Salt Sisters

by Katherine Graham

  ‘Izzy, I have apologised a thousand times, and I’ll be sorry until my last breath for what it did to you—’

  ‘What you did to us,’ I corrected her.

  ‘What I did.’ She nodded. ‘The hurt I caused. But I had to, love. I wouldn’t be here today if I hadn’t gone then.’

  She leaned in closer and put her hand up to my face. Her palm was warm on my cheek. ‘Let me heal you.’

  I closed my eyes in consent, which seemed easier than having this discussion again with Mum. I was too tired, too sad, and no longer had the energy to fight her.

  Mum placed her hands on my head and started to hum quietly. At first, it felt good just to be touched, to let her have this intimacy. The humming became louder and more rhythmic, and soon it evolved into a muffled chanting of words that I didn’t recognise. Each sound reverberated through me. I could feel her voice in my chest, in my stomach, all the way down to my feet.

  The strange thing was that it did make me feel better. I grew lighter, like a weight was lifted, but heavier at the same time – the mass of my body was pressing down into the sofa, and I could quite easily have closed my eyes and fallen asleep right then. The thoughts that had been swimming around in my head, causing me to lose hours of sleep, were suddenly quiet, and my mind was still.

  Mum sat back and I opened my eyes.

  ‘How did you do that?’

  She looked down at her hands. ‘It’s a long story,’ she said, her eyes sad.

  ‘Well in that case, you’d better put the kettle on.’

  We hadn’t known where exactly Mum had gone, that terrifying morning when we woke up and realised she was missing. All I knew was that a hole opened up in our lives, like those sink holes that appear in the earth overnight, swallowing entire homes into the bottomless black.

  At some point, it had dawned on us that she had left Seahouses. That was a terrifying realisation for two girls who had believed their mother was simply hiding out somewhere nearby. By the time Auntie Sue swooped in to our rescue, we had realised that she was no longer in the country. The line crackled on her infrequent phone calls home, which would come at odd times of the day.

  The police confirmed this when Auntie Sue reported her as a missing person. Mum, who hadn’t been able to leave her bedroom for several weeks, had pulled herself together enough to not only leave the house, but get on an aeroplane. When they gave us the news, we were open-mouthed, lost for words. She didn’t want to be found, they said. She was safe and well and wanted her family to be reassured of that. Auntie Sue didn’t push things – presumably, she was as scared as we were that we’d be taken away, too.

  ‘It all started with a book,’ Mum said. ‘About coping with grief. I don’t even remember who had given it to me. After Edward died, so many people had words of advice, or love, or encouragement, but the only thing that made sense to me at the time was what I read in that book.

  ‘I had so many questions for the man who had written those words. I simply had to find him. The only problem was he was in India, according to the book. This was in the days before the internet, before Facebook, before you could just look someone up online. Maybe I wasn’t thinking straight, but I made up my mind – I had to go there.

  ‘I sent away for a visa and when it came, I simply packed a bag and went to the airport. It was easy enough to buy a plane ticket. As soon as I was above the clouds and on my way, the pressure started to melt – the pressure that had been there like hands around my neck since the day your father died.

  ‘After a couple of days of travelling, I finally arrived in a town that I had never heard of before, surrounded by other towns that I’d never heard of either. The whole journey was a blur, and the last leg had been on the back of a rickshaw. Yet all these years later, I can still recall in vivid detail the moment the doors of the ashram opened. I was welcomed by a stranger in flowing robes with long hair that smelled like coconut, and I wept with relief.

  ‘Our days began with sunrise meditations, breathing exercises, and chanting, practices that nourished the body and soul. I saw myself growing stronger again, growing more aware of my power and my connection to the world, and gaining an understanding of the universe that was deeper than I could have imagined knowledge could be – I just had to work out what it all meant.

  ‘I had private audiences with the guru whenever I could. I would take along my copy of his book, with passages highlighted, and he did his best to answer all my questions. He used to constantly tell me, “just give it time”. “Enlightenment is not a lightbulb moment,” he would say, “it is like making a fire by rubbing two sticks together. If you try hard enough, and you are patient, one day you will get a spark.”’

  ‘But I didn’t have forever. I needed to get better and get home. Eventually I left. There was lots of talk about a spiritual retreat in Bali, and a new guy that everyone was following. I wanted to meet him, to see what answers he could give me.’

  I held up a hand to stop her. ‘What, wait – you went to Bali? You never said.’ I’d been there several times, but I had no idea that Mum had ever visited.

  Mum sighed and shrugged. ‘You never gave me the chance to tell you.’

  I waved her on to continue the story.

  ‘Spiritual detox, energy cleanses, fasting and live-food diets, sweat lodges, liver cleanses, acupuncture, reiki, tantric chanting, goddess circles – I tried it all. Somewhere out there was the secret I was searching for. But the answer still didn’t come.

  ‘One day, I got chatting to another guest, an American woman. She had travelled the world and was quite the expert. The best she had come across was an indigenous tribe in Peru. This tribe had set up a retreat on their lands that allowed outsiders to come in and experience their ancient rituals – not cheap, but worth every penny. And not for the faint-hearted, she warned me. Well, I needed no more convincing. I left the next morning.’

  I heard a creak from upstairs, either a bedframe or a floorboard. Rachel and Auntie Sue would be up soon, and I wanted Mum to finish the story.

  ‘Getting from Indonesia to Peru was not an easy journey back then, and the cheap ticket involved several connections. By that time, I had been living in ashrams, retreats and yoga institutes for quite a while and was used to the rhythm of life in a commune. I was as committed as ever, and very confident that finally, there in Peru, I would find the answer to the meaning of everything.

  ‘But the retreat was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was buried deep in the rainforest, and the accommodation was beyond basic. During the orientation tour – if you could call it that –we were told that the lodgings were designed to help guests connect more easily with nature, but the reality was they provided little protection from the constant rain and bugs. Men with painted faces patrolled the camp. One of their jobs was to catch snakes before they got too close to the guests.’

  I shook my head, struggling to picture Mum turning up at an indigenous camp in the middle of the rainforest. The idea was surreal.

  ‘I booked in for the two-week package. I’d asked about a discount on longer stays, but the young lady who showed me to the dormitory said that nobody stayed longer than that. The highlight of the retreat was to be the traditional ayahuasca ceremony – it’s a ritual that involves drinking an ancient medicinal tea brewed from the leaves of rare rainforest plants. It helps to cleanse and purify the body and mind and induces visions. They offered all kinds of add-ons, including one that used treefrog venom rubbed onto the skin to help you detox. Finally, the night of the ayahuasca ceremony had arrived and I was ready. I dressed for the occasion in my all-white yogis and drank my tea quickly, eager for the visions to start.’

  ‘Wait, Mum,’ I said. ‘You took drugs? In Peru?’

  ‘Not drugs, Izzy. It’s medicine, traditional ceremonial medicine. The tribe has been drinking that tea for thousands and thousands of years.’

  Mum shook her head and continued. ‘At first, nothing happened. I was sitting on the ground, and a kind ass
istant helped me to a chair. The other guests were enjoying their hallucinations, dancing around the fire and singing and laughing, touching their bodies as if they were aware of their skin for the first time. One woman took all her clothes off and nobody minded, least of all me.

  ‘It had all been for nothing. I just sat there, watching the rest of them. After minutes that could just as easily have been hours, someone reached out and took my hand. I hadn’t even noticed him, but a man had come to sit in the seat next to me. He could obviously see how upset I was. But there was something familiar about the hand… I looked up and there, right next to me in the middle of the jungle, was Edward.

  ‘I was speechless. He was as real as… well, real. Alive. Your father,’ she said, nodding. ‘And he looked exactly as he had before we set off for a walk that day after Sunday lunch – wearing the same jumper and everything. I reached out and touched his face, and he smiled back at me.’

  Mum started to get emotional but I urged her on, fighting back my own temptation to tears.

  ‘You know how I knew he was real?’

  I shook my head, unsure of where this was going.

  ‘He said, “Anne, get a bloody grip and pull yourself together.” We sat there, in that rainforest all those thousands of miles away, after all that soul-searching, and he said something that only your father would say. It’s how I knew it was him,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Wait… what?’ I stammered. ‘That was the end of the search? That was the big revelation?’

  ‘That was just it: there was no revelation. No big secret, anyway. It just made me realise what I should have known all along – your dad was always with me. I went looking for him, but he was already there. I’d been looking for answers to questions that didn’t exist. That was the fire I made with my two sticks.’

  She pulled me in for a cuddle, and I allowed myself the indulgence of snuggling under her arm – something I hadn’t done in years.

  ‘The people we love don’t leave us, Izzy. They’re part of us, and we keep them alive. It’s like Amy. She is here with us, right now. I see her in the kids, in you. In Rachel, too. There’s no big answer, no eternal truth beyond that.’ She sighed. ‘Of course, by the time I’d realised this, I had pushed you girls away. You were so angry with me.’

  Mum shuddered at the memory and I winced.

  ‘I know all the spirituality stuff irritates you, because it reminds you of why I left. But it’s also why I was able to finally come home. It became part of my life, and I need it today as much as I did then – as much as you need to drink water.’

  Perhaps I could be better at allowing Mum her hippy indulgencies. It certainly did seem to improve her state of mind.

  ‘So if Amy’s here, what would she say to us?’ I asked.

  Mum stroked my hair. ‘I think she’d tell us we’re doing well,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘She would tell us we’re doing a good job with the kids, I’m sure.’ Mum looked up at the ceiling. ‘And she would tell us that she’s with Dad now. She…’

  I waited for her to continue, but she had stopped short. Like there was something had been going to say, but thought better of. Her gaze stayed on the ceiling, fixed to some spot only she could see.

  ‘What else would Amy say, Mum?’ I sat up and looked at her. Her lip was trembling.

  ‘I don’t know… I don’t understand…’ She mumbled.

  ‘What is it, Mum?’ I tried to hide the urgency in my voice. ‘What do you know? What aren’t you telling me?’

  ‘I just feel like…’

  A pause. She turned to me.

  ‘I feel like Amy has been trying to tell me something. These past few days.’

  My heart started to hammer at the mention of Amy’s name, and when I spoke again, my voice was thin. ‘What has she been trying to tell you?’

  Mum shook her head. Her eyes were wide and her lips pressed together in a tight line. ‘She says we’re wrong, Izzy. We got it wrong.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  I couldn’t stop turning Mum’s words over in my mind. Had she really connected with Amy, or had she finally lost it? I had no doubt that she believed what she’d told me. The question was how much consideration I or any other sane person should give to what she had said. Maybe it was time to confront the very real concerns I had about my mother’s mental health. Still, I couldn’t shake my unease. I sent Amy a text.

  Did we get it wrong? Did we make a mistake?

  The phone rang in my hand, making me jump. I’d been on edge since last night when the police deadline for charging Phil came and went. It was Jake.

  ‘It’s complicated, but they’re keeping him in for questioning for another twenty-four hours. This does happen sometimes with serious offences. It means they believe they have their man, but maybe don’t have enough evidence to get it over the finishing line.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. I was so weary. ‘Keep me posted.’

  I couldn’t see what further evidence they could they possibly need, beyond the proof of the affair and the fact that Phil had tinkered with her car.

  Mum’s words were playing on repeat in my mind. What could we have got wrong? I needed to keep myself busy and distracted for another twenty-four hours.

  Thankfully, my shipment was arriving from Hong Kong. It had been so long since I’d seen my possessions and I was eager to be reunited with my collection of shoes and bags. Thierry and Mathilde had coordinated the packing under Adam’s direction after I’d decided I’d be staying for a few months, and I was curious to see what they considered as essential personal items. Now that I knew I’d be staying here indefinitely, I’d have to organize for the rest to be sent.

  I had enlisted Rachel’s help, figuring she could also benefit from the distraction, and Auntie Sue and Mum had promised to come along later to pitch in.

  ‘You’re going to need a bigger wardrobe,’ Rachel said, pointing to the pile of clothes on the bed. The small closet was already jammed full.

  Mathilde had also packed my jade Qing dynasty jewellery box and my prized pair of antique foo dogs – god knows what they had added to the air freight costs. I held one of the foo dogs, stroking the smooth edges of the ancient stone. It was a small piece of home, and I was beginning to imagine how Puffin Cottage might look with my personal touch.

  We carried on unpacking, and each box revealed some new treasure. I squealed with delight as I came across my favourite Saint Laurent cowboy boots and a limited-edition silver Balenciaga cross-body bag.

  Rachel unwrapped a vintage Louis Vuitton pochette. ‘Is this real?’ she raised an eyebrow at me.

  I gulped. There were handbags in there that cost more than Rachel must earn in a month. More than her car was worth, most likely. Suddenly they seemed very out of place here, and not at all well-suited to my Seahouses lifestyle.

  Auntie Sue arrived just before lunch, bringing sandwiches and scotch pies which she arranged on the kitchen table. Mum followed her in.

  ‘These are beautiful,’ Mum said, picking up one of the foo dogs from the windowsill. ‘They’re Buddhist guard-lions – they offer protection. But they don’t belong here…’

  She looked around the room carefully, considering several spots before placing the dogs on the floor either side of the living room door.

  ‘There,’ she said, looking pleased with herself. ‘They’re looking outward – it’s excellent feng shui. The male goes on the right, and the female goes on the left. Can you feel that?’

  The three of us exchanged puzzled glances.

  ‘The energy!’ Mum said, excitedly, ‘the energy in the room just changed!’ She looked expectantly for a response from us, and when she got nothing, shook her head disappointedly. ‘Maybe it’s just me…’

  ‘No,’ said Rachel, after a beat. ‘I feel it too. The energy. It feels better now.’

  ‘Me too,’ I said. I said it because I didn’t want Mum to feel bad, but something really had shifted in my mood – I suddenly felt lighter.

  He
r face lit up. ‘Actually,’ she said, with a new sparkle in her eyes, ‘we can make it even better.’

  Twenty minutes later, the four of us looked breathlessly around the room, admiring our work. Mum had convinced me to flip the layout around, repositioning the furniture and moving a mirror from the landing to the wall opposite the fireplace. The living room now looked bigger, and although I wasn’t convinced by her insistence that the feng shui would balance the energy in my life and bring me good fortune, I had to admit that the space felt better somehow.

  We moved upstairs and did some more rearranging in the bedroom and bathroom, with Mum giving me advice on colours and fabrics that would enhance and bring harmony to the rooms. I was visualising where I was going to position my Chinese antiques when they eventually arrived, and I could already imagine how the cottage interior would look with a new colour scheme. On a whim, I swapped the heavy green velvet curtains from the bedroom with the grey linen drapes that had been hanging in the living room, which reflected the tones of my sea view and made the window look instantly bigger. We repositioned the bed to face it, so that the sea would be the first thing I would see in the morning. I couldn’t wait to wake up in it the next day.

  ‘You’ve got a flair for this, you know,’ Mum said with a smile. ‘And the energy is spot-on.’

  But as great as the feng shui was, I had another important opinion to canvass.

  Diana Wheeler was punctual, giving me just enough time to arrange the cake I’d bought from Clarke’s onto a blue glass cake stand. Her eyes were wide as she surveyed the room.

  ‘Do you like it?’ I crossed my fingers behind my back, praying for her approval.

  ‘My dear,’ she said, looping her hand onto my arm. ‘It’s utterly charming, and I insist on the full tour.’ She glanced at the teapot. ‘But take that tea out of there, for heaven’s sake – it’ll be stewed.’