Page 118 of Somewhere Only We Know

‘Fine with me,’ I told her.

Jackson approved too and asked her to send it to him.

‘Maggie, you won’t tell Harry about our chat, will you?’ Lola bit her lip.

‘Absolutely not, I promise, as long as you promise to tell me how it goes.’

‘Deal. You’re awesome,’ she said, flinging her arms around my neck again. ‘Bye, both of you. So great to meet you.’

‘What was that about?’ Jackson asked as we watched her walk back into the terminal, her head bowed over her phone.

‘She fancies Harry and worries that he might not feel the same way as her,’ I explained.

‘And what did you tell her that was so awesome?’ He squatted down to Scout’s level and tipped his water up so she could drink from the bottle.

‘That she should tell Harry how she feels and that I wished I’d done that twenty-four years ago,’ I said casually. ‘With you.’

Jackson shot me a surprised look. ‘That’s very good advice.’

I smiled. ‘Hindsight is a marvellous thing. You might want to stop pouring water now, by the way.’

‘What?’ He looked down at the puddle of water at his feet and grinned. Scout was licking it straight from the floor. ‘Oh hell. I was distracted for a second there.’

By me, I thought. Two decades on and there was still something there between us.

‘Listen, do you mind if we find somewhere to sit for a few minutes?’ I asked. ‘I’m dying to read what Brontë’s written about Bali in her book.’

‘Sure.’ He got to his feet and looked awkward. ‘Do you want to be alone?’

We both looked at the book in my hands, her illustrations so familiar to me and as yet unknown to him. I could sink into her world by myself, or I could share the next chapter – and possibly the most important – with the man she’d wanted to meet. It was an easy decision.

‘Absolutely not!’ I tucked my arm through his. ‘I think Brontë would love us to be reading it together.’

The three of us found a shady bench and Scout promptly flopped down underneath it.

I gave the book to Jackson to flick through and let his daughter introduce herself through her words and art while I drank my water. Once he’d found the page headed Bali, he held it between us so that we could both see the words.

‘Okay?’ I asked.

‘More than okay,’ he said, wiping a tear from his eye. ‘What a girl.’

‘Indeed. Let’s see what she has to say about Bali.’

Brontë’s Gap Year

Everyone my age wants to go to Bali. It’s Instagrammer heaven. If it’s not digital nomads, it’s backpackers or volunteers working at kids’ nurseries or turtle conservation or people having the holiday of a lifetime. But I’ve got a special reason for going. I’m going to try and trace what happened to my dad.

Mum has never had one bad word to say either about Bali or about Jackson, my father. Their story is probably the most romantic I’ve ever heard, and it’s always made me sad that they never got to meet up after I was born. I love to hear Mum telling me how she and he got together. There’s this golden glow to her face when she talks about him and about Bali. The older I’ve got, the more curious I am to know more. Maybe I won’t find my dad on this trip, and if I don’t, I’ll keep looking. The path to success is paved with failures, as Mum is always saying. But one thing’s for sure, I bet I fall in love with Bali as much as Mum did in 2000.

I feel so sorry for the older generation trying to do stuff without social media. It was so easy to lose touch with people in the old days. Now it’s the other way around. Like the boy from my junior school called Richard who moved to Vancouver when he was eight who still messages me. I didn’t even like him back then. Now it’s rare that I meet someone who I don’t have at least one mutual connection with.

Anyway, all Mum knew was his name and age and that he was American, that he loved surfing and scuba diving, wanted to travel the world and spend his life living by the sea. I love to imagine that that was what he ended up doing and it wasn’t the random dreams of a twenty-three-year old. Having a surfer dude for a dad would be so cool. Mum only has about six photos of him because phones didn’t take pictures then. But I’ve seen enough to think that he looks a bit like me. I think if I meet him, I’ll know straight away whether I’ve got the right man or not.

So I don’t have much to go on. Or so I thought … Because although the turtle conservation project that Mum stayed at is gone, there’s another new one close by. Even better, there’s a man Mum used to talk about called Utt and there’s a really old man called Utt who works at the new one. Coincidence? Maybe. But there’s only one way to find out. So Utt might have some info on Jackson, and even if he doesn’t, it’ll be cool to meet someone else who knew my dad. I’ve searched Bali and Thailand (just in case) for anyone with Jackson as his first name but came up with a big fat zero. I did find one possible, a man whose surname is Jackson, the owner of a hotel for surfers. So not ruling him in or out at the moment. But I’m romantic enough to hope that it’s all going to work out happily ever after.

Chapter 43

Bali