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Amber’s small red hatchback crested the Bannimor hills. The gleaming horizon sent a visceral jolt through Skye. The ocean had never looked more beautiful or enticing. She’d always known a pull to the sea, a yearning for it, so constant and so subtle that she’d learnt to ignore it in the city. But the waves of emotion that rippled through her now were different. Goosebumps rose on her arms.
As they descended into the village, her sense of relief was so profound it was physical. The ache inside her eased as they neared the waterfront, its raw edges seeming to blunt and shrink. She lowered the window and inhaled the warm air buffeting her, tasting a hint of brine, feeling as if she was inhabiting her own skin again, without having realised she’d been a vacant shell away from this place. Was she really so attached to Bannimor, she wondered, as the little red car rolled to a stop outside Bliss.
Amber had messaged Ethan that Skye was with her just before they’d pulled out of the school gates. She’d noted Amber’s grim smirk at Ethan’s response and decided it was better not to ask. She tried not to dwell on how Ethan might react at being ditched as her ride home.
As usual, she couldn’t figure out what was between those two, any more than she could work out her own feelings for Ethan. His feelings for her were easier to guess at. A little more distance between them wouldn’t be an unwelcome result, she thought, and felt guilty. Ethan had saved her. He deserved more from her. She wished she had more to give.
“Thanks, Amber,” she raised her voice over the music pouring from the speakers, and reached for the door handle, hoisting her school bag onto her lap. “Sure you don’t want to come in for a coffee or something? Peach muffins today, very delicious. My treat.” The trip with Amber hadn’t been as bad as she’d expected. The blasting stereo made conversation redundant. It had been kind of companionable. And the early escape from school was definitely muffin-worthy.
Amber shook her head, “Got homework. I should have done it this morning, but I visited my grandad instead.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” Amber didn’t seem the visiting grandfathers type. But her mother Angie was sweet. Did Amber have a hidden soft side? “Does he live in Bannimor?” Skye wondered if a new chapter in their tense acquaintanceship was beginning: awkward instead of antagonistic.
“He used to. He’s in Sunnyhills.”
Skye’s attention sharpened. “My dad’s there.” She hadn’t meant to say that. The last person she wanted to discuss personal stuff like that with was Amber.
“I know. Sorry.” She almost sounded like she meant it.
“Is your Grandad...?”
“Dementia,” Amber looked uncomfortable.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
Amber shrugged with her usual bravado. “He might not stay there. It’s like a trial run. He’s sharp as a tack sometimes. In fact, he just finished a booklet about the village. It’s just when he’s not with it, it’s kind of...”
“Well... Hope the homework goes all right.”
“Thanks.” Amber stared out through the windscreen.
At the obvious dismissal, Skye opened the car door.
“That guy at school...”
Skye turned to look at Amber. “Guy?”
“In the foyer. Mr Sebastian seemed to recognise him. Your uncle, right? You really didn’t know him?”
“Seriously?” She didn’t hide the anger that flared. Amber’s show of friendship had fooled her, not for the first time. How had she let herself fall for this again? “I must be the world’s best liar, is that it? Fake a mental breakdown for some unfathomable reason? Cheers, Amber.” She climbed out of the car. She heard Amber’s door open.
“Skye, wait. Hold it, will you?”
Skye stopped and turned back to her.
“Look, I wasn’t trying to upset you. It’s just... You did look at him like you knew him.”
“So...? Do I?”
“What?”
“Do I know him?”
Amber bit her lip. Skye’s heart pounded. The answer was as plain as if Amber shouted it. But to Skye’s keen disappointment, Amber just shrugged again.
“Wouldn’t it be weird if you did know him, but had no memory of it? Right? So weird. But that would only happen if there was, like, something behind it. Don’t you think?”
“What do you mean? ‘Something behind it’. What kind of something?”
“Well...” Amber looked evasive. “Take my grandad, for example. His dementia. He’s lucid one minute, vacant the next. That booklet he wrote? It’s about Bannimor. All the stories about this place. Myths and legends, you know?”
“Myths and legends?” Skye heard an odd ringing in her head, and a pain gnawed the back of her eyes.
“About sea spirits and such.” Amber stared hard at Skye. “That’s how memories can be. There, and not there, at the same time. My auntie had to help finish the booklet, but she still involved Grandad, dementia or not. He ran the second-hand bookstore in the village for years, so he came across a few things. Now those stories will be here for everyone to read. To think about.”
Skye raised a hand to her eyes, closing them and pressing her eyelids, trying to press away the pain piercing her. She heard the car door slam, and the engine start.
“Ignore my rant,” Amber’s voice sounded far away. “I have no idea what I’m saying. Rain check on the muffin?” Amber leaned over in her seat, peering up at Skye with a brittle smile before pulling out from the curb. The hatchback turned onto Marine Parade and disappeared from sight. The pain receded.
Skye blinked. She was alone outside Bliss. Had that been a fight? Or just a misunderstanding? Or something else? Hefting her schoolbag onto her shoulder, she turned towards the café. She was desperate to be around real, warm and genuine; she needed a solid dose of Morgan.
Today had been the worst. Morgan would be sure to commiserate in the perfect way. Unless she outright laughed at her about it, gloating about the joys of freedom from institutional education. Which would also work, Skye acknowledged, beginning to smile.
But as she reached for the café’s heavy glass doors, her other hand pressed her chest, and she stopped. That awful sense of being incomplete, like a permanent absence that hurt, was filling in; diminishing with every step. She thought it eased when they’d descended the Bannimor hills. Now it was undeniable. The closer she got to Bliss, the better it was. No. ‘Better’ was inadequate. It was more like...she felt almost whole. Practically normal. It didn’t make sense.
Was it even a good thing? Everything these days had a catch. The last time she felt like this, she’d encountered that guy at school. And the time before that was this morning on the beach... Same guy. The one who stared at her like the sight of her hurt him. Or healed him. The one Amber seemed to think she knew. She swallowed, forcing her hand away from her chest. She wasn’t crazy. It just felt good being here, close to the Lauders. That was all.
Inside the café, she hesitated near the door, searching the faces in the crowd for a brooding, beautiful one. A face with charcoal eyes and a smile that made her feel like her insides weren’t hers. He wasn’t here. After a few tense moments, she told herself she needed to Calm. Down. She was only losing her mind.
Above the sociable barrage of sound, she caught a spill of familiar notes. Her favourite song ever was playing on the sound system high on the café walls. She didn’t know Morgan had this old song on her playlist. By an Australian band, it made her want to close her eyes and climb right inside the music, savouring the blend of rapid beats and ethereal notes.
But now a piercing, bittersweet ache swept through her, like joy and grief mixed; intense happiness viewed from a place of utter loss. Hot tears welled and spilled down her cheeks, surprising and embarrassing her. She dropped her head and stumbled back outside, where she breathed in and out, until the bewildering emotions were under control. It took less than a minute to push them down, and she opened her eyes wide into the breeze blowing off the ocean to help dry them.
When she entered the cafe again, the song had ended, another with no emotional kick taking its place. Adding another mental note to the list of signs she was losing it, she looked around for Morgan and Rowena. Seeing them both behind the counter, she felt better. They always had her back, even when she was turning out as deranged as her dad, who was still under what no one was calling psychiatric supervision. He was improving all the time; he’d been almost his old self when she visited him just a few days ago. It could mean there was hope for her too.
She made her way towards the counter, anticipating their customary enthusiasm. But when they both looked up and saw her, her smile faded.
Instead of beaming at her, they looked at each other. And when they looked back at her, they looked wired, their smiles far too bright for comfort. Bright the way a forced smile looks when you’re about to give some terrible news. Her thoughts leapt to her father in Sunnyhills. And what had apparently sent him there: attempting to take his own life the day he’d almost drowned at Ciarlan Cove.
Her heart thudded sickly. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t face it after the day she’d had. The weeks she’d had. Angling aside, she veered past the counter and ran down the hallway and across the courtyard to her studio.
When the door handle fought her, refusing to turn, she let out a wail of frustration. Why did everything have to be so damned difficult? Then she froze as the handle moved against her grip. Through welling eyes, she saw the shape of someone beyond the glass. She stepped back, swiping her hand across her eyes. Distant behind her, Morgan shouted for her to wait.
But as the door opened, even before the arresting features of the tall, lean figure became clear to her, she knew who it would be: the terrifying, beautiful boy stalking her steps and her thoughts.
