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After a text from Genevieve, I’m sitting outside Bantry’s Bar sipping a lime and soda. I’ve pushed Davina to the back of my mind. It’s the only thing I can do. Her Delphic clue is one clue too far. It’s made me decide to ditch the psychic revolving door and flip to practical investigations. Starting with Gaston. He’ll see me later today, but I’ll hear from Genevieve first.
She arrives looking like she’s just stepped out of a beauty salon. Hair immaculate, makeup perfect. She’s lost weight, and her gold and white sundress shows off her figure and her tan.
“You look fabulous,” I say. “Who’s the man?”
That was thoughtless but she doesn’t notice.
“Tony,” she says. “It’s his favourite dress.”
An alarm bell rings. “Has he agreed to see you?”
She hesitates. “I have to see him, Selkie. Time’s running out. I’ve got to go back to the twins. And Tony...who knows how long he’ll be...around?”
She doesn’t know about Miguel and I can’t tell her.
“What happened with the lawyer?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Sandrine’s heard nothing so we’re in the dark. I’m good at waiting but it’s...wearing me down.” She’s about to cry, but stops.
“You’ve done your best to inform him,” I say.
“With your help.”
Another bell. “You can’t do any more.”
“Except see him.”
I look up sharply from my drink. “No.”
“Don’t look at me like that. You could take me with you. I’d wait outside while you-”
“No.”
“Put yourself in my shoes, Selkie. Trying to get up the courage to knock on his door, running through endless dialogues in my head that might get me over his threshold, that might get him to at least speak to me. Meanwhile, you visit Tony whenever you want. He likes you, doesn’t he? My husband. And Alister, he can’t get enough of you. But I’m like the wallflower at the prom. Sitting on the sidelines waiting, while you charm away...both my men.”
She makes me sound manipulative and I start to defend myself, then stop. I haven’t charmed anyone, but she knows that. The word has achieved what she wanted. I’m in her shoes and the view is different.
“Look, I can see how it is for you. You’re going through hell. But my decision isn’t about you. It’s about Gaston. I can’t betray his trust like that. If I take you there to wait outside his door, it would put intolerable pressure on him. He’s made his position clear, and, as painful as it is, you have to honour it.”
“Did he tell you how he disappeared?”
“Briefly. But it’s not my story to tell. I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t wait for more. She walks off, without looking back.
***
It’s too hot to walk from Chinon station, so I take a taxi. When I get to his door, Gaston is in the living room. He invites me in and for the first time I see it, against the whitewashed walls of the troglo. His aura. I’ve never seen an aura before but I know what it means. His former robust self is circling him like an invisible skin. He’s dying. Not quickly. Slowly.
Tears prickle my eyes and I brush them away. Then I grab a tissue from the table and blow my nose. “This hay fever,” I say.
The aura has faded, and I notice that his human skin is washed and groomed. In his sleeveless T-shirt, his muscles have a memory of the sailor he used to be.
“My carers just left,” he says. “Two big guys come in twice a week so I can wallow in the bath like a wounded orca. It’s a pleasure I never miss.”
It reminds me of Genevieve’s own beauty treatment and I feel like weeping all over again. If only they could get together, the old spark might dissolve the emotions that are keeping them apart.
Over our Nespressos, I tell Gaston why I’m here. Another favour. Nothing to do with lizards.
“You used to swim at Bantry’s Bluff.”
He nods. “Every day. I was stronger in the water. I thought it might slow down the disease. And I enjoyed it.”
I nod. “So you knew that cove pretty well.”
“And the cemetery. It isn’t haunted, if you’re asking about that again.”
“No. I thought you might have some ideas about where I might have gone when I was missing.”
“You were wearing scuba gear?”
“I don’t even swim.”
“There used to be a hut on the cliff,” he says. “It got blown into the sea in a gale. A woman was hiding there from her lover. She drowned.”
“No.”
“Another example of the curse, if you believe the locals. Are you sure someone didn’t kidnap you? Put chloroform over your mouth and take you away?”
It’s an explanation that feels impossible, but it’s good to cross it off my mental list. I’m just asking him about local place names that might include a lizard, when a shadow crosses the windows of the troglo and a woman opens the door. The light’s behind her but I saw that gold dress this morning.
She steps inside. “I won’t stay away any longer, Tony.”
“Gennie.”
He starts to back his wheelchair away, but she’s the woman I first met, determined after her long wait. She walks up to him and puts her hands on his shoulders, then kisses him on both cheeks.
She turns to me, “More coffee, please, Selkie.”
I scurry into the kitchenette and clatter the mugs as loudly as I can. Their voices are only a murmur and I take my time. When I put the mugs on the table, Genevieve has pulled up a chair beside him. They’re holding hands and they both look like they’ve been crying. Whatever’s happened, their grooming no longer matters.
“I’m outside if you need me,” I say.
I wait for a while, but there’s no shade at all, and the abandoned caves nearby, with their weeds and empty bottles, don’t invite trespassers. Many of them have graffiti on their walls – a reminder of my dream.
I send Genevieve a text to let them know I’m leaving. At the bottom of the lane, I keep to the shady side of the street and walk to the centre of Chinon. A stall selling sandwichs overlooks the fountain in the square, so I buy a baguette filled with brie and chicken and tomato and eat it on a bench. Then I wander down to the riverbank and lean over the rail, catching some breeze as the Vienne flows by.
Will Gaston tell her about Miguel? If he doesn’t, she may believe she’s got more time with him than she has. After their new connection, he may decide to wait. Or it may happen before she goes back to Hawaii, which could be the cruellest thing he’s ever done to her. Let her have her last week, then exit. I remind myself that it’s none of my business – the maxim I’m having trouble living by.
They slipped so quickly into being together again. If he was angry that she invaded his hideaway, he moved through it to something else. Love? A wave of sadness hits me when I think about what they’ve both been through. In the name of protecting themselves. From what? Another person loving them, even when they’re broken?
It makes me realise that I know nothing about love. My mother’s love fizzled out when I became an unhappy toddler. Dad couldn’t get past his shame to show me he cared. Stella only loved me if I pulled on my Elkie-skin and left the real Selkie to be glimpsed through a keyhole. And Andrew – to him I was a mannequin, draped in garments of his choosing, to be paraded on his arm.
Is that why I can’t love Alister? Part of me wants to let his love in and try it on for size – the part that thinks crookedly and gets sideswiped by stray emotions when I’m stacking dirty dishes. But I’m working without a script. It’s like the seminar – I’ve got to wing it. What if I...bomb?
Alister chooses that moment to send a text. Bombe alaska? It makes me laugh out loud.
As well as reading my mind, he’s proposing dinner at ‘our’ Chinese café. It’s our first date since my house burned down. He’s playing a long game.
I accept.