A Summer at Sea

by Katie Fforde

  ‘It’s all anyone gives me for presents. Now look!’

  They were all standing in a line in the sun-room, gazing at the phenomenon before them. Emily was in the middle, flanked by an open-mouthed Kate and Alasdair with a camera, trying to capture something of what they were experiencing.

  They were not the vivid colours Emily had seen in pictures, but far paler, like moving watercolours – mostly water and very little green and sometimes a tinge of pink – long fingers of coloured light playing an invisible instrument reaching to the sky and beyond.

  ‘Why did Kate call them the Merry Dancers?’ Emily breathed when it no longer felt sacrilegious to talk.

  ‘It’s what they’re called in Shetland and Orkney,’ Alasdair explained. ‘My parents liked the expression so much they passed it down to us.’

  ‘Have you seen them before?’

  ‘Once, as a boy. James and I were woken by our parents to see them. I woke Kate.’

  ‘Would you have woken me?’

  He laughed very quietly. ‘I would have done if I’d had a chance but Kate was there first.’

  ‘I didn’t want Emily to miss them,’ said Kate.

  ‘I’m so glad,’ said Emily, feeling almost tearful. Then she said, ‘Remind me what they are again? Scientifically?’

  ‘It’s the solar wind colliding with particles from the earth’s atmosphere. I once saw them from a plane, coming back from Miami. That was truly spectacular, but somehow this is more special.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s so rare. In Scotland, in the summer.’

  ‘Like true and lasting love,’ she said and instantly could have bitten off her tongue.

  He sent her an earnest glance. ‘Indeed.’

  ‘I really don’t know where that came from,’ went on Emily quickly, desperate to explain. ‘I think I was just overcome by the moment.’

  There was a pause. ‘That’s fine. It’s a perfectly normal reaction.’

  Emily didn’t know if she was relieved by his response or a bit annoyed.

  The lights only lasted a few more minutes and Kate gave a shuddering sigh. ‘That was magic, Daddy. People say magic doesn’t exist but that was magic, wasn’t it?’

  ‘It certainly was,’ her father agreed. ‘But maybe when people say magic doesn’t exist they just mean it’s very, very rare.’

  ‘I can say I’ve seen them now, can’t I? I’ve seen the Merry Dancers?’

  ‘You can. But now, you must pop back into bed.’

  ‘Oh!’ Kate’s disappointment at this suggestion was audible.

  ‘Tell you what,’ said Emily. ‘When I was little and I didn’t think I was going to be able to sleep, my mother used to give me hot chocolate in bed. I always used to be asleep before I finished it. I liked it in the morning too, as it would have gone all thick.’

  ‘That sounds a good idea,’ said Alasdair. ‘We’ve got drinking chocolate, I think.’

  ‘I’ll make it,’ said Emily. ‘You have to whisk it with a fork or something, to make it fluffy.’

  ‘We don’t usually go in for such high-tech refinements,’ said Alasdair. ‘We just add the milk and stir.’

  ‘You go and get Kate all tucked up ready,’ said Emily. ‘And I’ll bring the hot chocolate.’

  Finding her way round other people’s kitchens was part of a midwife’s stock-in-trade. You might never know when you had to make tea and toast – or whatever – for exhausted parents. Alasdair’s, being very tidy and organised, was easy to negotiate. She was soon bringing a mug which was obviously Kate’s – given it had a picture of Katie Morag on it – along to where she could hear Alasdair reading a story.

  ‘Here we go,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Stay!’ said Kate imperiously, patting the bed. ‘Stay and hear the story.’

  Emily perched and listened as Alasdair’s deep voice with the faint Scottish burr she’d admitted to liking told a story about a rabbit, a squirrel and a mole who were lost and then the sky lit up and they found they were very near home; they’d been rescued by the Merry Dancers. Kate sat in bed, sipping hot chocolate, and Alasdair’s voice got deeper and quieter. Eventually he took away the mug and set it on the side. Kate was asleep, but he finished the story. The animals had a picnic to celebrate their return home. It was all very sweet and just a little bit sentimental.

  They both tiptoed out. ‘You’ve got that down to a fine art,’ said Emily. ‘I’m very impressed. Most children I know don’t go to bed that easily.’

  ‘She doesn’t always, I must admit. I think she was putting on a good show to impress you.’

  ‘Me? Why?’

  He shrugged. ‘She likes you. You’re fun. And more importantly you play with her for her own sake, not because you want to get to me.’

  Emily opened her mouth to speak and then realised almost anything she’d intended to say would come out wrong. Denying she wanted to get to him would sound almost rude, and now, what with one thing and another, it was no longer entirely true.

  ‘Right,’ she said vaguely.

  ‘Are you sleepy?’ he said.

  ‘No, not at all. It would take more than fluffy hot chocolate to make me sleep just now.’

  ‘Then let’s light the fire and have a dram.’

  Alasdair’s fire only took a puff of the bellows and another log to get going. Emily sat on the sofa near it, pulling the rug over herself and drawing up her feet under her. Rupert settled himself in front of it with a groan.

  Alasdair handed her a glass. ‘I hope you like this. It’s from Islay.’

  Emily breathed in the smoky fragrance. ‘Did a patient give it to you?’

  ‘No,’ he said indignantly. ‘I bought it myself, with my own money.’

  ‘It’s delicious.’

  ‘Would you like an oatcake and some cheese to go with it?’

  Emily sighed contentedly. ‘Yes please.’

  The sofa was squashy and, with two of them sitting on it, they were thrown together. Yet somehow this didn’t feel awkward, and nor did it feel wrong when Alasdair’s arm fell off the back of the sofa on to her shoulder.

  ‘We shared something very special just now,’ said Alasdair. ‘In fact the whole day was special.’

  ‘It was. I haven’t had fun like that for ages. Playing with Kate was so much fun. Even when I was a child I didn’t have many friends who liked that sort of thing. And obviously nowadays, it’s even harder to find someone to make dams with.’

  ‘She loved it too. She comes across women who give her presents, do weird things with her hair, but not many who play properly.’

  Emily considered this. ‘I think the advantage for Kate is that she hasn’t met me through you, but through her Aunt Becca, and Maisie. You’re just an afterthought.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘I got the impression that Kate isn’t keen on the idea of you having a partner. Which must be hard for you.’

  ‘What Kate wants is the most important thing for me. It’s not a big dilemma.’

  ‘So, if it’s not too painful, tell me about Kate’s mum?’ Emily wasn’t sure why she described her like this, and not as Alasdair’s wife.

  ‘Oh well, she was very beautiful.’

  ‘Losing her must have been just so tragic. I can’t imagine anything worse than having to tell a little girl her mother has died.’ She sipped her drink, suddenly feeling a bit tearful.

  ‘It was horrible, of course, but maybe it would have been worse having to tell her that her mother had left her.’

  Emily sat up. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean that when my wife left on that day – when she was killed in a car crash – she was on her way to meet her lover. She was leaving us.’

  ‘Oh my God! Alasdair! That’s awful!’

  ‘To be fair, I expect she would have come back for Kate – she wouldn’t have abandoned her forever.’

  ‘Would you have let her have her?’ Emily could only imagine the hurt and anger he would have been feeling.


  ‘I really hope I’d have done what was best for Kate – she’s not a possession, after all. But I would have been reluctant to let her grow up with a man who wasn’t her father.’ He paused. ‘And of course they were going to live far away from here so access would have been difficult for both of us.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Don’t say anything. And also, you’re the only person who knows this, apart from the man she was running to. I haven’t told my brother or parents. They had enough to cope with without that as well.’

  ‘So why did you tell me?’

  He shrugged and indicated his whisky glass. ‘This, I suppose, and because it won’t matter to you. It’s been good to be able to tell someone, actually. Everyone thought she was the perfect wife and mother. Actually she was prickly and very difficult to live with.’

  ‘Quite a heavy burden for you all on your own.’ Emily frowned into her now empty glass. ‘Weren’t you tempted to say something when everyone was commiserating with you?’

  ‘Not really. I couldn’t risk Kate finding out. I will tell her eventually, of course, but not until I’m sure she’s able to cope. At the moment she sees her mother as a sort of dream – someone who loved her very much and then died. And that much is true.’

  ‘I do understand why you’d never want to have anyone else in the role of mother for her.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Although it does mean you’ll have to handle the birds and bees conversation on your own, which might be a bit embarrassing.’

  ‘Emily,’ he said, gently reproving, ‘I’m a GP. I don’t get embarrassed by periods.’

  ‘I’m not sure that always follows. I think GPs can get just as embarrassed talking about these things to their daughters, but I’m glad. And you’ve got Rebecca to take her to buy her first bra and things.’

  ‘I have.’ Without asking her he added more whisky to their glasses. ‘It’s been good to tell you, though.’

  ‘Why in particular?’

  ‘Because you didn’t know my wife, Kate’s mother. You only see it from my and Kate’s point of view.’

  ‘Your family would always be on your side, Alasdair, I know that.’

  ‘I know it too, but they loved Catriona for her own sake. I’d feel unkind marring her image when she died tragically.’ He cleared his throat and drew a breath. ‘So, your turn. Tell me about your bad relationship? Or was there more than one?’

  She laughed gently. ‘I’m thirty-five, I have had a few boyfriends, even with my uppity ideas about preferring to be single. There was one fairly recently who couldn’t cope with my working hours, but only one serious one. And I was the one who broke it up. I felt guilty about it for ages.’

  ‘Why guilty? Did you cheat on him?’

  ‘No, no! Nothing like that. I’d become part of his family, who were lovely, but things weren’t right between us.’

  ‘In what way?’

  Somehow his questions didn’t seem intrusive, but interested, and Emily was happy to expand. He’d shared something very private with her, after all. ‘He’d become controlling. He liked me to dress a certain way – he wanted me to be more feminine, as he called it – wear make-up and short dresses. And he didn’t like some of my friends.’

  ‘Difficult.’

  ‘And we’d stopped doing things together. One day, when we were shopping in Waitrose, which was the highlight of our week, I suddenly started to cry and knew I had to end it.’ She sipped her drink. ‘He was heartbroken, didn’t see what was wrong. It was ages before I had any sort of relationship after that. I kept things very light. It is easier to stay single.’

  She shifted her position and found she was leaning into the warmth of Alasdair’s side. He pulled her in closer. She sighed and then he lowered his lips to hers.

  After a moment of surprise she realised how much she liked the taste of whisky in his mouth, the smell of wood smoke from his sweater and feel of his hands on her body through her pyjamas.

  She sensed this had never been his plan, to end up kissing her, and it certainly hadn’t been part of hers, but now it was happening she didn’t want it to stop. It was warm and sexy and altogether delightful. She found herself lying back on the sofa cushions being kissed with care and sensitivity. She realised she’d forgotten how lovely this could be.

  Then he pulled back and sat up. ‘This had better stop. It would be bad if Kate caught us like this.’

  It took Emily a second to come to. ‘Yes, of course.’ She struggled upright, brushing her hair away from her face.

  ‘I mean, I don’t think she’s going to walk in on us but she’s already very fond of you. If she suspects we’re more than friends she’ll be devastated.’

  ‘What? If she thought we were more than friends? She’d be upset?’ She’d thought she and Kate had got on really well. Surely she wouldn’t reject her as a girlfriend for her beloved dad?

  He nodded. ‘Yes. As it is – was – how it’s got to go back to being – she’ll understand when you go home. If she thinks there’s more she’ll feel abandoned all over again.’

  Now it was set out for her she understood perfectly. ‘I see.’

  He seemed apologetic, obliged to explain more. ‘She’ll accept that as a friend, you have to go home after the holidays’ – he chuckled gently – ‘although it probably doesn’t seem like a holiday.’

  ‘Well – it does and it doesn’t.’

  ‘But if Kate saw us together – like this – she’d think it was forever and it’s not even until Christmas.’

  Emily ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Yes, yes, I absolutely understand and I’d never do anything to hurt Kate.’ She cleared her throat. ‘And I think this means I’d better go to bed now.’ She smiled, she hoped cheerfully. ‘See you in the morning!’ She tried to sound casual and upbeat but in her heart she felt a sudden bleakness.

  She lay in bed thinking about everything. It had been such a magical day – almost literally magical when she thought how extremely rare it was to see the Merry Dancers in the summertime. And lying in Alasdair’s arms had been fairly magical too. She’d forgotten how lovely it was to be held, to be touched; while she was convinced the single life was for her, her body seemed to think it would be good to have someone else there sometimes. Just now it would be really lovely not to have stopped but to have brought things to their natural conclusion.

  Annoyingly, Emily finally fell asleep when it was nearly time to get up. She realised she was late when tempting cooking smells came in under the door. She jumped up and rushed for a shower before she could be tempted to go back to sleep.

  Still in her pyjamas, she went into the kitchen and found Alasdair and Kate in the kitchen making Scotch pancakes directly on the hotplate of the stove.

  ‘Sorry I’m not dressed,’ she said, ‘but I need my jeans.’

  ‘They’re quite dry now,’ said Alasdair, ‘but of course it would have been better if we’d washed them and then dried them. They seem to have quite a bit of loch-side stuck on to them.’

  ‘That’s OK. I’ll just pop back and get dressed properly,’ said Emily.

  ‘Don’t be long! Or we’ll eat all the pancakes!’ said Kate.

  As Emily pulled on her clothes, some of which were indeed a bit crispy and odd-smelling, she reflected that, judging by his relaxed manner towards her, Alasdair seemed to have wiped last night from his mind. She brushed her hair quickly and then went back to the kitchen.

  Alasdair handed her a large mug of tea.

  ‘Some people have metal things they pour the mixture into on the stove,’ said Kate, who was standing on a chair with a jug of batter in her hand, ‘but I like to have different patterns.’ She paused. ‘Though Auntie Becca has a heart-shaped one I quite like.’

  Emily sat at the table, watching father and daughter cook. They had a routine all worked out and she didn’t want to interfere with it.

  She realised how near she’d come to interfering with it last night. She was fairly sure if she�
��d persisted Alasdair would have done what they both wanted and that would have been wrong. Neither of them were suited to casual sex, she knew that – her instincts were very certain – and so unless there was commitment between them there couldn’t be a physical relationship.

  ‘So have you got to go back to the puffer after breakfast?’ asked Kate, who was now very sticky from maple syrup.

  ‘I’m afraid so. I’ve had such a lovely holiday with you two. It couldn’t have been better in any way.’ Emily was fairly sticky herself and so got up to rinse her fingers under the tap.

  ‘And we saw the Merry Dancers,’ said Kate. ‘It feels like a dream!’

  ‘It was very like a dream,’ Alasdair agreed, ‘but I think we’ll find that someone took a picture of them and they’ll be up on YouTube soon.’

  Kate became reflective. ‘I don’t think I want to see them on YouTube because then everyone would have seen them. I want it to have been just us.’

  ‘Not even your cousins?’ asked Emily, who, having washed her hands, was on to her third cup of tea.

  ‘No. I hope they were asleep and missed them!’ said Kate.

  ‘Well, if they did, and don’t believe you’ve seen them, you can tell them to look on YouTube,’ said Emily. ‘But I think you’re right. I’d prefer to think it was just us who saw them. And the otters.’

  ‘Everyone’s seen otters,’ said Kate.

  ‘Not where I come from,’ said Emily.

  ‘So what’s it like where you come from?’ asked Kate, assuming it must be vastly inferior to somewhere that had otters.

  ‘Nice! Lots of people – me included – love it. It has pretty stone houses, lots of trees, hills, views—’

  ‘Chocolate-boxy?’ said Alasdair, trying to sound unbiased but failing.

  ‘Not the bit I live in, not really. It’s full of real people doing real jobs and it has a fine industrial heritage.’

  ‘What does chocolate-boxy mean?’ asked Kate.

  Emily went for this one. ‘It’s a quite old-fashioned expression.’ She gave Alasdair a look. ‘In the olden days boxes of chocolates often had pictures of thatched houses with roses round the door on them. But as they haven’t done that for years and years, I don’t know why people keep using that expression.’