The Drowning

by Valerie Mendes

  “I feel it’s the least I can do. My dad did the same. He gave his life to save somebody else.”

  Jenna gave a little gasp. “When?”

  “Nine years ago. I was only twelve years old. Some fishermen came to St Ives, people nobody had seen before. I remember Dad saying they were using what he called ‘a dog of a boat’, he didn’t like the look of it at all. While it was in the harbour he went to check on it. He warned them it needed a lot of repairs, but they didn’t take any notice.”

  Meryn gave a bitter smile.

  “This doesn’t get any easier to talk about either . . . The fishermen were out in it one December afternoon. Glorious weather: clear skies, the sea flat as a sheet of glass. The fishermen had a huge catch. They pulled the nets on board and the whole boat went over. A ship spotted them and rang Lifeboat House. Dad was called out immediately. The fishermen were rescued – but Dad drowned.”

  “I’m so sorry—”

  “Mum had three of us to look after: me and my two little sisters. They never found Dad’s body, which made everything worse. Although we knew he’d never be coming back, we couldn’t say goodbye to him properly. For months we went on hoping.” Meryn’s mouth puckered. “Every time I’m called out, I think of him.”

  “But you’re putting your own life in danger. What if your mother loses you as well?”

  “She won’t.”

  Meryn gestured to the waitress for the bill.

  “Enough of all this morbid talk. I want to hear about that career you say you’ve abandoned . . . And I’ve got something to show you.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’ve just moved into an old cottage, right on the harbour, near Lifeboat House. Dewy, one of my best friends, he’s getting married next month. His future father-in-law’s buying him and Wenna a house in Carbis Bay, so he’ll be moving out – and I’m taking over his cottage.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  “It does. It is.” Meryn left money for their meal. Then he stood up and held out his hand for her. “Come and see it for yourself.”

  “I don’t know about that,”Jenna said shyly. “Maybe next time.”

  “Come on, Jenna Pascoe. Take one step outside that box you’re in.”

  “OK.” She smiled. “You’ve talked me out of it.”

  “Will You Dance For Me?”

  They reached the bottom of St Andrews Street.

  Meryn pushed at the front door.

  “Come in. Dewy’s off somewhere with Wenna, as usual, organising their wedding.”

  He took her jacket. A thrill of excitement,mingled with anticipation, surged through her at their first moment alone together.

  “This place is old as the hills. Nobody’s sure when it was built, it’s just always been here. Our landlord made a fortune wheeling and dealing on the Internet. That’s when he bought this, before all the dotcom companies went bust. Now he lives in California and leaves the running of the cottage to us – to people he can trust.”

  Jenna said teasingly, “I’m sure you make ideal tenants.”

  The cottage smelt strongly of mice, with the hint of sandalwood above it, maybe from scented candles.

  “There’s a bedroom and a bathroom on the first floor. The kitchen’s down there, in the basement.”

  He led her through an untidy dining area and up a shallow flight of stairs. He turned on the lamps.

  “There! Isn’t it great?”

  An enormous room spread before her, its ceiling arched with old oak beams. In one corner slouched a comfortable-looking bed, covered in a striped woollen throw; in another, armchairs slumped low and inviting. A huge fireplace held sweet-smelling logs. An old sofa sat facing a wide window which looked on to the harbour.

  Jenna moved towards it and peered out. She could just make out the lights of a boat dipping far away at sea, a cloudless sky scattered with handfuls of stars; heard the soft grumbling waters of the ocean as they slapped against the wharf.

  Meryn touched her shoulder. She wanted to lean back into him, feel his arms around her.

  “It’s too dark for you to see much now, but in the daytime you can sit here and see for miles. Sea, sky, sun, clouds, boats in the harbour, an ever-changing landscape, sunsets to die for. Beats a boring TV programme any day.”

  Jenna murmured, “It’s a fantastic room. It’s almost like being on a boat.”

  “It is, exactly . . . Sit over there . . . I’ll make us some coffee. And then I want to hear the story of your life.”

  Jenna drank the coffee. She told Meryn about her childhood in St Ives; how hard she had worked; how everything had gone according to plan until the day of Benjie’s death; how, since then, her life seemed to have collapsed like a fragile house of cards.

  I don’t want him to think I’m a whinger. People who constantly complain are so boring. But the most exciting part of me has gone and I’m not sure I’m left with very much.

  “You can’t possibly give it all up.” Meryn sat on the floor, leaning against one of the old armchairs. He drained his coffee cup. “All those years of gruelling work. They’re irreplaceable.”

  “Could you leave your father if he was in the same position as mine?”

  “I know exactly what you’re saying, and the answer has to be yes.” Meryn pursed his lips. “When my dad died, I thought I’d have to stay at home for ever to look after my little sisters and my mum. I’d have to become the only man of the house.”

  “And what happened?”

  “For a time I suppose I was. Or tried to be. I was only twelve, for God’s sake, but I did my best to be as manly and supportive as I could. Then one Sunday, Mum and I went for a walk together. She told me she didn’t want Dad’s death to make any difference to my ambitions.”

  Jenna shook her head. “You weren’t responsible for your father’s death. I fell asleep on the beach. I let Benjie wander off. It was all my fault. I’ve got to pay for it the only way I can.”

  Meryn said slowly,“Benjie wasn’t a baby,Jenna. He was eleven years old. Nobody dragged him away from his crossword puzzles. He could easily have stayed where he was. He joined his friends because he wanted to – and then things went terribly wrong. Why do you have to pay for that with your entire career?”

  “I just do.” Jenna looked across at him, at his long legs stretched out along the floor, his bronzed face, his lean fingers as they held his cup. “I’ve made my decision and I’ve got to stick to it. There’s nothing more to say.”

  “That’s all very black and white, Jenna. The world is full of greys.”

  “What d’you mean?”

  “There’s never one answer to anything. Things change. You can’t set your future in stone because your brother is dead.”

  “You think that’s what I’m doing?”

  “Yes.” Meryn put down his cup and scrambled to his feet. “Come on. It’s getting late. I’ll walk you home.”

  Jenna linked hands with him. “Thank you.”

  He drew her close, smoothed her fringe over her forehead. “On one condition.”

  Again, she wanted to dissolve into his arms, to be held and kissed and comforted.

  “Which is?”

  “That you come here to lunch on Sunday . . . You’ll be able to see how wonderful this room looks in daylight.”

  “I’d love to.”

  “And you know what we’ll do?”

  “What?”

  “We’ll push back the furniture and you can dance for me. Anything, any of your routines – or maybe something new. That’s it: I’ll buy a new CD specially for you and you can improvise.”

  Jenna froze. “I can’t!”

  “I really want you to.”

  She shook her head. “Impossible. I haven’t danced since Benjie . . . since July.”

  Meryn said firmly, “Exactly. So Sunday will change all that!”

  “No,” Jenna said. “Nothing will change all that.” She pulled away from Meryn, putting a safe distance between them, forcing herself to stick
to her guns. “My dancing days are over. If you don’t understand that, you haven’t understood anything I’ve said to you all evening.”

  “I see. ”Meryn looked crestfallen. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to . . . you know, put my foot in it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Do you still want me to walk you home?”

  “No, thanks,” Jenna said. “I think I know the way.”

  She turned to leave.

  “What about Sunday?” Meryn called bleakly after her.

  Jenna swallowed. “I’ll be too busy,” she said.

  Jenna got home at midnight.

  She tiptoed past Dad’s room, then realised it was still empty. She hurtled her way upstairs.

  In her bedroom she threw off her new jacket and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was flushed, her hair a thick tumble to her shoulders, her eyes wide and angry. Her head raced with the speed of her thoughts.

  I said no and I meant no!

  Who does Meryn think he is?

  Comes breezing into my life, gives me supper, thinks he can wave a magic wand and make everything smell of roses.

  Well, it doesn’t. It stinks.

  She sank on to her bed.

  How can I possibly see him again?

  I’ve blown everything before I’ve even given it a chance.

  Dad and Jenna looked at each other across the kitchen table at breakfast.

  Jenna said, “I didn’t hear you come in last night. You were late.”

  Dad blushed. “Sorry. The time flew by.”

  “As long as you enjoyed yourself.”

  “Oh, I did.” He stared at his plate. “I’ll be out again on Sunday if that’s OK.”

  “Sure,” Jenna said, kicking herself for wanting to say the same.

  Dad said, “So who’s your secret admirer?”

  Jenna blushed. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Well, the new hairdo, the outfits, they weren’t for me, now, were they? Not for your plumpish, frumpish old dad who never sings in tune!”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Why are you being so mysterious? What have you got to hide?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that if I tell you, I don’t want it to bring back all the memories.”

  “Memories?”Dad’s face lost its happiness. “You mean of my Benjamin? How could it do that?”

  Jenna took a deep breath. “I had supper with Meryn Carlyon . . . He was one of the lifeguards who helped us . . . who tried to find—” She looked into Dad’s eyes.

  He gave her the bravest smile. “I see . . . And I’m sure he did his best.” He squeezed her hand. “Those lifeguards are the salt of the earth, Jenn.”

  “Meryn’s dad drowned trying to rescue fishermen in distress. So he knows what it’s like to lose someone you love.” Jenna swallowed. “How’s Hester?”

  Dad stood up. “You know,” he said to the teapot, as if it were an old friend,“after all these years,I reckon she’s not changed one single jot.”

  The phone rang at midday.

  Dad stopped singing. “Could you get that for me, Jenn? I’m making toasted ham and cheese for table four.”

  Jenna dashed to pick up the phone.

  “Cockleshell Tea Room. May I help you?”

  “Jenna? This is Mum.”

  Jenna’s mouth seemed to be full of dust. “Hello, Mum. How are you?”

  “Where were you last night? I rang several times to speak to Dad, but there was no reply.”

  “We were out.”

  “I see . . . There’s a surprise . . . Where did he take you? Anywhere nice?”

  Assume we were together,why don’t you? That neither of us has friends who might just ask us out!

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Good. And how are you keeping?”

  Well, I suppose it’s nice of her to ask!

  “Fine, thanks.”

  “Right . . . Good . . . So, is Dad there?”

  No,he’s sleeping on the moon and I’m running the Cockleshell single-handed!

  “Of course he’s here . . . Up to his eyes as usual. We both are.”

  “Could you put him on? I only want a quick—”

  “No, I couldn’t.” Jenna’s voice shook with anger. “He’s busy keeping your one and only business afloat. He’ll ring you back, if he can find the time.”

  She slammed down the phone.

  I thought maybe she wanted to talk to me! Checking up on Dad! That’s all she’s doing . . . He’s out for the first time in months and she’s down on him like a ton of bricks.

  “Who was it, Jenn?” Dad called.

  Jenna said, “Only your precious Lydia.”

  “I’ll ring her back.”

  “It’s OK. I said you were busy.” Jenna put her head round the kitchen door. “And by the way . . . Last night. Mum thinks we were out together. She kind of assumed . . . If she asks, you could tell her we had supper together at the Café Pasta.”

  Dad stopped buttering some toast. He blushed. “I could, couldn’t I?” he said.

  The week dragged by.

  On Sunday Dad disappeared to Hester’s, looking excited at the prospect. Jenna mooned fretfully around the house, unable to settle to anything, trying not to imagine herself back at Meryn’s cottage, sunlight streaming in the harbour window, ballet music playing, Meryn watching her dance. As the afternoon wore on, she went for a walk along the cliff path towards Zennor, refusing to look down at Porthmeor Beach, refusing to remember . . .

  I’m being stubborn as a mule . . . Well and truly back in that box of mine . . . Shut the lid and hope to suffocate.

  But on Monday morning at eleven she walked like a robot into the tea room from the kitchen and was startled to find Meryn sitting at a table by the window. He grinned up at her.

  “Hi . . . I’ve come for that coffee on the house you promised me.”

  Jenna blushed, overwhelmed with delight at seeing him again. “Of course.”

  “I missed you yesterday.” Meryn gazed fixedly at the menu. “Half hoped you’d change your mind . . . Me and my stupid big mouth. Can’t tell you how sorry—”

  “It’s not you,”Jenna blurted out,surprising herself. “It’s me. It’s my fault. You were only trying to help.”

  Meryn grabbed at her hand. “Then come this Sunday. You don’t have to dance . . . Forget I even suggested it . . . We can pretend I never—”

  Jenna’s eyes stung with tears. “But I want to . . . I’m longing to dance again.” She clung to his hand. “It’s just I’m terrified. I don’t know if I can. I feel so stiff and heavy and scared . . . Terrified of dredging up all the memories, of pretending nothing happened to change my life.”

  Meryn stood up and took her in his arms. “I’ll be there for you,” he said. “Nobody else will see. No one else need ever know.”

  At closing time, Jenna carried a long-handled broom, a pile of dusters and a can of lavender spray polish up to her studio.

  She unlocked the door and switched on the light. The room looked dusty and pathetically neglected. Guilt clutched at her heart.

  The last time I practised here was the morning of my Advanced One exam.

  It was only July, but it feels like a lifetime ago.

  I shut myself in here that night to wait for Dad.

  I remember now . . . When he got back, we sat together on the floor for hours, not talking, just holding each other and thinking about Benjie.

  Then he started to tell me what had happened at the hospital . . .

  And then he burst into tears . . . He cried as if his heart was going to flood out of him . . .

  I’d never seen him cry before,never felt the way the sobs racked his whole body.

  All I could do was sit and hold him in my arms,tell him everything was going to be all right because he still had me and Mum.

  Jenna wiped at her face with a duster.

  Somehow or other I’ve got to summon the will, the determination to dance over that memory . . .

  To heal its
pain.

  When the studio shone again, Jenna pulled her case out of the corner, opened it and chucked its entire contents on to the floor.

  She threw off her working clothes, pulled on an old pair of tights and a black leotard. On went the ballet shoes. She checked her reflection in the wall of mirrors, feeling almost as if she were looking at a stranger. She raised her chin, corrected the line of her back and shoulders, tied her hair in a ponytail, leaving her new fringe in dark strands on her forehead.

  She put on a CD and pattered towards the barre.

  Gently now . . . very gently . . . half an hour only will be quite enough tonight . . .

  I’ll give myself a full hour’s practice session tomorrow.

  As she finished the last exercise, she realised that Dad was standing in the doorway.

  “Jenna Pascoe! I turned off the TV and heard music coming from the studio . . . Then I thought it’s been so long, I must be dreaming – maybe it’s a ghost!”

  Panting to regain her breath, Jenna gave Dad a deep curtsy. “Lots of very real flesh pounding around,struggling to get back into shape!”

  Dad’s face gleamed with surprise and delight. “My Jenna dancing again. There’s a sight for sore eyes.” He took off his glasses, polished them on his sleeve. “Why now?”

  Jenna grinned at him across the room. “Because Meryn asked me to dance for him. I said I would. But it’s going to take a week’s practice before I’m anywhere near ready.”

  She skipped towards Dad and took his arm.

  “Sit over there, in the corner, on that stool. I’ll dance my exam routine for you – my ballet variations. Just to prove to both of us I can still get it right.”

  Dad’s face lit up with his smile. “The perfect end to my day.”

  Sunday dawned grey and cloudy. Surfers raced down to Porthmeor Beach to tackle the heaving waves. Church bells clanged sporadically through the showers of rain. Jenna stood in the studio, practising at the barre, urging her stiff muscles to obey her meticulous instructions.