The Sea House (24 page)

‘You’re too right there.’ Cassie looked across at Alf, and there was a low groan and a whistle as they carried on with their game.

‘You look well.’ Nick reached for Lily’s hand.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘it’s probably the power station sending out those warming rays.’ She gave him a small, cold smile and Nick held her gaze.

‘Lily, honestly, is everything all right?’

‘Yes,’ she said, and to her surprise tears rose up hotly in her eyes. ‘I’m fine.’ But her whole being was bristling with anger, although she knew she had no right to feel anything but guilt. ‘I’m fine, really.’ It was as if all the hurts and grievances had sprung alive in her, the disappointments of the last three years. ‘Why,’ she said, her whole face flushing, ‘do you never say you love me?’

Nick’s hand startled in hers. ‘I don’t know what you mean?’

Lily looked down at the table. She wasn’t going to ask him again.

‘Look…’ Nick was floundering. ‘I thought it was obvious. When I begged you to be part of the company? When I asked you to move into my flat?’

Lily was battling with the corners of her mouth, wretched with the desire to cry.

‘Wasn’t it…’ – he was angry himself now – ‘wasn’t it clear?’

‘No. It wasn’t clear. Since when has “You can put your clothes very neatly in this cupboard” meant… meant… anything more than that?’

‘So is that what all this has been about? Going off. Holing up in the middle of nowhere. You’ve exiled yourself just to get away from me?’

‘No,’ she said, defensive. ‘NO. I just feel tired out with waiting, that’s all.’

‘What?’ It occurred to her he really didn’t understand. ‘Waiting for what??’

‘To be allowed… I don’t know…’ She wiped away her tears. ‘To be allowed…’

Nick reached across to her with both his hands. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about…’ His voice had sunk to a whisper and his face was white. With a shock Lily remembered that she loved him.

‘I’d like to be allowed…’ – she swallowed – ‘to dream a bit, to plan, to have some idea of the future. But that’s never been allowed. I couldn’t even mention Christmas until, well, virtually Christmas Eve.’

‘OK.’ Nick winced as if he was being forced to speak. ‘When I think of romance… passion, I think about what’s happening now. The present. I’ve been waiting for you to join me, Lily, to start living, to stop letting your life drift by.’

‘But how could I?’ She tried to pull her hand away. ‘When I never knew if I’d be allowed to…’ She didn’t want to have to say it.

‘To be allowed to what?’

‘For thousands of years, I don’t know, longer, women have been getting married, having babies, making a home. And now all of a sudden, me, I’m not supposed to want to do that. I’m meant to feel ashamed of even mentioning it. Supposed to pretend that it’s the last thing on my mind.’ Lily felt her face burning. She wrenched her hand away. She’d never wanted to have to say these things. ‘Look, I don’t even know if I want children, marriage, but I’d like to have a choice. Instead, what is there? Work hard, work harder, and maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get the chance to work so hard you can hardly breathe!’

Nick sat back and looked at her. ‘You’re only twenty-seven. Christ, what’s the hurry? Women don’t start having babies till they’re at least forty-two.’

‘I’m not talking about what’s fashionable.’ She glared at him. ‘You’re not the only one who’s read
Hello
! I’m just trying to be honest. God’ – she felt a wave of fury – ‘I knew you’d make me feel ashamed.’ She breathed out loudly. ‘I just hate it, our life, it’s all so cold. Not needing each other for anything.’ A swell of laughter rose up from the game. Lily looked around, appalled to think that anyone might have heard.

‘Well, if you hate it…’ Nick was breathing hard and then, sighing, he slid along the bench to get another drink. A man was stooping, trying to control his shoulders as he aimed the ball.

‘Good man.’ The landlord leant over for the scores. ‘What distance was that?’ They all craned to see and Cassie held up her thumb and finger, a centimetre apart. ‘Six inches,’ she said, and the men all doubled over with their howls.

They were still laughing when Nick came back. ‘What’s the joke?’ He had another pint of bitter, and a white wine for her.

‘Nothing, it’s too stupid, not even funny,’ but she couldn’t help smiling as she reached for her glass.

They drank in silence. The moon was full, cloud-white above them, and slowly as they sat there in the garden, the midges nibbling in swarms, the glasses gathering, the night closed in. No one arrived to clear their table and, each time one or other of them came back with a round, the empties were nudged and shunted into the middle of the table, until they were looking at each other across a sea of glassy rings. The game of boules went on, the pitch lit up by the windows of the pub, until eventually a winning team emerged and the players drifted off, slapping each other’s backs companionably whether they had lost or won. Nick and Lily staggered up. Nick took her arm and gratefully she leant against him, drunk and hollow as if those few tears had ebbed out all her strength.

Along the lane, away from the lights of the pub, the dark was silken. The moon shone huge. ‘What a night,’ Nick said, and he held her hand tightly as they stumbled along the edge of the Green. They washed in silence, together in the bathroom, and climbed into their separate beds. ‘Goodnight,’ she said smiling at him across the bonnet of the lampshade and she sank into a swirling sleep. She woke in the early hours of the morning and gulped down a glass of water, and as she drank she heard the rain. It sounded cool and friendly, splattering on the panes and she drained the last drops and lay back down.

‘Oh, Christ,’ Nick woke her.

‘What is it?’ He was clutching his head.

‘Tim,’ he groaned. ‘I forgot to check my mobile. It’s all your fault,’ he smiled weakly, ‘with your revolutionary ideas. Disbanding feminism. Marching for the right to do the washing up…’

‘Shut up, I didn’t say that.’ But she felt light-hearted as she drew the curtain on to a fine grey sheet of rain.

‘You’re leaking,’ Nick said, still holding his head, and she twisted round to see her nightdress stained with blood. ‘I was going to say come here…’ – he lay back down – ‘but maybe not.’

Lily ran herself a bath. She lay in it and pictured Grae, out in his beach hut, the girls flicking strands of wool, dangling them for Guinness to jump from one bunk to the next. She let her head sink under the water and felt her thoughts release. A new free month ahead of her. Relief. Disappointment, relief. She had a lifetime to be more careful. ‘But they can’t live there all winter…’ She tried to work it out, and when she came up Nick was peering over her, naked, one leg raised as he tested the water for warmth. ‘What were you saying?’

‘Just talking to myself,’ and she pulled her knees up to make room for him as he climbed in.

There was an umbrella in the cupboard.
Umbrella
. It had a label attached to it.
Do not use
. Lily was too superstitious to open it indoors. She pushed the head of it outside. ‘It’s better than nothing,’ she called to Nick, looking up through the fraying holes, and they walked out into the rain. ‘We could drive up to the main road in my car?’ she said, noticing Grae’s Renault had gone. ‘We might even get a signal by the church.’

‘It’s all right.’ Nick scrutinized the soft leather of his shoes. ‘I can walk. Anyway, my bag’s still in the boot.’

Even before they reached the car park they knew something was wrong. A crowd of men, the same crowd who were playing boules, were standing round Nick’s car. It was the only car in the car park, and beside it, peering in through the window, was Grae. Lily felt the sight of him jolt through her.

‘What’s up?’ Nick called and the men all turned.

‘This your car?’

‘Yes.’ Nick strode ahead. ‘Is something wrong?’

Lily caught Grae’s eye and looked away.

‘There was a high tide last night.’ It was the champion of the boules game, Alf, standing out from the others. ‘Came up past midnight. We went round everyone, got them to move their cars, but this one here, we didn’t know whose it was.’ He turned to Lily and smiled. ‘We saw yours up on high ground, all safe and well, but we didn’t know your friend here had brought his own.’

Nick peered into the car. There was seaweed clinging to the steering-wheel and grains of sand had collected in the pockets of each door. Water sat in muddy puddles in the crook of the seats.

‘You won’t be going anywhere in that,’ Alf said, and the men all turned to each other and began to nod and talk.

Nick put his key in the lock of the boot and with a great creak wrenched it up. His leather bag sat in a swamp of water, a surf line already forming in a crust of white.

‘It happens regular every few years,’ Alf went on, ‘the tide comes in, the river overflows. It’s why we’ve got all the walls and the defences, to stop it coming up farther than it does.’

Lily felt a damp hand in her own. ‘Hello.’ It was Emerald in a bright blue mac.

‘Are you all right?’ Lily bent down to her. ‘Were you flooded? How did you manage in the hut?’

‘We’re fine,’ she said. ‘And, anyway, Dad knew. He parked our car somewhere safe, and boarded up our door.’

Lily looked across at Grae who was standing watching Arrie as she waded through a puddle of mud.

‘It only happens at full moon,’ Em went on. ‘Dad says if you’re concentrating, if you keep an eye on the tides…’ and she let go her hand and ran into the puddle, sending up a wave of water that washed over the top of her sister’s boots.

Nick had his bag dripping at his side and he was locking up the car. ‘I’d better call the AA,’ he said, his face inscrutable, and he nodded to the men.

‘You’ll not be going anywhere in that,’ one of them called over, ‘not for a long while.’ And cheerful almost with the knowledge of it, they all shook their heads.

‘This blasted fucking god-forsaken place,’ Nick cursed as soon as they were out of hearing.

‘But you’ll be covered by the insurance…’ Lily tried. ‘I mean, will you, for an act of God?’

‘Fuck it, they’ll have to tow me home.’

Lily stood outside the phone box while he called. The sky was clearing, the rain had stopped. It was like a blanket lifting at the edges to let in a flood of blue.

‘They’ll be here,’ Nick said, ‘any time in the next two hours.’

They sat together on the bench. ‘You could get the train home?’ she ventured. ‘Or take my car?’ But he gave her such a withering look that she said nothing more.

They sat on the bench for an hour waiting for the recovery van. Lily brought out tea, water, paracetamol, a plate of toast. Nick sorted through the ruin of his bag.

‘I almost forgot,’ he said, slipping his hand into an inner pocket, ‘I brought you this.’ He handed her a folded sheet of paper. ‘Someone emailed it to me and I thought it was something you should see.’

Lily unfolded the paper.
TIPS ON STAYING SAFE FOR WOMEN.
And as she read, the sun burst out from behind the cloud and turned the grass bright green.
IF YOU ARE EVER THROWN INTO THE BOOT OF A CAR, KICK OUT THE TAIL LIGHTS, STICK YOUR ARM THROUGH AND WAVE. THIS HAS SAVED MANY LIVES.

Lily looked over at Nick.

‘It’s from America,’ he said. He was watching the road.

THERE ARE THREE REASONS WHY WOMEN ARE ATTACKED.

1. LACK OF AWARENESS. You must know where you are going and what is going on.

2. BODY LANGUAGE. Keep your head up. Swing your arms. Stand up straight.

3. WRONG PLACE. WRONG TIME. Don’t walk alone at night.
‘Thanks.’ She was incredulous. She didn’t dare ask if it was a joke.

HOW TO AVOID BEING THE VICTIM OF A VIOLENT CRIME
:

Always take the elevator instead of the stairs. Stairwells are the perfect crime spot. If the predator has a gun and you are not under his control,
always run. The predator will only hit you 4 in 100 times and even then it may not be a vital organ. RUN
.

If you are parked next to a big van, enter your car from the passenger door. Most serial killers attack their victims by pulling them into their vans while the women are attempting to get into their cars.

Look at your parked car. If a male is sitting alone on the driver side, walk back into the mall.

I was going to send this to the ladies only: but guys, if you love your mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, you may want to pass this on to them. It is always better to be safe than sorry. BETTER PARANOID THAN DEAD.

Lily started to laugh. ‘I can’t believe…’ and she began to read the email again.

‘I printed it out’ – Nick sounded hurt – ‘especially for you.’

‘Flowers might have been nicer…’