His comment has made me feel ill.
‘I don’t really mean it,’ he growls, hooking his arm around my waist for a rough squeeze before taking my hand. ‘Anyway, my feeling that way has nothing to do with you. You’re incredible.’ He stops and turns to me, catching my chin so I have to meet his eyes. ‘You make coming back possible. You must know that.’ We start walking again. ‘I get dark when I’m here for too long. It’s different in LA.’
‘Are things that good in LA, though?’ I ask tentatively.
His eyes cut to mine. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you know, like you’ve fallen out with your bandmates and had arguments with your dad—’
‘Everyonehas arguments,’ he interrupts bluntly.
‘I’m just saying that I get the feeling life in LA is not all it’s cracked up to be sometimes,’ I try again.
He frowns, his grip tensing. ‘It’s not perfect. That doesn’t mean that it’s not a damn sight better than it would be over here.’
I hate it when he says stuff like this.
‘What’s so good about it?’ I ask irritably, letting go of his hand.
‘Come on, Liv,’ he says impatiently.
‘No, really, I want to know. What am I competing with?’
‘That’s not fair. It’s not about you, it’s about me, about what I want from life. LA has a proper music scene, gigs, connections to the music industry. Cornwall is out on a limb – I’d never get anywhere if I stayed here. And yeah, things might not have been perfect with my dad late last year, but he’s my dad. I love him. It’s taken us years to build up a good relationship – I’d miss having a beer with him in front of the telly or popping into the studio to see him at work.’
‘Why haven’t you introduced us over FaceTime?’
He glances at me. ‘Is that what’s bothering you?’
The hurt on my face gives him his answer.
‘If it matters to you, I will. It’s just a bit weird, that’s all, doing it on a tiny screen. I’d be on edge, my two worlds colliding. That sounds melodramatic – sorry.’
‘It’s not melodramatic if it’s how you feel. Butisthat how you feel? That this life is so separate from your life over there?’
He thinks about it for a moment before nodding. ‘You’ve got to remember that I had to put this life behind me when I moved to America. I was a mess after what happened, having to leave my grandparents and my brothers. The only way I could survive was by focusing on the present. I barely knew my dad when I went to live with him, but he was there for me, he helped me through it, lining up a therapist so I had someone to work through all my shit with. Hecared. I mean, fuck, my existence alone probably caused the breakdown of his marriage. He could have been resentful. My older brother and sister could have made my life hell. But they didn’t. They’re good people. They looked out for me. I owe them a lot.’
‘Your dad probably already had problems with his wife if he cheated on her, so I don’t believe you could have been the cause of their divorce, but I hear what you’re saying.’
We fall silent.
I let out a long breath, which releases some of the tension in my shoulders, but my hurt remains. It doesn’t sound as though Finn is even the slightest bit open to the idea of leaving LA. How can we sustain a long-distance relationship if there’s no end in sight?
We’ve just passed the caves where we celebrated Dan’s birthday last year. It’s a spring tide today too, and not far away, half buried in the sand, is the boiler from SSEltham, a steamer that was wrecked on this beach in the late 1920s. I remember Dad reading facts about it to us when Michael was going for the job at Chapel Porth. He hoped it might help him to secure the position. Perhaps it did.
I glance towards the car park, thinking we should go sayhi to my brother. I turn to Finn to suggest this and see that he’s staring ahead at the cliffs, a pained expression on his face. I follow his line of sight and can just make out a rocky outcrop in the far distance, beyond the old Wheal Coates engine house.
I feel a chill as I think about what Finn said last night, about his suspicion that his motherdidn’ttake her own life, that she faked her suicide to have a fresh start. As Finn pointed out, her body was never found.
But then, the eleven-strong crew of the SSElthamwere never found either. Two empty lifeboats were washed ashore, but the entire crew had been lost to the rough seas. Michael was fascinated with the mystery of the missing people.
‘I saw a photograph of your mum at your grandparents’ place,’ I say.
‘I hate that photo,’ he mutters.
I glance at him. ‘I thought she looked beautiful.’
‘She does. She used to be a total stunner. She didn’t look like that when she left us. She was haggard, wasting away. That photo feels like another lie. I turn it to face the wall when I’m staying in that room. It does my grandparents’ nuts in.’
