by Tara Heavey
‘What’s that?’
‘This trip we’re meant to be taking – it’s time we started doing some proper research.’
They had been talking about taking a big trip since the children were small. The promise of it had got them through the worst aspects of infancy and all those times when their friends were raising hell and they were stuck raising babies. When the kids had grown, what wouldn’t they do? When the kids were grown, they’d make up for lost time.
And now the kids were grown.
‘There’s no rush, is there?’
‘Well, no. But we’ve talked about it for so long, I just thought it would be good to start making concrete plans.’
He was at the sink now, his back to her, dutifully rinsing the sauce off his plate before putting it into the dishwasher. ‘To be honest, Fi,’ he turned to her, ‘I’m going to have my hands full for the next while setting up this new business. Can we wait till things settle down a bit? I mean, we have the whole summer to make plans.’
‘You still want to do it, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘You don’t seem very enthusiastic.’
‘I’m just taken up with this new idea, that’s all.’
She nodded.
Yes. That was probably all.
Chapter 3
Sarah had caused quite a stir. Rocked the boat in this one-boat town. Once upon a time she would have welcomed this effect, courted it, even. But everything was different now. Hence the black clothes and the shades as she entered the health-food store, the door uttering a pleasing ping. A girl materialized behind the counter, her face widening in surprise. ‘I know you,’ she said. Then she clamped a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. What an idiot. I shouldn’t have said that. You must get it all the time. Must drive you mad. I’m sure you just want to be left alone to get on with your own business. You don’t want to be accosted every time you walk into a shop.’
The words rushed out of her.
Sarah slid the shades halfway down the bridge of her nose. She regarded the girl solemnly over the top of them. ‘Are you the town flake?’ she said.
The girl flushed slightly, then, seeing that Sarah was smiling at her, laughed nervously. ‘I think I must be.’
‘I think you must be too. Have you got any of these supplements, please?’
The girl took the list, visibly flustered. ‘Oh, look at me, my hands are shaking.’
‘I’m not that famous, you know.’
‘Are you kidding me? I’ve been a fan for years.’
‘Careful. You’ll make me feel old. My fragile ego won’t be able to take it.’
‘Oh, yeah, sorry. You needn’t worry, though. You look fab for your age.’
Sarah laughed. ‘Oh, compliments, compliments. I’m glad I came in here.’
The girl was examining the list. ‘Some of these are for …’
‘Yes.’
‘They were true, then? Those stories about you.’
‘Afraid so.’
‘So that’s a …’ She pointed to the woman’s head.
‘It is, yes.’
‘Wow. It looks so realistic. Although I suppose you were able to afford the very best.’
‘It was hand-woven at midnight from the hair of seven Peruvian maidens.’
The girl looked for a moment as if she was going to believe her. ‘That’s a joke, isn’t it?’
‘It is.’
Sarah continued to look at her expectantly.
‘Oh. The supplements. God. I’ll go and see what we have.’ She turned back one last time. ‘You are better now, aren’t you?’
‘Right as rain.’
‘Oh, that’s good.’
Sarah selected two herbal soaps and a kiddie shampoo in the time it took for the girl to gather up the pills. ‘You’ve got most of them. I’m surprised. You’re very well stocked. I’ll take these as well.’
‘Here. Have some free samples. They’re lovely. And this.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You are so welcome.’
‘Well, thank you …’
‘Valerie.’
‘Valerie. You really have made me feel very welcome. I’ll be seeing you again soon.’
‘Are you staying around here for a while, then?’
‘I am.’
‘Oh, Jesus, that’s brilliant. Wait till I tell my sister. She’ll die.’
Sarah laughed again.
‘Anything you need. I mean, anything. Just ask me and I’ll order it in for you.’
‘I might do that.’
‘Oh, do. Definitely do that.’
‘ ’Bye, Valerie.’
The door had barely pinged shut before the girl was on the phone. ‘Bridget, it’s me. You’ll never guess who was in the shop.’
Chapter 4
Aidan had put the boat to bed. He was the last man in, which was just the way he liked it: the harbour to himself, as silent as it was possible for a harbour to be, save for the intermittent screeching of the gulls, the rhythmic lapping of the water, the rigging hitting the masts. This was where Aidan found his god – out here, among the wind and the waves, where the sounds were not of human origin. For a long time now he had been trying to capture the stillness and peace of such moments with his camera. If he was lucky he got one or two shots a year that lived up to the wonder of what he saw with his naked eye.
This evening he had the camera out again. Crouching on the pier, he peered through the viewfinder to frame the boats and the setting sun in the background.
‘It’ll never work. Trying to capture the now.’
The woman’s voice startled him. He looked up, right into the sun, and clambered to his feet.
‘Are you a photographer?’
His laugh was short. ‘No. A fisherman.’
‘Well, that’s even better. Could you bring me out?’
Aidan looked her up and down. He didn’t mean to be so bold but the request was unexpected. And from such a source. ‘Do you mean out fishing?’
‘God, no.’ She threw back her head and laughed. Quite a sound. Lyrical. ‘I meant to see the dolphin.’
‘Oh.’ He didn’t know what to say. Which wasn’t like him.
She smiled at him quizzically, one corner of her mouth higher than the other, her eyebrows close to her hairline. She was blonde – perfect blonde hair. Her skin was a kind of honey colour, although that might have been makeup. Her accent was posh Dublin. An early tourist?
‘You do know about the dolphin?’ she said.
‘I do.’
‘She is still here, isn’t she?’ Her face clouded.
‘Oh, she’s here, all right. I just don’t think I can bring you out.’
‘I’d pay, of course.’
‘It’s not that. It’s a trawler I have, not a yacht. It stinks to high heaven for a start.’
‘I wouldn’t care about that.’
‘And it would be no place for a child.’ He inclined his head towards the small girl who had been standing silently at her side throughout. Aidan had attempted to smile at her a couple of times, but the child had continued to stare out to sea, her tiny hand clasped firmly in the woman’s. ‘A trawler’s no place for a child. It’s too dangerous.’
The woman sighed heavily and theatrically. ‘There must be someone who can bring us out. I can’t believe there’s no dolphin tour boat around here.’
Aidan smiled: great minds. The smile faded when he saw how disappointed she was, agitated even. ‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘I have a dinghy. I’ll bring the two of you out in that in the morning.’
‘Really?’ She smiled at him. And it was as if her face had lit from within.
They agreed to meet at half past eight. He watched them as they walked away. He could tell the woman was smiling, even though he couldn’t see her face. Her head erect, shoulders back, steps high and jaunty. The daughter had a particular way of walking. On her tippy-toes. As if she was try
ing to elevate herself to her mother’s height. He aimed his camera once more: two black figures against a backdrop of orange.
He watched them walk the entire length of the pier until they were no more than tiny black dots, one tinier than the other.
Aidan didn’t hear the woman coming up behind him. The morning felt sacred, so clear and serene, and he was almost in a trance when her voice broke into his reverie. He’d been banking on the little girl alerting him to their presence. If there was one thing children knew how to do, it was how to shatter silence, as his own children had done, once upon a sweet time.
‘Good morning.’
He started. ‘Morning.’
‘I’ve just realized I don’t even know your name.’
‘Aidan.’
‘Aidan. It suits you.’ They smiled at one another. She had an exceptional smile.
‘My name’s Sarah and this is Maia.’ She gestured towards the little girl.
Maia. What class of a name was that? You’d know they were from Dublin.
‘Hello there, Maia.’ Aidan grinned at her in the winning way he had with children. But Maia seemed intent on staring out to sea. A family trait, perhaps. Shy, he decided. And a beautiful child: four or five, candy-blonde hair, gathered up into a bunch on either side of her exquisite head, huge soft eyes, honeyed skin. A miniature portrait of her mother. Who, Aidan admitted to himself, was no slouch in the beauty stakes either. Something he’d neglected to mention to Fiona, when she questioned his motives in bringing a complete stranger out to sea – free of charge – on a Sunday morning. It wasn’t the going out to sea in itself that had baffled her: she knew how he cherished his alone time.
He helped the woman into the dinghy, her hand gripping his, and she in turn lifted down her daughter, a short human chain. Then they were off.
‘Are you excited about seeing the dolphin, Maia?’
Again, the child failed to respond. She sat huddled behind her mother, playing with what looked like a piece of string. It was as if she hadn’t heard him. Was she deaf? He looked questioningly at Sarah.
‘Maia’s autistic,’ she said.
‘Oh.’
Aidan attempted to disguise the pity in his eyes as he glanced from mother to child. So picture perfect on the outside. He grappled for something to say. ‘So she can’t talk, then?’
‘Some autistic children do. But Maia has never spoken. No.’
‘And she’s, what – five?’
‘Seven.’
Aidan tried not to register surprise, but his raised eyebrows gave him away. So tiny for her age. But maybe that was normal for her condition.
‘That’s why we’re here,’ Sarah continued. ‘I was hoping the dolphin …’ Her voice trailed off.
‘You were hoping the dolphin could help her.’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was barely audible. ‘I suppose you think I’m mad.’
‘Not at all.’
‘Then you’d be in the minority.’
‘I’ve always found that a good place to be.’
She smiled again. ‘Why do you think she came here?’
‘The dolphin?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe to remind us humans that the ocean doesn’t just belong to us.’
Sarah looked at him curiously, as if she was trying to fathom him. ‘Do you think we’ll see her today?’
‘I do.’
‘You sound pretty certain.’
‘Well, she knows this boat. And, like all women, she won’t be able to resist having a nose.’
‘Does she know you too?’
‘I’d like to think she does.’
‘How does she know you?’
‘I swim with her most days.’
Sarah stared at Aidan as if she were seeing him for the first time. ‘What’s it like?’
‘What’s it like?’ His eyes took on a faraway look. ‘It’s like heaven on earth.’
Sarah closed her eyes. ‘Heaven on earth,’ she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. ‘That’s what I thought.’
Aidan shut off the engine and she opened her eyes. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Nothing. This is as good a place as any to see her. Right here in the mouth of the harbour.’
‘What do we do now?’ Sarah seemed suddenly nervous. Uncertain.
‘We wait.’
‘Oh.’
So that was what they did, bobbing gently up and down on the water. The morning so perfect – so complete in itself – that maybe it wouldn’t even matter if the dolphin failed to make an appearance. For the first time that year, Aidan felt real heat in the sun. So much so that he felt compelled to take off his jumper. With a sense of liberation, he lifted it up and prepared to pull it backwards over his head. He jumped at the sudden high-pitched shriek. Maia had started to scream.
‘Put it back on.’ Sarah was speaking urgently to him.
He reversed the jumper back down over his face, alarmed.
The screaming stopped as abruptly as it had started.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s your T-shirt.’
‘What about it?’
‘You’re wearing a red one.’ She laughed at his puzzled expression. ‘Maia’s afraid of bright red.’
Afraid of bright red? He looked at the little girl. She was huddled into the corner of the boat, rocking slightly. Jesus. Here they were, bobbing up and down like a cork on the Atlantic Ocean, with nothing but a thin piece of rubber between them and the elements, and she was afraid of a red T-shirt? How the hell was she going to respond to a wild animal? Maybe it would be better for everyone concerned if the dolphin didn’t show up today. But no sooner had the thought entered his head …
Sarah jumped. ‘What was that?’
‘She’s here.’
‘Oh, my God.’ She gripped the sides of the dinghy with both hands and peered into the water. True to form, Star surfaced on the other side of the boat, spewing spray from her blowhole like a sigh. Sarah switched sides excitedly. ‘Maia, a dolphin. Look. Look at the dolphin. Remember? I showed you the pictures.’
Maia was staring fixedly out to sea. If the dolphin happened to surface in that exact spot she’d see her. If she didn’t, well, she wouldn’t.
Aidan fired up the engine again, hoping Star would swim alongside them. She didn’t disappoint: she raced along on her side so that she could peer up at them.
Sarah appeared to be in ecstasy. ‘Maia, look,’ she kept repeating, over and over. ‘The dolphin. Look at the dolphin.’
Aidan’s heart was broken for her at her daughter’s lack of response. He thought of all the other children he’d seen with Star – those he’d brought out on his boat. The joy on their faces, the squeals of delight. And here was this little girl, locked inside her own private world of darkness.
Star seemed to have disappeared. Aidan knew that this was an illusion. But even he wasn’t prepared for what happened next. Because right before his very eyes Star reared out of the water, as if she were standing on her tail, her head level with Maia’s. Then she did something that Aidan wouldn’t have believed if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. Star tipped Maia on her forehead. The little girl and the dolphin squealed at one another and the dolphin was gone.
‘Did you see that?’ Sarah’s eyes were full of tears. Aidan nodded, at a loss for words. ‘The dolphin wants to make friends with you, Maia. She wants to be your friend. Have you ever seen anything like it, Aidan?’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Will you bring us out again?’
‘Of course.’
The following week Aidan and Tommy got stuck into Project Dolphin Tours. It was as if the outing with Sarah and her little girl had been a message that he was doing the right thing. His enthusiasm was matched only by Tommy’s. As the days lengthened into spring, they scrubbed the fishy smells from the furthermost corners of the trawler, transforming it into a bona-fide boat. Of course, despite what he had told his wife, in the end a damn sig
ht more work was required than a lick of paint. There was the carpentry for a start. The other fishermen were happy to help – in exchange for taking the piss.
‘I’ve a couple of sheep I could lend you there, Noah.’
‘I’m telling you, I bet Noah didn’t have to put up with half this amount of shit.’
‘Noah probably paid his workers.’
‘Get away out of that. Didn’t I buy you a pint the other night?’
‘Last of the big spenders.’
But Aidan’s enthusiasm was infectious. And he’d always had a knack for getting people to come around to his way of thinking.
Chapter 5
‘I found out who she is.’
Fiona seemed excited as she banged the door of one kitchen press after another. She was often wound up like this after a manic day in the surgery. It didn’t always make for relaxing mealtimes.
‘Who?’
‘Your new woman.’ She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. ‘The one you’ve been taking out in the boat.’
‘Oh. What’s this?’
‘It’s a new recipe. Try it.’
Aidan poked at what was on his plate. Not another of Fiona’s experiments. He supposed a different man might be delighted to have married such an innovative cook, but his tastes were simple and Fiona’s attempts at educating his palate had proved largely unsuccessful.
‘She’s the actress Sarah Dillon.’
‘Sarah. That’s right.’
‘I can’t believe you didn’t recognize her.’
He shook his head, raising a fork to his mouth.
Fiona was incredulous. ‘She’s always on the telly. And she’s done tons of theatre.’
Aidan looked blank. He didn’t watch much TV.
‘She’s very attractive. Is she good-looking in real life?’
Aidan shrugged. ‘She’s okay.’ He knew better than to compliment another woman in front of his wife. Fiona knew this about him. She was just testing.
‘What’s she like?’
‘Nice. Normal. Friendly.’
‘She had breast cancer, you know. That’s why they think she’s here. To recuperate.’
He didn’t say anything as she sat down opposite him with a satisfied sigh and began to grind pepper over her food. ‘Oh.’ She got up abruptly and retrieved what looked like a pile of magazines from the counter. She placed them beside him.
