That Summer at the Seahorse Hotel

by Adrienne Vaughan

  He was high on adrenalin, amazed they had survived.

  “I’d rather scandal than lose her, lose them both.” Bernice was distraught.

  “It’s too late anyway, he’s gone.” Archie wiped his brow with his sleeve. He pulled the letter out of his pocket and handed it to Bernice. “Burn this.”

  “What is it?”

  “I dunno, evidence?” He could not think straight.

  “Oh God,” Bernice slumped against the wall. “Do you think he’ll make it?”

  “I hope so, that bastard Monsignor Sylvester Whelan won’t though, we saw to that alright.” She turned questioning eyes on him. “You don’t need to know.” He looked away. “Has she tried to leave again?”

  “Not yet, she’s barely able to stand but she’s at the window, waiting for his signal.”

  “Fetch the decanter, we could all do with a drink.” As soon as she had gone, Archie turned the key in the lock and went to change his clothes. He saw lights and stopped to watch Leela’s brother drive away having dropped her off after her day in town. Best he go and talk to her, so much of the world had gone mad in her absence.

  The next thing he heard was Leela screaming. He looked down from the landing as she ran from the kitchen.

  “Archie quick! Fire! The cellar!”

  “Have you a key?” The cellar was always locked.

  Leela tried the door. It swung open. Archie flicked a switch, tendrils of smoke drifted up from below. He made to run down the steps. “Stop! Cover your mouth,” Leela shouted, taking off her headscarf and tying it around Archie’s face. “I’ll use this.” She had a tea towel in her hand.

  They looked left and right at the bottom of the stairs, the fug was building, Leela spotted the flames.

  “Over there!”

  He grabbed a bucket of sand from a ledge and threw it on the flames to douse them. The smoke blackened, he started to cough.

  “Let’s get out. We need a hose, there’s one in the back kitchen we can hook it up there,” Archie bent to lift a tightly twisted rag from the floor, it smelled of petrol.

  “Arson,” he said. But Leela already knew that.

  Stretching to his full height to rise above the smoke something stroked the top of Archie’s head. He shuddered. Probably a bat. He tried to push it away but it felt odd. Hard and smooth, moving slightly. He looked up, straining to see through the smoky atmosphere. It was a shoe, a stout brown shoe. Leela followed his gaze.

  “Oh my god!” She was digging her nails into Archie’s arm, wild eyed, as she looked from him to the corpse swinging gently above them. It was hard to see who it was, but Archie recognised the shoes, he knew who it was. It was Ursula.

  The fire ignited again.

  He half-pushed, half-dragged Leela to the top of the stepsl. Once out of the cellar, Leela came to her senses.

  “Lock it.” She told him, handing over her key. “We’ll douse the flames through the grille. We’ll sort the other thing out later, when I’ve had time to think.”

  Archie went to protest, Leela gripped his arm.

  “I’ll do what’s best. Trust me, Archie. I’ve been doing what’s best for this family for a long time.” There was steel in her eyes. He nodded.

  Leela blessed herself for protection.

  “I told you not to go to that island. It’s only ever meant the worst of everything, and now look where we are, in a right mess, a horrible unholy mess we’re never, ever going to get away from.” And wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand she marched out with Archie, to fire fight yet again.

  Cupping his hand against the wind Archie lit one of his French cigarettes. He would make sure the box containing the manuscript was watertight. He had read it through one last time, reminding himself of what they had done all those years ago and as this was his last day, maybe ask for forgiveness, maybe not. It might transpire that at last the story would be told but this was not in his gift. He would leave that to fate, whatever. He had done his bit, his part played out. The mouth of the caves loomed up before him, reminding him of a stage.

  TO THE BAT CAVE

  Spluttering and wheezing, Mia dragged herself back to shore, shaking with cold or desperation, she did not know which. One thing she did know, today was the day and she was never, ever going to see Archie Fitzgerald again. Today he had broken their precious pact, today he had used their forbidden word, today Archie had said goodbye.

  Trying to calm herself, she watched until the boat disappeared and could see Banshee no more. The blue of the sea and the sky merged as she blinked; no tears, no tears allowed and sinking to the sand, she pulled her knees to her chest and sat gazing blankly out. The sun shone, the gulls cried, a soft breeze caressed her cheek; all in all a perfect day, a perfect day to die.

  Mia shook her head to clear it but the howling just grew louder. She swallowed, fighting to keep control, quash the strangest feeling and then it came … anger, a burning rage, a furious lump so livid it broiled up from the pit of her stomach, into her chest and out, out of her mouth. Unable to stay still a minute longer she jumped to her feet, pulled off her cap and threw it into the water.

  “Well, fuck you, Archie Fitzgerald! You and your fucking cancer, fuck, fuck, fuck!” she yelled, running along the shore, kicking at the sand as hard as she could. Stubbing her toe she stumbled and fell into the waves, flailing about, spitting out water and sand and snot.

  “Fuck the lot of you! Archie, Rupert, Courtney, my fucking useless father ‒ whoever you are ‒ fuck all of you! Who needs you? I fucking don’t, so there!” She kept roaring at the sea, as it tried, tried its very best, to soothe her huge grief with its tiny waves.

  Having worked through the night, Ross had decided to make the most of a clear dawn and was out for a run. Just getting into his stride, he stopped, there was a figure in the distance. He started towards it, someone was in trouble in the water, clearly distressed.

  It was Mia, he would recognise that mass of red hair anywhere. He stopped again, taking in the scene of a mad woman shouting obscenities at the surf. He backed off, there were more weirdo mad women in the Power family than you could shake a stick at, besides he needed a clear head today and pushing his hands into his pockets he turned to stride quickly away.

  He stopped.

  Ross had spent time with Mia, she was not crazy, she was caring and funny; she was also on the edge of losing someone she adored and he remembered only too vividly what that felt like. The grim agony of watching his father clinging to life after a devastating stroke had left a sour taste. He ran towards her.

  She was in the water, calling out, crying. He knew it had to be Archie. He ran into the sea and gripping her tightly dragged her back to shore. As he released her she collapsed onto the sand, coughing, gasping for breath, trying to speak between her sobs.

  “Archie … Banshee … out there.” She pointed towards the island. Ross knelt beside her.

  “Hey, hey,” he said gently, reaching out, taking her fingers in his. “Come on, steady now … tell me.”

  He watched her chest rise and fall, her jacket and tee-shirt clinging to blue-veined skin, she looked like a small bird he had just pulled from the jaws of a slavering beast.

  “Archie’s …taken Banshee … out,” she said between hiccups.

  “Okay.” He held her icy hands.

  “Alone, must … find him.”

  Her eyes were wild and there was something else there, the worst kind of despair; hopelessness.

  “Why’re you so worried?” He spoke slowly, trying to calm her.

  “He’s not coming back.”

  “How do you know?

  “I just know.”

  They fell silent. She was trying to catch her breath as she wept.

  He had to do something.

  “I’ll take the tender, he can’t have gotten far, I’ll find him.” He hauled her upright. “You need to go back and dry out. I’ll go.” He started towards the jetty. Mia ran after him.

  “No, I have to come. I s
aw where he went.”

  He looked at her; she was staring at him, chin raised, there was no way he was going without her.

  “Keys, where are the keys?”

  “Boathouse. But there’s no time!” she cried.

  “I’ll jump start it.”

  Her teeth were chattering as the promised storm clouds sucked away the sun.

  “Take your top off.” She hesitated. “Off!” he ordered.

  She did as she was told, turning away, shivering in an elderly sports bra. He dragged his hoodie over her head, still warm from his skin and passing over his cap, helped stuff her heavy hair inside.

  They were at the boat.

  “Have we oars, just in case?”

  She nodded.

  He fiddled at the engine, gave the starter a couple of tugs, it fired up.

  “Hold tight.”

  She sat in the bow, gripping the side. He guided them out, steering past boats bobbing wildly, eager to be free.

  “I’ll open her up.” He looked back at her. “Gonna be bouncy.”

  Just go, she thought. Go as fast as you can.

  They were powering now, wash breaking in a froth of white behind them. Sailors heading for safe harbour signalled them to slow down, go back. Ross stared straight ahead; they had to find Banshee.

  He slowed as they came to the island, the ripple of rocks beneath the surface coiled round the land like a string of grey pearls; the black sea between ‒ deep, dark, fathomless.

  Mia was standing at the bow, straining to catch a glimpse of Banshee. Pushing the tender back out, they circumnavigated the island as close to the rocks as they dare, still no sign of the other boat.

  On the island’s east side, sheer cliffs contrasted vividly with the soft, green mound visible from Galty’s beach. The slab of brittle grey rose out of the sea, glinting menacingly, cold and hard. At the base of the cliff shards of stone split to form caves, dark recesses hidden behind a shark-tooth smile.

  “We’ll have to go in,” Ross said. Mia searched in the locker for the torch. Ross slowed the tender; it was tricky, the tide was rising.

  “Radio?” He looked about.

  “Not on this, I have my phone though.” She put her hand to her pocket, but her phone was gone.

  The water sloshing against the side echoed in the darkness, the pungency of plankton and seaweed cloyed at her throat. Mia had never been this close to the caves before, it was dangerous, boats had been wrecked, the riptide too strong. She could feel the current pulling them off course, Ross stiffened against it, using all his strength to keep control as he pushed them on. She strobed the flashlight, illuminating craggy walls running with water, stony inlets barely big enough to land a craft. Ross spotted a rock, too late they bumped against it, she lost her balance crashing to the deck, the torch fell away. Ross caught it before it rolled into the water. The light flashed upwards, revealing a colony of bats huddled together above their heads. She struggled to sit up. Ross held out his hand.

  “Water’s rising fast, not sure how much longer we can stay.”

  She turned huge eyes on him. “He can’t be lost, he was only minutes ahead of us.”

  The tender hit another rock and as the water rose, the roof of the cave drew closer. “Mia, we’ll have to …”

  “Look! What’s that?” She pointed. The stern of a boat was just visible, lodged in an inlet only metres away. It tilted precariously, the bowline way below the water. It was sinking fast.

  “Hold on!” Ross yelled, swinging the tender round.

  Mia flashed the light across the water as Ross steered. In minutes they were alongside Banshee. There was a hole in her side, water flooding in.

  “Archie!” Mia yelled. “Archie, we’re here!”

  No response. Ross grabbed the bow rail. He looked back at the swirl of sea, an angry whirlpool building.

  “I’ll be quick.” He leapt forward, clutching Banshee’s shrouds, hauling himself aboard. He lost his footing, fell, sloshing through the water on deck. Catching a rope to stop from being washed overboard, he dragged himself onto his knees, crawling to the fly-bridge. Everything tipped at a violent angle, the galley half-submerged; charts, pictures, debris floating and it was dark … very dark.

  “Archie,” Ross called, praying he would be there waiting to be rescued. “Archie, where are you?”

  Ross took a deep breath and dived into the boat, swimming as fast as he could, he pulled open doors, lifted hatches but Archie was nowhere to be seen. Ross needed air. He pushed through the water and finding a small space between the surface and the salon roof, filled his lungs then disappeared, swimming down to the captain’s quarters. He heaved against the door, pushing it free. The large bed was empty, although the pillows had floated away, and for a second Ross thought how inviting it looked.

  The hole in the bow was large enough for a man to swim through. Ross went to the opening, looking left and right, hoping somewhere there was a patch of dry land and Archie would be there, safe. But all he saw were grey caves and black water. A loud groan. Banshee lurched. She was sinking. Ross gave one last look and spotting a newish looking box beside the bed lunged, grabbed it and powering up with one hand, swam out of the hole and up to the surface. He burst through the water, gasping for air.

  He passed Mia the box as she helped him back on board.

  “Anything?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  “Just that.” He pointed at the box. “Don’t know what it is, it just looked a bit odd, so I thought …”

  Ross could not stand upright, the roof of the cave so low. “We need to go, now!” And bending to grasp the tiller, he steered the tender out towards the entrance of the cave. The sea was rushing in at an alarming rate, the tide and wind forcing them back. Ross pushed the engine to breaking point. A sudden wave crashed against them, Mia looked down her feet were submerged.

  “Bail out! Bail out!” Ross ordered. Mia grabbed the bucket and started to bail, the torch fell from her hand, all was black. “Hang onto me,” he shouted. “If we go, we go together.”

  Ross watched the water flooding into the cave. Instinctively he took the middle channel, hoping whichever undercurrent hit them, it would spin them round and fling them back out to sea.

  He spotted a dot of light.

  “Hold on,” he yelled.

  Mia wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her head against his back. The boat lifted, crashed down and with one almighty surge broke free of the spin. Behind them, the waters merged into an angry wave and as the wave rolled, spewing foam, Mia saw something.

  “Ross stop, it’s Archie! Archie’s in the water!”

  Ross saw it too, there was something in the water alright but there was no hope, no life left. It might have been Archie’s body but it was not Archie. Ross motored on.

  She gripped his arm.

  “We have to go back, it’s Archie, I’m sure of it!”

  He shook his head.

  “Ross!” she yelled.

  He stared ahead. They had to save themselves. The little boat was taking on water, they might not make it. She crumpled to the deck, head in hands, forcing herself not to look back.

  They powered on, passing through an arch of rock and out into the open, choppy sea turned charcoal as the wind whipped black clouds so low they almost touched them, it was hard to see anything through the dense, grey rain. Limping towards the shore Ross pulled the throttle back, slowing the boat. Dripping wet with sea and sweat he crouched down beside her.

  “Archie was gone before we got there,” he said. “Too late, too dangerous, you know that.”

  She did know, she had been terrified, no one in their right mind would have even gone into the cave, let alone tried to bring Archie back. But she was not in her right mind and deep down she knew that too.

  “I’m so sorry.” Ross held out his arms, but she could not move. The next thing she felt was an embrace, two strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close, his chin on her head, tucking her face into the warmth o
f his throat. She breathed him in, heart thumping, his chest crushed against her; they were safe, they were alive and somewhere Archie Fitzgerald smiled … a plan was coming together.

  THE LEGACY

  The morning of Archie’s funeral was as glorious a day as the east coast of Ireland had ever witnessed. A bleached denim sky draped cloudlessly across the bay as a shimmering, silky sun rose in the east. Mia was sitting on the shale outside the boathouse; she had been sent to lock everything away. Bernice was in security meltdown, recounting the day an entire house was cleared out while the occupants attended a family funeral only a few miles away. Bernice kept thinking of things to worry about, driving everyone mad.

  Mia, glad to be outside, had not the heart to draw the doors across the front of the boathouse. She was looking at the space where Banshee had stood a few short weeks ago. So much had happened in such a short space of time; her relationship over, her career in jeopardy and her home abandoned, yet she felt strangely unmoved.

  Archie, unsurprisingly, had taken destiny into his own hands. Sailing straight into the eye of a storm he no doubt knew was coming, having shut everything off, engine, sonar, radio, he had allowed the vessel to be swept away, dragged into the caves beneath the island and smashed against the rocks. The angry sea had broken Banshee into pieces and she, together with her determined-to-die captain, had floated gracefully to a watery grave on the ocean floor. Archie knew the end was near and had chosen how it would be played out. Archie was gone, Mia was going to have to get used to that.

  Yet this was the hardest part, because Archie was not gone. If anything his presence was stronger than ever. She could feel him everywhere, cigar smoke drifted out from nowhere, the piano tinkled yet the lid was closed and then his laughter, the surprised, ‘Ah-ha!’ when he was charmed and delighted – she heard that a lot, an awful lot.

  Mia could not close the doors, shut him out, prevent his return to their special place where she, the mermaid princess, fought dragons and sea monsters with Archie by her side. Even now she could hear him humming as he ‘swabbed the deck’, or ‘spliced the main brace’, terms he used for every task undertaken in the boathouse.