Little Black Lies

by Sharon Bolton

  A few days in, it happened. We heard the approaching Skyhawks, the answering roar of machine guns, and watched men leap from a burning ship into a burning sea. The gunfire, the Hawk engines, the exploding ammunition should have been deafening. Maybe it was. Maybe the screaming of tortured and dying men was only in our heads. All I know is that it sounded very real at the time, and it still sounds real when I get the flashbacks.

  We ran down to the beach and discovered we couldn’t touch the survivors because their blackened skin came away in ribbons. The stench of gunpowder and phosphorus filled the air, threatening to burn the inside of our lungs and even that was preferable to the smell of burning flesh. To this day, even the whiff of a barbecue makes me want to throw up.

  ‘And Catrin’s two boys, Ned and Kit. They were part of it. But there’s nothing logical about these flashbacks when they happen. Imagine a drugged-up, drunken nightmare. The scariest images you can think of racing into your head one after another.’

  ‘It makes a lot of sense.’ Sapphire is leaning towards me. I can smell the heavy, musky perfume she’s wearing. ‘In a state of some stress, compounded by being with Catrin, you went to the place where you had one of the worst experiences of your life. And then, not only did you find the body of a young child, albeit not the one you went looking for, you also found a toy that belonged to yet another dead child. One that meant a great deal to you.’

  ‘It may not have been Kit’s rabbit.’

  She gives a brief, dismissive shake of the head. ‘Doesn’t matter. In that moment, you thought it was. I’m not surprised all that triggered an episode. What does surprise me is why you put yourself in that situation in the first place.’

  I shrug. ‘We all wanted to find the bairn.’

  ‘There are two thousand servicemen on the islands who could have gone. Are you sure you didn’t want an excuse to be alone with Catrin?’

  Sapphire takes no prisoners. Five minutes into our session and she has me bang to rights.

  ‘Have you thought any more about what we talked about last time?’

  I stand up and walk to the window. A fishing vessel coming into harbour is leaving a trail of white water on the sea and a flock of scavenging birds hangs in the air.

  ‘Callum, within a year of coming to live here, most of your PTSD symptoms had gone. You were well on your way to becoming healthy.’

  I know what’s coming. I’ve heard it before.

  ‘Then, almost immediately after the Grimwood car accident, the violent flashbacks began again.’ I can hear from Sapphire’s raised tone that she’s spun round in her seat to face me. ‘It doesn’t take a genius to work out that they’re directly related to what happened that day, to the fresh trauma you were personally involved in.’

  ‘How’s your da?’ I ask her. ‘Ready for his big night?’ Sapphire’s father is in charge of the firework display on November the fifth.

  She ignores that. I don’t blame her. As distractions go, it was pretty lame.

  ‘Three years on, there’s no sign of them improving. In fact, judging by what you’ve just told me, they’re getting worse. Unless you’ve been hiding something, you’ve never exhibited physical violence before.’

  ‘I hide nothing from you,’ I tell her. I’m lying, of course.

  ‘It seems to me that Catrin and her grief are having a direct and damaging impact upon your mental health. She’s refusing to get over her loss and, while she’s in your life, you’re not getting over what happened either.’

  I turn quickly. ‘She lost two children. Three children.’ I hear my voice break and know I’ve made a mistake that Sapphire will spot. ‘How soon was she supposed to get over it? Six months? A year?’

  ‘You need to talk to her. You know you do.’

  ‘She’s not strong enough.’

  One pale, perfect eyebrow lifts. ‘She slaughtered nearly two hundred whales yesterday. I’d say she’s tougher than she looks.’

  Stalemate. I’m annoyed. From the look in her eyes, Sapphire’s pretty narked too. But she’s the professional. She gets it together first.

  ‘You think you can’t talk to Catrin about something so painful because you’re worried what it will do to her?’

  ‘Maybe I’m worried what it will do to me.’

  I get a very firm headshake in response. ‘I don’t agree. This has always been about what’s best for her. My point remains that it shouldn’t be. There are two of you involved in this.’

  ‘She lost everything.’

  ‘Well, arguably, so did you.’

  I take a deep breath.

  ‘There are other women in the world,’ she tells me, not for the first time, but her voice is gentler than usual. ‘There are other women on the islands.’

  I smile, which isn’t difficult. For all that she gives me a hard time, I like Sapphire. ‘There’s you,’ I say. ‘Although you might think it unethical.’ As I wait for her to respond I realize I’m only half joking. Sapphire is definitely shaggable, even if she is a decade older than me. Even if she is married. Suddenly, shagging Sapphire feels like the best idea I’ve had in ages. Right here, right now. On the thin beige carpet, or across the desk, watching the boats heading out to sea. Her eyes have fallen to her notepad. I wait for her to look up. The answer will be in her eyes and I’m going to act on it.

  ‘It would be completely unethical,’ she says, in a flat voice, keeping her eyes on her notepad. I feel like a dick.

  The atmosphere in the room has turned awkward. I wonder if I should leave, even though there are twenty minutes of the appointment to run.

  ‘How was Catrin last night? When the two of you were bringing home the child. That must have been very difficult for her.’

  Sapphire is usually reluctant to spend too much of our time talking about Catrin. That she should bring her up again probably means I’m forgiven. Or that she’s picked the best way she knows of getting my attention off her. I cross the room again and sit, resolving to behave for the rest of the session.

  ‘Quiet. As though she couldn’t really take it in. But then I was much the same, after Speedwell. I think we were both on autopilot.’

  She nods, her signal that she wants me to go on talking.

  ‘She was unusually silent. Even by her standards. There was none of the “How did he get there? What were the chances of us driving past at that moment?” – none of the reaction you’d expect. She almost, I don’t know, took it in her stride. As I said, on autopilot.’

  ‘Do you think it might offset public opinion? The fact that she was instrumental in finding the boy?’

  ‘What public opinion needs offsetting, exactly?’

  ‘She killed two hundred whales.’

  ‘She euthanized two hundred dying animals.’

  ‘Not everyone will see it that way.’ Sapphire’s voice has a definite edge to it now. She knows what she’s doing, goading me about Catrin.

  ‘Islanders will be fine with it.’

  ‘Some of them. Maybe most of them. But there’ll always be a few who will question it. Did she act too quickly? Had she really tried everything? And there’s been a lot of talk among the visitors, I understand.’

  ‘They’ll be gone in a couple of days. I wouldn’t be surprised if that cruise ship leaves today.’

  She nods again, although I know she doesn’t agree with me. And she’s touched on something that, I admit, does worry me. Catrin should be able to rely on the support of the people around her. After yesterday, I’m not sure she’ll get it.

  ‘Do you still love her?’

  The question takes me by surprise. She has never asked me outright before.

  ‘You’re very protective,’ she says. ‘Not just with me. That race over to Speedwell yesterday was all about watching her back, wasn’t it?’

  I nod, because trying to pretend otherwise would be a waste of my time and hers. ‘She’s not the woman I knew. I keep hoping she’ll come back, even a glimpse, but she’s a shell. A – what do you call it –
a cardboard cut-out.’

  ‘I agree with you, but that’s not what I asked.’

  I lean back and close my eyes. Do I still love Catrin? I practically proposed to her a few hours ago, shocking myself as much as her. ‘Come with me,’ I said, meaning come with me to my home on the other side of the planet. Leave this place and its crippling memories and build a new life. Dare to believe you could be happy again. She didn’t answer. Didn’t say a word for the rest of the drive back. I’d like to tell myself she’s thinking about it, but even I’m not that thick.

  ‘All I know is she’s become a part of who I am. I don’t particularly like it, any more than I like suffering from PTSD, or some of my mates from the regiment like their missing limbs or scarred faces. I’ve just learned to deal with her being there.’

  ‘Interesting that you compare your feelings for Catrin to war wounds.’

  ‘Which do you think I’m trivializing?’

  ‘I think your feelings for Catrin are like a shell strike that keeps burning. Three years after the affair finished, she’s still hurting you.’

  She’s right. I’ve always known that she’s right and, at this moment, I don’t have the energy to keep arguing.

  ‘So what do I do about it?’

  ‘Well, I think you start by talking to her.’

  ‘I do talk to her. I spent most of yesterday with her.’

  ‘I’m not talking about chit-chat. I’m talking about what happened between you. Why it happened. Why it ended.’

  I look at my watch and decide time is up, whether it really is or not. ‘It happened because it couldn’t not. It ended because she couldn’t deal with anyone or anything after her sons died. There really isn’t anything to say.’ I stand up and put cash on the desk. Usually I make some quip about her giving satisfaction. Not today.

  ‘Oh, I think there is.’ She follows me from the room and along the corridor. She’s never before continued a conversation once the session is over. ‘The child she was carrying when the boys were killed. The one she lost.’

  I know what’s coming. I open the door and don’t look back. I don’t need to. Her parting shot is perfectly audible.

  ‘Callum, you need to know if that baby was yours.’

  15

  I don’t go home. God knows I’ve enough work to be doing but this isn’t going to be one of those productive days. Instead, I drive to a beach a couple of miles outside Stanley. I get out of the car and set out across the dunes.

  There’s a storm coming in. The wind has picked up, is tossing huge waves against the shore. The birds – Catrin could name them in an instant; they’re just big, noisy birds for me – are having a ball above my head, diving and rolling and screaming their feathery heads off.

  This is one of the less popular beaches, even with islanders. The rocks are mostly too low to offer any shelter but pretty much prevent ball games. They also make it next to impossible to keep your eye on young kids. On the other hand, they make ideal habitats for all sorts of nesting critters so it’s long been one of Catrin’s favourite spots.

  It’s also a great place to run if you think continually dodging and weaving around rocks is good for your reflexes and flexibility. Which is how she and I met.

  * * *

  I was running, fast and hard, feeling pretty good. Life was good. Since moving to the Falklands permanently, the bad dreams and waking flashbacks had more or less disappeared. Whether it was being around the people and the way of life we’d been through it all to protect, being close enough to the demons to see the whites of their eyes, or simply having enough peace and quiet to think, my head was in a better space than it had been for years. I was healthy, too. Fit, strong, running regularly, lifting weights, playing football. Work was going well. I was making a living, putting something aside, with real hopes of a big breakthrough one day. And I was having a dalliance with a woman who worked for the Governor’s office. We both knew it wasn’t going anywhere. Or at least, I did, and really hoped she did too. Whatever, busy cock, healthy mind, as the lads in the regiment used to say.

  All was well, my life as complete as it could be, with no idea that anything was missing. And then I turned round a taller clump of rocks and it was like someone had taken a pneumatic drill to that life and opened up a ruddy great chasm that just one woman could fill.

  They were a hundred yards away across the sand when I caught sight of them. A woman and two kids, walking towards me along the beach, around the rocks and pools that littered the water’s edge. They all wore shorts and pale-coloured, light sweaters. They held hands. The younger kid was furthest from the sea, his shorts still wet from the splash. The woman’s hair was long and dark, like the kelp at the water’s edge.

  I ran wider. No one relishes the thought of a big bloke thundering towards them. They’d been intent on something in the water but they looked up as I drew closer. I had a sudden thought and stopped.

  ‘There’s a colony of seals back there.’ I raised my voice so that it would carry through the wind, speaking directly to the woman, gesturing back the way I’d come with a jerk of my head. ‘Getting quite aggressive. You might want to keep the youngsters away.’

  ‘They’re southern sea lion pups,’ the older boy called back across the beach. ‘They’re about six weeks old. Their mummies haven’t left them. They’re forging for food in the sea.’

  ‘Foraging,’ his mother corrected him.

  I stepped closer, until I could make out the coarsening of her skin and the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes that put her in her late twenties, possibly around thirty. Pretty much the same age as me.

  ‘You’re the soldier,’ the boy told me.

  I risked walking closer still. The younger boy backed into his mother’s legs.

  ‘I’m Callum.’ I looked at the mum. ‘Callum Murray,’ I added. She nodded, as though she already knew.

  ‘Have you got a gun?’ The older kid was at my feet now, looking directly up.

  ‘Not any more.’ It wasn’t strictly true, but I had a sense it was the answer his mum would prefer. Close up, it was hard to take my eyes off her. Her face was tiny, perfect, every feature exactly the size and shape it should be. She wasn’t wearing make-up. This wasn’t a face for make-up. Cosmetics of any sort on this face would give it the look of one of those spooky china dolls.

  Her eyes, watering in the wind, were the colour of the rocks around us. Her hair was long and straight, constantly moving in the breeze. Close up, it was more like the kelp than ever. Her skin was the warm ivory of the sand. She looked like the beach come to life.

  The kids were dark too. The older one the image of his mum, the younger with darker hair and brown eyes. Even at such a young age, there was a set around his jaw that made me think he’d take after his father.

  ‘We’re the Quinns,’ she said, as her fingers tightened around the kid leaning against her. I wondered if that had been deliberate, her labelling them as a family unit. We are complete and whole. Do not think of trying to break us. ‘This is Kit. Ned is the one with the obsessive interest in warfare.’

  I waited, eyebrows high. She wasn’t getting away with that.

  ‘Catrin,’ she said, after a moment. ‘My husband’s Ben. He works at the hospital.’

  Yes, definitely a message there. I am not available. Don’t even think about it. Leave us now.

  ‘Also, and I can’t be sure about this, but I think there could be a pod of orcas just offshore. If they’ve come to hunt the seals, you really shouldn’t…’ I looked down from one kid to another, feeling sure she’d get the hint. Did she really want to risk feeding the kids to a hungry killer whale?

  She, too, was looking down at the kids, her face suddenly alive with excitement. ‘Now that sounds like something we should see.’ A last, dismissive glance at me. ‘Thank you.’

  She set off, jogging easily, the kids keeping up. In minutes, they were approaching the rocks that separated the safer part of the beach from the seal colony. Sea lions. Whatev
er.

  I went after them. The animals I’d seen had been stocky, aggressive and numerous. They’d given me a good barking at as I’d run around the outside of their colony and I did not like the idea of this bunch of tiny humans getting chewed. Even if the mother seals didn’t come back from their forging expedition. Even without the added threat of the killer whale pod.

  Woman and children disappeared behind some rocks and I picked up my pace. When I could see them again, I was relieved to find them perched on a wide, flat rock a safe distance from the animals. Catrin saw me and smiled to herself before pointing to where a black, triangular-shaped fin moved lazily some distance from the shoreline.

  I stopped running and strode over to join them, choosing a rock a little way down the beach. Close enough to talk, but not so near as to be intimidating. The smaller kid, Kit, was on his mother’s lap, the bigger one cuddled at her side.

  ‘There are three, possibly four,’ she said, eyes still fixed on the black sail in the water. ‘Small pod, maybe juveniles out on their own for some fun. They’re waiting for the sea-lion pups to try the water out. This shallow bit of beach is a very popular nursery pool.’

  ‘Mummy, I don’t want the whales to eat a pup.’

  She wrapped an arm around her older son. ‘I don’t think they will, sweetie. Look, the penguins have spotted what those big orcas are up to.’

  It was as though the surf suddenly sprang into life as a clutch of sleek, fat penguins appeared at the edge of the water. They jostled and bullied and flapped their little arms hysterically in their bid to be out of the sea. Behind them, four black sails moved in.

  The sea-lion pups yelled back at the newcomers, who were invading their space, getting tangled in the kelp, filling the beach with noise. At the same time, seabirds appeared from nowhere, flocking towards the ocean where, I’m pretty certain, the water was starting to turn red. The whales had got something.