She looked around the room. Two single beds and a foldout camp bed, desk and stocked bookshelf, simple rustic décor. Lennox snoring in bed made her think of Rosie, the little snuffle she made when she snoozed. She remembered being on holiday with Rosie and Paul in some crappy Tenerife resort, middle of the day, their little girl asleep while they sat on a balcony looking at the Atlantic between high-rise blocks. The grief never leaves, just comes and goes in waves. The trick was to move with the motion of the waves, not resist, otherwise you’d drown. She took Rosie’s photo from her pocket and stared at it for a long time.
She put it away and looked out of the window of their room. Loch Broom rather than the Atlantic but it was all connected, two-thirds of the earth’s surface. It was a water world, yet here she was, descended from apes, still walking on land. She’d read somewhere that sharks had been around longer than trees. The human view of earth was so myopic it was virtually blind. Sandy’s arrival made her realise that. Humans were nothing in the scheme of things, she felt that in her bones now.
A tense throb started at the base of her skull and she touched her neck. She pictured the tumour spreading through the wet meat of her brain, how it would kill her soon. She tensed in expectation but the pain always took her by surprise, overwhelming her, making her sense of self disappear in its dark depths. She staggered to the adjoining bathroom, hands on the walls for support. She was vaguely aware of Sandy sitting in the bath, water rippling as they flexed, tentacles dangling over the rim. Their skin changed colour from light brown to cream, grey, light blue.
She fell in front of the toilet and gripped the seat, puked over and over. She felt like her eyeballs might explode out of their sockets, her brain was porridge, her stomach trying to leave her body. She gave herself up to the misery, it would be over soon. She retched twice more as the pain began to fade, the throbs reducing to a dull ache. She felt like her neck might snap from the strain.
Eventually she fell back from the toilet bowl and wiped her mouth, leaned against the wall to recover. These attacks were getting worse, definitely. She tried to control her breathing, stared at Sandy, seemingly oblivious to her in the bath.
She couldn’t understand why Sandy was still here. They came to reunite them with others, right? Lennox was frustratingly vague when he came out of the water. Talked about some giant creature or community at the bottom of the loch, something that Sandy was part of. So why had Sandy come back with Lennox?
She felt in limbo between the craziness of their Highland chase and what was to come. They were still wanted by the police, Sandy wasn’t reunited with their tribe, Ava hadn’t had her baby, Heather was still dying. And Fellowes was closing in.
She thought about Ewan, what he’d done for them. He acted like a selfless father, doing what was best for his family. She felt like she and Ewan were the parents of this ramshackle bunch by default. Her chest was tight and her headache throbbed as she considered what might’ve happened to him. She was sure Fellowes would get their destination out of him, so it was only a matter of time until he showed. She glanced out of the window, half expecting the SUVs to trundle down the street.
But surely once Sandy was back in the water for good, Fellowes would have no purpose here. It all came back to Sandy. Heather looked at them in the bath, shifting colour like sand in the tide. She walked over. Sandy had spoken to Lennox and now Ava, and Heather felt left out. She thought about their strokes, how Sandy had both hurt and cured them. And she thought about her cancer. She hadn’t cared about her death since Rosie but now she wasn’t sure.
She reached out and touched a tentacle, which flinched. She held it firm and the suckers stuck to her skin. She closed her eyes and waited.
There was a loud thump from the bedroom, and Heather pushed the bathroom door open to see Ava standing there, holding her belly and panting.
‘Michael’s here,’ she said.
Lennox sat up in bed and Sandy’s tentacle swayed away from Heather’s touch. Sandy’s eyes opened and Heather stared into them, wishing for a voice in her head. Eventually she turned to Ava, who was leaning against the desk.
‘Where?’
‘He’s here with Mum. I met her by the shore. They’re staying at the Royal.’
Lennox pushed up on his elbows. ‘Why would she do that?’
‘She loves him. She’s old school, stand by your man, a woman’s place is eating shit, taking crap every day until you die.’
Heather frowned. ‘It might just be that she’s worried about you.’
‘I can’t go back to him.’
Lennox swung his legs round to sit up. ‘You don’t have to, we’ll look after you.’
Ava laughed. ‘You’re just a boy.’
Lennox sucked his teeth.
Ava looked sheepish. ‘Shit, sorry, I’m just worried, OK?’
‘I don’t mean me, I mean Sandy. And Xander, if it comes to it.’
Heather narrowed her eyes. ‘Xander?’
‘That’s what I call the thing down there.’ He waved towards the loch.
Ava looked confused. ‘Why?’
‘Xander is the same name as Sandy. Alexander. I got the feeling they’re part of the same … thing.’
‘Why are they here?’
‘Didn’t say.’
‘Why isn’t Sandy in the water?’
Lennox frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
Heather looked at Sandy. Their tentacles were exploring the taps and plughole, sucker marks on the tiled wall. They turned a tap on and moved under the flow, splashing over the side of the bath.
‘They wanted to be reunited with … Xander, right? So why not stay in the water?’
Lennox looked as if he’d never thought of that. He stared at Sandy, and Heather knew they were talking. Ava’s eyes went wide, she could hear too. Heather was excluded from their little club.
Lennox looked at Heather. ‘Sandy says they’re not finished with you yet.’