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It had been years. Skye hesitated at the stone wall that edged Bascath Beach, feeling the familiar tug in her chest as she gazed out at the dazzling shimmer where sea met sky. She should hate the ocean for what it had taken from her. But she didn’t. Filling her lungs with briny air was like coming home, despite the inevitable twist of pain.
She trotted down the stone steps, weaving through the crowd towards the quieter end of the beach, and found a clear bit of sand to claim. Morgan would join her soon. This was what she and Morgan did – sunbathe and swim, swim and sunbathe. Or had been in a different life. Skye had a small window to swim this holiday. To try to swim. Her heart began to thud. They both turned fourteen this year, but Skye felt seven years younger.
Seven years since her father and she had left the village; enough time to get over this. So why hadn’t she? She’d been back to visit Morgan and Rowena every year since. To visit Ciarlan Cove. But each time, swimming was a spectacular non-event.
Maybe she was just crazy? In the village, that was the theory. Being a Sebastian equalled being weird. Thanks to her dad going to pieces. Her, going to pieces. Her mum... She stopped herself from tugging on that painful thread. Maybe her dad was right? Maybe it was time to stop coming back to Bannimor?
Shrieks and shouts of children playing rose above the whoosh of the low surf. All along the beach swimmers packed the waves, doing what you were supposed to do at the seaside. The warm air smelled of sun-baked sand and coconut-scented sun lotion. She closed her eyes and tried to catch the feeling she’d had at the top of the steps, the pull to the water. Beyond the sand, the sparkling sea promised cold bliss. Or dark death, depending on how close to it she stood.
She hovered awkwardly, working up courage. Please let this be the summer I beat this, she silently begged whoever handled such requests. Trying not to look as self-conscious as she felt, she untied her borrowed green and blue sarong, bunching it and anchoring it with her sandals, and strode across the hot sand to the water, certain that every eye on the beach was watching her, waiting for her usual failure to launch. She’d show them this time.
But at the water’s edge she halted, her chest tight, her feet too heavy to lift. She stared down at the sweep of lacy foam, her heart setting a rapid tempo as the water surged around her ankles. Helplessness trembled through her limbs. Thundering waves roared closer inside her head, crashing towards her, swallowing... She opened her mouth to breathe, to stop the cry building behind her clenched teeth from becoming audible. Only when the wash retreated was she free to turn away, her eyes stinging in frustrated disappointment, treading clumsily towards the safety of dry sand.
Her best friend had arrived unseen, and was watching, her gaze liquid, her mouth a tight line as she tried to hide her emotion. “Hey Skye-bear,” she managed. They both pretended Morgan’s voice wasn’t a husky croak, and that the reason she turned quickly away was just to straighten her already neat towel. They’d got used to this game of pretence. No problem here. Nothing wrong with Skye.
“I don’t really feel like swimming,” Morgan said as they settled on their towels. Skye forced a smile. Morgan always had her back. But she hated that she needed to in this situation. Hated being so pathetic.
“How about Ciarlan Cove?”
Skye looked at her, surprised.
“You loved going there, right? Why don't I come with you? Show me what’s so great about it.” Her tone was teasing. It was the least popular of all the beaches around Bannimor. Skye shrugged, but was already climbing to her feet, dusting herself off, eager to comply.
Soon they were walking through the saddle, the valley named for its shape, curving behind the hills that cradled the Bay. At its end was Ocean Beach, a stretch of wild coastline. But before Ocean Beach, off the worn saddle path ran an almost indiscernible track. Taking it, they entered a hidden, echoing archway, and stepped out the other side onto a sheltered curve of shingled sand backed by sheer foliage-crowned rock.
Skye inhaled with pleasure at the hidden world, drawing in cool ocean-flavoured air that seemed so much richer here. The sound of rushing water bounced of the rock walls, but it felt quieter here, somehow hushed. Morgan looked around with obvious discomfort, and Skye felt a moment’s uncertainty. This was more than just a beach to her. More than the setting of happy memories. It was where her mother had drowned. Supposedly. She wouldn't imagine the body that was never found. She didn’t know why she like being here, but she did.
After her mother’s death, she’d come here alone – before her father had moved them what felt like a thousand miles away. And every visit back to stay with Morgan and her mother Rowena, she had returned to Ciarlan Cove and came away warmed, feeling as if she’d been in the presence of protective love. Had felt certain that she mattered, and sure that her mother’s spirit inhabited this Cove somehow. But that sense of connection left a few years ago.
The tide was far enough below the rock outcrop for her to feel safe. She boldly leapt from rock to rock, Morgan reluctantly following.
Reaching the end, Skye closed her eyes, trying to sense...something. Some kind of presence. She waited, hopeful, expectant. But there was nothing. Just the sound of waves breaking against the rocks. Her heart sank with disappointment.
“Hey, Skye, I don’t want to stay too long. It’s just...it’s creepy here.” Morgan tried to laugh. “And not because...you know,” she added quickly when Skye looked at her.
“It’s okay. Sure.” Skye agreed. There was nothing here anymore, anyway. She didn’t know what she’d thought she might find. Morgan turned away with obvious relief.
“You used to come back from here kind of spaced out,” Morgan said as they reached the shingled sand.
“What do you mean?”
“Well... You seemed happy. Like you felt better. But – kind of blank. It was weird.” Morgan was trying to sound light, but Skye heard the unease in her voice. “You could never tell me what happened. So...what did you do here?”
“Just...sat on the rocks. Imagined my mum, I guess.” Skye felt embarrassed, and felt even worse when Morgan looked guilty.
“Sorry,” Morgan murmured. “Does it still, I don’t know, make you feel better coming here? We can stay longer if you want...”
“No. It’s just a beach.” She was glad to let Morgan lead the way through the archway, letting her hide the sense of loss that ripped through her. She couldn’t do this anymore – come back to Bannimor. Her father was right. It was all over for them here. She loved Morgan and Rowena, but it was just too painful. She loved seeing them, but she’d lost too much else. Whatever had brought her to the Cove like an addict was gone. She was done with Bannimor.
