The Beach at Doonshean

by Penny Feeny

  She knelt between the V of his legs and traced a path along his neck and pectoral muscles, the underside of his arms. She smoothed her fingertips over his ribs, over his hips, thighs, calves and ankles, down to the soles of his feet and very slowly upwards again. He clenched his jaw, making an effort not to quiver at her touch.

  ‘Hey, you’re good,’ she said. ‘What self-control!’ But she could see his erection growing as she completed her body map. When she reached his penis it was satisfyingly sensitive to each stroke of her palm. ‘Now I feel like I’ve got magic powers.’

  Kieran pulled her towards him as if he’d had enough. His heartbeat throbbed against hers. ‘Jaysus, Bel!’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t have to look far, to get an idea of your powers all right.’

  ‘Oh no,’ she said, burrowing her face into the hollow of his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him. ‘Not me. Rachael, my sister-in-law, is the one to give guys wet dreams. She’s the beauty in our house.’

  ‘Don’t be putting yourself down all the time.’

  He wasn’t interested in hearing about Rachael. He was taking his turn, his hands exploring the curves and crevices of her anatomy – though she was short on curves and she bemoaned the way her bones poked through her skin, the sharp jut of pelvis and clavicle. ‘I’ve lost a lot of weight,’ she said in apology for her small breasts, but he seemed hungry for them. When he fastened his mouth on hers again she couldn’t say anything else, which was just as well because it would probably be something stupid that she’d regret later. Magic powers! It could have been Clemmie talking. And then, with a swoop and a plunge, he was inside her. The bed was groaning and they were making love and the foolishness and disappointment of previous weeks were completely unimportant. Didn’t matter a bit.

  She lay afterwards in the crook of his arm, their bodies close and slick with sweat. ‘We’ll have to get up early to wash the sheets,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll set the alarm on my phone.’

  ‘I don’t know if I can sleep.’ Her limbs felt drowsy, true, but her mind was in overdrive, churning with excitement. ‘I never imagined this would happen. I was so slow on the uptake. I mean, when you brought me the flowers I did get a little clue, but you were so damn courteous and well behaved, I wasn’t certain…’ She prodded him gently. ‘Why didn’t you push yourself forward more, like Tom?’

  ‘There’s your answer,’ he said. ‘Plus, I was wary of your mother.’

  ‘My mother?’ This was a surprise. ‘I know she helped fuck things up for Tom, but what on earth did she do to you?’

  ‘It was more what I did to her.’ He hesitated. ‘I don’t know whether I should tell you this, Bel.’

  ‘You’ve started, so you can’t stop now. Tell me what?’

  He brushed her hair away from her face. ‘About what happened at Doonshean.’

  ‘You mean the beach where they have the riptide? She took me there. It’s beautiful.’

  ‘Sure it is, and in general fatalities are rare. You have to have an unlucky combination of circumstances. But it’s at low tide, when the strand looks so peaceful, that the current is at its most savage. Anyhow…’ He sighed.

  ‘What are you trying to say?’

  ‘Just… I was responsible for setting that particular chain in motion.’

  ‘You? In what way?’

  ‘I don’t actually remember any of it. Only what the girls told me.’

  ‘Go on then.’

  ‘Well, the story goes that Tom had been collecting shrimps and shells and what have you, during the afternoon. We were supposed to share them out but I had some kind of tussle with him – you know how little kids get into a strop – and spilled the bucket. Everything drained back into the sea. At this point, apparently, I became inconsolable so he went off to gather some more. That’s why he was clambering over the rocks again when the wave got him – it was for my benefit. And my sisters were too busy trying to stop me wailing to notice he’d gone too far.’

  ‘So how old were you?’

  ‘Two. And maybe a half.’

  ‘A toddler! You’re not telling me you’ve been feeling guilty ever since?’

  ‘Certainly not.’ He tightened his grip around her waist. ‘Like I said, I don’t even remember the bucket – though the drama: the ambulance siren, the wailing and the panic, they made an impression, they’re lodged in my memory somewhere. I was only a bit player; my part was insignificant compared with Tom’s. I’m not beating myself up over it. I wasn’t even going to mention it, but…’

  ‘You can go too far with cause and effect,’ she said.

  ‘True enough.’

  ‘It was a terrible tragedy, Kieran, but you do realise that if it hadn’t happened I – me, myself – wouldn’t be here? Isabel Wentworth wouldn’t exist.’

  She let the thought sink in, then rolled on top of him. She gazed down at his face, the clear steady eyes and the smile that was no longer so rare and fleeting. She could feel his cock stirring to life again. ‘We’re onto new beginnings now,’ she said. ‘You don’t really want to sleep, do you?’

  Later they did doze, fitfully. There was no blind at the window so Bel surfaced with the dawn. Kieran was facing away from her, his body spread-eagled in a spent, loose sprawl, the duvet cast off. She reviewed all the other mornings in her life when she’d woken beside a new man. The blue of the sky beyond the glass was intensifying. Perhaps those volcanic particles were still airborne, adding depth and a third dimension. Perhaps this time things would be different.

  34

  The Bicycle

  Rachael lay soaking in the bath, a supreme indulgence on a Monday morning (even if it was a bank holiday). She’d opened the sash window to let out steam and the air that entered in return was fragrant with lilac. She dipped her head backwards and let her hair float around her in fronds. She was alone in the house. Matt had got up early to give Danny breakfast so she could sleep in and now he’d taken him down to the Prom on his bike.

  She surfaced above the water again and let it ripple along the length of her body. She laid one hand on her abdomen, smooth, flat and unmarred. In the end it had been so simple. She had picked up her phone and cancelled the appointment with the Pregnancy Advisory Service. She didn’t need to consult anybody: her decision was made.

  The fire had been horrific – Dan wasn’t the only one to have nightmares – but it had profoundly altered her perceptions. The sight of Matt going after Leo, the fear of losing him, made the worries that had loomed so large for her seem trifling and irrational. Matt’s affection, his support, his indestructible self-belief – all these helped to make her a better person. She couldn’t betray him. She loved her husband and she wanted to have his children.

  It had occurred to her, on Friday, that Leo might remark on the fact that he’d offered to drive her to the clinic and now it was the other way around. But no, he was in mourning for his work and Rachael’s problems were irrelevant, erased from his memory. However, he let her run around after him and she was keen for Matt to see she was making an effort. She had also finally confided in Emma, who’d advised her to keep her reservations to herself. ‘Matt doesn’t need to know you had a wobble,’ she said. ‘Everybody wobbles. Just give him the good news. It’s what he’s been waiting for, isn’t it?’

  Which was why, when she’d arrived home from Emma’s, it had been disturbing to find Matt so hard and alien. He wore no trace of his usual boyishness, but an air of suppressed wrath. Deep grooves were scored between his eyebrows and down either side of his nose.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ His tone was so aggressive she’d almost burst into tears on the spot.

  She managed to contain herself until Leo left the room and then she’d confessed. The frown lines vanished. Matt’s eyes shone behind his glasses and his face split into a smile. ‘Oh my God!’ he exclaimed. ‘I never imagined…’

  ‘Didn’t you? Why not? I thought you wanted more kids.’

  ‘Sure I did. But we’d only just started
trying. And they said it might take ages…’ Then the frown hovered again as if he were computing something. ‘So, what date?’

  ‘New Year’s Day. Do you reckon that’s a good omen?’

  ‘Definitely! When did you find out?’

  This was where she had fudged her answer. ‘Well, I thought I might be pregnant a couple of weeks ago, but I didn’t want to take the test too soon. Emma had a spare kit so she let me use it today when we went back to hers after swimming.’

  Matt had gathered her into his arms. ‘You’re not scared this time, are you?’

  The feel of him, the thick brushed cotton of his shirt, the firm space between his neck and shoulder where she could lay her head – all these were infinitely consoling. ‘A bit.’

  ‘It’ll be fine. My mother will help out.’

  ‘Julia? Really?’

  ‘She was working when Dan was born. She has more freedom these days.’

  ‘Oh yes, I suppose she does.’ She added, ‘I’m sorry if I’ve been flaky and irritable lately, about Bel being here and then Leo. I didn’t mean to knock your family. You think I’ve been intolerant, don’t you? Put it down to the hormones.’

  She couldn’t see his face but she felt him stiffen. ‘No,’ he said softly. ‘I think you’ve been a paragon of patience. Leo’s enough to drive anyone up the wall. Worse in his old age, without Julia to rein him in.’

  ‘I don’t want to kick him out,’ Rachael said. ‘Well, not until Bel gets back and needs the room.’ In truth, she was grateful to Leo. He’d taken her work seriously and encouraged her to see herself as an artist with a valuable talent. He had boosted her self-belief.

  ‘Frankly I can’t wait for him to go,’ Matt said, which had surprised her– but didn’t give her quite so much pleasure as his next pronouncement.

  She lathered her limbs with soap and rinsed it off again. She reached for a towel with a thick deep pile and pulled out the bath plug. Above the gurgle of water draining she heard the slam of a door, Dan’s excited voice and Matt’s lower tones. They were back. Wrapped in the towel she leant across the basin and tweezered stray hairs from her brows. She massaged moisturiser into her face and body lotion into her legs. She needed to look after herself, Matt had insisted. He’d also said they could go ahead with the new kitchen.

  ‘Do you mean that? No kidding?’

  ‘Yeah, if we get onto it right away you’ll be able to use your new cooker for all those summer parties.’

  All those summer parties was an exaggeration but she could pitch for more. And a revamped kitchen would make a big difference. ‘But what about the cost? Can we afford it?’

  ‘We can use the insurance pay-out.’

  ‘You mean for the garage?’

  ‘It won’t do the car any harm to stand outside at this time of year.’

  ‘What if they decide the fire was deliberate?’

  ‘We were the victims,’ he said. ‘And there’s not much anyone can do about Nathan because he’s under the age of criminal responsibility. He’s only nine.’

  ‘You know that for a fact?’

  ‘Yes, I checked with Kelly.’ His voice thickened. ‘We won’t be seeing those two again.’

  ‘That’s a relief.’

  She folded the damp towel and hung it on the rail. Tomorrow she would pick up some paint charts, contact a joiner, make the house fit to bring up her family in. As she fastened her bra she noticed that her breasts were already feeling tender. She chose a button-through dress from her wardrobe, one that was not restrictive but made her feel as if she could waft through fields of wheat and barley like a girl in a shampoo advert.

  When she went downstairs and into the kitchen she was pleased to find Danny slathering peanut butter on a slice of bread. Some years ago a health visitor had commented that he seemed under-nourished and Rachael had been mortified. Matt and Julia had both tried to reassure her: the health visitor was old school, traditional, insensitive; Danny was perfectly healthy, there was nothing wrong with his diet. But Rachael knew he was picky. He would leave vegetables at the side of his plate because he didn’t like the shape of them. He was much reedier than Caleb, Emma’s little boy. So the calorific peanut butter was an encouraging sight. So was the flush of colour in his cheeks.

  ‘Darling, you’re quite pink!’ she said.

  ‘So are you.’

  ‘That’s because I’ve been in the bath. Yours is a better sort of pink because it comes from being in the fresh air. How did it go?’

  Immense pride infused every syllable: ‘Daddy says we can take the stabilisers off.’

  ‘That’s fantastic! Well done.’ She had visions of a bike toppling over, the front wheel spinning and a small boy trapped and wailing beneath the frame. She dismissed it.

  ‘He did great,’ said Matt. ‘He’s really gaining confidence.’

  Rachael joined them at the table, picking grapes from the fruit bowl, watching with satisfaction as Danny demolished his sandwich. ‘Is Leo still around?’

  ‘No,’ said Matt. ‘He called a cab about the same time we went out. He’s gone to visit friends I think.’

  ‘I’m surprised he’s got any left.’ She wondered as soon as the words were out how Matt would take this, but he laughed.

  ‘I think it helps to have an ego the size of a mountain. Since they re-did his dressings and he can use his fingers again, he must have rung round his contacts until he found someone prepared to listen to him.’

  ‘So it’s just the three of us,’ said Rachael, the sweet grape juice bursting in her mouth. ‘What a treat.’ A family, chilling in their own home, without uninvited guests; a tranquil afternoon spread out before them, no commitments, no pressure, no conflict. ‘I thought I’d make a cake. Red velvet. You’d enjoy that, Dan, wouldn’t you? You can help me break the eggs and add the colouring while Daddy’s sorting out your bike.’

  Like Rachael, Dan was enthralled by the way the magic of chemistry could transform a disparate heap of ingredients into a stunning centrepiece (although he ran off as soon as the layers were put in the oven). When everything came together it was as though the planets had aligned in her favour. This was what she could do; this was what she was good at. She beat the icing vigorously, energised and even a little excited about her future. Covering the icing bowl with cling film and leaving the cake to cool, she wandered outside.

  Unfortunately Matt was having less success. Sweaty and cursing on the front driveway, he was still struggling to unscrew the nuts on the bike’s stabilisers. Danny was hopping up and down in impatience. As the spanner slipped and clattered to the ground for the nth time, a Renault Megane drew up and parked outside. Bel got out of the passenger seat and hoisted her luggage from the boot.

  It gave Rachael a shock to recognise her own suitcase. She’d forgotten she’d lent it and she was sure she spotted a streak of black grime where none had been before. But she wouldn’t make a fuss; she wouldn’t allow a scrap of dirt to destroy her mood. As Bel approached, Danny launched himself at her knees and began telling her excitedly about his riding prowess. The car’s driver followed close behind.

  ‘This is Kieran Farrelly,’ said Bel, introducing the Irishman. ‘He’s been ace, brought me all the way from Dingle. Have you heard from Mum?’

  ‘She called us this morning,’ Matt said. ‘Said she got back last night. She’s coming over later. I think she wants to check up on Leo.’

  ‘Isn’t he here?’

  ‘Not right now.’

  Rachael said, ‘You’re looking really well, Bel. The holiday must have done you good.’

  ‘Yeah, some bits were brill… others, not so. Like your week, I guess. Is that what’s left of the garage?’

  Rachael refrained from saying: it was that loopy boy you let in who burned it down, because she didn’t want to sound accusing in front of the stranger, Kieran. ‘Afraid so, bit of a disaster isn’t it?’

  ‘The problem,’ said Matt. ‘is that we can’t store stuff in it any more. We’re going to
have to keep Danny’s bike indoors.’

  Bel peered at his hands, covered in grease. ‘What are you doing to it?’

  ‘I’m trying to get the damn stabilisers off but I think the nuts have rusted.’

  ‘Have you any WD40?’ said Kieran. ‘The miracle solution?’

  Matt looked at Rachael. ‘Have we?’

  ‘I don’t know. Possibly in the garage?’

  ‘Worth a try.’

  While Matt and Kieran picked their way through the debris, Bel said, ‘Were Dad’s paintings the only valuable things left in there?’

  ‘Well, Matt got the car out and we were already using the garden furniture, so yes.’

  ‘Matt downplayed it when he rang,’ said Bel. ‘Like he didn’t tell me how badly Dad had been injured.’

  ‘He didn’t want to worry you.’

  ‘Amazingly, Dad seems okay about it.’

  ‘Have you spoken to him?’

  ‘He phoned me when we on the hydrofoil. On the open deck at the back. The seagulls were chasing our wake – it’s quite mesmerising, all that white froth – and suddenly Leo rings. It was surreal.’

  ‘He was massively pissed off at first,’ said Rachael. ‘When he realised what damage he’d done to himself. How crazy he’d been. But he cheered up a bit when the Echo asked for an interview.’

  ‘He’s done better than that now,’ said Bel. ‘He’s got his dealer on the case, setting up all sorts of PR. He’s asked me to go back to London with him.’

  ‘And will you?’

  Bel’s eyes were following the men shifting tins and cans from the collapsed shelves in the wrecked garage. Puffs of dust and ash rose and settled again. Their shoulders looked as though they were speckled with dandruff. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I might as well. He has room for me and he needs looking after. Whereas I’m, like, fully okay now. I’ll have a better chance of finding work in London and I can go to Birmingham at weekends.’

  Rachael felt she must have missed something. ‘What’s in Birmingham?’

  ‘Oh… Kieran. He lives there. And if I manage to get any web design contracts he can help me with the technical stuff.’