by Ruby Soames
I climb off the rock I’ve been sitting on and walk over to Henry who seems engrossed watching droplets of water pitting the pools by his feet.
‘Let me give you a hand. We need to leave the cave very soon, step over the rocks and get to the cove. The tide’s coming in fast.’
‘Good plan, m’dear,’ his syllables merge into one. ‘Seems a waste of water, eh? falling into the sea,’ he remarks. ‘Don’t look so worried, any minute now –’
‘Henry. I’m your daughter.’
‘Hum? What are you on about?’ he asks.
I say it again. ‘I’m your daughter.’
He shakes his head. ‘M’dear, you’re mistaken, I’ve only got two boys. No other children. Definitely no girls.’
‘Sure?’ I ask.
He sniggers, ‘I think I’d remember … what?’
‘I’d have thought so too.’
He tries to lift himself up, ‘Come here. I won’t bite. Just need your shoulder to lean on. You’re right, we haven’t much time.’
‘Henry?’
‘Hum –’
‘What did you do with the letters I wrote to you?’
‘What are you on about?’
‘What did you do with them? The letters, the Christmas cards, the pictures, notes, poems, school reports? They were sent to your office. They were for you.’
He looks behind him to see if I’m talking to someone else.
‘Your daughter? Have you ever thought about your daughter?’
Henry says, ‘My … my … where are my –’ He slaps down the water, ‘– glasses. I can’t see a bloody thing! Damn bloody … storm. Damn bloody … women!’
‘Henry, I’m Sarah, your daughter.’
‘I don’t know what you’re bloody on about.’ He peers at the cave’s mouth, where the boat had been waiting. There is nothing now but rain, not even space between the hurtling drops.
I stand before him: ‘Florence Tyler.’
‘Huh? She at the lunch today?’
‘No, Henry, she wasn’t. Florence Tyler. She was a secretary at your chambers. You had an affair with her while you were engaged.’
‘Damned hot in here.’ His eyes tighten as if under a blinding light.
He pads over again to the cave’s entrance. ‘Look, do you think they’re coming or not?’ he snaps.
The dark sea surges towards him. His breathing is shallow and his cigar is soaked.
‘Henry. I’m Sarah. Your daughter.’
‘Sarah,’ he says. He closes his eyes and opens them again, ‘Sarah, my daughter. My daughter with a Ms Tyler.’
‘Yes!’
He shakes his head. ‘No bloody idea what you’re talking about.’
Behind us, a swell of light billows out of the tunnel. I brace myself for an angel or cannibals or pirates. The glow widens, lengthens, and is followed by a moving shadow. Henry and I stare, absorbed by fear. A ghostly figure creeps forward until a voice comes from behind the torch.
‘You don’t remember me, Henry?’
‘Mum?’
‘You?’
Mum appears, her hair, a golden red, is swept back and her eyes are bright.
‘Mrs Wombat!’ Henry squints into the fog.
‘Mr Wombat!’
She hurries over the rocks to give me a hug, ‘Oh Sarah!’ Turning to him, she says, ‘Henry, this is our daughter.’
‘Mum? Mum! What are you doing here? Have you been here all this time?’
‘Ferdi said you’d be on the boat so I came to find you. When there was all that hoo-hah with that woman falling in, I slipped in like a stowaway and came out here. You can go deeper into the cave, I made a little room for myself, so cosy. Oh, and I have a life ring – we really need to get across soon.’
My mother once hid in the Belgravia home of a minor royal for three weeks before one of the occupants found her and called the police so I know how adept she is at surviving in small spaces.
She takes a better look at the man she spent half her life mourning. ‘Henry – where’s all your hair?’
He slaps the top of his head. ‘All gone.’
‘Though there’s still plenty on your back!’
‘My God! It is you!’ His words are half-stolen by a blast of wind. The rain has stepped into a faster, harder gear. Henry staggers, he looks at each of us in turn.
Mum starts to cry, so I take up the story. ‘We came to Barbados to see you. I wanted to meet my dad and to ask you to add your name to my birth certificate. Mum wanted –’
‘Henry, have you had your teeth capped?’
He puts his hand up to his mouth.
‘Goodness! And you’ve certainly put on a bit a weight!’ says Mum, looking at his protruding belly. Her tears sparkle in the luminescent rays.
‘But you! You hardly look any different, Mrs W!’
‘Do you remember?’
‘I do, Florence, I do,’ he answers, his voice breaking with emotion.
My voice breaks. ‘Henry, I remember sitting in your office, waiting to see you. I was eleven years old, and you sent me away.’
‘We met?’
‘No, your secretary said you were “busy”. She put me in a taxi with an envelope full of cash.’
‘I’ve no recollection of that,’ he whispers.
Mum’s eyes brim with tears again. ‘How could you –?’
Henry shakes his head, mumbling, ‘What’s the point? What’s the point in going over the past?’ His floating shoe knocks against his leg. He picks it up and then throws it back in the water.
‘Henry, just acknowledge her – it’s all she wants. There’s only the three of us here. Remember the cuckoo clock?’
Henry smiles into a pool of water.
‘Remember the “worm that turned”? ‘
He smiles wider and starts to chuckle.
‘What cuckoo clock? What worm?’ I ask.
‘I’ll tell you when you’re older.’ Mum wades in closer to Henry. ‘Remember the way we loved?’
Henry doesn’t answer.
‘You said you’d leave Caroline for me … that you wanted to be with me forever and no one else!’ says Mum.
‘For goodness sake! That was years ago – I can’t remember what I said!’
‘You didn’t play fair Henry. This is your chance to make it up to us.’ Mum’s cheeks are wet from tears, not just rain.
‘She has those dimples, like you do.’
‘She’s beautiful, Henry.’
‘She certainly is, quite a stunner – but what d’you expect with parents like us?’
The two of them knock their foreheads together, giggling.
‘Sorry about all that, back there,’ he says to me. ‘It was a shock … I always wanted to find your mother again – but I was too ashamed, how could she ever have forgiven me? How could it ever have been the same after what I did? And she had problems – admit it darling, you did do some rather nutty things.’
Flares of lightning bounce around the horizon illuminating the palm trees against the black sky.
‘Hum, Mrs Wombat, psychiatric care, they said.’ He shakes his head. ‘Florence, my Florence, my precious Mrs Wombat!’ Mum moves over to Henry as he folds his arms around her.
‘Henry – you’ve got hair growing out of your ears!’ she laughs.
‘Oh, I know. And,’ he shakes his chest, “Man Boobs’. Time has a dreadful sense of humour. Mrs Wombat, I’m an old man – but oh! I don’t feel it, right now, right here with you!’
A wave hits them, they nearly topple over. We have no option but to keep retreating into the cave where we can stand without being engulfed by the rush of water. Mum said something about a life ring and unless we get it soon, we might be ending our days here.
‘You didn’t trust me, Henry!’
‘I wanted to! But to stand up to my father –’ he grimaces, ‘I was too scared. And not just him … my upbringing, you know – the house, the firm, the future … everything hinged on my marrying the woman that Dad
dy wanted me to marry!’
‘But you didn’t love Caroline!’ says mum, looking so young and frail. Both of them are half-crying, half-laughing.
‘Love? No! But she was a nice girl! I wanted to love her. I thought I could if I worked hard at it. Hard work brought me success in everything else, why not a marriage? And Florence … you were too young, too sweet, no background to speak of and even if –’ he dropped his head and swallowed, ‘you got pregnant.’
I look away as I’m introduced to the plot.
‘You broke my heart, Mr Wombat!’ cries mum.
He holds her tighter. ‘Sometimes you have to choose to go with your head or your heart. I’m a lawyer, Florence, I count on reasoning.’
The sea is now lapping at our thighs. We really have to get out of the cave.
‘I had to do what was appropriate – to choose the right thing in the eyes of my family.’
‘But not for you.’
‘But not for me,’ he says looking into her eyes. ‘Or us.’
‘And now Henry, this marriage, what’s this about?’
He falls back against the rock behind him, out of the light. ‘I’ve made a big bloody mess,’ he says, exasperated. ‘What a bloody mess!’
‘Oh Henry!’ says Florence as he buries his face in her hair.
‘I had a weak moment, got involved with this woman – I was drunk, hurt and feeling old, got carried away – I was defending her in a court case – do you know how bad that could look? She had me. She scared me! Then next thing I knew, she told Caroline about us – and Caroline started suing me for divorce. I didn’t know how to stop it all – I had nowhere else to turn … but to that … person. It was all Caroline’s fault. She should have –’
‘Henry! You are not worthy of my love until you can accept responsibility for what you’ve done!’
‘Oh Mrs Wombat – don’t rattle me!’
‘Henry!’
‘Oh darling one, if only I’d trusted us – trusted love!’
Mum lifts her face up to him, their lips touch.
‘I’ll get the life ring,’ I say though no one’s listening.
I scurry through the stone corridor between the mouth of the cave and the lagoon. Over the rocks, I see the lair where mum has been hiding. She’d somehow helped herself to food, two Crème Brulés and half a bottle of champagne. I find the life ring and drag it back to where Florence and Henry are kissing.
‘Can we move this along you two?’ I am no longer able to keep the urgency out of my voice. ‘Mum? … Dad –’
Mum jumps as a wave spanks her thighs. ‘Oh my God! We’ve got to get out of here!’ She holds us both by our hands and leads us out of the cave.
9
The rocks we have to climb over are almost fully submerged with waves edging forward at a hard, fast rate. The rain stings my skin, making it difficult to see ahead. But through it all, I hear an engine and see a fuzzy light moving towards us.
‘Look!’
A speedboat darts through the water.
Henry and mum tread fast, arm-in-arm, towards our exit.
I carry the life ring over to them.
‘Mum, the life ring, it’s too small for three. You two go ahead, get on the boat and pick me up.’
‘I’m not leaving you here!’
‘Mum, go quickly so they know we’re here.’
‘We’re not leaving you,’ says Dad. ‘You girls go, get to safety,’ he gives Mum a long kiss.
‘Listen – both of you, don’t waste time. Go. Together. Take the life ring. I’ll be fine. Just go!’ I say. They look at me. Mum shakes her head. ‘Mum! Go! There’s someone arriving now – I’ll follow you.’
‘But … I –’ She tries to argue as I push her into the water. ‘Alright, darling, we’ll get the boat over. We won’t be long.’ She takes a little rucksack off her back and pulls out a pink rubber bathing cap.
‘What are you doing?’
But it’s obvious as she pulls the cap on and carefully pushes all her hair inside. ‘I only had my hair done a few days ago, you know what sea water does to it.’ Cap on, a little stretch and, ‘All done.’
‘We’ll get someone to you straight away,’ assures Henry. ‘Here, Mrs Wombat. Hold it. We can both cross over now!’ Henry grabs onto one side, my mother the other. ‘OK? Ready to swim?’
Mum hugs me, then she lets go, Henry stands in front of me. He puts out his arms and I hold him. It’s a lot of flesh, and he’s trembling, but it’s comforting to be held by this man, my dad.
‘Sarah, Henry. Look –’ and Mum starts crying, ‘after all these years – a family.’
‘You two – go!’
I wade out with them as far I can walk and then hold onto the rocks to see them off. I’m hoping the speedboat will turn and pick them up but it moves further away. It seems to have passed the cove.
Even with the ring, Henry and Mum are struggling, often just spinning in the same place, but eventually, kicking hard, holding hands and exchanging loving glances, they move towards the cove.
There’s a light shining from the other side of the island but I can only open my stinging eyes enough to see Henry and Mum collapse on the sand. They’re safe. When I look again, they’re jumping up to wave their hands at me. I try to wave back but I’m losing my strength.
Another thrust of saltwater hits the back of my throat followed by a wave that feels like a punch to the head. For a few seconds, I sink below the surface. I remember the breathing exercises I did with Nick at the scuba diving centre. I hear him say that the greatest killer in the water is panic.
I rise a little above the rock I’m clinging to and draw in a mouthful of wet air. Through the mist, I can see headlights making wide white arcs. It won’t be long now until we are rescued. But even blinking is exhausting. At one point I lift myself up to see the lights moving along towards the cove. Whoever is out there will be with Mum and Henry any second.
The next time I look over, I can’t see Mum, just Henry. When I wipe away a splash of water from my raw eyes and look again, one figure. A flash of lightning lights up the whole sky – for a moment it’s like broad daylight – all at once, in the phosphorescent glare, I catch sight of Henry on the ground, a man, a flash of something red and a plume of black exhaust.
Clouds like a fleet of zeppelins hover over the coast. The last amount of reserve power is all I have to keep me clinging to the rock, but each time I slip, it takes more out of me to get back on. Breathe evenly, keep calm, stay awake, but something is pulling me down and the night sky is closing in.
10
There’s a cold tapping over my chest. I open one eye just enough to make out blue spinning lights and try to move, but my neck is held tight.
‘Madam, hold still.’
‘Sarah! Oh Sarah!’ My mother’s voice. ‘You’re going to be alright.’
‘Mmmm!’ I manage to say.
‘I’m here, I’m here.’ she squeaks through tears ‘You’re doing great.’
‘Mum?’
‘Just breathe, Sarah. There, there, stay calm,’ she rubs my hand bringing it to her lips every few seconds.
I wake later and manage to see the sludge-coloured walls and strip lights. The smell of disinfectant. I feel Mum’s hand resting on my shoulder.
‘Oh Sarah – I should never have left you!’ she sniffs.
‘Henry?’
‘Sssh, darling,’ she says.
‘Henry?’
‘Oh Sarah!’ she says squeezing my hand. She bends over to kiss my cheek. Her skin feels damp. When she stands again I catch the expression in her eyes.
‘What happened … to … Henry … to my dad?’
11
My mother looks – sun-kissed, her hair a shade paler.
‘You’re awake,’ she says, her hand rested on my brow.
I close my eyes again as images came back in erratic batches – Mum and Henry in each other’s arms, the two of them swimming away, being under water, the sharp pain of seawate
r lacerating the back of my throat, then blackness. And then nothing.
‘OK … you?’ I manage to say. Mum turns my palm down, looks at it.
‘We’re going to be fine.’
‘Am I?’
‘Course you are. You’re on lots of anti-inflammatories, painkillers, nothing horrid. You’ve got a possible broken rib and some very bad bruises, there’s that cut on your foot and your lungs had water in them … but nothing a little rest won’t sort out.’ A tear balances on her lashes, ‘I should never have left you.’
I hold her fingers tight. ‘Henry. Is he OK?’
The hand on my brow rests more firmly. She shakes her head. ‘He was found dead.’
‘How?’ I wince from the roughness of my throat.
‘They think he had a heart attack. Apparently he fell – fell back – and with the shock, his heart gave out.’
‘His heart?’
‘His heart, yes. I’d gone to get help. He was keeping watch over you, and –’ she can’t speak for a moment. She opens one of my pill packets, swallows a couple.
‘The other person…. on the beach?’
‘I never saw anyone else. I know there was that speedboat but … they must have driven on … we think they saw us and called the rescue service.’
‘I saw a man, with Henry.’
‘No, he was alone. Poor Henry.’ She weeps quietly.
I realise we can get anything back but time. ‘His family?’ I ask.
‘They’ve been notified. Sarah,’ she leans her lips to my hand. ‘He loved me, he loved me all along. He loved you too, in his way. I feel so blessed that we got to know that – even if it wasn’t even for an hour!’ Mum’s eyes are clearer and more alert than I’d ever seen them. ‘We know what happened. We know. And that’s what’s important.’
‘I don’t feel sad,’ I say.
‘You’ve been grieving for him all your life, now you can stop. He loved us. No need to feel sad. Sad days are over.’ She pats my pillow, ‘Rest now,’ she says, tightening the sheet around me.
Lovers
1
When I return to the hotel the next day, Ferdi brings me another of his mother’s special brews. It hurts to lift my head and my lungs feel raw as I swallow the drink.