Amanda laughed. “He’s been carrying on like a teenager. I’ve never seen him so happy and moony.”
“True, I hope it works out. He deserves a good guy.”
“Yeah, and for once you can say that a good guy deserves him. He’s a lovely man, your brother.”
Clancy made a sound that was half sigh, half laugh and they continued on down the winding path, between the outcrops of sandstone and increasingly scrubby vegetation until they reached the rough-hewn stone steps that led to the beach, jetty and boatshed. It was an absurdly pretty setting and Amanda loved it and said so.
“Why don’t you make more use of it? The boatshed is just gorgeous and so romantic, I bet people would pay a fortune to stay here. You could let it, maybe?”
Clancy said nothing and her back was turned toward Amanda as she unlocked the padlock. It clasped the two ends of a heavy chain that was threaded through cast iron rings on each of the shed’s double doors. Clancy’s silence and the set of her shoulders seemed to mean something and Amanda wondered whether she had inadvertently trespassed in a no-go area. “Of course, it’s wonderful to keep it private too,” she amended quickly. “Damn tourists don’t have to have all the best bits.”
Clancy unthreaded the chain with a clatter and left it hanging from the bolt. Finally, she turned to glance at Amanda and pulled open one of the doors, its hinges complaining as the timber scraped across the stones of the jetty and stood slightly askew but open.
“This has always been a bit of a getaway for me,” she said, finally. “Dad used it as a workshop and I liked to help him—or watch anyway and hold the hammer, that kind of thing. I sort of took it over. Mum and Malcolm were never interested.”
Amanda followed her into the cool gloom of the boatshed. It was the first time she had been inside. Where they were standing was a small kitchen area with a twin gas burner on a metal counter. On a shelf beneath sat a small fat gas canister. On one of the burners was an elderly whistling kettle, blackened and dented. Hanging from a row of nails were three equally hard-used pots and pans and other battered utensils. Beside the counter was a small fridge whose door was pitted with rust. In the middle of the kitchen space was a table covered in blue and white checked oilcloth; tucked in beneath the tabletop were two chairs.
On the other side of the space was a shower stall shielded by a moldy white plastic curtain, beside it a deep white china laundry tub. A shriveled cake of soap sat on the windowsill above it and a grubby towel hung on a cup hook screwed into the window frame. A shallow wooden ladder led up to a platform above the kitchen where a mattress looked to take up most of it. This minimal apartment was separated from the workshop and boatshed by a heavy canvas curtain that was pushed back against the wall revealing woodworking tools neatly hung on a rack and a bench where a router and circular saw stood. Beyond that were the kayaks, six yellow hulls stacked on a wall rack. Clancy pushed past the curtain and Amanda followed her through. The building smelled of old rope, salt, tar and the sea. It was pleasant, but it reeked of neglect and—was it fanciful?—unhappy memories. At the seaward end was another set of double doors, on the floor was a clutter of old boating gear and the graceful hull of a sailboat, the name “Lily of the Valley” painted on its transom.
“Welcome to my lair,” Clancy said and her smile was a fair facsimile of the real thing.
“Are you sure you don’t mind me being here?” Amanda asked, now aware of the deeply personal nature of the boatshed.
Clancy frowned. “Of course not, don’t be silly. But I know it’s a bit cobwebby so if it creeps you out, you don’t have to stay—or help. I mean you probably will chip your nail polish.” She began throwing scrubbing brushes and a few tatty looking rags into two buckets and failed to see the expression of resignation that crossed Amanda’s face.
Amanda sighed. “Clancy, I said I want to help and I meant it. I just asked because, well, because this seems like a very private place and I don’t want to tread on…anything.”
She thought it sounded lame, so she ducked her head and checked her nail polish, which was chipped already. “And anyway, I’m going to take the damn nail polish off and not bother, so you can stop digging at me on that score.”
Clancy’s head dropped as she bent over the buckets and she took a deep breath before standing up once more and facing Amanda.
“I seem to spend an awful lot of time saying sorry to you,” she said and the quizzical grin was back on her face. “I’m sorry, I’m a bear with a sore head and I don’t know why.”
“How about worried about business, the global financial crisis and the future of the world? That’ll do it every time,” Amanda said shortly. “And now you have your brother’s silly friend from New York stomping all over the place interfering and driving you nuts. That’ll do it too.”
The two women stared at each other, arms akimbo, mirror images of belligerence. The silence was another long one. Finally Clancy smiled, reached out and touched Amanda’s cheek and said softly, “You’re not silly.” She sighed. “You’re right, though, I am worried about all those things, and you are interfering but I think you’re doing a fantastic job. There, I think that’s better than sorry. What do you say?”
Amanda grinned and could not hold the direct gaze; instead she stared at her pink toenails. “Much better. I’d say it counts as a fulsome apology on the international diplomatic scale.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her cut-offs once more, desperate not to touch the spot on her face where Clancy’s fingers had caressed it. And again her shorts slid down her hips, revealing just a bit more than was ladylike. She tugged them back up but not before Clancy had again frankly eyed the fluff of fine blond at the base of her belly.
The eyebrow did its thing and as she very deliberately turned back to the buckets before remarking, “You are right about not wearing those around town. Someone will either jump your bones or have a stroke.”
Amanda was glad she couldn’t see Clancy’s face as she checked her shorts and touched the sticky patch of cream on her neck. “I’ll bear that in mind,” she said casually. “Good advice. Should we do the kayaks and then have a swim?”
“It would be sensible,” Clancy said and offered Amanda the old plastic buckets. “I’ll open the doors and pull the boats out.”
Amanda put down the buckets and walked over to the rack of kayaks. “You open the doors and we’ll both get the damn boats out,” she said firmly. She stuck her hands on her hips again and inclined her head toward the door. “Go on, I don’t have all day.”
Something resembling a giggle came out of Clancy’s grinning mouth and she did as she was told.
* * *
The breeze coming off the water almost tempered the sun and the afternoon cleaning the kayaks at the water’s edge was companionable, if sweaty. Amanda was happy and could see that Clancy was relaxed. They were having a good time, she knew. Just talking and enjoying each other’s company was the easiest and longest time they had been together, ever. Amanda liked it, she thought as they slung the last cleaned kayak back up on the rack.
“Swim?” she asked Amanda. “The water is still chilly, but it’s all relative, about sixty-eight to seventy Fahrenheit, I think. Fancy it?”
Amanda licked the salty sweat from her top lip and nodded. They returned to the beach and stopped by a jutting rock in the middle of it.
“This is where you leave your clothes. I usually just strip off and go in, that’s the best thing about this cove,” Clancy said, looking Amanda right in the eye. “Our land surrounds it so we can’t be overlooked and it’s a bit of a treat. I won’t mind if you don’t mind.” Clancy grinned and began to take off her T-shirt and shorts.
After a moment’s hesitation Amanda slowly did the same and also pulled off her swimsuit. She had no time to feel self-conscious because Clancy had already run down to the water’s edge, waded out two or three steps and dived in, straight and flat. She came up twenty feet out in a whoosh of spraying water and a wild whoop as she whipped
the hair out of her eyes.
“Come on in, it’s great!” she called, then flipped a somersault and began swimming, long powerful freestyle strokes, away from the shore.
Amanda followed, tentatively tiptoeing to where the idle slack water wavelets lapped at her feet. She gasped as the icy water nipped her hot skin then she too took two or three leaping, wading steps through the water and cut a shallow dive into the frigid green, following Clancy’s wake. The shock of it was like fire on her skin and she propelled her body fast through the water with broad, strong breaststrokes without breaking the surface, expelling air in a string of bubbles that tickled the bare flesh of her breasts and belly as she swam. Clancy was right, being without clothing, even a swimsuit, in the ocean was a treat. She thrust and kicked with her legs and was marginally aware of the aching pull of strained inner thigh muscles and the sting of her chafed vagina, but she opened her eyes into the translucent green-blue and pushed any thoughts of the night with Margo from her mind as she chased hard after Clancy.
They floated twenty yards out from the shore and Amanda puffed hard with the effort of catching up.
“You’re a good swimmer,” she gasped, keeping a careful distance from Clancy but at the same time aware of the lithe limbs and the play of light and water on a body that was an even golden brown all over.
“You’re not so bad yourself, for a city slicker,” Clancy said, casually blowing salt water from her nose and again slicking her curling hair back from her face. “Not too cold for you?”
Amanda scooted a handful of water at Clancy. “You have to get over this idea that New York City was it for me,” she said. “Where I grew up the river freezes solid in winter and the ocean is really cold ten months of the year.”
“Ah, of course, New England.” Clancy flipped on her back and began slowly heading for the beach using her arms like paddles beneath the water’s surface and with her legs floating loosely in the water. The shadowy triangle at the confluence of her long legs came into focus as her body broke the surface and became curly black hair, glistening wet in the sun. Amanda’s eyes widened and her heart thudded as a charge of blood flooded her with a strong urge to reach out and touch, to sink her face into the curls and probe what would be hidden there with her tongue. She spluttered and coughed as she inadvertently inhaled a mouthful of salt water; she understood she had been gaping at Clancy’s crotch and that Clancy’s expression meant she had not missed it. Again she coughed, although this time it was with self-consciousness.
Clancy turned, tapped her on the arm and said, “Come on, race you in, last one in is shark bait.” And she was off, churning through the water with the spare strokes Amanda had admired on the way out. Amanda peered about, frantically scanning the horizon; the sea glittered and revealed nothing, and a couple of gulls wheeled and glided high above them. It seemed tranquil enough, but the magic mythic word was enough to galvanize Amanda into action. She set off after Clancy with her most forceful and economical kick and stroke. Within five yards they were neck and neck and Amanda felt the exhilarating stretch and roar of her muscles and heart as she slipped effortlessly through the jade-smooth water. Alongside her, as she rolled her head to grab a breath, she saw Clancy’s arms windmilling even faster and she knew she had won as she maintained her steady but powerful pace. She dug deep and filled her lungs, put her head down again and striking out hard, hauling herself along with the familiar long, loose pulls on her arms and a slow tempo of kicks. Her body felt at once effervescent, alive and relaxed; the elation fizzed and frothed through her frame and she knew she was swimming like she had not swum since college.
“You’re a rotten cheat,” Clancy gasped as they lay side by side on old beach towels on the warm white sand. Amanda’s chest was heaving and her limbs were tingling with exertion. She could see that Clancy felt the same.
“You can really swim.” Clancy struggled to get out the words. “Or was it just the thought of a shark biting your bum?”
Amanda laughed and fought for air at the same time; she lifted her legs to her chest, the easier to catch her breath. “I was on track for the Olympic team when I was in college,” she admitted. “Didn’t have the will to go all the way.”
“God damn! You could have said. That is so unfair.” Clancy rolled on her side and squinted at Amanda from beneath black, wet eyelashes. They were very close, close enough for Amanda to feel the panting breaths and naked presence. She closed her eyes, not daring to look again, and continued to breathe hard. She also held two fingers to her throat, checking her pulse, and suddenly remembered the mark of Margo’s teeth. She choked on an extra breath and sat up, desperately keeping her fingers in place, hoping against hope they were covering the bruise. Then she remembered the second bite on her breast and turned slightly away from Clancy and summoned a cough.
“You didn’t ask and you didn’t give me a chance to say anything before you took off—like a goddamn rocket, I might add.” Amanda looked around for her clothes; they were yards away on the rock.
Clancy sat up and laid a cool hand on her shoulder. “You okay?” Her voice was full of concern. “What’s wrong with your throat? Can I do anything?” Her cool hand rubbed Amanda’s bare shoulder. She shivered convulsively at the sensation of it and let out an involuntary groan that she could not disguise as another cough.
“Okay, what’s wrong? Tell me, how can I help?” Clancy was kneeling in front of her, a vision of wet, golden nakedness; her hands clasped Amanda’s shoulders in a way that was at once reassuring and unbearable. It was all Amanda could do to keep from leaning forward and laying her head on Clancy’s breast. Instead she shook her head helplessly and the expression on her face was pained and bewildered.
“Tell me, for heaven’s sake,” Clancy said softly and she stroked a strand of sea-darkened blond hair back from Amanda’s forehead. “Come on, what is it? Let me help…”
Amanda dropped her eyes and hung her head in shame, “You can’t…it’s nothing, I’m okay, it’s just…” She looked up into Clancy’s eyes and to her surprise and distress saw only affection and warmth. She shivered once again and let out a long and tremulous sigh. Before she could think further she made up her mind and sat up straight. She took her hand away from her neck and looked Clancy right in the eye with no equivocation.
“I was very stupid,” she said quietly. “Unbelievably stupid, actually. I…um…I had far too much to drink at Margo’s and…well…” She gestured at the bite mark on her neck and breast. “I behaved very badly and I’m sorry. I’m embarrassed and…please don’t think too badly of me. Please.” She knew she was pleading and she dropped her eyes to the sand between them.
The silence between them was exaggerated by the soughing eddies of wavelets on the sand. Amanda remained sitting bolt upright and vulnerably naked, unable to decide whether to try to cover herself, look at Clancy or pray that a giant squid would rise up out of the ocean and drag her away to the deep. Finally, just as Amanda thought she might faint with apprehension, she heard Clancy sigh, a long shuddering sigh, and her heart sank. She looked up and Clancy was watching her. A baffling series of expressions crossed her face as she searched Amanda’s eyes. Amanda looked back as levelly as she could, trying to divine what was going on in Clancy’s mind. Eventually Amanda found the silence was unendurable and reached out her hands in supplication.
“Please say something, anything, Clancy. I can’t bear it if…” She stopped, unable to continue with the all too revealing knowledge that she couldn’t bear it if Clancy didn’t like her all over again.
Clancy sat back on her towel and stared out to sea for what seemed like the longest minute in the history of time. Out of the corners of her eyes Amanda watched her, admiring the profile, the slim, muscular arms and lean torso and the golden perfection of her small breasts. Again Amanda sighed, this time in helpless admiration and a feeling that she recognized as longing, pure and simple. Eventually Clancy straightened her back, arched and stretched and let out a long, slow breath
, her unselfconscious movement and nakedness unendurably attractive. Amanda swallowed on a dry mouth and thumping heart.
At last Clancy turned to Amanda and her eyes and smile were sad. She reached out for Amanda’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I’m sorry too,” she said softly and Amanda’s heart sank even further, to the pit of her stomach and beyond. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about Margo,” Clancy went on in low tones that Amanda had to sit forward to catch. “But I didn’t think it was any of my business.” She twisted her fingers through Amanda’s, smiled tentatively and went on. “She has a bit of a reputation as a man-eater—woman-eater, I suppose—in fact, she’s notorious, to be honest. And I’m really sorry she’s given you her trademark stamp of ownership, it’s a bit juvenile…”
“She does not own me,” Amanda burst out. “And it’s more than juvenile. It’s…it’s… pathetic. And I’m so embarrassed.”
Clancy half smiled and still clasped Amanda’s fingers. “You must be. I’ve been wondering about the, um,” she gestured at her own throat, “I didn’t have you pegged as a kerchief kinda girl!”
Amanda giggled weakly and shook her head. “I’m not. I didn’t know how else to cover it.”
“It’s a rotten thing to do and I’m afraid she’s famous for it,” Clancy said ruefully. She looked away, out to sea. “It’s none of my business, but are you…do you fancy her? Are you in a relationship?” She glanced back at Amanda. “It’s not my business, except that you need to be careful, she…”
“I’m not!” Amanda said firmly. “I am so not.” And, she added silently, I want it to be your business, I want you to care. Please don’t stop holding my hand.
Clancy let go of Amanda’s hand and squinted up at a passing fluffy white cloud that momentarily shaded them and somehow focused the afternoon shadows. “We should be getting back to the house,” she said. “Malcolm will need some help for this evening. And your mother will think those aliens have got you again.” Her voice was brisk, her tone friendly but noncommittal.
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