‘I can see why, it’s stunning.’ She interrupted him.
‘But pretty soon I will not be able to come here and neither will the children.’
‘What do you mean? Why?’ She thought this was his way of telling her that he was moving away.
‘It’s been sold, Kate.’
‘Sold? How can it be sold? It’s a beach, it’s part of the island!’
Simon gave a low chortle and shook his head.
‘It seems obvious, doesn’t it? But sadly it’s not that straightforward. This plot and the two either side have been bought by a large corporation and they will build a huge, luxurious hotel. They will use boulders to block access to the land. They will hire local security guards who used to play here with their kids to patrol this strip of sand and discourage me and many like me from coming here.’
‘How can they do that? It’s not like there are hundreds and hundreds of miles of beach; it’s a small island!’
‘That’s true and yet every year that is exactly what happens all over the Caribbean. Special places and stretches of beach that have been loved and enjoyed for generations are suddenly not ours any more. The island is shrinking and unless you have an awful lot of money there isn’t a whole lot you can do about it.’
‘That’s heartbreaking, terrible! I don’t understand how it’s allowed to happen.’
‘It’s a problem, but it’s just one small part of a very complicated puzzle. It would be better if more tourist dollars were invested in facilities for those who need them the most, but it doesn’t seem to happen like that. We are like every other island: we need the money that tourism brings, but it comes at a very high price.’
‘I don’t understand it, Simon. I’m trying to imagine a big company coming along and buying up England’s green spaces. Can you imagine if Exmoor, the Yorkshire Dales or the Lake District were suddenly no-go areas because they had been sold? Or Hyde Park or the Bristol Downs? People simply wouldn’t stand for it!’
‘They would if they had no voice. Sometimes money is very hard to be heard over; it talks the loudest of all.’
‘It makes me feel guilty. I’m staying at one of those flash hotels.’
‘It’s good that you are aware and I don’t want you to feel guilty. We want to share our beautiful home with you. I just wish people knew when enough was enough.’
She nodded. ‘All things in moderation, is that right?’
‘You got it.’
The two sat in silence for a moment, letting the sun warm their skin.
‘What is it you are trying to escape from, Kate?’
So suddenly had the topic been broached that his question caught her off guard.
‘Well, I don’t really know where to start.’ She dug her toes into the sand.
‘How about the beginning?’ he prompted.
‘I wish it was that easy. Actually it’s not that I don’t where to start so much as how to. I think you may feel differently about being my friend after you know a bit more about me, you being a man of faith.’
Simon smiled. ‘Isn’t that strange, Kate, that you judge me, decide on my reaction, second-guess my opinion and yet I would do no such thing to you?’
‘You don’t know what I did.’ Kate bit her bottom lip, fighting the nerves that trembled there.
‘Try me.’
She exhaled slowly, trying to think of the right phrase, of a way to deliver the information in the least shocking manner.
‘I’ve been in prison for the last five years, serving a sentence for manslaughter. I killed someone. Well, not just someone… I killed my husband.’
Kate waited for a reaction or comment. There was none and so she continued.
‘I need to start over and find a new life, but I don’t really know how to do that. I don’t know how to begin. My children, Dominic and Lydia, are angry with me and of course I understand that, but I miss them so badly that some days I can hardly breathe. My husband was a cruel man, the cruellest.’
Kate ran her palm across the underside of her thigh, in an almost subconscious gesture.
‘I spent years trembling at the prospect of being alone with him, two decades when I was too afraid to speak up, to ask for help or tell anyone how I lived. Every thought and action had to be contained. I was shrinking inside myself and I knew that one day I would disappear completely. I don’t regret what I did, Simon, but I do regret the hurt I have caused others. And then I feel tremendous guilt because I am finally free, but in gaining that freedom I have spoiled things for my kids.’
Simon paused before slowly delivering his words. ‘Luke says, “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.” This is how I live my life and those like me that follow Jesus shall know forgiveness when they need it the most. It can bring great peace, Kate.’
‘Ah, but that’s just it. I don’t follow Him and I don’t believe. I could really have done with a spot of divine intervention over the last few years: where was your God then? I used to pray, asking for help from anyone who was listening; I got nothing. So I stopped asking – at least that was one less disappointment to contend with.’
The two sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Simon stood.
‘Come on!’
He took her hand and pulled her towards the shoreline. Without waiting to test the temperature and without the caution of those less comfortable in the ocean, he ploughed on until he and Kate were wading waist-deep in the water. Eventually he stopped and grasped her hand. Her linen trousers clung to her.
He placed his hand on her lower back.
‘Stand very still.’ His voice was almost a whisper.
Kate did as she was told. The sediment they had disturbed quickly settled around their toes until it was like looking through dappled glass.
‘Look!’
Simon pointed downwards. It took a while for Kate’s eyes to adjust to their watery filter, but when they did she could see tiny silver fish darting around her feet. A small crab scurried into a hole on the sea bed and a larger fish sniffed at the new obstacle that had appeared in his playground.
‘Can you see the tiny fish, Kate?’
She nodded. ‘Yes! I saw him!’
‘Do you think that the tiny fish is aware of everything going on up here above the surface?’
‘I doubt it.’ She chuckled.
‘You’d be right. He swims along in the warm water, looking for shade, searching for food and interacting with the other little fish that he meets. He is thoroughly preoccupied with the small things that fill his day and has no idea about the beach, the island, countries, buildings, men and their machines, airplanes, currency… in fact anything that makes up the world that exists right over his head. But you know what, Kate? Just because he is unaware of it doesn’t mean that it isn’t there.’
Kate turned her attention from the water to the man standing next to her who was now holding her hand.
‘Are you saying I’m a tiny fish?’ She smiled.
‘Yes, Kate. That is exactly what I am saying. God is there whether you choose to look for him or not and he is all about forgiveness. I want you to try and remember that hope comes in many forms; sometimes it’s an idea or a place and sometimes it’s a person.’
Kate threw herself backwards into the warm Caribbean current. It had been a long time since she had swum. The salt water stuck to her eyelashes and stung her sunburnt skin. She felt alive.
‘Maybe I like being a tiny fish!’ she shouted.
Simon watched her swim underwater deeper and deeper into the ocean.
‘Maybe you do.’ He smiled and shook his head. ‘Maybe you do.’
It had been a long day, but one that Kate would never forget. The jeep purred as it drew up outside the entrance to The Landings.
‘I don’t feel quite as comfortable about sleeping in my beautiful marble-floored bedroom now I know its true cost,’ she mused.
‘If not you then someone e
lse, Kate, and at least your head is fully informed as it hits the feather pillow.’
She smiled at him.
‘We have a Prospect Place outing tomorrow to Carnival – would you like to come with us?’
I’m not sure. I don’t want to burden you with my company.’
‘It’s a pleasure not a burden and besides, no good comes from refusing an invitation to Carnival.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Oh yes. Many, many years ago the owner of one of the big plantations was invited to Carnival along with her entire household. She politely refused as she had a royal delegation staying at the house, but that meant she refused on behalf of everyone. A young kitchen maid was so angry and frustrated to be missing the celebrations that she grabbed a handful of nutmeg and shoved it into the cake mix. Too much nutmeg is never a good thing and legend has it that the royal party spent the evening hallucinating and were then violently sick and confined to their beds.’
‘Ooh, sounds grim. That’s a shame – I love nutmeg!’
‘All things in moderation.’
Kate laughed. ‘Is this a ruse to get me to wash up again?’
‘You got me!’
Kate watched the lights of the jeep disappear into the night. She hadn’t wanted the evening to end.
Lying awake and listening to the chirping crickets and croaking frogs, her tummy had a bubble of anticipation that wouldn’t allow her to sleep; she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this way. Maybe this was what it felt like to dive in, start over.
* * *
Kate was woken by the unfamiliar ringtone of the phone by her bed. It was a full three seconds before she registered where she was. Through the fog of deep sleep she grappled in the half light towards the noise.
‘Yes?’ She blinked hard and rubbed at her eyes, trying to quickly reach a state of alertness.
‘Good morning, Ms Gavier, I have a telephone call for you.’
‘Oh, right, thank you.’
Her heart beat a little too fast for comfort. Questions fired in her brain: what had happened, why the need to call at this hour, who was it? She glanced at the red digital clock display on the television. It was four in the morning. She listened to the change in tone, no longer the sharp, tinny sound of hotel reception, but a silence that was softer, further away. Kate could make out the faint sound of irregular breathing.
‘Hello?’ she ventured, sharper than was usual. The silence unnerved her.
‘Mummy?’
‘Oh!’ The breath caught in her throat. Kate sat upright and shook her head to clear the doubt. Had she heard correctly?
‘Mum, are you there?’
It was the unmistakable, beautiful voice of her daughter.
‘Yes! Yes, Lydi, I’m here. I’m right here.’
She clutched the phone between her palms, pushing it hard against her ear and mouth, trying to get closer.
‘Is everything all right, darling?’ It was an odd question, given that they hadn’t spoken for five years, but Kate’s immediate concern was that there was an emergency.
‘Yes. I wanted to talk to you.’
‘I wanted to talk to you too. I’ve wanted to talk to you for so long…’
She heard Lydia swallow.
‘Thank you for the tickets and everything, Mum.’
Mum… Mum… Mum… Was there any word sweeter?
‘I really didn’t feel like I could come. I’m just not ready, not yet. I hope you understand.’
‘It’s okay, Lyds, it’s all okay. It is wonderful to hear your voice, so wonderful. I can’t tell you how much I miss you, every second of every day. I just wanted us to have time to talk.’
Kate wasn’t sure how much to suggest, how much to push.
‘Thing is, I’m a bit scared about seeing you, Mum.’
‘What are you scared of, darling?’
Kate’s eyes pooled with tears; the idea of her little girl being afraid of her in any capacity horrified her.
‘I’m not scared of you exactly. But I’m worried about seeing you and I’m just as worried about not seeing you. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do.’
‘That’s understandable, Lyds; there is no rule book for this. We have to find a way through it together. I can only say that by seeing each other we can sort out all the things that are scaring you. One by one we can go through them and figure them out together.’
She was throwing her daughter a rope and when Lydia caught it, Kate would pull her in and never let her go.
‘It’s kind of hard to explain, Mum. I’m worried that you might have changed, you might be really different now—’
‘I’m still your boring old Mum. It’s still me, Lyds, I promise.’
‘I’m also worried in case how I feel about you has changed. I’m worried that I might not love you the same any more.’
Kate was silent as tears slid down onto lips that mouthed a silent prayer: Please love me, please don’t stop loving me.
Lydia’s voice had dropped to little more than a whisper. ‘If I don’t see you, Mum, I can pretend. I pretend that you and Dad are away somewhere, you know, like when you both went to Rome and we boarded for a week? I make out things are all just as they were. But if I see you, I’ll know that’s not really true because Dad won’t be with you and you will be different…’
Kate could only nod, unable to speak.
‘And sometimes, Mum, I pretend that you are both dead, and that makes it easier somehow. I pretend that you were both killed in an accident and then I don’t have to think about you doing something so horrible to Dad or about the horrible things that Dad did to you. I don’t like to think about it, Mummy.’
Her voice broke off in breathless sobs. Kate ached with the need to put her arms around her little girl and give her comfort. I’m not dead. I’m here, Lydi, I’m right here waiting.
‘Lydi, Lydi. It’s okay. It will all be okay. I promise. We can work through anything. We can take our time and talk things through.’ She adopted the tone that she had once used to lull her little girl back to sleep after bad dreams.
‘I don’t know if it will be okay, Mum. The longer I don’t see you, the harder it is for me to imagine seeing you and so it feels easier not to, if that makes sense. I sometimes wonder if it’s better just to say goodbye and only think about how we used to be, when we were happy – well, not you, but the rest of us. I thought we were a happy family, but we weren’t, were we?’
‘No, Lyds, I guess we weren’t. But I thought I could hide things, thought I could make it all okay…’ It was the first time Kate had voiced this admission.
‘And that’s part of it, Mum. All I have is my memory of my family, but now I know that it was all rubbish. You and Dad were making it up; it was all fake, all of it.’
Her voice faltered.
‘And that’s tough, knowing that my whole life and the people I trusted, it was all pretend. It’s like I’ve got someone else’s memories and not my own.’
She paused.
Kate waited for Lydia to gather her thoughts before interjecting with words of solution and solace.
‘I’ve got to go, Mum, I’m sorry.’
Immediately and without preamble the phone clicked. It came too quickly and without warning, leaving Kate shouting at the whirring drone.
‘No, Lydia! Please don’t go! Please, darling girl!’ she shouted into the disconnected mouthpiece, refusing to hang up, not yet.
‘When you change your mind, when you are ready, I’ll be waiting. I will always be waiting. You just give me the word and I’ll come and find you.’
Kate continued to hold the phone to her face as she sobbed into the dawn.
She watched the sun rise through swollen eyelids raw from crying. She replayed Lydia’s words over and over until they were there for perfect recall and would be until her dying day. ‘My whole life and the people I trusted, it was all pretend.’ Kate tried to imagine being robbed of her childhood recollections, the very fo
undation of the life created by her parents, everything that made her feel safe and secure. Whatever the situation, however bad things got, Kate could mentally escape to a time of laughter and joy. The thought of that being taken away was too horrible to contemplate.
The midday sun was fierce and Kate wasn’t sure that going to Carnival was such a good idea. She felt cloaked in desolation and wasn’t keen to be around people. But the idea of spending the day pacing her room, no matter how luxurious, was more than she could bear.
Kate shunned the taxi service into town and set out on foot with a determined bounce to her step. The main road to the island’s capital, Castries, was closed to traffic. She heard the thrum of music and the tinny echo of steel drums long before she could see anything. As she rounded the last bend in the road, she was greeted by a sight that would stay with her forever. It was as if every colour of the rainbow was dancing before her eyes. The whole island had turned out, and nearly everyone was sporting elaborate costumes adorned with feathers, sequins, ribbons or braiding.
Beautiful girls in sparkling bikinis with matching arm bands swayed in time to the music, taking great care not to dislodge the ornate headdresses that balanced on their heads. Children bounded like kangaroos among the floats, fuelled by excitement and the liberal consumption of sugar; some were dressed in miniature versions of the adult costumes and everyone looked wonderful.
Kate found Simon and the kids on a grass verge. They had spread blankets and were organising their picnic. Each child had made a headband; some were more intricate than others, but each had been handmade. They were clearly proud of their efforts.
‘Hey! Here’s Kate! Where is your costume?’ Simon was pleased to see her.
‘I didn’t know I needed one! I’ve never felt more overdressed!’ She clutched at her linen shirt and glass beads.
‘Matilda and I thought that might be the case, so we made you this.’
He presented Kate with a headdress. It was a stunning plume of pale green feathers, with gold sequins stuck in a row along the base. Kate dug deep, found her fake smile and placed the gift on her head.
What Have I Done? Page 11
