Beneath the Water

by Sarah Painter

  ‘Yes,’ Stella said, nodding for good measure. Stewart fetched an insulated flask from his rucksack and poured them both tea in small enamel mugs. The tea was stewed with milk already mixed in and lots of sugar, but it tasted amazing. Despite her thermal gloves, Stella could no longer feel her fingers, and she had no idea how Stewart was managing with no gloves at all. When she asked him, he said that he needed dexterity and that he ran hot. He put his hand on her cheek and she was amazed at the warmth in his skin, had to resist the urge to hold his hand in place, use it as a makeshift hot-water bottle.

  They saw a vessel in the distance and Stella squinted, trying to see if it was the right shape. Stewart called back that it was too big. Stella was surprised but then she realised that the grey water and the waves and the dark sky were all conspiring to alter her perceptions. The vessel resolved itself into the clear outline of a fishing trawler.

  ‘Over there!’ Stewart shouted over his shoulder, both hands occupied with the controls at the stern. Stella looked around wildly, seeing nothing but the massive dark waves and the ever-present plumes of sea spray, eruptions from the deep.

  ‘Where?’ she shouted back, her words battling against the noise of the wind, which was now truly terrifying. The black clouds were closer and the boat was rising much higher before crashing back down onto the water. Stella had never been on a roller coaster – the safety statistics were horrifying – but this was as she had always imagined it would feel. Only about a hundred times worse. She doubled over, suddenly convinced that she was going to be sick.

  Stewart had her arm and was shouting into her ear again: ‘Over the side.’

  She twisted her body and aimed as best she could, tasting vomit in the back of her throat, gagging with it. She took a breath of salty air and forced herself to look at the horizon, some trick for sea sickness that she had read somewhere. Amazingly, the nausea receded a little, but she clung to the edge of the boat, her head hanging and her body shuddering with tremors that mirrored the vibrating, bucking, shuddering boat. All at once, dying didn’t seem so frightening. It would mean, at least, an end to feeling this sick.

  The flat profile of Eigg was closer than Stella had expected and she could see bright-yellow kayaks nestled against the rocks. To her right was the taller, bigger and altogether more dramatic prospect of Rùm. The Cuillin of Rùm, a volcanic ridge of peaks with Scandinavian names Stella half remembered Jamie telling her – Askival and Trollaval – split the sky. On the map the islands looked small, but as they drew closer, Stewart steering them around Eigg and into the Sound of Rùm, they loomed dramatically, the grey stone unforgiving and craggy and the black water set alight with dancing sparkles where the sun was reflected. Stella had never experienced anything like it. She was in an alien environment, and the familiar shapes of the small isles that she had spent the past few weeks gazing upon from Munro House now seemed utterly new.

  The sun burst from behind the clouds and transformed the scenery all over again. The black water turned navy blue and the slopes stretching above the grey basalt columns turned rich brown. There was bright white foam where the waves were breaking on the rocks, and the sound of the birds wheeling high above suddenly sounded hopeful and holiday-like, rather than a terrifying omen. Despite her fear of the water and her worry for Jamie, Stella felt the thrill of excitement. She felt grateful for this experience, for this different view. The adrenaline rush had set her heart racing, but for once she was so preoccupied by other concerns that she forgot to be frightened by it.

  Stewart shut off the engine and steered the boat using an oar. He let them float towards the shore of Rùm. ‘Use the binos, see if you can spot them.’

  Stella unpacked the binoculars and, with her back wedged firmly against the side of the boat and her arms tucked against her sides to keep them steady, she searched the water and the base of the cliffs and the piles of rocks that marked the shoreline.

  Stewart started the motor and guided the boat between the islands. A white boat that looked huge in comparison to their small craft and had Highland Wildlife painted on its hull, cruised past them. There were only a handful of tourists on board, dressed in rain ponchos and loaded with cameras and binoculars. Its wake caused big waves, one of which even slopped over the side. Stella called out in alarm, but Stewart just smiled. ‘Not to fret,’ he said.

  Stella tried to take comfort from the sight of another boat, but the weather changed again as they navigated to the north side of Rùm and the sky was signalling a clear change. The long, rugged shape of Skye rose out of the sea to the left, and the sun disappeared once more and a strong south-westerly blasted them as they rounded the island. Stella was trying to use the binoculars to scan the shoreline, but looking through them as the boat rose and fell was making her feel sick again.

  ‘There,’ Stewart shouted.

  Stella put the binoculars back to her eyes. A flash of orange which resolved into the shape of a rigid-framed inflatable, rising and falling with the waves. It looked as if it was quite close, but Stella knew that distance was hard to judge out here on the water and she had no experience, no way to work out whether they were metres or miles away.

  Stewart used the motor to move towards the inflatable and it seemed to take a long time, the craft not seeming to get any closer. The black clouds were flinging rain now, which joined with the sea spray making the entire world wet and grey. ‘I can’t see them,’ Stella shouted.

  Stewart had stopped the engine and he stood next to Stella, taking the binoculars for a few moments. ‘Visibility is getting worse. We should head back.’

  ‘They were just there,’ Stella said.

  ‘They’ve probably turned back or gone around to the nearest landing. Rob knows not to stay out when it’s like this.’

  ‘He hates Jamie,’ Stella said, finally voicing her true fear. ‘I think he might hurt him.’

  Stewart didn’t contradict her immediately, which made the cold pit in Stella’s stomach widen. It made her babble, the words coming out in a rush as she leaned close to Stewart. ‘I know he’s your friend, but the way he’s been acting about Jamie . . .’

  ‘I know,’ Stewart said, putting an arm around Stella and squeezing. ‘Something’s up with him, right enough. We’ll keep looking.’

  He went back to the controls and used the motor to pilot the boat closer to Rùm. The volcanic cliffs emerged from the mist, looking more forbidding the closer they got. The upper part of the island was shrouded and Stella could imagine those cliffs climbing upwards forever.

  Stewart was gripping the tiller, his face tense. ‘Cross-currents,’ he said. ‘Gonnae spin us.’

  At that moment, the orange inflatable appeared on their right. There were two figures standing and Stella leaned forwards, trying desperately to get a better view. The figures were merged, as if they were hugging, and Stella felt a surge of relief before the reality of the situation hit her. The figures were not hugging. They were fighting. Grappling, stumbling. Stella recognised Jamie’s coat before she got a clear look at his face, and she shouted his name. The figures didn’t turn, didn’t stop.

  Time slowed but Stella knew that they would not reach the dinghy in time. As the craft dipped low on one side, Stella saw Rob power forwards, clearly aiming to push Jamie over the edge and into the sea.

  Stella was shouting as loudly as she could, thinking that if Rob knew he had an audience, he would stop.

  She could hear a whistle blasting and they were still moving closer and closer. The men were a similar height and Jamie had breadth and muscle on his side, but Rob had momentum and madness. Stella saw Jamie’s body bent backwards and Rob trying to pull away as gravity did the rest of the job, but Jamie was holding onto Rob, trying to stop himself from falling, and their bodies twisted together.

  Rob lost his footing and both men went over the side and into the black water.

  A sudden swell tipped the boat and Stella stumbled, reaching for the edge to stop herself from falling, too. Stewart stoppe
d blowing on his whistle and grabbed the radio, sending a distress call even as he manoeuvred the boat alongside the inflatable.

  ‘Get the lifebuoy,’ Stewart shouted, and Stella began fumbling with the cords which lashed the ring into place. He was leaning down over the side of the boat, arms outstretched, and Stella saw a pale oval – a human face – appear and then disappear a metre or so away from the boat’s side.

  ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ Stewart was chanting. Stella pushed the lifesaver into his arms and he stood up, wound the end of the rope around his arm and then threw it into the water, shouting as he did so. His words were whipped away by the wind and Stella didn’t think Jamie would hear.

  He was appearing and disappearing in the swell, the freezing water probably slowing his heart and muscles. How long could a person last in water that cold? Minutes? She tried not to think about the dark fathoms and the wrecks littering the seabed. A shape appeared near to the orange inflatable and Stella hoped it was Rob grabbing onto the side.

  Stewart had switched off the engine and the boat was drifting. ‘The rocks—’ Stella began, but then Jamie broke the surface near to the lifebuoy and threw an arm over the ring. Stewart was hauling it towards the side. ‘Ladder!’ he shouted, and Stella unhooked the emergency steps and unfolded them over the side just as Jamie, towed by the lifebuoy, came alongside. She moved out of the way so that Stewart could lean over. He was trying to grab hold of Jamie’s arm, help him to the bottom of the ladder. Stella sat down and wrapped her arms around Stewart’s legs, anchoring him to the boat.

  It seemed to be taking forever and, from her position on the floor, Stella couldn’t see what was going on, only hear Stewart’s shouts of encouragement and the wind howling.

  Then, his eyes shut and skin white, Jamie’s head and body appeared at the top of the ladder, hauled up by Stewart with impressive strength. Seconds later, the rest of his body tumbled onto the deck, Stewart falling with him in an ungainly heap.

  Stella had let go of Stewart at the last moment and thrown herself clear, but she still caught a face full of icy water and wet jacket.

  She dived across to Jamie, pushing aside the wet hair which was plastered over his face. He was breathing. He was alive. Stella tried to roll him into an approximation of the recovery position but his body was heavy with the water and stone cold. He began shivering violently and Stella tried to remember if that was a good sign. She pulled his wet gloves off and held his hands in her own, trying to warm them.

  Stewart scrambled to his feet and back to the controls. They were fighting the current and the back of the boat swung out to the side so that they were moving diagonally. ‘Blanket,’ Stewart called, pointing at the supply locker. ‘Try to get his coat off.’

  That was when Stella realised she had been chanting Jamie’s name. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘I’ve got you.’

  He opened his eyes, seemed to focus.

  ‘Can you take this off?’ Stella was trying to tug the sleeve of his jacket and he tried to help, moving slowly as if he were still underwater. She stumbled to the supply locker and fetched the emergency blanket, wrapping it around Jamie as best she could. ‘Rob . . .’ Jamie said.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Stella said. ‘You’re okay.’

  She stood up, struggling to keep her balance on the bucking boat. The waves were bigger, threatening to break over the side. She squinted through the spray, hoping to see Rob climbing aboard the inflatable. Instead, she saw a flag of orange a moment before it disappeared under a wave. The dinghy had sunk. ‘Got to go,’ Stewart shouted, and Stella clung to the side as the boat swung around in the swell.

  Stella scanned the waves for any sign of Rob, but all she could see was water, like black ink, heaving and rolling. The whole sea seemed alive, like a gigantic creature which wanted to throw them from the boat and devour them whole.

  This was their last chance to spot Rob, they were moving further and further from the place he had gone overboard. Stella was torn between looking for a figure she didn’t think could still be alive and tending to the man on the deck.

  She cast one final look at the water and threw herself down next to Jamie. ‘Hey.’ She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘Stella,’ he said, opening his eyes. He was still shaking but the silver thermal blanket seemed to be helping. His fingers were purple and there were dark shadows underneath his eyes, but he already seemed stronger and more focused. More Jamie-like.

  ‘You came,’ Jamie said, wonder in his voice.

  ‘Of course I did, you stupid bastard,’ Stella kissed his frozen cheek, pressing her face against his.

  She wrapped her arms around him and the silver blanket, pressing herself against him to transfer body heat. She was shaking, too, and the deck was cold and hard, but the relief was flooding through her body, making her feel invincible and strong.

  They had found Jamie. They were bringing him home.

  Back on dry land, Stewart drove them to the hospital. ‘No sense in tying up an ambo,’ he said. He produced dry coats from the boot and piled them on top of Jamie on the back seat and, with the car heater blasting, took them carefully to hospital.

  Once Jamie had been checked over and pronounced fit enough to go home, Stewart drove them back to Munro House. He gave Stella his phone while he was driving and asked her to read any text messages that came through. They were almost back to Arisaig when one came through from Doug. No sign of Rob. CG out. Still looking.

  ‘CG?’ Jamie said.

  ‘Coastguard,’ Stewart said, his eyes firmly on the road ahead.

  There was a silence in which nobody pointed out that it had been three hours since Rob went into the water. It was no longer a rescue mission.

  ‘Do you want coffee?’ Stella offered hospitality because she found that she couldn’t find the right words to convey her feelings. How did you say ‘thank you for saving a life?’ The life of the man she loved with every atom of her being, every beat of her fragile heart.

  ‘I’ll head off,’ Stewart said. ‘You two get some rest.’

  ‘How can I repay you?’ Jamie said, offering his hand for Stewart to shake.

  Stella stiffened, willing Jamie not to offer money to Stewart and offend him. ‘It was kind of you to come looking,’ Jamie was saying, ‘and bloody useful, as it happened.’

  That was taking stoic understatement to a new level, Stella thought.

  ‘I will never be able to thank you enough,’ Stella said, feeling her eyes fill up.

  Stewart looked away, his cheeks flushing. ‘Nae bother, hen.’ To Jamie he said, ‘Buy me a pint. And make sure you tell folk where you’re going next time.’

  ‘You don’t drink,’ Stella said, pulling Stewart into a tight hug.

  ‘Sticky toffee pudding, then,’ Stewart said, dropping a quick kiss onto the crown of her head. ‘With extra cream.’

  She waved to Stewart from the door, closed it and turned to face Jamie. He was wearing the dry clothes they had given him at the hospital and one of Stewart’s spare coats. She had meant to tell him to get changed into something comfortable, but all her worry morphed into sudden fury. ‘How could you go off like that? With Rob! Without leaving details with anyone.’

  She couldn’t say the words she really meant. You nearly died. Rob tried to kill you. I almost lost you.

  Jamie enveloped her in a hug. Stella stood stiffly in his arms, unable to relax.

  ‘I’m sorry I frightened you.’ He spoke into the top of her head.

  Esmé appeared on the stairs. ‘I thought I heard you,’ she said, her voice as dry as always. ‘Glad you’re back safely.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Jamie said and Stella stepped away, suddenly aware that she was about to start sobbing.

  She left Esmé and Jamie and went into the kitchen and made tea, blinking rapidly and taking deep breaths. If she started crying, she felt as if she wouldn’t stop. The adrenaline had ebbed away, and every muscle in her body ached and her limbs were
heavy. Every so often, a little jolt of electric fear would spark, as if her mind hadn’t quite accepted that she was no longer on a boat in a storm. As if she could not quite accept that she was home, safe, and that Jamie was in the living room chatting to Esmé.

  Stella put her hand to her chest, expecting to feel her heart racing, but it wasn’t. Then it hit her; she hadn’t felt her heart while on the boat, either. She had been too worried to feel faint. And apart from the seasickness, she had felt perfectly strong throughout. The thought stopped her in her tracks and she hesitated, one hand on the handle of the kettle.

  Esmé came into the kitchen and got a chopping board out. ‘I’m making soup,’ she said. ‘It seems like the right thing to do.’

  Her appearance released Stella and she finished making the tea. She patted Esmé’s shoulder and put a mug of tea on the worktop next to a growing pile of chopped carrots. Then she carried through two mugs of tea and found Jamie sat in the living room, warming himself by the wood burner.

  Stella put the tea carefully down on a side table before asking, in as calm and measured a tone as she could manage: ‘What the hell were you doing?’

  ‘I wanted to see where it happened.’

  ‘Why?’ Stella couldn’t imagine what seeing a stretch of water could do.

  ‘He said it would help me understand, that I had to see it.’

  ‘That doesn’t make sense,’ Stella said. ‘You must have known he was—’ Stella had been going to say ‘dangerous’. Her old friend. The man who was now at the bottom of the dark, cold water. She swallowed hard.

  ‘I wanted to know about my dad. He said he’d talk to me but only if I went with him.’ Jamie put his head in his hands, pushing up his still-damp hair into little wings. ‘It was stupid,’ he said, the words muffled.

  ‘Did it help?’ Stella said, sitting next to him on the sofa. At the hospital, Jamie had told her that Rob had shown her the place his dad’s boat had gone down, and when he was turned away, looking out to sea and trying to have a moment of contemplation, that was when Rob had first pushed him, trying to catch him off guard.