by Annie Dyer
Gabe’s sister was the antithesis to him. She was louder and quicker, her brain worked faster than anyone’s I knew. She had an explanation for everything which should’ve made her obnoxious but didn’t, and she embraced a passion for all things human.
Passion was something Gabe showed differently. He saw it in the things humans created or how they reacted to something, taking that step away and watching from a distance. He loved the passion that had gone into making something or how someone might react to a place or an object. And I saw how he loved his family and how he realised he loved his family.
His grief for Ryan was there. Every blueprint he studied and every wall that came down, had Ryan’s ideas within it. But he seemed to have shrugged off the idea that he could live as penance for his death in small steps and what I saw was a man who had opened his eyes.
“You’ve changed him.” Jamie sat at a breakfast table that looked as if a small hurricane had cluttered through.
I sat down with my first coffee of the day. I’d been up early as Gabe had stayed with me and been up early to go out on the boats. Usually, he’d slip away and leave me sleeping, but today I’d woken and been aware of everything, the usual lull of sleep unavailable. I’d gone to the kitchen where I’d known Nan would be baking and preparing as she did every day and in silence we’d prepared for breakfast and an afternoon tea that was being done as a special for hen party.
“I haven’t.” I took a sip. I liked my coffee hot.
“He’s brighter. Happier. I wasn’t sure we’d ever have this back.”
I shook my head. “Honestly, Janie, I think he would’ve been like this now even if I hadn’t been here. The island suits him. I’ve seen it before.”
She looked at me as if I was completely clueless but said nothing.
I smiled. I could continue to argue the point but I wasn’t sure if I actually agreed with it myself. Gabe had changed. He walked like his shoulders were lighter, as if he was no longer carrying the weight of a thousand worlds on his back.
I picked my bag up and said goodbyes to Janie and her boys. Today was a rare free day. Now breakfast was done I had time to myself and I’d made a decision to visit Marcy’s grave for the first time since I’d come home.
No one had mentioned about me visiting it, or told me to. Kim had even refrained from suggesting that it would help me. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure if it would or not but I had the chance to spend some time away from the village and pay my respects to a woman who’d taught me more than she’d ever realised.
I walked to the graveyard taking the coastal path. The weather was sunny and warm, a few clouds suggesting that there would be rain later, but right now the day was about as much as any of the holidaymakers could wish for. There was a foodie festival on the beach later, with local restaurants and suppliers setting up for a local food celebration.
It was the sort of day I associated with my hometown. Relaxed, laid-back. Chilled. Everyone had their jobs to do and went about them like well-oiled cogs in a wheel that had been around as long as time.
The graveyard was a forty-minute walk away, standing on the side of a hill and overlooking the sea. There was a church built from grey stone, its doors always open. Inside the building was cool, light squeezing through the narrow windows. I’d been here many times as a kid: weddings and christenings, Christmas services. Marcy’s funeral had been held here to a full church, so Kim had told me. I went inside, dropping coins in the collection box and lit a tapered candle.
Religion had never been enforced on us. The churches on the island were part of life and you participated as you wished. They were an aspect of the community and the history of the place, the island’s spirituality heading back to the Iron Age and before. Nearby were the stone relics of a settlement, there were a number of henges on the island and ancient churches too. It was part of the life here.
The candle stood in a tray filled with sand. A few others had been lit, maybe relit that morning, and I wondered how many had been done for Marcy. I left the cool darkness to head outside, my eyes tearing up with the sudden bright light.
Marcy’s grave was near the edge of the graveyard looking out towards the sea. There were already flowers there and a few plants; I figured Nan had been here recently. The inscription still looked freshly carved and someone had placed stones on the top, a sign of remembrance, that she wasn’t forgotten.
I sat down on the grass besides the grave and unpacked the bag I’d brought containing her journal. I didn’t want to come here to mope or ask questions or even pay homage in some way. Before she’d become poorly, Marcy had told me stories: some about her and the island, others about the places she’d been too, where she’d travelled. But she’d never mentioned much about Don, just in passing, like he was someone I should already know.
I pulled out the letters and flicked to where I was up to.
Dear Alice,
I’m so happy for your engagement. I can’t wait to see the ring. I keep trying to focus on that rather than what has happened here because it’s the most terrible thing. Tomorrow it will be in the newspapers, I’d imagine, so you may already know about it as you’re reading this.
The weather changed back to summer with endless blue skies and endless blue seas. Suddenly it felt like everyone was relaxed, ready to enjoy life again. Even Dad was relaxed and smiling and it really felt as if we were going to have a party or some form of celebration.
The boat from a few weeks ago was coming back into port and Don had booked it for a cruise around the island for Julia’s birthday. He asked various people to join him for champagne and a meal cooked by a chef on board; it wasn’t the people you would’ve expected him to have asked. Don invited some of the fishermen, Mindy who weaves baskets, the postman – it wasn’t about pomp and circumstance, although there was some of it. Julia’s friend had come to stay, to help nurse her I suppose. She was polite although she clearly thought that I was the servant girl and nothing more.
Which was true.
Since Don kissed me, we’d avoided each other. I felt a mixture of emotions, a bit like when the sea couldn’t decide between being still or calm. Some hours I was elated, because he felt something back for me. Other times I was saddened, because the first man who had made me consider being more than just a girl was taken and that was how it would remain. I knew that and so did he.
I went to the boat happily though. It was a party day and the weather was beautiful, clear and fine, the seas as calm as they could be around the island. We set sail just before midday and everyone had made an effort to be in their best. I had a summer dress that I’d borrowed from Jennifer, although I’d argue it fitted me better.
We spent the first hour or so touring near to Holyhead, seeing South Stack lighthouse and the numerous birds that lived around there. Several passengers made good use of the field glasses to see the cormorants and gannets, with the colony of puffins that were there too.
I saw Don looking, smiling. Occasionally we’d meet each other’s eyes and then one of us would look sharply away. I was both dreading and desperate for the end of summer when I wouldn’t see him anymore. My chest ached at the idea of him not being around yet every time I saw him, it hurt more.
It was later that afternoon, after we’d had champagne and canapés, when I was first alone with him. I was watching the trail of gulls that followed us as we rounded the Strait. The water there was the most dangerous, the tides swilling and swelling, unpredictable and there was an undercurrent that was lethal at best.
“How are you?” His words were so gentle, Alice. It was almost like he was touching me with them.
“As you’d expect.” I had no other response.
“You know I wish things were different.”
I nodded, because I wished that too. But there was nothing that could be done about it.
I had just opened my mouth to make some inane comment in order to break the tension that had formed between us when Julia’s friend came running around with h
er husband. She announced that Julia couldn’t be found anywhere on board.
We started to search, desperately hunting for her, looking in the small bedrooms in case she had gone to rest but to no avail.
They haven’t found her, Alice. As I write this, they haven’t found where she could be and they now think she fell overboard. The last time she was seen was by her friend. Julia had been standing where I had been, an hour before, around the same time we headed into the Strait. Had she fallen? Had she jumped?
I haven’t seen Don since it happened. I don’t know what to think. I know he wasn’t involved in her disappearance, possibly death. He was accounted for the whole day, continually with people because he was always with people.
What happens next I don’t know.
I think about you coming home and meeting Arthur and that gives me something to look forward to.
Despite the summer sun, it feels like winter here and I’m not sure when this strange type of storm will cease. Although the sea still ebbs and flows. Things always carry on.
Love,
Marcy
The sea still ebbed and flowed, just as it had back then. I wondered about Marcy’s days with Donald, who she was clearly in love with even though he was married. Had Donald been in love with her?
Was I in love with Gabe?
We were both still learning to deal with grief. It was our grief that had brought us together in some ways, the understanding of each other’s situation clearly a bond that wasn’t necessarily a healthy one. But we hadn’t facilitated each other’s sadness. Instead, he’d understood how I needed to move forward, and I’d encouraged him to incorporate Ryan into what he was doing, taking Ryan into his future, one that he deserved.
I left Marcy’s grave and headed back to the guesthouse, wanting to catch Nan, who clearly knew more than she’d ever let on about Marcy and her secret life. I passed the boats that were coming into dock, the fishermen with their catches and a handful of tourists who’d taken a boat ride around the uninhabited islands that held puffin and seal colonies.
The light breeze was enough to make me feel awake and revived. The sadness I should’ve felt seemed to be absorbed into the day. Marcy was old and her health had deteriorated. Birth and death were a cycle that we all went through, as was falling in love. I had been naïve to think that my aunt only lived here, as a spinster.
Nan was pruning the roses, one of her favourite activities when someone had irritated her. She looked up as I approached, then viciously attacked another stem.
“Who’s in trouble?”
She put down the secateurs. “No one. Well, maybe one or two people who need to learn to be competent at small jobs a child could do. How was seeing Marcy’s grave?”
She was never one for beating around the bush. Straight to the point.
“It was fine. Sad, but fine. It’s weird – I don’t feel as if she’s actually gone.”
Nan nodded. “I know what you mean. She kind of was this place.”
“Marcy’s diary.” It was an announcement because I was hoping Nan would add more information without me asking.
“What about it?”
Clearly I was going to have to dig. “Is it true?”
Nan sighed. “I wasn’t sure if I should let you find it.”
“So Donald and Julia – they were real people?”
She gave a nod. “They were. Don died forty-odd years ago and she never moved on from it. He was her true love. She used to say that there was no such thing as a true love or love at first sight, and I think for most people that’s true, but for her…” She shrugged.
“What happened. I’ve got a bit more to read, but I’d never heard of him before. Why?”
Suddenly I felt as if I’d been told a lie, that one of the people I’d thought most about had kept her life from me. It was like a betrayal.
“Anya, Don died before you were born. Marcy was in her sixties. They’d been together for years, nearly forty years I think. I met him many times when I went on holiday with her and he was wonderful. He doted on her, absolutely adored her and hated himself that he couldn’t marry her.”
“I don’t get it.” I was a teenager again.
“Julia died – you know that already from the newspaper article. She fell overboard during a day out on a boat. Marcy and Don were on the boat that day. After her death, Don left the island because he had to, but he and Marcy kept in touch. They were the loves of each other’s lives.”
“How did he die? He can’t have been that much older.”
“Heart attack. It was very sudden.” She headed to the nearby bench that looked out over the sea.
I followed and sat down beside her. “Why did I never know?”
Nan looked at me. “Anya, you were born years after his death. Marcy talked about him, but as time went on she knew that for a lot of people his memory was like a candle that was burning low. He wasn’t forgotten, never by her, but we’re like the sea. We carry on.”
She was talking about more than just Marcy.
“But why didn’t she tell me? She told me all sorts.”
“When you were a teen you didn’t want to talk to any of us about boys or relationships. Then you left to go to university. Since then, it’s been holidays when you’ve been back and your relationships were something that happened in the background. I dare say that had she seen you with Gabe, she’d have told you about Don.”
A large gull landed next to us, eyeing us as if we might have food.
“It’s a summer romance.”
Nan laughed. “That’s bullshit and everyone can see that it’s more than that apart from you. You haven’t spent a night away from each other in weeks.”
There was truth to what she said. “But I’m going back to school. I might not stay there, but I have to go back, even if it’s to work my notice.”
She nodded. “Time for a change, honey. You’ll never forget, and you shouldn’t, but the sea still has tides. Why not think about moving back to the island, or even Bangor? Not so we can harass you, but for the change of pace. It suits you.”
I bit my lip, wanting to argue with her about missing the city and the rush that was there, but she was right. I’d loved living in London, but being here with the wide skies and the endless blue seas gave me headspace. Everything was clearer.
“And there’s Gabe.”
“Not going there, Nan. He has his demons too.”
“He does. Don did as well. Huge ones. And Marcy was one of them. After Julia died, he felt guilty because he in some ways was responsible for her death.”
“What happened?”
Nan watched the gull fly off. “They took a boat ride out one day. Marcy went with them. Julia found him kissing Marcy and disappeared. They couldn’t find her on board and a couple of days later her body was found on one of the inlets near the bridge.”
“She fell?”
“Or jumped. It wasn’t Don. He left the island, partly because of the suspicion that was around him as he inherited a lot of money from it, but also to protect Marcy.”
My heart hurt for my aunt. To love someone and not be able to have them even if they loved you in return must’ve been hell. “They saw each other in secret?”
“At first. He moved inland. She visited him and then eventually moved there. She only moved back here after his death.”
“Did they marry?”
Nan laughed and shook her head. “No. I think they felt that them getting married would mean they’d betrayed Julia properly. And by the time their guilt had waned there was no point. If Marcy had gotten pregnant, I dare say it would’ve been a different matter. You should carry on reading her letters. Although she did withhold things from Alice. I think she might’ve considered turning them into a book at some point when she was younger.”
“Why didn’t she?”
Nan shook her head. “I don’t know. Marcy danced to the beat of her own orchestra.” She stood up. “I should carry on. What are you doing this aftern
oon?”
“Reading. I might set up a job search.”
“Good plan. Think about coming home.”
I settled outside on a hammock that Gabe had put up, switching between reading my book – a funny romance about a Navy SEAL and a computer hacker – and watching the gulls in the sky. The sea was in a good mood, the waves gentle as they licked the rocks.
It was Hollywood hour, the time when the light was ideal for taking photos casting shadows like a contour artist. Somehow, a glass of wine had made its way next to me and my book been devoured and I was now on a second helping.
The man who appeared in the distance, the sun shadowing his face, had a build I’d become more than familiar with over the last few weeks. I sat up, aware of how to move to ensure the hammock stayed stable.
“Made any good catches?”
His eyes twinkled as he came closer. “None better than the one I’m hoping to pull this evening.”
I smiled, resisting the urge to jump straight into his arms and hope he’d catch me. “Tell me about this evening catch.”
“It’s a tough one. I’ve been trying to reel her in all summer. There have been a few successes, but I don’t take it for granted.”
He leaned over and kissed me. He smelled of summer, of musk and cologne. He smelled like my sheets did most mornings.
“And do you think you’ll have success tonight?”
“I’m hoping so.” He jumped on the hammock with me, making it sway dangerously.
I laughed gripping on until he steadied it with his legs. And then I was lying on top of him, arms wrapped round me, firm muscle my mattress, his soft chuckle my lullaby. Only I wasn’t planning on sleeping.
“Where are you going to take this catch?” I traced his lips with my finger.
“I was thinking a Michelin-starred restaurant for dinner or have a chef come and cook something up in my kitchen.”
