat on the lounger, I picked up one of the magazines and flicked through the thick, glossy pages looking for inspiration. As I stopped on one particular article, I heard the neighbouring door slide open again. Keeping my head down, I concentrated intensely on the words. A moment later, Gabe McKinley was stood in front of me, and it was really hard not to concentrate on him instead.

I aimed for nonchalant as I lifted my head and met his gaze. He’d unzipped the yellow and black leather bike suit and the top half now hung down from his waist, the arms dangling loosely. Underneath he wore a fitted white T-shirt that showed every line and curve of a powerfully built chest and heavily muscled arms. He’d discarded the boots now and his feet were bare as he stood looking at me. I tilted my head in question at him because I wasn’t entirely confident about what might come out of my mouth if I attempted speech right now. Best to be safe.

‘Just so you know, I wasn’t casing your house. All I was going to do was shut your patio door. I know it’s pretty quiet here and this bit of the beach is private, but you never know. Gigi used to nod off out here from time to time, always leaving the door wide open, even though I’d suggested she might want to push it closed a little. It made me nervous for her. I know she wasn’t worried because she was so trusting. I grew up in a city and although I’ve lived here a few years now, it’s hard to shake that instinct, so I still always shut it for her if she was asleep when I came by. She always knew to check so that she didn’t bump into the glass or anything. It sort of became a habit.