The Wave

by Virginia Moffatt

  ‘I was just dreaming of you,’ she says and smiles.

  I put my arms round her. ‘Good,’ and begin to kiss her. This time the kiss doesn’t feel staged or awkward. She kisses me back. This time there is no hurry, there is no desperation. This time it feels right, natural, as if we fit together. We gradually undress each other, skin touching skin with electrifying caresses. As I slide into her, she is ready for me, and we move together as if our bodies have always known each other. Out of the corner of my eye, I am aware the sky is glowing red with the rising of the sun. I lose myself in the climax which I reach at the same time as her. We stay locked together until I am limp again and I roll off her.

  ‘That was …’ she says.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It almost makes me glad.’

  ‘Almost,’ I say and laugh, and then, because I don’t want to think about that, snuggle back down with her. But Nikki doesn’t seem to want to let the subject drop.

  ‘I wonder how far away it is.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Suddenly I feel angry. We have so little time, why must she spoil things by bringing it up? I want to pretend life is normal for as long as possible. That we have the rest of our lives to look forward to. I don’t want to think about the volcano, the wave and what is to follow.

  ‘Sorry …’ Her face crumples. Oh God, I didn’t mean to do that. But I can’t bear thinking about the wave.

  ‘No. I’m sorry. It’s just …’

  ‘I get it.’ She squeezes my hand. Oh, she’s lovely … I wish, I wish … I can’t speak my wish out loud, so to distract myself, I check Facebook and immediately regret it.

  ‘Fucking bastards!’

  ‘What?’ I show her comment after comment with foul abuse for me and even fouler for her, a lot of it deeply racist. ‘Hold on a minute,’ she says as she takes the phone off me. ‘This isn’t just random. These idiots are all Lisa fans. Now why would they be contacting you? Has she said anything on Facebook?’ We check, but the Lisa Lusk page hasn’t been updated since the beginning of the week. There’s nothing on Twitter, and it is not until we hit Instagram that we find them. I read Lisa’s posts in disbelief. To the uninitiated it sounds as if I was responsible for the break-up.

  ‘How can she?’ I say. Nikki laughs. ‘It’s NOT funny, that woman left me a mess and now she’s claiming that stupid song is about ME? It’s nothing to do with me. She used to play a version of it when we were together. Back then, she said it was about her first boyfriend. Her One True Love. As she never ceased to remind me.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to laugh,’ says Nikki, ‘It’s just … Reading her page and the comments. She’s so self-involved. It’s like she has to be in this drama and rewriting your history gives her all the attention she desires.’

  She’s right. And, her saying it removes the last bit of feeling I have for Lisa. All this time, I’ve wasted my energies on someone who never gave a toss about me. I delete all the comments, take another selfie of me and Nikki and post it. Underneath I write, ‘In love for the first time in my life.’ Nikki grabs my phone and writes a text. Thanks for your concern, Lisa, we’re fine. If you want to do anything to help, call off the racists. I’m about to protest, and then I think she’s right, which is when I know exactly what I want to do next.

  ‘Marry me,’ I say, as I press send.

  ‘What took you so long?’

  ‘I had to see if there were any other options first.’ She kicks me in the shins and then kisses me. ‘Of course.’

  ‘We should do it on top of the cliffs.’

  ‘Invite the others.’

  ‘Yes.’ While we have been talking Yan has started cooking breakfast. A scent of bacon wafts up the beach.

  ‘Mmm, that smells good,’ says Nikki. ‘Let’s go and eat.’

  Even though it is pointless, I pick up the rubbish and carry it with the sleeping bags back to the campsite.

  ‘Morning,’ says Yan. He serves up crisp and salty bacon with crusty rolls as Shelley hands us thick dark tea.

  We sit down by the campfire. She seems more cheerful, almost happy. Part of me thinks it is absurd that we are exchanging pleasantries and yet it is also strangely comforting that ordinariness can prevail. Poppy and Margaret run towards us, dripping wet, and red-faced with the cold.

  ‘Nice dip?’ I say when Margaret emerges.

  ‘Cold, but refreshing,’

  The minutes are passing too fast, yet we find time for a leisurely, enjoyable breakfast, and a solution to the abusers on Facebook. If you’d told me a week ago, I’d have been dancing to “Shake it Off” with a bunch of strangers, I wouldn’t have believed you. Yet here I am joining in with enthusiasm and laughing with the rest as it comes to an end. It is nearly seven o’clock, our announcement cannot wait any longer.

  ’We’re getting married,’ we say as everyone squeals with delight and begins to plan. Their warmth and enthusiasm is infectious and I’m grinning inanely with the rest. The women whisk Nikki away, leaving me behind with Yan.

  ‘Well done, mate,’ he says for the second time as we watch the women walk up to the cliffs.

  ‘Better sort some clothes out.’ I enter the tent, rifle in my bag, and find a clean white shirt and chinos, lend Yan a pair of dark-blue trousers and a blue shirt. We shave and dress and make our way to the clifftop. The day is already warm. Yan insists we pose for photos, and then we walk to the rendezvous. It is there that Yan offers his ring to me. His father’s ring, given to the sister who died. I’m speechless. It’s such a generous gesture, and totally unexpected. I am pleased Yan is beside me, it occurs to me that if had he not told me about the beach, Nikki and I might never have happened. We might have stayed in the car, getting angrier and angrier at our lack of options. He may be the only choice, but I cannot think of a better best man.

  ‘Here comes the bride,’ says Yan as the women make their way along the path towards us. Nikki is dressed in a plain lilac dress. She has flowers pinned into her loose flowing hair and is carrying a posy of yellow, white and purple. She looks stunning. She smiles as she reaches me.

  ‘We haven’t really rehearsed this,’ I say, ‘We’ll say a few words and then declare ourselves married.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan,’ says Yan.

  I take Nikki’s hands, gaze into her eyes and see everything I have ever needed.

  ‘Nikki, we have known each other such a short time, and yet I know I want to be with you always,’ I take the ring from Yan, ‘With this ring, I promise to love you always, take care of you always, now and for the rest of our lives.’

  Nikki smiles at me. ‘James. When I woke up yesterday, it was to the worst news imaginable. And yet, the moment we met, I felt that everything was going to work out. I feel safe with you, loved by you. I love you.’ She puts the ring on my finger and I feel whole. ‘With this ring, I promise to love you always, take care of you always, now and for the rest of our lives.’

  ‘We now declare ourselves husband and wife,’ we say in unison, kissing each other to an eruption of applause and a flurry of petals the others have gathered from cliff flowers. Poppy pulls out a bottle of wine and, though it is strange to be drinking at this time of the morning, I down my glass in one as I toast my new bride. I have all I need, now and for always. Let the sea do its worst.

  Nikki

  The sun is shining. The sky is blue. I am walking by the seashore with James. We are holding hands, letting our toes sink into soft sand as the warm water washes over us. Dowetha Cove is at its best, inviting, safe, happy. James leans down to me and kisses me, I kiss him back. The sea crashes behind us. The gulls fly overhead. The beginning of a perfect day …

  … I open my eyes, wrapped in the warmth of my dream to see James’s face gazing down on me. It is still dark but the sky above is shifting from indigo to pale blue.

  ‘I was just dreaming of you,’ I say.

  ‘Good.’ He moves in to kiss me, a firm kiss, not like the dream kiss, but real and strong. Now I am ha
ppy to move towards him, to slowly undress, to let him caress me. Unlike our thwarted attempt at lovemaking in the cave, this feels like the natural way to start the day. Soon he is inside me and we move together in a way that is easy and familiar. We roll over with James on top. In the sky above, I sense a bright glow from behind the cliff. James closes his eyes but I keep mine open, so the moment of climax is accompanied by the sight of the red sun rising above our heads. Shortly after, James rolls off me.

  ‘That was …’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It almost makes me glad’

  ‘Almost.’

  He sits up. The dawn is beautiful, but I cannot hide from the fact the wave is coming. As James cuddles up to me again, it seems important to acknowledge it.

  ‘I wonder how far away it is.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ James is uncharacte‌ristically sharp and suddenly we are at odds. How did that happen? A moment ago we were united in body and soul. It shocks me how easy that sensation can vanish. We can’t let that happen, not now.

  ‘Sorry’, I say, unable to hide my hurt. Another man would have missed it, but this is James. He is immediately apologetic and I see quickly that he just doesn’t want to think about the wave right now. Which is understandable really. We don’t speak for a moment and then he swears at his phone. His page is filled with nasty comments about us, some of the more unpleasant ones seem to be Lisa fans. She’s has been using Instagram to suggest that she is the injured party in their break-up, suggesting that she’s lost the love her life. When I read through her posts, I’m staggered by how self-centred she is. It’s laughable really, even if it has created this tirade of abuse. The racism is foul – though, to be honest, most of it is pretty unimaginative, and a lot of it no worse than I had at school – but the idea that he is cheating on her, when she left him ages ago, is simply hilarious. It is satisfying to get rid of the comments together and I particularly enjoy telling Lisa where to stick it.

  ‘Marry me,’ he says after we send the text. I gaze at his face, his beautiful face. I feel I have always known this face. The last twelve hours have been the most intense of my life, the most awful and the most wonderful. Even though everything is about to end, I love him and want to be with him.

  ‘What took you so long?’ I quip, enjoying his teasing me back. We kiss and kiss and laugh and laugh. I realize I have rarely felt this at ease with anyone.

  I enjoy getting dressed with him, holding his hand as we walk to the campsite and join the others for breakfast and chat. I enjoy being a couple amidst these new friends who love and cherish us. And I enjoy dancing with him to ‘Shake it Off’ as we collectively tell the trolls what we think. Best of all I enjoy announcing the news that we want to get married, seeing the astonishment on people’s faces and then receiving their joyful congratulations. It occurs to me that we’re not just doing this for ourselves. We all have something else to think of in this last hour.

  There isn’t much time, I grab my bag as the women sweep me up to the clubhouse. I find a lilac dress that has miraculously not creased and a red one for Shelley. She helps me comb through my hair, shaking out the sand as we sing, ‘Shake it off, Shake it off!’ at the top of our voices. She massages the roots with oil and does a great job too.

  ‘How come you know how to do this?’ I ask.

  ‘Saturday job in a salon in Streatham. Good training for a white girl.’

  ‘Thanks. You’re better than my hairdresser.’ Shelley doesn’t say anything, but beams with pride. It is good to see her realising her talents. Even if … I don’t follow that thought to its end, I want to keep this happy for as long as I can.

  Margaret disappears to phone her daughter and find flowers. Poppy, meanwhile, has taken out her iPad and films us, so my parents will have a record of me applying make-up, trying different hair styles and putting on my dress. My hair has frizzed in the night, but I decide not to straighten it. I like my curls. Working in the chippie has meant keeping them up all summer. It feels liberating to let my hair down.

  ‘You look gorgeous,’ says Shelley.

  ‘Thanks. I should have asked before, but will you be my bridesmaid? I have a little sister, but obviously she can’t be here in person, so …’

  Shelley looks like she is about to cry. ‘I’d love to. I always said I’d do it for Alison. I feel awful that I can’t. Thank you so much.’

  We hug, just as Margaret returns with a bunch of yellow, white and lilac flowers. She slides some of the lilac ones in side combs which I put in my hair and makes two neat posies of the rest. I stare at myself in the mirror and am pleased with the result. I am ready to Skype my family. The four of them are sitting on the end of the double bed in the hotel, all wearing their smartest clothes.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ says Mum.

  ‘So do you all,’ I say

  ‘I wish we could be there,’ says Dad.

  ‘You are here, Dad.’ He looks away to avoid me seeing his tears. I can see Mum squeezing his hand.

  ‘How did you persuade this stupid man to marry you?’ grins Ifechie.

  ‘Through my charming and delightful personality,’ I reply.

  ‘Riiiiiiight,’ he says.

  ‘Sod off,’ I reply, but I appreciate his joshing. It helps keep the emotions at bay and knowing Ifechie, that’s exactly why he’s doing it.

  ‘Is he good-looking?’ says Ginika.

  ‘Definitely. But he’s also good, and kind, and thoughtful. Which counts for more. You’ll be able to see for yourself in a minute.’ Ginika smiles.

  This is not how I imagined my wedding day to be, and yet I can’t help feeling that this is the wedding day I’ve been preparing for all my life. Though I still wish I had left for Manchester in time, if I had I would never have met James. And I know I’m glad that we did meet, glad that this is happening now, even in these circumstances.

  It is time to go. I pass the iPad to Poppy who films Margaret giving us our bouquets as we form a bridal procession. The sun is shining and the sky is the brightest of blues. Joking and laughing we walk to the spot where James and I sat last night. Only a few hours ago I was so angry at him, at God, at the Universe I was almost prepared to walk in the water to escape him. And yet now, as I reach him and see his soft and funny face, I cannot imagine him not being in my life ever again.

  ‘Here comes the bride,’ says Yan, passing Margaret’s ring to Shelley

  James takes my hands, gazes into my eyes and I see everything I have ever needed.

  ‘Nikki, we have known each other such a short time, and yet I know I want to be with you always,’ He takes the ring from Yan, ‘With this ring, I promise to love you always, take care of you always, now and for the rest of our lives.’

  I smile at him, ‘James. When I woke up yesterday, it was to the worst news imaginable. And yet, the moment we met, I felt that everything was going to work out. I feel safe with you, loved by you. I thank God for you. I love you, too.’ I take the ring from Shelley and put it on his finger, ‘With this ring, in front of God, our family and friends, I promise to love you always, take care of you always, now and for the rest of our lives.’

  We kiss. The others shout in celebration. They throw petalaover us. I can hear my family clapping in the background. We raise glasses to them and switch Skype off, so Poppy can quickly send the film to them and James’s family.

  ‘Congratulations, Mrs Davies,’ says James, giving me another kiss.

  ‘Congratulations, Mr Akinwe,’ I say, laughing, kissing him back.

  ‘How about Davies-Akinwe?’

  ‘Or Akinwe-Davies?’

  ‘Davkins?’

  ‘Akinavies?’

  ‘Vieskin?’

  ‘Inweda?’

  ‘This could go on a bit …’

  ‘Stick to our own names?’ He smiles. I think, but don’t say, what about the children? It is too sad to acknowledge that children will never be part of it and I want to be happy now. Instead, I draw him to me, sinking
into another long and satisfying kiss. The perfect start to an almost perfect day.

  Harry

  When I wake up, the first thing I notice is that my neck is stiff, my arms are aching. The second is that I have dribbled all over the steering wheel. Fuck. I fumble for a tissue, so I can clean it and then realize the third thing. Dawn is approaching. The sky is no longer dark but pure blue and getting lighter all the time. Fuck, I have slept too long. I check the time. It is past five o’clock. The wave is on its way and I have to get to the beach. Sorry Shells, but I won’t be able to come and get you after all.

  I sit up, swig water, rev the engine and put my foot down on the accelerator. Normally I’d be taking these corners at ninety miles an hour, but with the burden of the trailer swinging behind me, I manage sixty at most. I swing into St Ives. The town is deserted. I drive towards the wharf, the trailer rattling behind me. The sea is still a way out. I’ll have to drive down the slipway and onto the beach. It’s going to ruin the chassis, but since the car’s going to be destroyed anyway, needs must.

  The sand is soft and I have to keep moving to avoid the wheels sinking. I drive to the edge of the sea, turn the car round so the trailer is fully in the water. My hands are shaking as I unhook it. I have time, I know I have time, and yet part of me is afraid that I have left it too late. I push the trailer but it is more of an effort than I could have imagined. I am tired and it dawns on me that I don’t have the strength to do this alone. Fuck. Why didn’t Shelley come with me? Why couldn’t I persuade her? Just as I’m thinking I could really do with her help, I receive a text from her. How dare you tell people about Margaret? What a foul thing to do. Unforgivable. Fuck you. Well, fuck you, Shelley, I’m glad I’ve run out of time to get you. I check my watch again, five forty-five. I have just over two hours. The sun will be up soon but I can still make it. All I have to do is get this boat in the water. Simple enough outcome, but how? How?