“You should wake her soon,” said Mrs Armitage. “She likes to be home by three o’clock for when your mother wakes. Don’t be jealous,” she added, as if she could see straight through his t-shirt and into his heart, “she loves you best. But you’re not always there, and she’s only young.”
He tried to find some suitable words in response, or perhaps even some unsuitable ones, but his mouth was empty.
“Goodbye,” Mrs Armitage added, and got to her feet.
He watched her all the way back to the water, saw her re-fit her flippers to her feet and surge through the waves. She looked much more at home in the water than she did on the land. Within minutes she was once more an ambiguous dot, making steady progress around the headland. He waited until she was out of sight before waking Ella.
She awoke instantly and completely, smiling into his face as she stretched and sat up. They took turns peeing behind a clump of grass, then Jacob threaded his rucksack onto his shoulders.
“It’s time to go,” he said, regretful.
He was prepared for protests and sadness, but Ella followed him up the path without complaint. At the top of the dunes, she looked back.
“It’s a secret place,” she said. “You can only find it if you’re on a quest.”
“We can come here again one day, if you like.”
“By our own, though. Not with Mummy and Daddy.”
“On our own,” he corrected her gently.
“I like my way better,” she said, not arguing with him, just setting the facts in order, and slid her hand into his.
Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I see a woman who isn’t quite me. She has my face, more or less, but she looks older and colder, and she comes from an older, colder world. The world we all came from in the beginning, when our blood was cold and we all swam through salt water. At first she was a long way away and I only glimpsed her occasionally, but now she is with me all the time. Soon she will come out of the mirror entirely and climb into my skin and then we will both be cold enough to do what needs to be done, and then we can both go home and no one will ever bother us any more.
I wish I could make her come to me quicker so all of this could be over. Sometimes when I look at the sea I think about letting all the blood out of my body and filling up my veins with sea-water instead. Perhaps that’s how the woman in the mirror came to be so old and so cold.
The first time I saw her was at night, when I was the only one awake in the house and everyone else in the world might have been dead, dead in their beds, with all the red spilled out of them and the sea-water poured in to replace it. I was so sure they were all dead that I got up to look. First I looked out of the window to see if there was anyone dead outside, because if there were dead people outside that would be a sign that I could go to join them. But there was no one. And I was so cold that I thought I might get back into bed, but then there was a dead body there, the body of a man. A man without his skin. And then I saw that he wasn’t dead at all, he was breathing, but he didn’t have his skin on and I thought perhaps it would be better if I made him dead, because who wants to live without their skin on?
Only I must have made a noise moving around, because he heard me and woke up, and he reached beside the bed for the place where he’d left his skin and then I saw it was him after all, and he took me into his arms and poured all his warmth into me and I remembered that I still love him.
And then, just as I was falling asleep again, I caught a glimpse of the woman who lives in the mirror watching me, and I could tell straight away what she was thinking, because I was thinking it too. She was thinking, One day he won’t be able to trap us both like this. One day we will be cold enough to leave him.
Chapter Fourteen
Now
Jacob was glad he was driving. The strange dizzying freedom of being somewhere else, somewhere new, at a time when he would normally be inside for the evening, was intoxication enough. The high street was buzzing with women in glittery dresses and men in skinny jeans. With years of teaching under his belt, he’d thought he knew all about coping with over-excited people in small spaces, but for a single wild minute he wondered what would happen if he turned around and drove home again.
(“Is it that PPI again?” His dad, unexpectedly looming behind him as he read his joke of the day from Donna.
Who was King Arthur’s roundest Knight?
Sir Cumference
He ate too much Pi
:-D :-D :-D
Dx
“Yes, Dad.”
“They’re like vultures. I hope you’re not taking any notice of them.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” The same conversation they’d had a million times, made bearable today because he had someone to share the joke with. And a few minutes later he was standing outside the back door with Ella watching the frail blue smoke twine into the sky from the end of her cigarette, and she laughed politely at Donna’s terrible Sir Cumference joke and then turned to him and said tentatively, “I can watch him while you go out for the evening if you like?”)
The street was a gaudy buzz of bars and restaurants, each with their own vibe. In a different life, perhaps he would have known this place as well as Donna seemed to, flitting in and out of the bars and choosing a different restaurant each Saturday. Maybe this might be the life he could have now that Ella was home.
He parked his car behind an express supermarket, hoping it was late enough that no one would be watching to see if he went into the store. A man with an earpiece and a stern expression stood at the entrance. Jacob tried not to make eye contact as he went past. He was glad to find the bar they’d agreed on and to hurry past the gaze of the bouncers into the darkness inside.
Inside were thin tall stairs that led downwards to a room where an implausible number of people sat at high tables. Against all likelihood, there was no music in the background, and the clink of the glasses and the rattle of the cocktail shaker were clearly audible above the hum of conversation. Each little group of drinkers sat clustered around a flat board littered with plastic tokens, or casually guarded a stash of cards or a wad of bright game currency. Was he in the right place?
(His palms wet and sweaty as he typed, glad for the chance to re-compose his message over and over, until finally he had the tone he wanted:
Hey there! I was wondering –
I’ve actually got a free evening for once
Any chance you’re free to come out tonight
with a complete loser who doesn’t know
any good venues or have any ideas at all
about what we could do? – J
Her reply came quick and cheerful:
You any good at board games?
We’re meeting in the Spinnaker on
Queen Street at about 8pm. – D
What more could he have hoped for? He texted back an instant acceptance before he could talk himself out of it, and tried not to mind the implications of the word we.)
“Hey.” Donna gave him a friendly wave. “We’re over here. We got you a drink.”
The vacant spot put him between Donna and a woman he didn’t recognise. He offered his smiling face to the group – three strangers, two men and the woman beside him, and Megan Hopley from the Languages team. He could do this. He could do this. He would not fail.
“You didn’t believe me when I said we were meeting in a rum bar to play board games, did you?” Donna patted his arm in a friendly manner. “This is Ellie and Joe and Will.” A murmur of Hey mates and Hi theres. “Everyone, this is Jacob, my mate from work. Right, we’re playing Settlers of Catan, I know you won’t have played it before because I know everything but you’ll get the hang of it pretty quickly. Drink your drink and it’ll all seem much more normal.”
By his elbow there was a sweating glass of something dark with a slice of lime floating in it. He took a long swallow, tasted ginger and lime and spice, felt the burn of the alcohol going down and had to stop himself from choking.
“
Sorry. I’m driving so I can’t drink.”
“Oh, shit, I should have thought. And I was going to get you raucously drunk as well. Never mind. Give that to me and I’ll get you something else.”
“I’m really sorry,” Jacob repeated.
“For being a responsible driver? Don’t be daft.” A whirl of motion and Donna was at the bar, and he was alone with a colleague and three strangers, all staring in that friendly way that meant they were going to start asking him about himself.
“Do you know Donna from work?” asked Will.
“We were NQTs at the same time. She’s way better than me though, she’ll be a head teacher by the time she’s thirty.”
“She will actually,” said Megan. “Unless she becomes an MP first.”
This was his moment to ask something in return. He fumbled for a question. “Um – how do you all know her?”
“I’m her best mate.” Ellie held up her hand. “Will’s my partner. And Joe’s Megan’s partner.”
Two couples, and Donna, and Jacob himself. Was he being presumptuous? He risked a glance towards the bar. She was chatting easily with the barman, her dark hair swinging as she laughed. He could see the long lovely stretch of her legs, the glimmer of her sparkly shoes. She was absolutely lovely and absolutely out of his league. And yet, here he was… then she was lifting the glass and bringing it back to him, and he could smell her perfume as she took her place beside him.
“Cherry Coketail,” she told him. “You ready to play?”
“I’m ready,” he said.
The game was relatively simple – dice rolls, resources to collect, a bad guy to strategically deploy to scupper his opponents. He finished the first round in last place, but enjoyed himself enough to try again, and finished fourth. The group showered him with praise, and mentioned that they met here most weeks if he felt like it. He hadn’t known until then that he was being auditioned as a possible regular member. He realised with a tingle of excitement that accepting this offer was now possible.
(“Dad?” He patted his father’s shoulder. “I’ve made you a drink, look.”
“You’re a good lad.”
“I’m going out for a bit, okay?”
“Aha. So this tea is a bribe?”
“Ella’s going to stay here with you.”
“Oh? Okay, no problem.”
“So, um…” he wanted to say, please don’t hit her. “See you in a bit, then.”)
He tried to buy a round of drinks, but was shouted down by Joe and Megan (“you’re the noob, you don’t get to pay for anything”). He wasn’t drinking, but the gradual relaxation of the group as the cocktails did their work helped him relax too, as if feeling comfortable was something he could absorb through his skin. On the third round, he finished fifth – still satisfying, since it was only the third game he had ever played.
The whole time, he was conscious of Donna beside him. He’d known she was beautiful, funny and bright for as long as he’d known her, but until tonight it had been like noticing a painting of a beautiful woman in a gallery. He took a long swallow of his drink (dark and fruity but with a slight edge of bitterness to tone down the syrup, adorned with an impossibly scarlet cherry) and told himself that she couldn’t be interested. He’d asked her out, and this was what she’d invited him to. He was just another body round the table to even out the numbers. But then, the other four were two couples, so perhaps –
“So what’s new for you?” Donna asked him, in the sweetly awkward moment when the game was over and the other two couples somehow vanished for a moment and they were alone at the table with no game to focus on.
“Um.” What could he say? My long-lost sister who you’ve never heard me mention came back home and my mother who I’ve possibly led you to believe is dead is still alive, but she’s gone missing was probably not what she was looking for. “Not much really. Having a bit of a rest.”
“Okay, I’m going to ask, but if I’m being too nosey, tell me to shut up. You look after your dad, don’t you?” He nodded. “So is he – well, is he getting better or something? Or have you got some help at last?”
(“You’ve got my mobile number, haven’t you?” A last briefing in the kitchen with Ella, putting off the moment of departure. “He should be fine, but if anything happens –”
“We’ll be fine. Have a nice time.”
“If you make sure he has that drink, he’ll be quiet for you.”
“Stop worrying! We’ll manage.” He couldn’t quite read her expression.)
“That’s right,” he said cautiously.
“I shouldn’t have pried.”
“No, it’s fine, I don’t mind.”
“Yes, you do. You mind massively. My fault. I should have kept my mouth shut.” The rest of the group were clumped at the bottom of the stairs, watching politely. “I think we’re on the move.” She hesitated. “Unless you fancy staying here for a quick game of Scrabble or something?”
“Shall we stay here?” His voice sounded surprisingly normal.
“Okay, yes, why not? Hang on, I’ll let them know.”
When Donna spoke to them, they smiled and glanced over at him, but in a friendly way, and disappeared up the stairs. Donna took a long box from the stack of games at the bar and sat down opposite him. Her knee jostled briefly against his beneath the table and his heart leapt like a rabbit. He stared blankly at his Scrabble tiles, trying to conjure something more inspiring than car. When he glanced at his watch, he saw it was only nine o’clock.
(What would Ella and his father be doing right now? His father would be asleep, lost in the velvet embrace of the Diazepam. Surely it would be enough. Surely he wouldn’t be stumbling around the house, flailing like a drunkard, searching for someone who lurked in the shadows. Surely Ella wasn’t cowering in a corner as his father, desperate and confused, took out his frustrations on her.)
“If you need to get back, I don’t mind,” said Donna gently.
“What?”
“You keep looking at your watch. Is it the first time you’ve left him in the evening?”
“I don’t – I mean – I’m sorry,” he said wretchedly. “You’re right. It’s the first time I’ve left him in the evening. I have care sorted for the day but going out socially is not really on the agenda at the moment.”
“How long’s the moment been going on?”
“Oh, God. I don’t know. A while. Years.” Gloomily he picked out four tiles from his letter-rack, turned his previous pathetic attempt of skin into bearskin, with a double-letter bonus for the b. “I don’t want to think about it to be honest.”
“And I keep asking. I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help it. I worry about you, mate. I’ve known you for years and I still feel like we’ve just met sometimes. Sometimes I think you’re a weirdo and I should stay well away from you, but sometimes I wonder if you need a bit of looking after from a friend.” She smiled. “I mean, I don’t lie awake every night thinking about you. But you do cross my mind from time to time. Why’d you come out tonight?”
“Because –” he’d been about to be honest there, been about to say because my little sister came back and she made me say yes. What would happen if he tried to explain what his family was like? How weird would she think he was then? “You know what? The truth is, I really like board games.”
He was relieved to hear her laughter. At least he hadn’t offended her. She was so sweet. She’d always been so sweet. He’d been noticing how pretty she was since the first day they met in the staff-room, fellow NQTs about to embark on their first full day at work, but it had taken him a few weeks to realise she was also a lovely person. Since then, he’d been like a dog with its owner, grateful for odd scraps of affection, but never imagining he took up as much space in her head as she did in his. And now they were on their own, in a pub, with a game of Scrabble, and Donna was laying down what looked like a monster of a word, smiling to herself as she did so. Jukebox, with a Triple Word score. He was getting thoroughly beaten
, but he didn’t mind at all.
“Am I allowed to buy you a drink now?” he asked.
“I don’t know, that depends. Can I trust you to buy me what I actually want, which is a plain Coke with a slice of lime? Or will you get it with a couple of shots in so I’ll be completely drunk by the time we’re ready to leave?”
“I’ve dealt with enough drunks in my life, thanks,” he said, without realising what he was saying until it was too late. “Oh shit. I mean –”
“Is that what it is for your dad, then? Drink?”
“It’s part of it.”
“I wouldn’t have suggested meeting in a bar if I’d known.”
“It’s not your fault, I’ve never said.”
“Well, now you have. Maybe in about ten years you might want to tell me something really personal, like what your favourite food is or something. But that’ll do for now. Are you happy hanging out here, or would you rather go for a walk? There’s a really good creepy cemetery about five minutes away if you want some fresh air. Unless you’re really committed to this game of Scrabble.”
“Creepy cemetery or humiliation.”
“It’s a tough call, I know. I’m going to the Ladies, you can decide while I’m gone.”
He felt dizzy with the shock of what he’d done. He had shared a tiny, tiny part of his life with another person, and she had not flinched. When she came back, he had tidied away the Scrabble board and put his coat on.
Out on the street, the atmosphere had turned wilder, more unpredictable. The women, who had preened self-consciously on stilt-like heels, shrieked with laughter and clutched each other for balance. Clusters of men hovered around them. A stream of taxis arrived and left, arrived and left, sliding past the drunks stumbling into the road, pounding on bonnets and yelling through the windows.
Was this normal? Donna seemed unconcerned, clattering along beside him in shoes that were pretty and glittery but seemingly fine to walk in. When she brushed her hair back from her face and behind her ear, her manicure gleamed beneath the street lights. (He thought of Ella’s worn trainers and bitten nails. Was she safe? Was their father asleep?) Beside the busy main road, the cemetery loomed as a sudden void of greenish blackness. Donna stumbled over the edge of the path, and took his hand for a moment.
Underwater Breathing Page 20