William had fallen into a deep sleep in the late afternoon, his hip and his racing thoughts having kept him awake through most of the previous night. He didn’t hear the soft knock on the camper door. It was the dogs barking excitedly around the gorse that eventually roused him.
‘Alison?’
‘Oh, I thought you were out.’ She turned around, retraced her steps. She had been relieved when she’d received no answer. Deciding to come here and face her embarrassment was one thing, going through with it was another. She lifted her head, her eyes for a second meeting his as she thrust the bunch of wild daises into his hand. ‘An apology – for last night?’
‘I was sleeping, sorry. Really, there’s no need.’ His eyes were shadowed, making him look older, wearied.
‘Will you come in?’
‘No, thanks. I’m taking the dogs to Sliabh Carraig, they’ve been cooped up all morning.’
‘Right. How are you feeling?’ he risked.
‘Miserable.’ She lowered her head. ‘Tired, sick, foolish, confused – all of the above.’ She grinned her despair, her shoulders rising then falling with her sigh. An awkward silence and she turned to leave.
‘Is it far – the mountain?’
‘About five miles. I’ll go, sorry to have woken you. Catch you again and, well, sorry.’
‘Alison!’ He called to her back. ‘Fancy some company?’ Facing him after last night couldn’t have been easy – the way she had herself hidden away in that big man’s jacket screamed her discomfort. She hesitated a moment before turning again to face him.
‘If you don’t mind the incessant yelping on the way, sure.’ Her smile was uncertain, timid almost.
‘I’ll just get a jacket.’ He disappeared into the van. The pregnant sky stooped in conspiratorial whisper to the rising sea. ‘Bring a hat,’ she called after him through the open door. ‘Rain’s not far off.’
‘Is it your hip?’ Alison motioned to the walking stick in William’s hand.
‘Yeah. I didn’t figure you as a mountain person,’ he remarked, steering the conversation away from the pain that knifed his hip as he raised himself into the passenger seat.
‘I’m not usually.’ She started up the jeep. ‘Just felt I needed to get away from the sea for a bit. Plus, it’s a change for the dogs.’
‘I’ve never been up there – hope you don’t mind me tagging along.’
‘Of course not,’ Alison smiled. ‘You can help me keep these two under control.’ She was grateful to this stranger who had cared enough to see her safely home last night. And the way she had treated him after . . . That familiar burn of humiliation heated her chest.
‘They’re beauties – have you had them long?’ He had learned from last night to keep the conversation light, was wary of upsetting her or causing offence with his curiosity.
‘Tilly five years – she was a birthday present for Hannah. And she presented us with Tim and five others last July.’
Driving slowly towards the mountain, Alison enjoyed the easy small talk, the light silences. She felt strangely at home with this almost stranger.
‘We’ll leave the jeep here, maybe walk as far as the waterfall?’ Alison pointed towards the long white fingers of water massaging the mountain face in the distance. She eased into a neat parking space. There weren’t many cars for a Sunday, the sky’s threatening greys probably keeping many indoors.
‘Wow, what a beautiful spot.’ William tugged on his jacket and joined her as she released the straining dogs from the boot. Carpets of purple and blue heathers softened the craggy ground, long haired elders and tight curled lambs dotting the hills and dips. Pulled back on themselves by the wind, the whitethorn bushes in the distance put him in mind of reluctant brides.
‘You should see it on a bright day.’ Alison zipped her jacket, shoving her hands into its generous pockets.
‘Won’t they bother them?’ William worried as the dogs raced ahead in the direction of the disinterested sheep.
‘No, I think they’re afraid of them. They’ll investigate nothing bigger than a rabbit. Cowards, the two of them.’ They laughed companionably as they slow-strolled the path to the waterfall.
‘This old man’s going to have to sit down.’ William sighed as they neared the frantic foam fall. He eased himself onto a large, flat rock, the walking stick held in both hands between his legs. Alison turned off the path and, squatting down, began to pluck at the blue and purple blooms.
‘You like flowers?’
‘Wild ones, yes. I admire their stamina, their independence. There’s a spirit and beauty in them that the greenhouse variety don’t have. A real survivor’s life force, I suppose.’
‘You could be describing yourself.’ William voiced his impression as he took in the wild red curls tumbling over her shoulders. There was a wildness and vulnerability about her, a strength and a kind of sad delicacy in the wiry frame lost in the bulky wax jacket. Her face reddened and she bent her head in fake concentration. Neither spoke, each enjoying the quiet solitude, the easy togetherness, the company of their own thoughts.
‘Just listen to the power in the roar of that water.’ Alison joined him on the rock, a bunch of wild heathers held lightly in her hand. The rush and urgency of the water’s fall filled the still air.
‘You came here to get away from the sea.’ William turned to face her. ‘But the water seems to move with you.’
‘She moves with me.’ Alison’s green eyes locked on his. ‘And in me.’ That look was in her eyes again. That haunting.
‘Why refer to the sea as “she”?’ William held her gaze.
‘I know what she is.’ Her words were hushed, as though confiding a secret. ‘I’ve witnessed her gentle seductions, her flirting and teasing. That hypnotic allure. And her manic and desperate hold. She’s the ultimate mistress, William.’ She nodded her head slowly, her gaze shifting back in the direction of the ocean. ‘With her gentle comforts, her whispers of adventure, freedom and danger.’ She broke off, as if reluctant, afraid of being overheard. When she spoke again her voice was barely more than a whisper. ‘Her kiss-smack on a stern is really a lick of his soul; her undulating beneath the boat, an erotic promise and teasing. The way she will spurn him in winter and laugh, thrusting herself at the cliffs. And he’ll watch from the shoreline, straining to touch her, to feel her yielding curves beneath him. Then he’ll shut down his heart to all around him. And wait. Wait and hope through the darkness of winter for spring and her opening and invitation.’ Her words tapered off, her gaze moving to the waterfall. ‘That’s the Carraig fall,’ she offered, pointing. ‘It rushes all the way from here to Carniskey and empties itself into the ocean at the left-hand side of the bay.’
‘Seems urgent in its journey.’ William studied her profile. ‘Under her seductive spell as well?’ He was entranced by her personalisation of the sea and its wanton appetite.
* * *
Having separated the bouquet, Kathleen set the sunflowers on the kitchen window and carried the vase of lilies to the hall table, where their scent would greet her every time she walked in the front door. She could never decide which were her favourite: the sunflowers with their burst of colour, their promise of hope, or the pure white lilies her mother had always adored. She had to hand it to Rob for remembering that she had settled on both.
She crossed back into the sitting room, smiling in spite of herself as she remembered the florist’s early morning delivery of the bulky, awkward bouquet and the silly ‘I’m Sorry’ card with the big sad face on it that would melt the devil himself. Big child! She’d had to work for a minute to recover her anger after she’d read it.
Rob could never be serious for more than five minutes. It was what most niggled her and what she most loved about him all at the same time. That slight gap between his two front teeth, the way his eyes danced with a mixture of mirth and mischief. Rob could turn any situation into a pantomime – no wonder Jamie adored him. She bent and straightened the magazines on the coffee table. She really hadn’t realised how much she had come to depend on him, on his wit, his charm, his presence. It was as if he had stolen into her while she wasn’t looking and that part of her he had occupied creaked now in the cold wind of his absence.
Only yesterday she’d had to check herself again at work. She had always vowed that if she ever found herself being impatient or short with the patients, or giving them less than the hundred per cent care and kindness they deserved, she would quit her job at Sea View and let someone more suitable take her place. These last weeks she had found it a real struggle, putting on a smile and a heartiness that was a million miles away from how she was feeling. She had swapped shifts today to give herself a break, some time on her own just to be able to breathe, feel, recharge.
She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. Another two hours before Jamie was due back from his friend’s. Was this what life was going to be like from now on? Jamie, growing up, busy with his own stuff and her sitting at home, waiting. Much as it pained her to admit it, Rob had been right. She did need to cut those apron strings, stand back a little and give Jamie room to grow. And meantime she would do what exactly? Today was the one day she had to herself this week and she was having difficulty filling it. She grabbed a cushion from the sofa, patted and plumped its feathers, then threw it back down on the couch. What was she doing? She had cleaned and straightened the whole downstairs already this morning. She hated feeling like this, wallowing.
She’d call on Alison. The one sure cure for self-pity was to get out and visit someone who had a genuine problem. She grabbed her keys from the kitchen table, the sunflowers smiling at her from the window.
Her heart dropped. Just remember, a tiny voice whispered, he was the one who walked out. He was, Kathleen answered, and he won’t get a chance to do it again. Tilting her chin she shook out her keys, slung her bag over her shoulder and pulled the door behind her.
* * *
The dogs danced back as the first heavy drops bled from the sky. ‘Come on, old man,’ Alison teased, standing up from the rock, ‘we don’t want you getting arthritis.’ William rose, flexed the fingers of his right hand, silently cursing their prickling numbness, a side effect of the stronger medication. He’d had no choice in the end but to go with it, aware that the consequences would be a lot worse if he didn’t. The rain fell heavier now. He pulled a cap from his pocket, placed it on his head as he walked on to join her. She turned around to wait for him. The rain had darkened and tamed the curls framing her face. There’s a beautiful life and energy clamped behind that sadness, he thought, her soft smile whispering a forgotten girlish joy.
Alison watched him walk towards her. She hardly knew him but she liked him, trusted him for some reason. She sensed some kind of a strange understanding between them, something that loosened the lid on the darkness she carried.
Most of the journey back to Carniskey was passed in silence. Both were lost in their own thoughts, each appreciating the other’s quiet reflection. The rain fell hard and Alison concentrated on the road through the fogged-up windows.
‘Tired?’ she asked as they neared the village.
‘Hey, don’t write me off just yet,’ William laughed. ‘Fifty-four’s not quite slippers and pension book. Fancy a pint to round off the day?’
‘I’ll pass this time, thanks. I have a job to finish for Eugene and I promised Hannah I’d phone this evening, see she’s behaving herself.’
‘Eugene, your boss?’
‘Eugene Dalton, he’s the editor of the local paper. I do a women’s column every week.’
‘Ah! So you are a writer.’
‘Not in the sense I’d like to be. I hate it – a women’s column, of all things! No, in my heart and my dreams I’m a poet.’ Alison smiled. ‘And a best-selling novelist,’ she added with a laugh.
‘So, what’s stopping you?’ William was excited at the hint of passion behind her cynical laugh.
‘It won’t put bread on the table,’ she sighed, ‘or keep Hannah in pocket money. No, dreams are a luxury I just can’t afford.’
‘But everyone’s got to have one. They’re the threads that keep us connected to the magic beyond this world.’
‘What’s yours, then?’
‘At the moment? A pint. I’ll hop out here, grab one before I head back up.’
Alison pulled in at the entrance to the strand, opposite the pub. The sea, high and dark, crashed to the shore, littering the beach with froth. ‘It’s like a massive pint of the black stuff – my dream is out!’ William laughed, pushing the door open against the wind. ‘Thanks, I really enjoyed the trip.’
‘Thanks for the company.’ Alison returned a relaxed smile. ‘Mind yourself.’
‘See you soon.’ And he was gone, the wind wrestling with his unbuttoned coat.
Alison drove in nearer the beach. The sea rushed in, in a galloping frenzy, urged on by a strong wind from the horizon. Each wave stood higher than the one before, crashing headlong in their race to the shore. There was an anger in it and in the sickly brown froth that shrouded the sand. Alison had never before seen such a wide and continuous line of froth; it must have been two metres wide and stretched almost half the length of the bay. It pulsated under the fingers of the wind, like something living, warning, threatening. She shivered. The sea was angry with her. She had refused its call last night. At the last second William had urged her back. And she had gone with him today, away into the mountains, ignoring its call, its rising temper. She stepped from the jeep and its salty perfume rushed at her nose. The wind almost lifted her, the cold spray stinging her cheek with an angry slap. She hopped back into the jeep and banged the door on its temper. As she backed up to leave, it hurled its filthy froth at the windscreen.
* * *
Warmed by a hot shower, Alison slipped into a soft cotton shirt and pants, towelled her damp hair and clipped it up. Microwave dinner before her, she sat at the computer and worked straight through on Eugene’s article. She worked with an energy she had almost forgotten and by eight thirty the article was complete. A great sense of satisfaction lifted her. Maybe later, after her call to Hannah, she’d set some time aside for a little private writing. She had more or less quit since those last rejections, but she really missed it. She lit the fire in the sitting room and drew the curtains, locking out the wind and the rain. Back in the kitchen she flicked on the kettle and then, changing her mind, took a bottle of red wine from the press. She would treat herself to a glass – a reward for a good evening’s work. Maybe she should visit the mountain more often! She moved to the window and flicked on the lighthouse. There was company in its warm glow. She found herself wondering if William could see it from his camper and immediately snapped him from her mind. Passing the computer, she twiddled the mouse, her face breaking into a huge smile. An email from Hannah!
Hi Mum, just to let you know I’m okay. Grandad’s party was a bit of a bore but he liked the clock you sent him. I started my job at the gallery and people keep asking me things I know nothing about but Claire says just to keep on smiling and that I’ll get to know it all in no time. How are Tilly and Tim? Give them a kiss for me. And Nan. I won’t be able to talk to you tonight ’cos Claire’s taking me to the London Eye and then for something to eat, she says it’s best not to do it the other way round. Talk soon, H x
Alison re-read the email, twice. Although her face was fixed in a smile, she couldn’t ignore the slight sting and the sense of something shrinking in her chest. Claire. So it was just ‘Claire’ now, was it, no ‘Aunt’? She sat back in her chair. For God’s sake, why was she being so petty, so childish? Hannah was busy, she was happy – isn’t that what she wanted? Wasn’t that the whole point of sending her over there? And so what if they didn’t get to talk tonight, there was always tomorrow. She leaned her head back on the chair, loneliness settling around her like a cloak.
* * *
William shaded in the damp curls and then, cursing under his breath, threw down his pencil, opened and closed his fist, hard, shook his hand out from the wrist. He studied the smile and the eyes on the page, anxious to have captured that faint promise of light behind them. He grabbed the pill bottle from the shelf behind, shook three painkillers out into his hand. He popped them in his mouth, took some water and flicked his head back to swallow. Moving cautiously, he lay down on the narrow bed and closed his eyes, listened to the rain and the wind knocking outside. Helene’s face floated up from the darkness.
* * *
Stirred by the birdsong and the sun squinting through the bedroom drapes, Alison stretched, turned on her side and tugged a pillow down under her chin. Monday morning. She thought of all the people leaving their beds, swallowing a quick breakfast and racing to another week at the office, the shop, wherever. That would be her soon if she didn’t start earning some real money. With the pressure of Eugene’s job off her already, maybe this week she could try a new story, maybe fiddle around with some of the old ones, make them more sellable.
The London Eye, followed by a meal. How could she compete with that? How would Hannah settle back into just getting by after three months of Claire’s extravagance? Maybe it had been a mistake, sending her. Maybe a taste of what life could be like would drive an even bigger wedge between them, make Hannah more restless. She pushed the pillow away and rose from the bed. The next ten weeks, she reminded herself, pulling back the curtains and flooding the room with light, were a chance she had been given to sort herself out, make life better for the two of them. She would use every minute.
The sea had worked out its temper from the previous day. The sky, too, had spent its grey and the sun peacocked in its unsmudged blue. Alison unfolded her canvas chair at the foot of the cliff. The dogs, delighted with their early call, shot off up the grassy slope. Lighting a cigarette, she flicked through the thick brown folder of handwritten pages and, choosing a story, read through the opening lines:
Are you out there in the darkness? I thought it was your step I heard below the window. In bustling, living daylight you are not in evidence, but when the night enshrouds your home in still, black velvet, you step from the shadows to taste again the life you once savoured . . .
Having swam and raced and investigated every dune and crop, the dogs lay sleeping at her bare feet, so exhausted by their efforts that they didn’t even raise their heads when William walked over to join her. ‘You’re an early bird,’ he called, resting his back against the cliff.
‘It’d be a sin to miss this.’ Alison looked up at him, her hand shading her eyes. ‘What a change from yesterday.’
‘Doing your article?’ He tipped his head towards the writing pad on her knee.
‘No, actually. I got it finished last night – a first for me. It’s usually a last-minute panic.’
‘So, this is the dream stuff then?’ He looked down at the neat handwritten page.
‘An attempt at a poem.’ She covered the page with her hand.
‘May I?’ he ventured, eyebrows raised.
‘No, it’s stupid. It’s only . . . ’
‘Don’t dismiss it.’ William cut her off. ‘Let it speak for itself.’ He held out his hand.
Alison hesitated, half of her embarrassed, the other half straining to know his opinion. She thrust the pad towards him. ‘I’m going to test the water.’ She sprung from the seat, hurried to the water’s edge. William sat into the canvas chair, eyes fixed on the page.
The Fisherman.
Her hand was light and curved, the words hurrying across the page at a slant.
A man of the sea
You became it
Summers, I remember
When you lapped and teased
the slipway of a sheltered strand
And stirred by your stillness
I stripped and dived
Into your glistening depths
October, and changes
Huddled down into a winter coat
I watched you from the cliff top
as waves of torment spewed
your frothy fury round my head
I sometimes crouched to become
the rock that broke your anger
But never dared to delve
Into your squally depths
Your tide gone out
I lie on the strand
Coarsely crafted
By your touch.
William’s eyes rose from the page and settled on Alison. Head bent, she threaded the shallow water, hands thrust into the pockets of her rolled-up jeans. His arms strained to reach her. To touch that wounded place in her, brush away the pain that bowed her head. She strolled back up the sand towards him, sat cross-legged at his feet.
‘Well?’ She nodded her head shyly towards the page.
‘It’s beautiful,’ he answered. ‘Thank you for sharing it with me.’
She still couldn’t figure out why she had shown it to him. She’d never shared her poems with anyone before, not even Kathleen. They made her feel foolish, weak and vulnerable – especially the stuff about Sean. She drew a piece of stick through the sand. ‘Did you ever lose someone you loved?’ She spoke without raising her head.
‘Yeah, but that was a long time ago.’ He looked down at her, her eyes stealing a look into his.
‘Sean’s gone over three years now.’ She sighed as she stood. ‘But I’d lost him long before that.’ She brushed the sand from her feet, slipped on her shoes. ‘I’m heading for town – did you want anything?’
William closed the pad and handed it to her. She was so terrified of opening up, had this knack of physically removing herself every time she teetered at the edge of her pain.
‘Or if you’d like to come along . . . ’ It was out before she’d thought about it.
‘Why not?’ William needed no persuasion. The more time they spent together, doing ordinary things, the more she would open herself to him, he hoped.
‘I won’t be going for about an hour – will I collect you at the van?’
‘No, no, I’ll walk down. Meet you outside Phil’s?’ He folded the canvas chair and tucked it under his arm. They walked slowly back towards the slipway.
‘Oh no,’ Alison whispered through her teeth. May, togged head to toe in black designer Lycra, was power-walking the sand. Her eyes were trained on William and Alison. ‘Lovely morning, May.’ Alison forced a smile.
‘Exquisite!’ She nodded towards William, her small eyes squinting. ‘Morning.’
‘And a very good morning to you, May.’ His voice was deep and confident, his grin full width.
‘You’re a bad one,’ Alison laughed, as they reached the jeep. ‘Still, that’ll keep her off someone else’s back for the morning. See you in an hour.’
She was still smiling as she rolled out onto the main road, but as she reached home the doubts began to surface. What had possessed her, asking him to join her like that? She really didn’t know the first thing about him. He could be anyone – and he could completely get the wrong idea. She pulled up outside the front door. Was it that she was just missing Hannah? Reacting to the isolation, to the exclusion she had felt when she’d read the email last night? Oh, quit analyzing, she told herself, hopping down onto the gravel. It was just a bit of company, for heaven’s sake, a trip into town. It was what people did. Normal people. Where was the harm?