Endless Blue Seas

by Annie Dyer

  Her.

  I could never let her see the painting.

  Anya

  It was still night when I woke. This was my new normal, waking up around three because of nothing in particular, just the sound of nothing and an emptiness that didn’t have to be there. I sat up in bed, the duvet kicked off and blankets pooling around my body instead, an untidy tangle. I remembered when I’d split with my long-term boyfriend. We’d lived together for a couple of years, but even though we were inhabiting the same few rooms we’d become distant. He’d moved out, amicably, no third parties involved, but there had been a grief that I hadn’t predicted.

  I felt more than that now. Marcy wasn’t here. The room next door to me was too quiet and too dark. Months of therapy had taught me to embrace what I felt rather than boxing it away, so I got out of bed, throwing on a pair of harem pants and a T-shirt that would just about be enough in the cool night air.

  The fishermen would already be up, but if any of them saw me, I wouldn’t register in their reality. Their days were predictable in their routine, as rhythmic as the tide. A sea fret had clamoured in overnight, making the air damp and thick. As much as I had never been a morning person, this time was one of my favourites; I could watch the world without having to partake, see the boats as they left the dock and went out into the sea, towards the strait.

  I’d been out a few times as a kid, sitting on Tim’s boat with Michael, watching the sun rise from the water. Today I meandered down the steps onto the sand, still damp from the outgoing tide and headed towards the pier.

  The sounds were muted, voices rare and low when they spoke. It was too early for any conversation, instead muscle memory and habit said it all. I saw hard bodies passing out equipment, the occasional glow from a cigarette, the rush of a seagull above.

  The tied up hair was unmistakable; a messy, sun bleached man bun on top of a face that was striking. He was smiling, talking to one of the fishermen as he passed something over and I wondered who he was, other than Gabe. Just Gabe.

  I hadn’t asked about him. I knew my Nan would get excited if she thought I was any way interested in a man, given my break up and then this year, what had happened. And right now, I was too broken to take on anyone else’s expectations. I had to learn to manage myself. Baby steps. Small, significant, baby steps.

  He had been on the beach last night when I’d gone down to the sand to feel the water on my skin. I’d felt his eyes watching me, saw him take a photo. He had no right to, but in that moment, that pause in time, I hadn’t felt the need to argue.

  A familiar boat was anchored out into the sea. The emblem on the side one I’d grown up with and managed to stay away from. Not that it was a fate worse than death, but staying local and going to Bangor University just hadn’t been in my plan.

  It had, however, been Catrin’s, my oldest friend, who had never left the university. She’d been an undergrad, then a master’s student, then taking a doctorate. Now she was a lecturer or research fellow or something I half listened to while she told me about sea life and levels and other shit that just didn’t register.

  I knew she’d been out at sea for around ten days, so I’d no doubt she’d spent the night in some poor bloke’s bed, fucking like a rabid rabbit. She was the closest thing to a nymphomaniac I’d ever met and completely at ease with that. She didn’t scream for attention or tout herself like a piece of meat. Instead, she selected discreetly and took what she needed.

  I’d wanted to be like her; unafraid, unconstructed, but I learned that I wasn’t free to be like that. She however, was.

  “Howdy, partner.”

  I knew it was her, even before she’d spoken. Sometimes I’d start thinking about her and she’d appear, as if the whispers of my thoughts had summoned her like a genie.

  “The faux Texan accent only gets worse.” I leaned into her embrace, warm and tight. “I’m assuming you’ve been riding a cowboy?”

  Catrin laughed. “A Swedish biomed professor who’s here for the summer. We couldn’t fuck on the boat. Or rather, we could fuck on the boat, just not loudly. So that doesn’t count as fucking.”

  I shook my head, fake disparagement. “You look well.” Even through the sea fret I could see the glow she had, her blonde hair, so untypically Welsh.

  “I’m always well. It’s the sea. Now you’re back you’ll pick up quickly.” Her eyes assessed me in the dim light. “I should’ve come to see that you were okay.”

  “No. I needed to keep you here. This was my safe place. When I couldn’t sleep, or I woke up with nightmares, I thought of here and you. And this.” The boats were leaving now, heading out for their morning of hunting the sea.

  Catrin took my hand in hers, reminding me of when we were girls and she’d always taken the lead back then, pulling me both to and away from trouble.

  “You need to know the gossip. So much to catch you up on.”

  She didn’t mention Marcy, or ask me if I was okay. Here, life was like the sea; its ebb and flow continuous. I could drown in it.

  “Tell me. Tell me everything.”

  Her smile was enough to light up the beach, better than a lighthouse.

  “I’m going to. After I’ve said good morning to Anders. In our own special way. And you’ve gone back to sleep for at least a couple more hours.” She led me to the steps back up the guesthouse. “Then I can tell you all about the island and what you need to know.”

  I saw the smile on her face and rather than feel angry that someone in the world could be happy, even after what had happened to Calen and his family, I felt peace.

  Life was carrying on. The world was still breathing.

  “Gabe…” I didn’t know why I said his name. I didn’t know where the word had come from.

  Catrin laughed, the sound loud enough to wake the roosting birds.

  “Indeed. Gabe. You’ve met him then?”

  “Briefly. He was chopping wood. He wasn’t especially friendly.” And that had bothered me. I was used to the island being my soft mattress. It always caught me and it was always comfortable. The holidaymakers and the summer people were different, obviously, although some returned here year on year. But everyone else, even the students, blended into the serenity of the place. Gabe hadn’t. He’d been the cold side of summer. A storm.

  “He’s new.”

  “Lots of people were new once.” Including me. I hadn’t always been an islander. We’d moved here when I was eight, away from the mainland, England in this case.

  “But he’s new new. And he’s got baggage.”

  I didn’t understand why she was defending him. I groaned, wondering if she’d fucked him already.

  “Tell me you haven’t? Just because he’d under the age of forty doesn’t mean you have to sleep with him.” It bothered me, the idea of her taking him to bed – because it wouldn’t have been the other way round – and it shouldn’t because I was in no place to be thinking about anything other than friendship. Allowing myself to be nurtured as my therapist had got me to explain.

  Catrin shook her head. “No, cariad. I haven’t slept with him. Or kissed him. I know I’m a man magnet but I’ve been with Anders for the last few months. Gabe’s a nice guy. He’s complicated, but then, who isn’t. Go get some sleep, otherwise you’ll be trying to keep your eyes open while I’m telling you exactly what Ffion shouted out at Henry’s wedding. And it’s worth staying awake for.”

  I let go of her hand. “I’ll see you at yours. Or will it be occupied?”

  “Anders will be there. But that’s cool. Meet him. He makes a mean breakfast and I’ll make him wear clothes so your eyes aren’t scorched by his abs.”

  I just about made out her batting her lashes in the weak light. And then sleep started to call my name.

  I was home. This was where I could heal.

  Halfway up the steps I paused and looked back out to sea, the signs of an early dawn on the horizon, the sea fret beginning to clear. My head was also starting to clear, the light not only
coming from the new sun.

  There was something else shining too.

  I fell asleep on my bed, still in my harems and t shirt. Outside I heard the birds, seagulls and the garden birds that visited for the feeders Marcy had maintained. I’d make it a thing this summer to top them up, replace the feeders with new ones. It was a way of remembering her. I’d only managed another four hours sleep, but I felt as if I’d rested for a week. It was the sea air; it always felt like a balm to whatever hurt I was feeling. Maybe I should’ve come home earlier; it was suggested that I needed to be at home, but that felt like I was letting what happened win. My class had enough to adjust with, having lost one of them with no explanation, no understanding, because parents were meant to keep you safe. They didn’t need me to leave too.

  Today my family would likely leave me to settle, to find my feet again as I did every summer when I came home from school. The pace away from the city took me a few days to adapt to. I was used to a packed schedule of waking early, going to the gym, then work and then some form of social event before going home to work some more. The longer I’d taught for, the easier it became to plan, prepare and mark, but then there were the additional responsibilities and the pressure to progress, something I wasn’t sure was for me.

  I wasn’t entirely sure about anything anymore, but like my therapist had said, I didn’t need to be. I simply needed to accept being in the here and now. Living. That was what I had to do although nobody said how hard it would be.

  My shower was long and hot, the pressure set to full, almost enough to hurt my skin. This day already felt different than yesterday and the day before that. I pulled on denim shorts and a strappy vest and headed for the guesthouse, knowing that breakfast would be over for the guests and would be being prepared for the workers.

  Nan was shouting at someone over the phone, something to do with a delivery that wasn’t correct, and the usual wait staff were busying about the kitchen. She’d always cooked the breakfast. Even though she should’ve retired by now, and she didn’t need to keep working for financial reasons, her morning ritual was firmly stuck, all but Sundays and Mondays, when one of her friends came in and did a traditional Welsh breakfast so the guests had a change.

  “What’s left over?” I examined the plates that were out, knowing damn well what the answer would be.

  I felt the whip of a tea towel across my back. That was the answer.

  “Sausages, bacon, hash browns, black pudding. Help yourself and then help clear the tables.” Nan put the phone down, the conversation with the supplier over now he had a flea tickling right down his ear canal.

  “Will do. Then I’m meeting Catrin.” There was no point trying to wheedle out of helping. The three of us, and any friends we had stay, were considered extra labour over the summer. It was never that Nan tried to take advantage, more that any extra help over the busy summer months was appreciated and we were always repaid in food or a day trip out. And the huge beach barbecues that pulled in locals and visitors alike that Nan organised.

  “Good. You should spend more time with that girl.”

  Nan had always liked Catrin. Cat had spent enough time at the guesthouse when we were growing up and given that she’d never moved away, I knew the space I’d left empty by moving had been filled with Catrin to a degree. I wasn’t jealous; there was no reason to be so. Catrin was part of home.

  I ate, feeling my hunger start to make an appearance after months of having no appetite. The sea air and the safety would have an immediate impact, which was what both my therapist and Nan had said, but it hadn’t been the right time until now to come back.

  Being away from my class after what had happened meant that I’d failed in some way to have a good enough handle on myself to be able to cope. Until last week when the dam that was holding everything in had finally burst and I’d ran home, leaving my class with the teaching assistant and broken down in my therapist’s office.

  The routine of setting up dining tables for the following day was familiar and comforting. This hadn’t changed. It was all still the same. The chunky pottery made by hand on the island, the white linen table cloths and napkins, the flowers cut from the gardens that surrounded three sides of the Victorian mansion. This was what I knew and it was what I needed.

  I left before my sister could accost me into doing something for her, even babysitting my nephew, and headed towards Catrin’s house. The tide was in, covering the rocks I might have climbed over. In a couple of hours, there would be seaweed and sand left carpeting them, along with a scattering of shells that kids would collect.

  The fishermen were still returning from their morning hunt. It had been too long since I’d spoken to lots of them, many of whom I’d known since I had moved to the island when I was a small child. I’d been to school with their kids and grandkids and they were as much the scenery as the lighthouse or the uninhibited island half a mile from the shore.

  Seabirds swooped and echoed, looking for an easy breakfast. Then I noticed Gabe, shirtless and muscled as he lifted out containers of fish onto the dock.

  He intrigued me. I’d been judged by him yesterday; I had seen the look in his eyes when he found out who I was and he’d not understood why I couldn’t attend Marcy’s funeral. But there was more to him than someone to be angry at, although his rudeness had given me enough justification for that.

  “Morning, Anya!” The call was from Shep, also known as Neil Shepherd who’d been a couple of years above me at school. We’d been out on a couple of dates and we’d hit third base before realising that we had less chemistry than a closed down pharmacy. Shep was a fisherman by family and by choice.

  “How’s it going?’ I asked, stepping closer to where he and Gabe were sorting their catch. My stomach tipped a little at Gabe’s nearness and it was a feeling I hadn’t been sure would return. I’d not found anyone attractive in the months since the murders, that part of my psyche completely shut down.

  Shep nodded. “Business is good. The restaurant scene is booming on the island so we’re in demand.” He gave me a stunning smile and I wished that we’d been able to give things a go. But it wasn’t there and he wasn’t the man making my insides feel like they’d been blended.

  “You’re helping out?” I turned my stare to Gabe, not wanting him to weasel out of being there.

  He nodded, retying his hair as some of it had come loose. “Casual basis. As and when someone wants a break or there’s more demand than normal.”

  It was civil. A lot different from yesterday. And this time I could really see his pale blue eyes and sculpted face. He was gorgeous in a way that made me want to stare. I forced my eyes down away from his face and then kicked myself at the mistake I’d made because his chest and arms were things cover models for romance books were made of.

  Forcing my eyes back up was difficult, mainly because I didn’t want to see the knowing look he’d have, catching me viewing him. He’d folded his arms and I was pretty sure I’d heard him laugh. When I finally found the confidence to meet his eyes they were dancing with amusement, his smile wide.

  “Sorry.” There was no way that a man would’ve gotten away with doing that to a woman. Not without a few swear words and temporary infertility.

  The smile grew wider. “Do I need to put my top on before we have a conversation?”

  I cringed. “I can manage. Please take it as a compliment.” And understand I haven’t seen a man’s body that’s taken me out of my head for five months.

  “I wasn’t taking it as an insult. You want some fish?” He gestured to the buckets of fish next to us.

  As a teenager I’d hated coming down here. The smell used to make me screw up my nose and whine like a princess. Now I almost missed it.

  His question about the fish baffled me and I frowned. Then I saw how he was gripping onto his forearms. He was nervous. Despite the masses of hair and his bohemian look, he wasn’t the Mister Confident I’d thought he would be. Which also made him all the more attractive bec
ause he was gorgeous enough to be all kinds of arrogant.

  “I’m pretty sure some of that is destined for the guesthouse.”

  Let’s stand here and talk about fish…

  I felt Shep’s eyes on me and saw him shaking his head from the corner of my eye. He was reading the situation correctly, at least well enough to pick up one of the huge buckets and walk away with it.

  “How’s being back home?”

  I smiled and shrugged at the same time. I had no idea what he’d heard about what had happened at my school and right now, I didn’t want to put my head back in that place.

  “It’s good. Relaxing. Or it will be if I can avoid Nan’s daily chore list. How are you finding it here?” I wondered why he was here. Possibly something I’d find out from Cat later. Or sooner, given that she was expecting me.

  He nodded, arms still folded. “It’s calm. I like being near the sea.”

  “Where are you living?”

  His smile was embarrassed. “I’ve bought the house just over there.” He pointed over towards the single track road, near to the dense wood that surrounded an ancient stone circle. “I think it’s known as Gelli-nud?” His Welsh pronunciation was about as good as mine.

  “Misty grove,” I translated. I knew a few words. “Also known as the local ruin. You’ve bought that thing?” This was evidence that the man was insane. Gelli-nud was dilapidated, untouched for at least twenty years and back then it had been owned by a man who should’ve been certified insane.

  “I bought that thing. I like a project. And the light’s amazing there.”

  All this was true. As kids, we’d broken into the fields at the back and pretended it was a fairy meadow. We’d even had an outside Halloween party there one year which had ended with us all being completely creeped out and running home.

  “You must like a project and…” I fought for the polite way to say it.