It was an odd topic, as everyone she knew and everyone she mixed with knew the details and she was therefore unrehearsed in having to voice the tragedy out loud.
‘He had a small boat, a little wooden sailing dinghy. It was his hobby, his pride and joy. If he wasn’t in it, he was cleaning it, repairing it or painting it. As I mentioned before, she was calledErmestafter the River Erme. He was pretty obsessed with rivers and the sea.’ She smiled. ‘He and my Uncle Sten had always sailed together since they were kids. One Sunday morning, my dad was on the quay waiting for his brother, but Sten got held up, so Dad went out alone and he never came back.’ She gave the simplified version. ‘He used to put his keys and wallet in a little Tupperware box on the seat and it was there in the boat when they found it. The boom was loose, flailing. The water was quite choppy. They think it probably hit him on the head and he fell overboard, maybe knocked him out or whatever. It doesn’t make any difference, it ends just the same.’
‘Tawrie.’ He pulled her even closer to him, holding her tightly. She closed her eyes and let the soft fabric of his jersey brush her cheek. It was a place she wanted to stay. ‘You must miss him.’
‘Every day.’I miss the shape of him on the stairs, sleeping with a feeling that I was safe because my family was complete, sleeping soundly and deeply because he and Annalee had their hand on the tiller, not me. And so I get into the sea where he rests, part of him, and I let the water hold me and I know it’s him, close to me.‘It changed everything. Uncle Sten gave up his office job and bought some land – he felt so guilty, still does probably. He thinks that if he’d not been late that day and had gone out with my dad then it wouldn’t have happened, but I think it’s pointless to feel that way. My nan losthalf of her heart and even though my gramps had only died three years before, this was worse for her, way worse.’
‘Her child.’
‘Yes.’ She snuggled in closer. ‘And it made me want to stay close to where he died, close to my family, our home, his home. It’s complicated.’ She sat up and wrapped her arms around her shins, hoping that physical containment might help keep her emotions at bay.
‘It’s funny, isn’t it, the things that happen that shape our lives, and yet are nothing to do with us – accidents or decisions made when we were young and it’s like we are at the tail end of the flip. We feel the force of it but are powerless to change things. Passengers on a journey where the coordinates are set by those in charge – our parents or whoever.’
She turned to look at him. ‘Did you lose someone?’
He shook his head. ‘No, no.’ His tone vigorous as if he was aware they were not comparing like for like. ‘But my parents divorced and it was huge for me. The start of living under two roofs, having two Christmases, two sets of clothes, two home addresses, two step-parents, one house with a cat, one with a dog, one that was vegetarian, one where meat was served at every meal. One where my sister lived most of the time and the other where I did. Then new babies popping up. A fractured family, or a normal family, I’m never quite sure. But certainly different to the one I felt I wanted.’
‘It sounds complicated.’ She liked that he was confiding in her.
‘It was complicated, it’s still complicated, but it’s also great a lot of the time, and I remember those days vividly – happy times. But you know that feeling in your stomach that you’ve been cheated somehow, like if only they’d not been so rubbish, your life would have been a bit easier? Does that sound ridiculous?’
‘No, I get it.’ Of course she did, not only was her own mum rubbish most of the time, but the what-ifs surrounding her own dad’s passing were many.What if Annalee had been a sober wife, would he still have sought the escape of a day onErmest? What if Sten hadn’t been late?And her biggest secret, the thing she never shared: what if he wasn’t really dead, but had merely run and was now living a secret life on Lundy?
‘I’m being unfair,’ he sighed. ‘My parents are wonderful, both of them, genuinely. I mean, they’re very different and I’m closer to my mum, but my dad’s not a bad person, it’s just that ...’
‘It’s just that what?’ she urged.
‘It’s not the same, is it? It’s never the same, having to negotiate new partners, new siblings, half-siblings. It’s a lot. It’s always been a lot.’
It was her turn to take his hand and keep it warm inside both of her own. Their breathing was in sync as they looked out over the wide stretch of sand as the sun sank on Woolacombe Bay. The silence was cathartic.
‘This is the life, Ed.’ She smiled.
‘It is, isn’t it? This really is the life!’ He tilted his head back, allowing her to study his profile while he sought out the last of the rays.
‘No.’ She shifted on her bottom, which had gone a little numb, and curled her legs beneath her. ‘I mean this is the one life we have, this is it! So when you said did I not ever want to wake up in the big smoke with a view of a skyscraper, the answer is I try not to think too much about it on a day-to-day basis, but sometimes I re-evaluate and remember that you’re right: it’s not too late.’ She swallowed and he lowered his face to look at her. ‘I think we all need to do more of what makes us happy rather than what we think we should. And I’m realising that more and more.’
‘God.’ He wiped his face. ‘That’s the dream, right? Doing more of what makes us happy rather than what we think we should.’ He looked a little overcome with emotion. Her heart flexed at his level of understanding.
‘I speak to so many visitors, people who come into the café, who tell me they’re a teacher, an estate agent, a police officer or whatever!’ She let her hands rise and fall. ‘And they say their dream is to move down here and be by the sea, to sit on the beach like this, to live simply, learn to surf, make friends, sit on the harbour and watch the world go by. And it makes me want to weep because thisisthe life! This is it! There’s not another one cued up. And they go back to wherever they’ve come from, grabbing slices of happiness from their days by the sea and longing to be here. It must feel like punishment. I want to say to them, why not now? Why not today? You need to prioritise your happiness and not do something because you’re expected to or happen to find yourself on that track. Jump off! Start over! Because if losing my dad and watching my mum live her life through the neck of a bottle has taught me one thing, it’s that life is short. It’s too short, Ed. And in those moments I understand that I am good at giving the advice but not so good at acting on it.’
‘There’s no shame in being loyal, in feeling responsible, in loving your family so much you want to make everything better.’
He got it and she could barely stand to look in his eyes, wary of what else he might read in her face, as the desire to be held by him was almost overwhelming.
He took a moment to speak, his eyes studying her face and she felt the intensity of it. She wondered if this might be the moment he kissed her again, and she braced for it, trembling in anticipation and with a swirl of nerves in her gut, wanting him to do it, wanting more. Instead he looked away.
‘I do get it. It’s not always simple, is it? Not always possible to pack a bag and jump track, otherwise everyone would do it.’ For a second she wondered if he might cry and wanted to know what thoughts could have caused this in the kind, glorious human who she was falling for.
‘But that’s the thing, Ed, everyonecando it! I’m not saying it can be done without some hard choices being made or without consequences, but anyone can do it if they’re brave enough. That’s my issue – I’m just not brave enough.’
‘There’s always more to it than bravery. You’re right: every decision has a consequence.’ He blinked and she would have given anything to know what rattled inside his head. With more time under their belts she might have had the courage to ask him. ‘So come on, tell me three things I don’t know about you that you think I probably should.’
She wriggled again to get comfortable on the sand, relieved for the lightening of the mood.
‘Oh gosh, erm ...’ She looked skyward as if this was where inspiration might lurk. ‘Oh, I know!’ She clicked her fingers. ‘I share my birthday with my mum and my nan, we were all born on September the fourteenth.’
‘That’s mad!’
