Salley Vickers - Dancing Backwards

‘Renato, would you mind, only my eyes…’

‘Excuse me?’

‘The cleaner you’re using. I’m sorry, but it is making my eyes sting.’

‘Excuse me, Mrs Hetherington, but I must clean the cabin.’

‘Couldn’t you just dust it or wipe it over with a damp cloth?’

Renato looked opaque. He left the room stinking to high heaven and to escape the fumes Vi went outside on to the balcony.

And there was the sea, reminding her that nothing that happens matters much in the great sum of things. And yet, she thought, how can we help minding?

She walked back into the cabin. On the zealously cleansed desk, Renato had stacked her books in neat piles. Beside them he had placed, in a parallel pile, her notebooks. She had not opened the notebooks in years. Goodness knows what had induced her to bring them. Except, of course, she did know. Edwin.

What would it be like seeing Edwin again after all these years? Was she excited? Scared? She wasn’t sure. She had set out on something stronger than a whim. It was an impulse, but with an attendant caution that had led to her making the crossing by sea. But for what? Time, she supposed. Time to consider. Time for reflection. Although you would think she had had all the time in the world for that.

She tried to recall when she and Edwin had last met—but the years had evaporated to a mist. Had they even said goodbye? She wasn’t sure of that either.

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