Mermaid Hair and I Don’t Care: A romantic comedy about shoes, surf and second chances

by CJ Morrow

  She could smell bacon. Bacon? And she was actually hungry even after last night’s large dinner. She sat up slowly, her head thumping, her body aching. No more cider. Ever again.

  She shimmied down to the end of the bed, her knickers riding up and giving her a wedgie as she did so. She wriggled to unravel them, then placed her feet on the floor. The carpet felt cold and rough. The stench was even stronger now; she looked around for the culprit.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, finding herself alone. The other two beds were neatly made. When did that happen? She cupped her hand over her nose and mouth and sniffed.

  ‘Urgh.’ She found herself gagging again.

  She stood up and felt the room sway, grabbed hold of the end of Tess’s bed and manoeuvred herself along the floor to her suitcase. There was no sign of any of the other bags that had been piled there the night before. Unzipping a corner, she reached in, fished around and pulled out a pair of socks and a long cardigan.

  ‘Morning Lily,’ Tess said, smiling when Lily entered the kitchen. ‘Coffee?’ Tess waved a cup at her.

  ‘Yes please. Where did that come from?’

  ‘I brought supplies,’ Gemma called from the other end of the room. She was sitting at the dining table in front of expansive bi-fold windows. Behind her the vista was bright blue.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Breakfast,’ Gemma answered.

  ‘No. I mean that blue.’ Lily pointed beyond Gemma.

  ‘It’s sky.’

  ‘What? Really?’ Lily padded down to the table but before she could look outside she had to sit down quickly.

  ‘Hanging?’ Gemma laughed.

  ‘Mmm. Weren’t you two?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tess called over. ‘A bit. That local cider is strong stuff. We’ll have to be careful.’

  ‘Not me.’ Gemma’s voice was smug and superior. ‘I stuck to tonic water all evening.’

  ‘Did you?’ Had she really?

  ‘Here, drink these.’ Tess put the coffee and a glass of water in front of Lily.

  ‘That smells nice,’ Lily said, eyeing Gemma’s empty plate.

  ‘Which is more than can be said for some of us.’ Gemma arched a perfect eyebrow. She wore full make-up including lipstick which hadn’t been dislodged by her breakfast.

  ‘Is that smell me?’ Lily asked, sniffing. Of course it was; who else could it be? And it really wasn’t pleasant.

  Gemma picked her plate up and took it to the kitchen. ‘Would you like a bacon sandwich,’ she called back.

  ‘Love one. Thank you.’ Then she turned her head to look outside. All she could see was blue; the sky seemed to go on forever (either that or the cider had affected her eyesight). She squinted looking for a horizon.

  ‘We’re up high,’ Tess said by way of an explanation. ‘We’re on a hill. If you go outside you can see the sea.’

  ‘There you go,’ Gemma said, putting the bacon sandwich on the table. ‘I knew you’d need one so I already had the bacon waiting.’

  Lily’s mouth salivated before she even began to eat, she’d have to be careful not to dribble.

  The restorative qualities of greasy food is well known and not exaggerated. After eating the sandwich and drinking the water and coffee, Lily felt almost normal. She ran her hand through her hair, it was matted following the wind tunnel experience on the motorway and the frizzing effects of the late night damp walk back from the pub.

  ‘I think I’ll take that shower that I obviously need,’ Lily laughed, taking her plate to the kitchen and dropping it in the sink of hot, soapy water.

  Gemma and Tess exchanged a furtive look.

  ‘What? Sorry. I know, I know I honk a bit, but... well.’ Lily shrugged.

  ‘Yeah,’ Tess began. ‘Might be a problem with the water…’ Tess’s voice tailed off.

  Lily waited, looking between Tess and Gemma.

  ‘Yes,’ Gemma added. ‘I had to wash my hair,’ she nodded her head around as if to say, implying that it didn’t look that good by accident despite her previously saying it was no trouble. ‘And Tess had a shower and there doesn’t seem to be any hot water left.’

  ‘Sink’s full,’ Lily said, staring accusingly at the washing up.

  ‘Boiled a kettle for that.’

  ‘Well, can’t we just put the hot water back on?’

  ‘We could, if we could find it.’

  Lily stomped into the bathroom and looked for a switch, a cupboard, anything. Finding nothing, she came out and stomped around the cottage, opening doors and starting to cuss.

  ‘We’ve done that,’ Gemma said.

  ‘So what am I going to do? How will I have a shower? Can’t you ring someone Tess?’

  ‘Rang and left a voicemail and sent a message. No reply so far.’

  ‘Great. What can I do? I stink. As you’ve made very clear, Gemma.’

  ‘You could boil a kettle. Have a strip wash in the bathroom sink. My granny used to call it a cat’s lick, swore by them.’ Gemma turned away and started filling the kettle.

  ‘Great. What about my hair? I can hardly wash that in the sink. It won’t fit in it for a start.’ Lily lifted her heavy hair and let it drop down.

  ‘Tie it up for today,’ Gemma said.

  Lily doubted whether Gemma would make do with a cat’s lick and a scruffy up-do for herself.

  Lily balanced inside the shower cubical, standing in a bowl of hot and soapy water and tried to wash herself. It really wasn’t very comfortable and every time she bent down she realised that the hangover was still lingering. Without a flannel or sponge – who brings those on holiday when you can have a hot shower – she was struggling to get clean. God knows what her hair would be like when she tried to brush it. Damn Gemma. Selfish Gemma had obviously used copious amounts of hot water on her hair.

  ‘There,’ said Gemma when Lily appeared in the kitchen twenty minutes later, clean – relatively speaking – and dressed. ‘You look quite presentable. And your hair suits you up like that.’

  ‘Thank you, Gemma. I feel just great.’ Lily said, loud and slow.

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Gemma smiled and seemed oblivious to Lily’s sarcasm.

  Lily’s hair was tied tightly up but it wasn’t the lovely sleek style she favoured for work, it was a bunch of knots hidden beneath a smoothed and patted down top layer. Her head was already starting to itch and her hand went up and scratched.

  ‘You should probably get a shorter style if you can’t cope with it. It is rather long and unruly.’

  Lily stood open-mouthed for a second or two and was about to lay into Gemma when Tess caught her eye with an almost imperceptible head-shake. It was a plea, a plea for peace. Lily rolled her eyes and kept her mouth closed.

  ‘I’ve made a nice pot of tea and taken it out to the terrace,’ Gemma said, unaware of Lily’s hostility.

  Tess followed Gemma outside and looking back, urged Lily to follow.

  The terrace ran the width of the cottage and looked down towards the sea. Between the brilliant blue water and the cottage was rolling green countryside.

  ‘How far is the sea again, Tess?’ Lily asked.

  ‘Ten minute walk, I think.’

  ‘Ten minutes by car, surely,’ Gemma corrected.

  ‘No. Walking. Or did it say hiking? Anyway, not by car.’

  Gemma scoffed, then restrained herself and poured the tea.

  ‘Gemma brought the tea and milk with her. As well as the breakfast things. Isn’t she good?’ Tess said.

  Lily nodded. If Tess was trying to win her over she was wasting her time; Gemma was an interloper and a bloody bossy one at that. And a hot water hogger.

  ‘Years of travelling with children,’ Gemma sighed. ‘Always have to be prepared.’

  Lily thought of the bag of tricks Gemma had with her; the rollers, the hairdryer, the straighteners, the, ahem, cellulite massager. Yes, Gemma certainly travelled prepared.

  They drank their tea in silence, staring out across the vista, inhaling the clean, swee
t air and luxuriating in the gentle sunshine, which had crept up the terrace and was now bathing their faces.

  Lily pulled her phone from her pocket. ‘I haven’t got any messages. Not one. Nor emails. Oh, no signal. Have either of you got a signal?’

  ‘I haven’t checked,’ Gemma said, raising her chin and looking away.

  ‘I had to walk up the lane a bit to ring the owners,’ Tess said. ‘Coverage isn’t very good.’

  That would explain the lack of a message from Will then. After she hadn’t replied to his last message she did expect him to try again. Surely even Will wouldn’t give up that easily. She just hoped he didn’t use the friends word again.

  ‘It’s warming up nicely,’ Lily mused, closing her eyes and tilting her head up to the sky.

  ‘The forecast is good. We’re going to be lucky with the weather.’ Gemma gathered up the cups and teapot and headed inside.

  ‘I don’t know if I can stand this,’ Lily whispered to Tess when she heard Gemma clattering in the sink. ‘Who put her in charge?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I really am. But don’t be hard on her; she’s a lot more fragile than she appears.’

  ‘Huh. I doubt that. Anyway, what about me? I’m fragile. I’ve just broken up with the love of my life.’

  ‘Please…’ Tess let the word hang in the air. There it was, that pleading face again.

  ‘Okay.’

  By the time Lily and Tess joined Gemma she had already washed up and was drying the last few cups.

  ‘You’ll need better shoes than those,’ Gemma said, wiping her hands dry and staring at Lily’s flip flops. ‘They’ve obviously seen better days.’

  ‘I’m happy in these, thanks. They may be old, but they’re comfortable.’

  ‘They’re really not suitable for Exeter.’

  ‘Exeter?’

  ‘Yes. We’ve planned the day shopping in Exeter. It’s lovely. Have you ever been there?’

  ‘No. And I don’t think I want to go today.’ Lily glanced around for Tess who was looking at her own, city-shod, feet.

  ‘Well, we’ve planned it. It’s only about sixty miles; it’ll only take ninety minutes at most.’

  Lily shuddered. The prospect of another five minutes in the back of that car horrified her, never mind an hour and half with her knees permanently under pressure. She shook her head. ‘I think I’ll give it a miss.’

  ‘But we’re having lunch there.’ Gemma’s voice moved up an octave. ‘What will you do all day?’

  ‘I’ll manage. Don’t worry about me. I think I can feed myself.’ Lily laughed, because if she didn’t laugh she might shout at Gemma.

  ‘But what will you do all day?’

  ‘What’s it to you? I’ll go to the beach.’

  ‘Well… well. I suppose it’ll be all right.’ Gemma huffed and picked up her handbag, turned to look at Tess who followed behind her meekly with her head down and avoiding Lily’s gaze.

  Gemma stood in the doorway and waited for Lily.

  ‘I’m not coming,’ Lily repeated.

  ‘I know. That’s fine. But I need to lock up. There’s only one key.’

  ‘I’ll lock up when I go.’ Lily sat down on the sofa to make the point.

  ‘But how will that work? Supposing you’re not here when we get back? How will we get in?’

  ‘It’s more likely that I’ll be back before you.’

  ‘What if you’re not? I don’t want to have to wait. Supposing you get lost on the way back from the beach? What then?’

  Lily shrugged. She didn’t care.

  ‘We can leave the key where we found it yesterday.’ Tess spoke quietly. ‘Then it doesn’t matter who’s back first.’

  ‘That’s not very secure though, is it? We have all our luggage here, my clothes, my hairdryer.’

  ‘I doubt anyone will want to steal your cellulite massager,’ Lily sniggered. ‘Do you?’

  Gemma pulled her lips into a sharp pout and turned away. ‘Just make sure that key is where it should be,’ she called back over her shoulder.

  After they’d gone Lily wandered around the cottage, running her fingers over surfaces, enjoying the peace. Gemma was a bossy prima donna. Lily didn’t know how, or more to the point why, Tess allowed herself to be corralled like that. The only good thing about Gemma’s presence and limelight hogging was that Lily hadn’t had much time to dwell on Will. In fact, and she was surprised to realise it, she hadn’t thought of him half as much as she had supposed she should.

  What did that say about their relationship?

  In the bedroom Lily hauled her suitcase onto Gemma’s bed and unzipped it. She opened the two wardrobes along the wall and discovered, as expected, that they were full – mostly with Gemma’s clothes. They had, at least, left her the largest drawer in the chest.

  A narrow door in the wall revealed another wardrobe, that would be Lily’s then, and it would probably suffice. Then she noticed the timer-switch inside. That must be for the hot water. She checked the time. It would come on at four; she’d make sure she was back in time to use all the hot water she needed. She allowed herself a smug little grin.

  Once unpacked she stuffed a towel, her bikini and an old, half empty bottle of sun cream into her tote bag, grabbed her sunglasses and a bottle of water – probably Gemma’s – from the fridge and left. Outside she locked the door and placed the key on top of the window ledge, making sure it was several inches along from where it had originally been. That would wind Gemma up if she was back first.

  Lily set off down the lane in her flip flops looking for an obvious route towards the sea. Obligingly it presented itself a few minutes later. The faded green sign showed a walker and pointed the way.

  The path was across grass that had been beaten flat by the passage of many feet. Lily walked along enjoying the sunshine, the calling of seagulls, the faint aroma of ozone from the sea. It was lovely and all topped off by the ocean glistening in the distance.

  Bliss.

  Twenty minutes later and the bliss was wearing off. The sun still shone, the gulls still called – although it now sounded as though they were laughing at her – the glistening sea wasn’t getting any nearer and she was sweating, profusely.

  She hadn’t seen another soul on the entire journey. Was she lost? Had she gone the wrong way? Was she actually going around in circles? Would that explain how the sea never got any nearer? No. Of course not. The sea was always in front of her; she was heading in the right direction. She got her phone out to see if she could pull up a map. Still no signal.

  She looked behind her, examining the path she had taken, it just seemed to go on for miles. She must have travelled miles. Ahead of her more of the same, except the path seemed to be heading into a wood. She felt a little tinge of alarm. She told herself to stop panicking and get on with it.

  Five more minutes and she was in amongst increasingly dense trees. Wasn’t it supposed to be just a ten minute walk, or even a hike, but only ten minutes?

  The path forked. Lily stopped in her tracks. Which way? Both paths looked worn and beaten down, but which led to the sea? Or was it both?

  Ahead of her she glimpsed movement. She squinted, took off her sunglasses and used her hand to shade her eyes from the sharp shards of sun sneaking through the branches above. There was definitely someone there.

  It could be an axe murderer. Just hanging about on the off chance that she’d be passing.

  Don’t be ridiculous.

  Behind her there were just trees and acres of fields. Where was a noisy family with several children and a large dog when you needed them? She looked ahead – nothing. Just her imagination.

  But which way?

  She stared left; she stared right.

  Movement. Definitely movement to the right. Someone was there. And he was coming towards her. She squinted into the wood. Could she run back fast enough to outrun him? Or should she take the left path? Would he be able to cross over and head her off? She stood rooted to the spot, their jokes from
the previous night about the cottage being secluded running through her mind.

  She breathed a sigh of relief as the figure came closer and stopped. He was rotund and white haired, he reminded her of Josh from work.

  Hang on a minute, it was, it was Josh.

  Lily laughed and called his name. ‘I’m looking for the sea,’ she shouted.

  He waved then beckoned her towards him, pointed down the path then turned back the way he’d come and walked on. Lily quickened her pace to catch up with him.

  But she never did. My, that Josh could walk fast; always in her sight but never quite close enough. She thought about running, but the combination of walking for so long over uneven ground and sweating had made the flip flops rub her feet, blisters were forming with every step. Perhaps Gemma had been right about suitable foot attire.

  Suddenly Josh stopped. He turned, smiled and waved. Lily raised her hand to wave back, then stood on something squelchy, looked down to see she’d trodden in animal poo – she didn’t even want to think about which animal – then looked back to Josh. He’d gone. She wiped her foot as much as she could and carried on. When she reached the spot where she’d last seen Josh she could see the sea again. A narrow meandering path led straight down to the beach.

  ‘Thank God,’ Lily said aloud, looking around to see where Josh could have gone. But all she could see were trees and beach.

  Lily stepped out of the flip flops once she hit the soft sand, her feet sank. It was cool, almost luxurious; the sand soothed her sore feet and soaked up the sweat. She examined the flip flops’ soles but the gravely path down to the beach had worn off the animal poo. She wriggled her toes; the sand felt so good and the sun-sparkled sea looked so inviting.

  The beach was wide; the tide was out so the sea was a hundred metres or more away. A surf shack, nestled well above the tide line, was doing brisk business; its colourful boards laid out in the sunshine, assorted wetsuits flapping in the breeze. Even with her sunglasses back on Lily had to shade her eyes to look out to sea. It looked rough, the perfect surfers’ sea.

  She walked past the surf shack – maybe she’d have a go later, she wondered if she had enough money with her. She bought a Devon clotted cream ice cream from the van parked on the firm wet sand below the tide line, then wandered back onto the dry sand to choose her spot.