It's Raining Men

by Milly Johnson

  Down the hill Lara tried not to look at La Mer to see if the truck was there, but failed. It was. He was in. In another time and place maybe she and the hairy Hathersage brother might have just got it together, she thought, remembering his kiss. It made her head go light and both legs weaken. Que sera sera.

  Clare didn’t even look aside at Spice Wood. In her head it had already been demoted from its status as possible location for passion to a place merely full of trees.

  Jenny buzzed around them like a portly bee when they entered.

  ‘I’m so glad to see you again,’ she said, heaping apologies their way. ‘I’m so sorry about yesterday. Whatever you have today is on the house.’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ May replied. ‘You’ll never run a business that way.’

  ‘What is it with Daisy Unwin that makes everyone so damned scared of her?’ Lara wanted to know.

  ‘I think it’s a hangover from schooldays,’ Jenny explained. ‘There weren’t many girls there and they tried to keep in with her so that she wouldn’t bully them. She used to poke fun at me because I was fat. She won’t soon. I’ve been dieting. Three stone off so far.’

  ‘Well done, Jenny,’ cheered Lara. Jenny was such a lovely person with a real bonny, smiley face. Daisy really was a horrible cow. She was hardly Twiggy herself.

  ‘Well, I don’t need to see a menu,’ said May. ‘I want exactly the same as I had yesterday.’

  ‘What’s going on out there?’ Clare pointed her finger at the window. People were running around, knocking on each other’s doors, a stream of them racing past the café and up the hill.

  Jenny was on her way to the door when the ice-cream man-boy crashed through it.

  ‘It’s Raine,’ he said. ‘She’s missing.’

  Chapter 87

  Infected by the panic, Clare rose to her feet, all thoughts of food forgotten. The others followed her up the hill and through the wood to High Top, where a mass of villagers had gathered.

  There was a large lady standing on the cliff edge, her hair escaping her tight bun in the strengthening wind.

  ‘Her chair has gone,’ she was saying through her tears.

  Clare came forward. ‘I saw her earlier.’ People turned to her. ‘I was swimming. She was up here. She had a visitor and then, maybe a minute later, they weren’t there any more. I presumed they’d gone back into the house because it was breezy.’

  The lady with the bun strode forward and her hand fell on Clare’s arm. ‘What did he look like? This visitor?’

  ‘It was a she. I saw her earlier as she was going through the wood. She was slim and wearing dark-blue trousers and a red top, I think. She had long brown hair. Very slim.’

  Clare felt the woman squeeze her arm more and more tightly as she spoke. Her body became rigid with tension.

  ‘Joan Hawk,’ said the woman, releasing Clare and dropping her head into her hands. ‘What has she done with Raine?’

  ‘They’ve gone for the boats,’ came a shout from behind.

  One of the crowd had picked up the camera and now he beckoned at the sad lady with the bun to come over.

  ‘Dear God,’ she said, viewing the collection of photos which the camera held. ‘She unpicked the tapestry . . . Oh, my . . . Gravestones, ledger entries, my goodness, that’s the will . . . She even took the blanket from Raine. There’s no doubt, no doubt at all what she was up to.’ She was shaking her head, crying. ‘I knew she was evil. Pure evil.’

  ‘We need to destroy those pictures,’ said Mr Hubbard at her shoulder. ‘They must never fall into the wrong hands.’

  Someone showed him how to take out the memory card and Mr Hubbard crushed it under his foot. Then they threw it, and the camera, into the sea.

  ‘I need to take Albert,’ said the lady with the bun, picking up Raine’s blanket from the ground and inhaling the dear scent it carried. ‘Someone find me something to carry him in, please.’ Then she turned to the quietly sobbing Clare and took her hand. ‘Raine thought very highly of you,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

  May, Lara and Clare joined a slow procession back to the village. A sadness had descended on the place like a pall of grief. The harbour was full of small boats, all out looking for Raine. She could only be in the sea. They went back to Jenny’s café.

  ‘I’m so sorry about your friend, Clare,’ said Lara, giving her a squeeze. ‘I’m not quite sure what’s just gone on, though. Who’s Joan Hawk?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know.’

  ‘I hope they find her,’ said May. ‘Poor old lady.’

  Clare wiped her eyes. Then she leapt up from her seat.

  ‘Oh my God, I think I might know where she is. Get the boats to come around the cove to the lagoon.’ And she ran up the hill as fast as her legs would take her.

  Chapter 88

  She was there. Clare saw her curled up, as if sleeping, at the bottom of the lagoon. Through Clare’s blurred vision, Raine’s hair looked golden, shifting gently in the water as if nudged by a gentle breeze. The years had been stripped from her, her skin was plaster-white, her hands long and smooth. Fully clothed except for her shoes, Clare dived into the blue-green pool, swam to the bottom and wrapped her arms around her lovely friend, until she needed to surface and breathe.

  The boats sounded their approach. Clare brought Raine reverently towards the lip of the lagoon. First on the scene were two small boats, one steered by Gene Hathersage, the other by Frank.

  ‘I can’t lift her,’ said Clare.

  Frank instinctively held Gene’s boat still whilst he leaned over to take her from Clare’s arms. Above the water the image was gone and Raine was a lifeless old lady, deformed, gnarled and so very, very precious to them all.

  ‘I’ve found her chair,’ shouted someone from a nearby boat. ‘No sign of any other person, though.’

  ‘The coastguard is on his way,’ was called in reply.

  Frank helped Gene lift Raine into the boat. He handed over a blanket and Gene placed it respectfully around her, holding her tenderly.

  ‘Hang onto the rope, I’ll row you in,’ said Frank.

  ‘If you want to stay on in the cottage, just do,’ Gene said to Clare. ‘Long as you want.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you, Gene.’

  Chapter 89

  The rest of the day passed in a blur. Clare and May and Lara went over things a million times as they sat in Jenny’s cafe at the nice table overlooking the sea. Clare told them all that she knew about her lovely friend Raine and they let her talk.

  ‘I know what I saw.’ Clare was adamant. ‘I wouldn’t have believed it but I saw her with my own eyes in her lagoon.’

  It was harder for Lara and May to accept what Clare was telling them: that the old lady called Raine was a mermaid. The villagers of Ren Dullem obviously wanted to believe it, whether it was true or not. Then again, people liked to believe in mysterious things and beings. They wanted the Loch Ness Monster to be real, along with spirits and UFOs. They wanted to trust that magic existed. But people were also gullible – didn’t Anna Anderson fool hundreds of important people that she was Anastasia Romanov?

  ‘I’m staying for a couple more days,’ Clare announced. ‘I’ll get a train back.’

  ‘We’ll stay with you,’ Lara insisted. ‘We wouldn’t leave you. How could we – after what we’ve all been through today?’

  ‘Gene said we could stay in Well Cottage,’ said Clare, still very tearful. ‘You won’t say anything to anyone, will you? The village has come to trust us.’

  ‘As if you need to ask!’ exclaimed May. ‘And even if I did want to say anything, who’d believe me?’ She didn’t add that she didn’t understand any of it. How could she? It was ludicrous. It would make more sense that Raine was a self-deluded old lady who had built up a myth around herself for no other reason that she wanted to be a creature of the deep. After all, only Milton Bird was alive to witness and remember first-hand what had really happened in 1928 – and he was two nuts short of a f
ruitcake.

  Jenny brought over some fresh coffees for them. She was very red-eyed.

  ‘She was a lovely old thing. I suppose if she had to leave us, then going back to the sea was the way to do it.’ Jenny coughed and looked at Clare. ‘We thought you might be the same as her, you know, with your eyes.’

  Clare smiled. ‘I wish.’ Something flashed in her brain, a thought brushing past. But it quickly hurried off when she tried to catch it. Something Raine had told her. But it was gone.

  Jenny made them something to eat. Clare picked at hers; it was delicious but she wasn’t hungry. Not even the cheesecake could tempt her.

  ‘How can we go back to normal life?’ asked Lara, as they eventually left.

  ‘I don’t know what normal is any more,’ replied Clare.

  Chapter 90

  Ren Dullem was a solemn place the next morning. Even with the absence of those stupid clouds and the sun bright in the sky, the gloom was almost tangible. May, Clare and Lara didn’t really know what to do with themselves. Lara drove them all into Whitby in an attempt to cheer Clare up. It didn’t work very well, especially when they decided they ought to shop for something to wear at the funeral as their holiday wardrobes consisted of jeans, T-shirts and a few floaty summer dresses. May forced Clare to eat fish and chips at a harbour café because she hadn’t had anything for almost twenty-four hours. When they got back to Well Cottage Clare didn’t even want to go down to the lagoon. She had been trying not to cry all day but her eyes had been leaking continuously.

  ‘Do you think we should go to the Crab and Bucket and see what’s happening?’ suggested Lara.

  Clare nodded. She put on some make-up but it couldn’t disguise her red, puffy eyes. And, really, she didn’t care.

  The Crab and Bucket was fuller than usual. Only two tables weren’t taken. Shirley greeted them with a sympathetic smile.

  ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Sad day for us all. Poor old Milton is inconsolable.’ She tilted her head towards the old man in the corner. He was wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Today he was sporting a black armband and a red rose in his lapel, and his hat was off, sitting like a pet at the side of him.

  ‘Please send a pint over to him,’ said Lara. ‘And put it on my bill.’

  ‘Has he eaten? Send him a pie over as well,’ added May.

  ‘He’s been fed, don’t you worry. But I’ll send him that pint and let him know it’s from you,’ said Shirley. ‘That’s kind of you to think about him.’ She looked at Clare. ‘Raine thought a lot about you, miss. And anyone who was all right for Raine, is all right for us.’

  Clare turned away to wipe her eyes and May gave her a squeeze.

  ‘The funeral is tomorrow at ten,’ said Shirley. ‘Everyone would like it if you were to join us. Someone was going to call up to Well Cottage to ask you.’

  ‘We’ll be there,’ replied Lara.

  ‘Usual?’ asked Shirley, pointing to the gin optic.

  ‘The usual,’ Lara said and she smiled. Lord, they really were honorary locals. She was touched.

  She fished in her pocket and handed Clare a tissue. ‘It’s clean,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Clare. Her eyes looked even more different in colour when they were glassy with tears.

  They sat at a vacant table. ‘To your lovely friend Raine,’ said May, raising her glass. Clare and Lara clinked their glasses against it.

  ‘I’m still in shock,’ said Lara. She didn’t say to Clare though that she was less in shock that the oldest inhabitant of the village had died and more in shock that a whole community could believe the old dear was a mermaid they’d been protecting in their midst since she landed on their shores in 1928.

  ‘Do you believe in Raine, Clare?’ asked May softly.

  Clare had no doubt now. Nor would she ever have. The vision of Raine under the water was something she would never forget. And even though the sensible part of her brain was telling her she had been hysterical and imagining things, she didn’t want to listen to it. ‘Yes, I do.’

  They stayed for two drinks each but were tired as none of them had slept particularly well the previous night. They waved goodbye to Shirley and were just going through the door when Milton appeared behind them. Silently, he held out his hand to Lara and she shook it and smiled. He did the same to May. But when it was Clare’s turn and she took his hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of it. That brought a fresh load of tears rolling down her face.

  ‘Goodnight, Milton,’ she said. ‘We shall be there tomorrow. To say goodbye with you.’

  He turned and went back to his seat, his shoulders weighted, his gait a little unsteady after all the pints of beer which people had been sending over. Whatever she was, Raine de la Mer had been queen of his heart for many years and his loss was huge.

  Chapter 91

  ‘I’ll catch you up,’ said Lara to the others, as they were about to pass La Mer. ‘I’m going to take Gene Hathersage some money for staying this extra day.’

  His truck was in the drive and she felt her spirits lifting at the sight of it. She knocked lightly and he opened it with his usual unconsciously aggressive snatch.

  ‘Hi,’ she began. ‘I came to pay you—’ .

  ‘There’s no need,’ he replied. He did not stand aside to let her enter.

  ‘I insist,’ said Lara, wishing he would invite her inside, close the door and kiss her again.

  But Gene stood his ground. ‘I was going to give you some money back anyway. I just haven’t got it organized what with . . . you know. I’ll send a cheque on to the holiday agency.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. It was worth every penny. And we never managed to replace the wallpaper.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘I should at least compensate you for that.’

  He looked at her without saying a word and she didn’t know what to say either. The silence between them was palpable.

  ‘Well, if that’s all . . . Will you be at the funeral tomorrow?’ he said eventually.

  ‘Yes, and then we’ll be going.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Well, thank you. Just in case we don’t get the chance to say goodbye tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, goodbye.’ Then he closed the door and Lara felt her eyes cloud. Her footsteps back down the path were heavy and slow and she was cross with her heart for feeling disappointed.

  ‘Lara.’

  She turned, hearing him say her name. He was running towards her at crash speed. When he reached her, he lifted her high then buried his head in her neck. She felt his warm breath on his skin and wished he would not let her go for a long, long time.

  ‘I shall miss you,’ he said. ‘I shall really miss you. I shall think of you in your very different world and wish you lived in the same one that I did.’

  Then he set her down and returned to his house as fast as his long legs would take him.

  Chapter 92

  The church bells began to toll at half-past nine in the morning; it was a terribly sad doleful sound. The girls headed down the hill, joining the stream of people who were filtering into the church. Everyone was in black, without exception. Milton had on a black suit, a black dicky bow at his throat and he was carrying a bowler hat. His trousers ended a good few inches short of his shoes – also black, but the effort he had made was evident. May’s heart gave an excited leap to see Frank; he was looking very handsome in his black suit. Daisy was sporting a black fascinator with a blackbird on it, a net dropping over her face. She glowered at May but even she had to be on her best behaviour today.

  They filed into the church. Lara saw Gene standing at the back with the younger men of the village. He too was wearing a black suit, a black tie. He looked cultured and smooth, rough and wild at the same time, with his hair flowing behind his shoulders and his thick beard, which looked more trimmed than it had done the previous night. He nodded at Lara and she returned his greeting with a smile.

  The church was crammed. There were flowers ev
erywhere. Then six men brought in Raine’s coffin on their shoulders. It was white, covered in a froth of white Yorkshire roses. They set her down reverently at the foot of the altar.

  Behind Lara the heavy church doors thudded shut and a locking bar was dropped. Reverend Acaster, fully gowned, laid his hand on Raine’s coffin affectionately before speaking.

  ‘The sea is important to us in Ren Dullem. It has fed us and nurtured us, it has given our families a living and we have been privileged and honoured to have in our midst one of the sea’s greatest treasures.

  ‘We are gathered today to say goodbye to our Raine, our friend, our reine de la mer. Not only did she save thirteen of our menfolk, but she sacrificed everything she knew to stay with the man she loved. Illis quos amo deserviam: For those I love I shall sacrifice. The words carved into the headstone of her beloved husband, Seymour. The words became just as relevant for him when Jeremiah Unwin refused to bury him in consecrated ground because of what she was, despite the fact that Jeremiah’s life would never have occurred but for Raine.’

  A grumble rippled around the church. Clearly Jeremiah Unwin wasn’t thought of with any affection.

  ‘Raine was a humble woman, a simple woman. She had few wants, few needs and today we are taking her home. To the sea. Her wedding band will lie with Seymour and her ashes will be taken to her beautiful lagoon in the Hathersage cave.’

  There was a lot of sniffling in the church. Clare was crying silently, and even the Reverend Acaster was wiping his eyes on a white handkerchief as he spoke. May and Lara stayed quiet in their assumptions that they were caught up in a situation of mass hysteria. The power of suggestion was a strong and curious thing. Besides, what other explanation could there be – except that Raine was the genuine article?

  ‘Raine saved a man from every one of our families when she brought all thirteen back to shore on that day in 1928,’ the Reverend Acaster went on. ‘Her greatest wish was that her selfless act should not be outweighed by adverse long-term effects. She wanted to see Ren Dullem thrive again, rise and prosper. With her passing to the next life the debt we owed her, which she never wanted to hold us to, has been discharged. Ren Dullem is safe. Her last act was carried out to protect us, as much as her first act was.’