Martha and Lilian discovered a broken purple bucket and spade and they started to play with them before their dad could tell them the toys were dirty.
Thomas sat in a deck chair with his ankles crossed. He wore his suit and work shoes even though the sun beat down, making sticky fingers out of his black hair.
Zelda appeared beside the mermaid statue and waved.
Thomas sat up taller and his eyes narrowed. “Is that bloody Zelda?”
“Um,” Betty glanced over. She hadn’t been able to find the words to tell him that her mother was coming along and she felt her shoulders shrink. “Oh yes, it is.”
“Did you invite her?”
Betty’s mouth grew dry as Thomas’s eyes bored into her. She jumped to her feet and waved both arms, an attempt to tell her mother not to buy any sweet stuff. They should eat the sandwiches first. But it was too late. Zelda vanished behind the ice cream van. “She kind of invited herself,” Betty said.
Zelda reappeared a few minutes later. Her long turquoise dress billowed in the breeze as she carried back five cones, each with two chocolate flakes and multicolored sugar sprinkles on top.
Martha and Lilian ran towards their nana and excitedly prized their cones from her fingers. They ran their tongues around the ice cream, catching the dribbles.
Thomas glowered, his face scarlet and shiny. He sniffed and looked away when Zelda offered him a cone. She shrugged and ate his, as well as her own.
After they finished the cones, Betty unpacked the sandwiches. They were met with little enthusiasm. “I’m too full,” Martha groaned, and Thomas gave Betty a knowing nod.
Lilian sat by Thomas’s feet with her cheek pressed against his trouser leg. She only took two bites of her sandwich, then traced her fingers lazily in the sand. Thomas reached out and ran his hand softly over the top of her hair.
Martha shoveled sand into the cracked bucket. She patted it down, then upturned the bucket. “Ta-da,” she said as she slid it off to reveal her creation. A corner of a turret slipped away, the sand too dry to take hold. “It’s Rapunzel’s castle, Mum.”
“It’s beautiful, darling,” Betty smiled.
Thomas lowered his paper. He leaned over and examined it. “Now, that’s not very good, is it? It’s falling down.” He lifted his leg and brought down the heel of his shoe, grinding the castle flat. “Try building another one.”
Martha stared at the ruins and then at her father. Her nostrils flared. She snatched up her sandwich and took a huge bite, staring at him and chewing with her mouth open.
Betty pushed her tongue against her teeth. Don’t say anything, she willed. Just leave it. She walked her fingers along the sand to take hold of Martha’s hand, but felt it snatch away.
“I passed by the funfair,” Zelda said as she bit into a sausage roll. “It looks ah-mazing. With a capital A.”
Thomas turned the page of his newspaper noisily.
“Yes, but, let’s stay here,” Betty said. “It’s so lovely, all sitting together in the sunshine.”
Zelda gave a small “Hmm,” then tossed her head. She picked up her bag and rooted around inside it. “I’ve brought your birthday present,” she exclaimed. “I almost forgot to give it to you.”
Martha and Lilian stopped what they were doing and shuffled forward on their knees. Zelda handed Betty a small silver package.
Betty took hold of it and squeezed. Thomas lowered his paper and peered over the top.
“Go on. Open it. The suspense is killing me.” Zelda laughed.
Betty slowly peeled off the tape and opened the paper. There was something small, red and satiny nestled inside. It seemed to have thin strings and see-through bits. Martha frowned at it, trying to make out what it was. When Lilian reached out with one finger to touch it, Betty quickly folded the paper up again. “That’s, um, lovely. Thanks, Mum.”
“Hold it up,” Zelda said. “You’ve not seen it properly. It’s all in one piece. When I saw it, I had to buy it for you. And no doubt, Thomas will benefit, too.” She gave an exaggerated cough and a speck of sausage roll pastry flew from her mouth, flecking Thomas’s trousers.
He looked down at it in disgust and held up his paper to cover his eyes.
Betty felt her cheeks burning. Why couldn’t her mother buy her bath salts or a nice scarf, something pretty that she couldn’t afford herself? She knew Thomas would hate the gift, especially as her mum had presented it in front of the girls.
She often felt like there was an electrical storm around him, and she could sense it crackling now, between him and Zelda. She wondered if her mother could feel it, too, but Zelda always seemed oblivious to the impact of her actions or words on others.
“Thank you,” Betty said again, and she shoved the red silky gift to the bottom of her handbag.
* * *
A little later, Betty watched as Zelda and Martha knelt down, their heads dipped into a huge hole, digging with their hands. The tightness of her dress prevented her from joining in.
“We’re going to find Australia soon,” Zelda shouted out. “Or hell. I think I can see the tips of the devil’s trident down here.”
Thomas glared in her direction but focused his attention on Betty instead. “Please do something about your mother. She’s always filling Martha’s head with nonsense.”
“They’re only playing, Thomas.”
“But it influences Martha to write those silly stories of hers.”
Betty counted to five silently in her head. “I’ll see if they want to do something else. We could maybe go and look inside the cave.”
Thomas nodded. “That’s a good idea. And I think I’ll have a sleep, after that delicious lunch. What a shame there’s so much of it left over.”
Betty stood up and picked up her new shoes. She walked over to tell Zelda, who gave Thomas a sideways glance. “Tell me we’re not being sent away because of His Royal Highness?” She sighed.
“No, of course not. We can shelter from the sun for a while. Martha’s shoulders are looking a bit fiery. Put some sun cream on,” she said, but Martha stood up and began to run towards the teardrop-shaped hollow.
The sand on the floor of the cave was cool and the walls were clammy. Zelda and Martha took it in turns to yodel, their voices booming around inside. At the back of the cave there was a gap in the rocks, a vertical, person-sized slit.
“Can we go through there?” Martha pointed.
“Let’s just sit down, and keep our clothes nice and clean,” Betty said. She had been through the gap once with a local boy, Daniel McLean. She still remembered his fingers, warm through the thinness of her cotton shirt. They’d held hands in the darkness and kissed, her first time. Reaching up, she pressed her fingers to her lips and held them there. Daniel was the opposite to Thomas. He was sensitive, caring and her own age. She still missed him.
“We can try to squeeze through.” Zelda took off her headscarf and sunglasses, then stuffed them into her pocket. “I’m ready for action if you are.”
Martha tugged on Betty’s hand. “Come on, Mum.”
Thoughts of Daniel disappeared as Betty looked out at her husband in his deck chair. From the way his hands had fallen to his sides, she could tell he was asleep. His newspaper had dropped to the ground and Lilian played by his feet. “It’s okay, you go ahead,” she said. “I’ll stay here.”
“What for?” In the dimness of the cave, Zelda’s eyes squinted. “So Thomas can keep an eye on you?”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Mum,” Betty said, moving her hand away from Martha’s. “I think he’s asleep, and I need to watch Lilian.”
Zelda climbed up the rocks with bare feet. There was a flash of turquoise as her skirt disappeared through the gap, then her hand reappeared in a playful claw. “Grrr.”
Martha followed her. She giggled and grabbed hold of her fingers. “Bye, Mum,” she said
as she vanished, too.
Betty idled around, walking in small circles, tracing her toes over shells and shingle. After a couple of minutes, she heard a big splash and then another. Raising herself up onto her tiptoes, she called out, “What’s going on back there?” She listened out for a reply, but all she could hear was splashing and laughter. She stepped up onto a rock and poked her head into the gap, her eyes adjusting to the gloominess. “Helloooo.”
Her mother and daughter sat in a pool of shallow water. Their skirts swirled as Martha hit the water with her palms and Zelda flicked back.
Betty smiled but then felt it slip. Her mother and daughter were so close to each other. She’d noticed that if Zelda was around, Martha ran to her first, if she skinned her knee or wanted to share a book. She also saw that Thomas and Lilian had formed a two-person mutual fan club.
Betty was the odd one out.
She shivered as a drop of water fell onto her shoulder from the roof of the cave. What a silly thought, she told herself. It must be the heat.
“Tell me a story,” Zelda asked Martha. “I want one about jewels, or a mermaid.”
“You tell me one,” Martha flipped her wrist, splashing her nana’s chest.
“No, you tell me.” Zelda used both hands to push the sea in her granddaughter’s direction.
Martha’s laughter ricocheted and they both stood up, their dresses clinging, soaking, to their thighs.
Betty cupped her hand to her mouth. “Don’t get too wet in there,” she called, but they were only interested in each other. She didn’t usually feel jealous, but as she watched her mother and daughter, it crept over her now like winter frost across a window.
She glanced outside at the beach, watching as Lilian stood up and skipped towards the cave. “Daddy’s fast asleep,” she said when she arrived. “What shall we do now, Mummy?”
Betty took her hand. “What do you want to do, darling?”
“The fair. Let’s go to the funfair.”
Betty shook her head. “Sorry,” she started. “Daddy says we can’t go there.”
“But he’s asleep.”
Betty chewed her lip as she pondered this. Thomas had only been asleep for a few minutes. He’d complained about being tired after a busy week at work. She had enough time to take the girls, and her mother, for a quick visit. If he woke up, she would say they’d been for a walk.
“Pleeeease, Mummy.”
Betty scratched her neck. Then Martha and Zelda’s laughter echoed around inside the cave, and the envious feeling crawled over her again.
This could be a chance for the four of them to spend time together on her birthday, her original plan. She could escape the constant tension between her mum and husband.
If she swore them to secrecy, she could keep everyone happy.
And with that thought, Betty made a decision.
She angled her face towards the slit in the rocks again and shouted. “Okay, let’s go to the funfair. You can tell your story on the way, Martha, and dry off your clothes.”
She listened as the laughter stopped. “Dad said we can’t go,” Martha hollered back.
“Oh, that’s okay,” Betty called out, nonchalantly. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”
Again, she had to wait for the reply.
“Okay,” Martha said. “We’ll come back out.”
Betty took Lilian’s hand, and Zelda held Martha’s. They walked out of the cave and across the sand, toward the mermaid statue, and Martha told her story.
The Fisherman and the Mermaid
Each day at sunrise, a lonely mermaid watched as a handsome fisherman loaded lobster pots into his boat. Even though she loved the sea, and the fish, and her friends, the mermaid wished that she could be with the fisherman instead. He looked strong and caring, and his life on shore seemed idyllic.
One day, a silvery sea lion appeared on a rock beside her, as she combed her hair. In his flipper was a large cone-shaped shell. “If you blow into this shell,” he said, “it will allow you to grow legs so you can go ashore. You can meet your fisherman. However, you won’t ever be able to return to the sea.”
For six days and six nights, the mermaid swam up and down the shore. She watched the fisherman carry out his empty lobster pots to the boat, and watched as he brought them back again, with orange claws poking through.
On the seventh day, the mermaid decided that she’d had enough of the sea and she yearned for something different. She wanted to be with the fisherman. So, she took hold of the shell and blew into it. Then she closed her eyes and everything fell dark.
She woke on the sand, with the sun shining into her eyes, and she felt strange because her tail no longer flicked. In its place were two feet with pretty toes. And the fisherman stood, tall, above her. He held out his hand to help her to stand up, and it was difficult because she’d never done it before.
He led her to his hut on the beach, where he read stories to her, about the sea, until she felt stronger. However, whenever he asked where she came from, she made up a story. She didn’t tell him that she once lived in the sea.
Soon, the fisherman and the mermaid fell in love and they had a baby together. But when their little girl was born, she had a fish’s scaly tail.
“I can’t understand it.” The fisherman scratched his head.
“Me neither,” the mermaid lied and cried. “What can we do?”
The mermaid and the fisherman talked for many nights until they reached a decision. They would set the baby free in the sea. They were very sad but the baby was unhappy in the hut and her eyes lit up when she saw the waves.
As soon as the fisherman and the mermaid lowered her into the water, a smile fell on the baby’s lips and she swam away.
“She’ll visit us each day, don’t worry,” the mermaid told the fisherman, as she held his hand tightly.
But they never saw their daughter again. And, although the mermaid loved her husband with all her heart, she wished that she hadn’t met him, because she had been happy as she was.
10
Photograph
Martha picked up the key from the hook in her pantry and stared at it. It had hung there for two years, unused, on a piece of tatty pink ribbon. Clive had asked her to look after it in case the burglar alarm sounded out of hours at the library.
“Everyone else has a family,” Clive had said, with a condescending smile. “If you get a call in the middle of the night, it doesn’t matter as much, does it?”
Martha slipped the key into her coat pocket. She flipped on her hood and left the house.
She’d missed out on her walk down to the mermaid statue that morning, and she didn’t go there now.
Horatio was sweeping out his aquarium, and she saw Branda struggling to open the door to the Lobster Pot, because her arms were laden with designer label shopping bags. Martha thrust her head down, pretending not to see them, and carried on.
Her limbs weren’t stiff when she walked, and she didn’t need to pump her arms. She walked swiftly and with purpose, directly to the library.
She glanced around furtively before she opened the doors and then locked them behind her. Leaving the light turned off, she made her way into the main room.
The building was deliciously quiet and the books stood in lines like silent soldiers. The daylight outside was dimming, so the room was in semidarkness. Long shadows cut across the carpet and walls and Martha trod quietly across the carpet. Her book-rating spreadsheets still lay on the table, along with two copies of Distant Desire.
Usually, Martha would tidy things up, but today she sat down at the desk and switched on the library computer. It was an old thing, constructed from white plastic that had turned a creamy yellow over the years. It clunked and whirred, as if there was a small man sitting inside it firing up cogs and flicking switches. Finally, the library logo appeared and she typed i
n her password.
There were a few emails from Clive and she ignored those. She only had eyes for the one from Owen. She paused, her fingers hovering over the keys, before she clicked on it.
Hi Martha
Dexter called this morning. He found that your book was published in 1985, so the dedication to you looks like its dated correctly. We also managed to trace the company who printed it, to Scandinavia!
Dexter said there was an old newspaper clipping in the book. He gave it to his wife because she likes vintage stuff. I asked him to copy it and I’ve attached it here, so you can see if it means anything to you.
See you soon for coffee?
Owen
Martha scratched her head. Scandinavia? How could her stories have reached all that way? And if her nana had written the message in 1985, then it meant her parents had lied about her death. She circled a hand over her stomach, rubbing away a feeling of unease.
Clicking on the attachment in the email, she watched as the screen spooled before the image opened. It was on its side, so she turned her head to the left to see it properly. It was grainy, a small article about a funfair, and Martha immediately recognized the three people in its accompanying photo.
She and Lilian sat on a wall, either side of Zelda. Behind them, Martha could make out a sign for the Hall of Mirrors. Her nana grinned and there was a black spot under her top lip. Martha moved her face closer to the screen, wondering what it was. As she stared at it, a memory emerged and developed in her mind.
At the fair, Zelda had eaten a toffee apple and there was a crunching sound. When she pulled it away from her lips, a molar stuck out of the red shiny sugar, leaving in its place a bloody gap. Zelda plucked it out and held it up, and the three of them marveled at the size of its root.
Martha didn’t remember having a photograph taken, though. And she thought that her mother had been there, too.
The Library of Lost and Found Page 8
