My chest starts to spasm. I can’t have been underwater for two minutes already.
The dust cloud is beneath me—all I have to do is get through it and Eddie will be waiting. As I descend, I reach for the T-shirt in my jacket pocket. The flashlight keeps getting in the way. I remove the loop from my wrist and tuck the flashlight into my weight belt so I can grasp the T-shirt. The red looks colorless down here.
My chest has stopped pulsing. Damn. I have let out some of my breath by mistake and now I need oxygen. I’ll have to surface for air and try again. I’m not leaving the Black Isle without saying goodbye to Eddie. I summon the energy to frog kick back up. As I push my legs down, there’s a loud fizz and a pop. I’m back there, on that day.
“Where are the fins? Where’s Mischief? Where’s Sundance?” Eddie asks, still sitting in the water as the waves break around him.
“Come on. We need to get you dry.”
“No. I want Dillon.”
“Dillon’s over there. He’s probably with all the dolphins because he’s not splashing about, making a racket. Get up.”
Eddie doesn’t move. I reach down and take his hand. His hands are colder than mine.
“I want fins!” he shouts at me.
“Fine, go on. Go and find Dillon. That’s where they are. Go on—go and swim out to the dolphins.”
“I don’t want to go on my own.”
“It’s about time you started doing things on your own. I won’t always be here to look after you.”
I shove Eddie’s hand away from me and turn around to look for Dad again. He’s still not there. Eddie clambers to his feet, then throws himself into the water and starts to swim.
“Eddie, no!” I cry. I wade after him and grab his arm. “Eddie! Come back!”
Something knocks me off my feet. My head goes under, just for a second, as a wave washes over us, and when I pull myself up, Eddie is gone.
“Eddie,” I gasp. I look down my arm to my hand because I can’t feel anything. Eddie’s hand isn’t there. In its place a thick, slimy piece of kelp has wrapped itself around my wrist.
Finally, the last gap in my memory. It was my fault all along. It doesn’t matter where Mum and Dad were, or Dillon. It doesn’t matter that Tay could have pulled his body out of the water. It doesn’t matter because I’m the one who sent him into the sea.
I make my decision: I’m not going back up.
My body fights my decision. Go up—you need air. You can escape, go up north, start a new life. Not so fast. Stay down—you have nothing to go back for. I let go of the wire and kick toward Eddie. I remember Jasper the frog tucked into my weight belt and pull him free. I look down just as the flashlight slips away. I watch the beam tumble into the murkiness and fade. This is it. This is my time. Sorry it took me so long to find you, Eddie.
The light comes back at me, blinding me. The angelfish are not in the sky—they’re here. . . . Then everything goes dark.
CELIA: Which fish go to heaven when they die?
EDDIE: Angelfish! But I don’t believe in angels.
CELIA: Angelfish are not angels. They are more beautiful, and they are brighter than anything in the sky.
EDDIE: Brighter than the brightest star?
CELIA: Brighter than all the brightest stars put together. You’ll never get lost if you follow an angelfish.
1
Rain falls on my face in sharp splinters, stinging my cheeks. I sit up. Danny has tied the Half Way to the side of another fishing boat, and we are moving slowly back to the harbor. The mist clings to the rocks around Chanonry Point, and even in the purple night I can see the swell of the ocean rolling back out from the shore.
“You followed me.” My voice is groggy and muffled.
“You stole a boat.”
I feel like I’m weighed down with sandbags. I reach down to unbuckle the weight belt, but it’s not there. Neither is Eddie’s cross. My wetsuit has been rolled down to my waist and I’m wearing the hoodie I had on earlier.
“The ribbons!” I shout. “Where are they? You’ve got to stop the boat. I need to get them.”
I scramble toward the outboard motor and reach for the cord, but a firm hand on my shoulder pulls me back.
“Joey!”
He drags me between his legs and wraps his arms around me. I wrestle out of his grip and grab his collar.
“You’ve ruined everything!”
“You could have died!”
“I wanted to die,” I sob.
Joey shakes me. “No!”
I punch him in the arm until I run out of energy.
I turn away and hang my head over the side of the boat. A white frothy line snakes away from the back of the boat, like a giant foam ribbon.
2
At the harbor, Mick and Rex are waiting with Mick’s car.
“She should go to hospital,” Joey says. “She was out of it.”
“I’m fine,” I say, taking a towel from Rex and wrapping it around my shoulder.
“She’s fine,” Danny says. “I’ll drive her home.”
No one moves for a while. Eventually I get in the back of the car because I need to sit down. When Mick climbs into the passenger seat, I lean forward and whisper to him.
“I saw you with my mum.”
Mick gulps. “She . . . I . . . We were just talking. She thought you were at the hospital—she’s gone to find you. She left right before Danny discovered the boat was gone.”
Danny gets in the driver’s seat, and I lean back again. I shouldn’t be here; I shouldn’t even be alive.
As we pull up to the front of my house, the gate swings open, and my dad runs to the car and yanks me out.
“Where have you been?”
There’s desperation in his voice. He shakes me and runs his eyes all over me, taking in my wet hair, my exhaustion. Before I can respond, Mick opens the passenger door and tells my father to let go of me.
I watch my father’s face morph from anger into the beginnings of rage.
“You!” he bellows at Mick. He moves his face so close to Mick’s that I think he’s going to punch him. “How dare you come to my house after everything you’ve done?”
Mick steps back and holds his hands out to my father the way you would to an angry, barking dog.
“Trust me, the last thing I wanted to do was come here, but your daughter nearly drowned, and I wanted to make sure there was someone here to look after her.”
“You mean you hoped that my wife would be here. You sick, sick man.”
“You knew about Mum and him?”
My father ignores me and carries on shouting at Mick. Danny is still in the car, hands fixed on the steering wheel like he might just drive away.
“Please, Colin. This isn’t about Celia. That’s been over for a long time. This is about Elsie and what’s best for her.”
“I don’t need you to tell me what’s best for my daughter. You have no idea about my family.”
“Oh, really? So, I have no idea that Elsie spends most of her days down at the Black Fin because she can’t bear to be at home?”
“Let’s go inside, Dad,” I say, trying to drag him through the gate before Mick can divulge any more of my secrets.
“You go,” he replies. “I’ll be just in.”
But I don’t move.
“It’s not enough that you tried to steal my wife. Now you want my daughter, too?”
“You are a poor excuse for a father, and a poor excuse for a man. God knows why Celia chose you.”
“Don’t talk to him like that!” I scream at Mick. “Don’t you get it that my family is only this messed up because of you? If you hadn’t been at the Point with my mum that day, Eddie might still be here. And if Danny hadn’t trashed his bike, things might have been different—Tay wouldn’t have gone and I would have found out what happened to Eddie back then. This is your fault. And his fault.”
I point to Danny, and he looks at me through the car window, his face all shadowy through the gl
ass. He shakes his head as if to warm me not to say anything else, but it’s too late. Mick bangs on the car door and asks him to get out.
“What is this about, Danny? I thought your bike was stolen. I thought Tay stole your bike.”
So many lies have been told.
“Tell them, Danny,” I say. “You might as well tell the truth now, because I’m going straight to the police.”
“I’m done talking about it,” Danny says.
“How can you be done talking when you’ve never said a single word?”
“I do talk about it. I talk to myself about it every single day. Don’t you think I wish I’d never followed my dad to the Point that day? That I hadn’t wrecked my bike?”
“Danny, what does she mean?” Mick says. “Tay’s dad found your bike in his garage. When did you follow me?”
Danny crumples and then lets it all out.
“Tay didn’t steal my bike,” Danny says. “I smashed it up after I followed you to the Point and saw you with that woman. I blackmailed Tay. I told him that he had to take the blame for stealing it or I’d tell everyone what he did.”
“Who’s Tay?” my dad asks. “What’s this got to do with anything?”
“What did Tay do?” Mick asks, his face pale, his jaw quivering.
Danny splutters. “Tay didn’t do anything,” he says. “He was trying to help.”
“You got Tay sent away!” I yell. Mick holds me back from launching into Danny. “I knew he was protecting you. We could have found out what happened if it wasn’t for you and your lies. You’re scum, and I hope you rot in hell.”
My father explodes. “Will someone please tell me what happened?”
He stands completely still with his hand over his mouth while Danny talks. When Danny gets to the bit about Dillon running off alone, my dad’s whole body shudders.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone what actually happened?” Mick asks.
“Because I was a stupid kid,” he says. “I didn’t want you to know that I’d followed you. I thought you’d stop me coming to stay if you found out. Because I felt guilty about breaking my new bike when I knew it was expensive. Because I didn’t want to believe any of it. The little boy. You and that woman.”
A gust of wind blows over us, and I long to get inside and dry. I want to lie down and never get up. In the distance there’s a siren. We all hear it.
“Don’t call the police, Elsie. They were just kids,” Mick says.
But I already know that I’m not going to. Tay and Danny are not to blame—I’m the reason Eddie died. Blood rushes to my head, and I stagger into my dad as I faint.
3
It’s dark outside when I wake up. A lamp glows in the corner of the room, and the clock on the TV tells me it’s ten p.m. I have no idea what day it is or how long it’s been since I went to find Eddie. I’m lying on the sofa covered with my own duvet and head propped up awkwardly on about four of the sofa cushions. My mouth is dry and my throat is on fire. When I breathe, it hurts. I can’t feel my legs. I reach down to check my legs are there. They’re cold to the touch.
“Hello?” I cry hoarsely.
My father enters the living room wearing his brown woolen sweater. I get a waft of his smoky smell.
“Hey, kid,” he says softly, and it makes me want to cry. “How are you feeling?”
He walks over and perches on the sofa arm above my head. He doesn’t touch me, but this is the closest we’ve been in a long, long time.
“Cold,” I say. “Have you spoken to Mum?”
“She knows I’m here with you. I haven’t told her what happened yet. She’s been very worried.”
I wait for him to start yelling, but he continues to whisper.
“Your brother is in a bad way.”
“I know.” I turn my head to the back of the sofa. The fibers smell musty.
“Want some dinner? I made pasta.”
The thought of food in my mouth makes me heave. I cough and sound like an old man.
My father reaches out and touches my forehead.
“You’re hot,” he says.
“I feel cold.”
“I’ll get you another blanket,” he says, but he doesn’t move. “That boy came by. He wanted to see if you were okay.”
My stomach leaps. Tay. The boy who lied to me. The boy who left my brother in the water. I feel myself blush as I remember our naked bodies in the boathouse. I hate him for still being able to make me long for him.
“What did you say?”
“I thanked him for saving your life last night.”
He means Danny. The one who ruined all my plans. The one who hid Eddie’s T-shirt for five years inside a damp, moldy cave.
“I didn’t want to be saved,” I say quietly.
My father snaps. “That’s enough, Elsie. Have you any idea what it was like for me to have that man turn up on my doorstep with his son and tell me that they’d just saved you from drowning? What were you even doing in the water in the middle of the night?”
“I was trying to find Eddie.”
“Damn it, Elsie. Don’t you think it’s enough that we’ve already lost Eddie?”
“I just wanted to see where he went!”
“He’s not down there! He’s not anywhere.” My father leans on the windowsill and presses his head into the glass. “He’s gone.”
“If he’s gone, then so am I.”
“No. You’re here.”
“Am I? Really? I didn’t think anyone had noticed.”
My father leaves the room. I wonder if I really meant what I said about not wanting to be saved. The plan was to escape, to run away and never be found. But I only made my decision not to come back up while I was down there. The depth may have messed with my mind.
When I wake up again, I’m in my own bed. I search for Jasper and remember that he’s gone. The phone rings, and I hear the deep rumble of my father’s voice. If I had the energy, I would drag myself to the phone in the hall and listen. Pain sears all the way down my throat when I swallow.
My father knocks on my door and waits. I don’t move. Eventually he peers in.
“Can I come in?”
He has changed and had a shower.
He comes in and places a cup of tea by my bed and rubs his face. He tells me I’ve been out of it for three days, that a doctor came by and gave me antibiotics for a lung infection.
“Was that Mum on the phone? Is Dillon okay?”
My father looks tortured.
“They’ve committed him.”
“So they’re making him eat?”
My father rubs his face again. “I don’t know what they’re doing to him. They’ve locked him up. They’ve locked up my boy.”
“Can we see him?”
“Yes. Come on—get dressed.” He sits me on the bed and opens my wardrobe. “This?” He holds out a navy blue sweater. I take it and slip it over my head. It used to be tight and now it hangs off me. I must be really sick.
“Do you still wish it was me who died instead of Eddie?”
My father freezes and slowly moves closer to me.
“What? Of course not. Why on earth do you think that?” He holds my head in both hands, so I can’t move.
“But I heard you. The day after he went missing, in the bedroom, you said, ‘Why did it have to be him?’”
Dad sobs into my hair. “No, sweetheart. I wasn’t talking about Eddie.”
“Who, then?”
But I realize I already know.
“Mick? You saw them together, didn’t you? On the Point that day.”
My father’s eyes widen.
“I’ve worked it all out,” I say. “You saw her with someone and you went after her, but she drove off. And then you found her coat on the beach when you were looking for Eddie.”
He nods gravely. “Mick was your Mum’s boyfriend before I came along. She dumped him for me, but then somewhere along the line, I think she realized her mistake. Something happened again between them when y
ou and Eddie were about nine or ten—she nearly left me, but I begged her to stay. She promised she’d never see him again. I guess she could never keep that promise, and I punished her for it. I should have let her go.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I say.
“Don’t be sorry. I walked away from you kids. And I have to live with that.” He hangs his head, and his whole body slumps. We are united in our guilt. It was never me he hated—it was himself.
4
I’m allowed to see Dillon for a few minutes on my own first, at his request. He’s propped up in bed doing a crossword puzzle. There are no tubes attached to him. No vanilla. He’s still scrawny as a rake, though.
He sits upright when he sees me and thrusts his arms out.
“I hear you went for a swim,” he says, hugging me tight. I feel like we connect, and for the first time since my “swim” I’m glad to be alive. All the anger I felt toward him a few days ago has dissipated. Seeing him here, I already know that the secrets have ruined him, too.
“Diving, actually,” I tell him.
“Jesus, Elsie. I didn’t know it could be so dangerous.”
He shuffles up so I can sit next to him.
“Are you eating, Dilbil? No more tubes?”
“A bit. I’m on half portions. They said they’d keep me in this locked wing of the hospital if I didn’t eat. I don’t want to be here.”
His blues eyes seem too large for his face. I can’t help but stare into them, like I’m still looking for answers.
“Are you okay, though?” he asks.
“Bit of an infection. I had a blackout and swallowed some water, but I’m okay.”
Dillon leans in suddenly and lowers his voice.
“Look, we’ve only got a few minutes before Mum and Dad come in for ‘family’ therapy. Did you find the T-shirt?”
I nod. I haven’t got the energy to explain everything that’s happened over the last few days.
“I found it. Danny had hidden it. God, you don’t even know who Danny is, do you?”
The Art of Not Breathing Page 20