Mermaid Hair and I Don’t Care: A romantic comedy about shoes, surf and second chances

by CJ Morrow

  They reached the drop zone and cameraman Steve took his position by the door so that he could capture the look of terror on the skydivers’ faces; but most of the faces showed excitement, except for Lily’s. And Lee’s.

  The first tandem pair shuffled forwards and rested on the ledge. Then they were gone, launched into the unknown, falling through the sky. The next couple shuffled forward, then the next. They were sending them out really fast; surely they would bump into each other in the sky. Surely not; Lily reminded herself that health and safety was a priority. She calculated that she would be going about half way through the group and that she wouldn’t have long to change her mind, to say no, to chicken out.

  More pairs shuffled off the plane; then it was Big Lee’s turn. He allowed his instructor to push him forward, no mean feat given how large Lee was. But there was no mistaking his reluctance or the look of abject horror on his face. Lily recognised it as a reflection of her own fear.

  Big Lee sat in the doorway, his instructor put his thumbs up, but Lee put his thumbs down then gripped onto the handles either side of the door. He wasn’t going out. After some urging and pushing – oh my God, would Jackson do that to her – Big Lee and his instructor agreed to abandon the jump and scuttled like a giant awkward crab back into the plane. Lily cast a furtive look in Big Lee’s direction; he studiously avoided her glance. She wanted to offer sympathy, but he obviously didn’t want it.

  He’d chickened out. Never mind, Lily wanted to say to him, I’ll soon be joining you.

  The next couple went, then the next couple and now it was Lily’s turn. She hesitated as they were beckoned over. Jackson leaned in spoke softly in her ear.

  ‘Come on, Lily. I’ll look after you. Trust me.’

  Oh. My. God. Had he recognised her? Trust him? Trust him? Who the hell was she trusting? Jackson or Cyril? Single or married? Surfer or job stealer?

  She found herself gliding smoothly towards the door, the rush of the wind increased as they got closer – it was taking her breath away. Jackson put his arms out in front of her and gave her a thumbs up sign. He didn’t wait for her to do the same.

  They continued to move forward like a two-headed spider until Lily’s legs were dangling out of the plane. Jackson did the thumbs up thing in front of her again and, stupidly, involuntarily, she reciprocated.

  Cameraman Steve called her name before thrusting the camera up too close and too personal. She knew that shot would be an unattractive grimacing one with the inside of her nostrils taking centre frame.

  Then they were out.

  Two and half miles up in the sky and falling, falling, falling. The ground was getting closer, her mouth was forced open and her lips were flapping like a camel’s, her mouth filling up with too much air. She tried to put her hand over her mouth but could not defy the falling effect of gravity and gave up, gulping too much air and feeling unable to get it out.

  She looked down to see little legs flailing around hopelessly. Were they her legs? Yes, banana-yellow rolled up trousers – of course they were her legs. Close behind her own legs hung Jackson’s, managing to convey an air of confidence and safety.

  She looked up; sky filled her view. Where was the plane? She could hear its screaming engines but couldn’t see it.

  They were falling so fast now that she was starting to panic. How much longer before the shoot deployed? Was she supposed to do that? If only she could remember those damn health and safety instructions. What was she supposed to do? Jackson’s arms were out in front of her, he made another signal, but she didn’t know what it meant.

  Then she did. He was pushing the chute pull into her hands, giving her the thumbs up again. She pulled on it hard.

  The parachute deployed, yanking them up and slowing their descent. Lily’s head was yanked back and she felt the harness chafing her groin and cutting across her chest so tightly that she could hardly breathe.

  Then it was bliss. They were gliding. Below them a patchwork of green fields spreading for miles and miles. Jackson was tugging on chords and steering them towards the landing area, in the process giving Lily a panoramic view of the world. It was heavenly.

  But she could still hear those screaming plane engines.

  The float down to the ground seemed to go on and on. How long? Five minutes? More? Lily felt weightless, featherlike, peaceful and calm, and finally the engine noise stopped. She felt serene, gliding through the air, all cares temporarily abandoned. Everything would be just fine; the world was a better place when you were floating in the sky.

  Jackson was pointing out landmarks with one hand and filming her reaction with the other. Yuk. She’d forgotten about the camera on his wrist – and the one on her helmet. She’d make sure she had veto power when she got down, she didn’t want any horror shots being posted online – not even for charity.

  Jackson began pointing down; they were closing in on the big white cross that denoted the landing area.

  ‘Take it easy, Lily,’ he said. ‘We’ll be just fine.’

  Lily looked down and saw the ground approaching. She felt sad; she was enjoying it, she felt at peace with the world and yet also exhilarated.

  Jackson was saying something about running, but she was too distracted by the approaching ground, the prospect of hitting it hard, landing on her backside, being so close to him, to fully absorb what he said.

  They hit the ground with a thud. Lily’s little legs pumped away, running as fast as she could.

  Jackson began shouting. ‘Up, up.’

  How the hell could they go back up? Had he gone mad?

  ‘Stop running, stop running and pull your legs up,’ he shouted again.

  Lily wished he’d make his mind up, he’d told her to run. Hadn’t he? She pulled her knees up into her stomach and wrapped her arms around them. Jackson’s legs continued to run.

  Was she doing the right thing now? He wasn’t shouting anymore, so presumably she was.

  Then they stopped moving forward. Lily felt herself being yanked back hard and her head cracked backwards.

  They were in a heap on the floor, legs and arms entangled.

  They flailed around together trying to detangle their bodies.

  ‘I said don’t run,’ Jackson said. ‘You should have pulled your feet out of the way.’

  ‘Sorry. I thought you said run.’

  ‘Never mind.’ He unclipped them and finally they were separate. Lily exhaled a long sigh of relief.

  ‘Lily, Lily, that was hilarious.’ Damon trotted across the landing area. ‘Your arms and legs were flapping about all over the place. And was that you screaming all the way down? I got some good pics.’ He paused to snigger. ‘And what were you doing when you landed? First your little legs were going like the clappers then you turned into a human cannon ball. So funny.’

  Lily scowled. She would deal with Damon later.

  ‘Oh, hello Cyril, Mr Montgomery-Jones, sir. What are you doing here?’ Damon’s mouth dropped in surprise. Then he thrust out his hand to shake Cyril’s. ‘Well done,’ he said as his hand flapped mid-air because Jackson, or Cyril or whoever he was today, was too busy taking his helmet off to shake hands. ‘Oh my, how did that happen?’ Damon couldn’t prevent a little snort escaping as he put his hand over his mouth.

  Lily, still in helmet and goggles turned to look at Jackson. ‘Oh,’ she said.

  Jackson’s eye was already closing, even without the inevitable bruising that would follow the swelling was developing with speed.

  ‘You need to get some ice on that.’ Damon looked around. ‘First aid required over here,’ he called to no one in particular.

  ‘Did I do that?’ Lily’s voice was tinged with horror and concern.

  ‘It happens,’ Jackson said, shrugging, bending down to scoop up the parachute, gathering it in his arms and striding off towards the aircraft hangar with Damon fast on his heels like a little dog yapping nonsense all the way to the doorway.

  Lily followed sedately behind them.

>   At least she’d raised four thousand pounds for charity.

  ‘Smile,’ a voice which she immediately recognised yelled as Lily stepped inside the hangar.

  ‘Gemma?’ Gemma? Could the day get any worse? ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m doing the PR for the charity – my new job.’ She grinned. ‘We’re just doing a few post-jump snaps for the website. Come on, say cheese, Lily. Where’s your instructor? We need him for this.’

  ‘No. Please. Don’t.’ Lily turned away but not before Jackson appeared at her side, his right eye now just a slit.

  ‘Jackson?’ Gemma frowned. ‘Is that you beneath the injury?’

  ‘Hello, Gemma.’

  ‘Who’s Jackson?’ Damon asked, almost stroking Jackson’s arm.

  ‘Don’t tell me Lily did that to you?’ Gemma shook her head. ‘Tut, tut.’

  ‘Who’s Jackson?’ Damon asked again.

  ‘Oh shut up all of you.’ Lily stumbled away from them, tears in her eyes as she started to yank at the harness, unzip the vile, yellow jumpsuit. So now it was finally, ultimately confirmed. Jackson and Cyril were the same person. Just as she’d always known. Tess had been wrong; Lily hadn’t fantasized or projected or whatever it was Tess had suggested she was doing. Jackson and Cyril were Jackson. Or Cyril.

  ‘Probably best not to put you two on the website anyway. It would give the wrong impression; put others off for future charity jumps.’ Gemma’s loud voice carried across the hangar.

  Lily stepped out of the jumpsuit, draped it over a chair, retrieved her bag and ran for her car.

  It was only when she drove out through the airfield entrance that she remembered Damon.

  ‘Oh shit!’ she called out as she pulled over and let her head slump against the steering wheel.

  In her bag her phone was dinging away with incoming messages.

  Gemma: What’s Jackson doing here?

  Damon: Don’t come back for me. Going to drive Cyril’s car back for him. He can’t drive it himself. Lol

  Will: How did it go, babe? Did you survive?

  Damon: Why were you calling Cyril, Jackson? What’s that about? xx

  She switched her phone to silent, threw it back in her bag, turned the radio up too loud and drove home.

  Twenty

  Will: You okay, babe? Saw your pics on the website. Grim. xx

  Lily read the message and seethed. Grim? Grim. How dare he?

  Will: Rung you twice, you’re not picking up. x

  Will: Know you’re reading these messages. Ring me.

  So he was spying on her the way she had spied on him when he was in America. Now he knew how it felt – to be ignored.

  She might ring him when she calmed down; she just didn’t know when that might be. For the time being she was slouched on her sofa and licking her wounds.

  On her tablet she flicked onto the charity website but couldn’t see any reference to the event. So where had Will seen those photos? She tried the skydiving company website and there they were.

  Grim.

  It was all Will’s fault.

  Another message came from Will: Hey babe, answer me. I see Big Lee chickened out. Ha ha. x

  Lily flicked around the website until she found what she was dreading. Video footage. Oh no. How the hell did they get that up so quickly? A panning shot showed everyone sitting in the plane as they approached the drop zone. Big Lee’s horror was already evident on his face; it matched Lily’s, though as it had turned out, his fear had surpassed hers.

  There were still shots of everyone as they clung on for dear life at the doorway. Big Lee was shown scuttling back inside the plane; that was just plain cruel – they could have omitted that. Will was right; grim didn’t even begin to describe Lily’s face, ashen with her mouth pulled back into a rigid grimace. Behind her Jackson’s stunning blue eyes stared into the camera. One of them wasn’t quite so lovely now though, thought Lily, with spite and a little sorrow. She hoped he’d recover quickly, she hoped he wasn’t in too much pain.

  There were shots of retreating backsides as they launched out of the plane. Lily recognised her own thunder thighs wriggling around.

  Then came the proper footage. She saw her mouth flapping about; it looked worse than it had felt, her teeth were bared and so were her gums and she was sure her nose hair needed plucking. This was obviously footage from Jackson’s wrist-cam. Next came a shot of the ground and her little legs dangly limply – footage from her helmet-cam.

  The wind could be heard battering them and there was the overriding scream of the plane engines. Lily winced at the memory. Then winced again. She rewound the movie and watched her own face, the screaming was coming from her mouth, it wasn’t the plane at all. So that’s what Damon meant. How generous of them to leave it on the soundtrack.

  Why did they have to post it? And so quickly too.

  At the thought of Damon she immediately flicked onto Facebook. There it was, a hideous picture of her immediately after landing staring frog-eyed in her goggles into the camera. Behind her a one-eyed Jackson. Damon had entitled the picture ‘Lily does it’.

  She messaged Damon immediately to take the picture down.

  His reply was swift: Already done, hun. By orders of The Man xx

  She checked Facebook again – it was already gone.

  The message she sent to Gemma was more conciliatory, and definitely pleading. She begged Gemma not to publish any pictures of her, or Jackson, and especially not together.

  Gemma was another rapid responder: Have nothing decent of you so not planning anything. Black eyes aren’t good for charity fundraising.

  Then in response to Lily’s quick thanks Gemma wrote: So what’s with surfer-boy? I thought that was just a holiday romance???

  What could Lily say? She was too confused herself as to what was going on in her life. How could she tell Gemma that he was not only her holiday lover but her boss? In the end she didn’t reply.

  Next on the list was to tackle the awful video.

  The email response from the skydiving company took longer – to be fair she hadn’t expected a response until the next day, so at least a two-hour wait was a good sign – but it was short and sharp. They would not be removing the video because Lily had ‘been fully advised as to what the footage would be used for’ and had had ‘ample opportunity to refuse to be included,’ and had ‘given her consent by signing the form.’ They suggested that she take it up with their legal advisors should she still wish to pursue her demand; then they reminded her that the jump had been for charity.

  Lily slumped back on her sofa. Why was life so complicated? She had no idea what was going on with Jackson-slash-Cyril and his double identity. She was worried about her job, whether she’d still have one soon, whether her colleagues would too. What if the rumours were true? What if Bensons really was going under? Then there was her ability? How had she not noticed these financial irregularities? Was she really so naïve?

  And Will. What about Will? Were they together? Properly together? With a future? Or just bumbling along the way they had for the past ten years, or two years, according to Will and Tess? Tess’s words rung in her ears, ‘It’s not as if you’ve actually been together all that time, is it?’ Or was Lily just Will’s nurse and domestic servant? For now.

  Why was life so complicated?

  Why were people so complicated?

  She messaged Will to say she was fine but had a headache so wouldn’t be over.

  Will: OK.

  Was that the best he could do? OK?

  ‘You look like shit sweetie,’ Damon whispered as Lily sidled past him on her way to her desk the next morning. She was late. Typically sleep had evaded her until five am, when it had taken her into the dark recesses of a slumber-coma.

  ‘And you are one,’ she spat in response.

  A smirking Damon followed her and took up his customary perch on her desk. ‘Though you don’t look as bad as our man did when I left him last night.’

 
Lily switched her computer on without looking at Damon.

  ‘His eye was colouring up a treat. He’ll be black and blue by now.’

  Lily felt her throat catch. Poor Jackson. Poor Cyril. Poor whoever he was today. ‘I didn’t do it on purpose. It was an accident.’

  ‘That’s what he said. You’ll be glad to know he doesn’t hold it against you.’

  ‘Did he say that?’

  ‘Not in so many words, but…’ Damon stood up. ‘Anyway, you’ll be relieved to know he’s not in today.’

  ‘Damon,’ Lily called after him. ‘How’s your report going, you know, for him?’

  Damon came back, smiling. ‘It’s finished. I’m just about to email it to our man. I wouldn’t mind if you cast your eye over it first, you know, check for typos.’

  ‘That would be great. Thanks.’

  ‘No probs. Um, just one thing you can do for me in return…’ He let the words hang in the air.

  Lily waited.

  ‘What’s all this Jackson thing? Why were you calling Cyril, Jackson?’

  Had she really thought she was going to get away with it?

  ‘Shall we go to the kitchen?’ she said, sighing.

  In the office kitchen with the door shut she told him everything. Recounting it in chronological order helped to get it straight in her own mind, but it didn’t help her make sense of it. She’d sworn Damon to secrecy; he’d even gone through the theatrical farce of putting his hand on his heart and promising not to repeat anything. She knew Damon was a gossip, everyone knew that, but he was also a good mate who wouldn’t divulge her secrets, her mess.

  She felt a sense of relief once all the words were out. Damon would be more than happy to chew it over with her, to analyse motives and actions. Tess, her best friend and confidante had better things on her mind – and rightly too.

  ‘Gobsmacked,’ Damon said when she’d finally recounted everything.

  ‘Yeah. Tell me about it.’

  ‘I can’t decide if he’s a total shit or a psycho.’

  Lily laughed. ‘When you put it like that...’

  ‘So he has a double identity, a double life. Why? Are you absolutely sure he is one and the same person?’