The Sea-wreck Stranger

by Anna Mackenzie

  Chapter 17

  At the cliff top I hesitate, eyeing the sky. The sun has already disappeared beyond the hill and the light will be gone before I’ve crossed the bay. Slipping Merryn’s honeycakes inside my jacket to keep my hands free, I set my feet on the path.

  Midway down the storm has torn a fresh bite from the cliff face leaving scant holds for my toes in their stiff, mud-caked boots. Holding my breath, I work my way over the worst, scrabbling desperately for a handhold when I misjudge a step and begin to slide. Only when my feet are safe on the sand do I let myself pause to study the beach.

  The line of sea-wreck runs right to the dunes and the sea itself shrugs sullen and grey. My eyes crawl to the cave mouth, where a tree trunk has been tossed as if it were no more than a twig. Despite the failing light, I hesitate. I’m not sure I want to go into the cave, or see the ledge, swept bare by the waves – though it would be worse if he was actually there, broken and battered despite all we’ve done for him. But it’s not likely. The sea has a way of claiming its own.

  The cold chatter of my teeth finally pushes me on. The cave is exactly as I expected. Sea litter lies scattered across the floor, and I think numbly how much Ty would enjoy poking through it. Reluctantly I lift my eyes to Dev’s ledge.

  The sea has left flotsam there as well – heaped grass and wood. There’s no sign of the blanket or our pot and stash of food. A fresh tide-mark runs high around the wall above the ledge; as high as a man’s waist. I turn my mind from the image it brings of the pounding crash and suck of the surf.

  It would be best, I think, as my eyes blur with tears, if he was asleep when the sea took him, or unconscious, so he knew nothing of it. Suddenly I want to escape the cave. I turn and run, splashing through the puddles that are beginning to gather in the wrinkles of sand at the cave mouth. The tide is hurrying in and I long to be away from it.

  Jumping across a mound of weed I dash a hand across my eyes – and run smack into something solid. Winded, I stumble backwards and fall, landing painfully hard on the damp sand. It takes me a moment to realise what’s happened. Whoever I ran into has fallen as well. I squeeze my eyes tight thinking that if it’s anyone other than Sophie or Ty I’ll have questions to answer.

  With a deep breath I sit up and turn to face whoever has found me. The eyes that meet mine are the last I expect to see. I shake my head, disbelieving.

  Dev smiles gently, though his expression looks strained. ‘Hello, Ness,’ he says.

  I close my eyes tight, willing it not to be a dream. When I open them and Dev is still sitting in a tangle on the sand, I push myself hurriedly to my feet, words stumbling in my mouth. ‘Dev! How can … I mean, didn’t you …’ I pause to draw a breath. ‘Dev, I thought you must be drowned!’

  ‘Again,’ Dev answers, with the ghost of a smile. He stretches out a hand and I help pull him lopsidedly to his feet. ‘Perhaps I should accept it as inevitable,’ he adds. ‘But apparently I’m not ready.’ He tries a laugh but it turns instead to a cough.

  His limp is pronounced as we turn towards the cave mouth. Remorse fills me. ‘Are you hurt?’ I ask. ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going. I …’ I hesitate. ‘I didn’t expect to see you. I’m sorry.’

  Dev shrugs. ‘I’ve survived worse.’

  He means it as a joke, I think, but the stark reality of the words shakes me. ‘Dev, how did you get out?’ I ask. ‘How did you know in time?’

  We’re inside the cave now and the light is too dim to read much in his face. ‘The tide-line –’ he waves one hand towards the wall. ‘When I went out for water I saw a storm was building. The sea came up so fast I was nearly too late,’ he says.

  I’ve so many questions I hardly know where to begin. When we reach the ledge Dev collapses onto it, his hand pressed against his thigh above the bandage, now crusty and stained. I bite my lip. ‘The wound on your leg will need cleaning,’ I say. ‘I’ll fetch water,’ I begin to cast about, wondering how I might carry it.

  Dev lifts an arm to point to the ledge above. ‘There’s a bottle there,’ he says. ‘I found it yesterday. The sea’s left all kinds of things.’

  The bottle is plastic with the hint of a pattern along one side. Under the Council’s bans, plastic is forbidden, destined by definition for the Cleansing Day fires. As I collect it I look more closely at the upper ledge. What I took for flotsam suddenly appears more organised: a mound of grass for a bed; driftwood gathered for a fire though it’s not been lit. I frown. It’s two days since the storm and Dev’s alive. That’s wonder enough, let alone that he’s been out rummaging through sea-wreck.

  He coughs again, the spasm shaking his body. He has the old blanket, stiff with salt, draped across his shoulders but I can see that he’s shivering.

  ‘You need a fire,’ I tell him. ‘You’ll catch pneumonia else.’

  He nods. ‘It’s warmer outside than in here. There was a patch of sun, earlier. Help me up.’

  We clamber up to the higher ledge. The effort seems as much as he can manage, and it sets him coughing once more.

  ‘I’ll fetch water,’ I say quickly.

  Mud lies thick where the water that generally drips down the rocky cleft has poured in a torrent during the storm. The water is still running swifter than usual and the bottle fills quickly. I rinse it twice then take a sip, spitting sharply. It’s murky with silt. I wonder how long it’ll take for the sediment to settle.

  What Dev needs as much as water is a fire. Leaping the gathering pools of the incoming tide I circle the rocks and run back inside the cave, ignoring Dev as I scramble to the highest corner of the ledge. The tide-mark runs as high as the cleft where Ty keeps his treasures. Stretching tall I reach inside, feeling with my fingers. The rock is dry. It’s there! With a cry of relief I draw out the small metal box.

  As I kneel before the driftwood trying to coax a spark, Dev leans close to study the tinderbox. ‘I wish I’d known that was there,’ he says. ‘Though I’m not sure I’d have known how to use it.’

  I glance at him sideways but before I can ask how it is that he’s never lit a fire, a spark takes and my efforts are focussed on getting it to catch on the damp twigs. With care the fire holds, and I feed it till it spreads and begins to smoke sluggishly.

  ‘You’ll have to tend it, else it’ll go out,’ I tell him.

  Dev nods. ‘The things I found must have been washed up by the storm.’

  ‘There’s always wreck after a storm,’ I agree. ‘But Dev, you shouldn’t go out of the cave, not during daytime. You mustn’t be seen.’

  Despite my warnings, he doesn’t understand the danger he’s in. Oh, if it were only the danger of the sea and a storm and getting too cold!

  ‘I found that,’ Dev continues, pointing to an orange and white ring that’s leaning up against the wall. There are letters printed in black around its curve. I squint to make them out – it’s a long time since Mama taught me my letters and I’ve had no cause to use them since, except sometimes to read the title of a book being burnt on Cleansing Day. ‘It’s from my ship,’ Dev adds.

  ‘ERV Nemo,’ I read, shaping the sounds aloud.

  ‘ERV stands for environmental research vessel,’ Dev explains, though this leaves me none the wiser. Glancing towards the cave mouth I see it’s almost full dark outside, and already it’s passed time when I should be home. As gently as I can I peel back the filthy dressings. The wound on his leg is raw and weeping, but the surrounding flesh at least looks clear of infection.

  ‘Dev, I have to go,’ I say. ‘We can’t reuse those bandages, not until they’ve been boiled. We’ll leave the wound open for now, but you’ll need to take care to keep it clean.’ Remembering Merryn’s honeycakes, I reach inside my jacket. ‘Here. I’ll bring more food as soon as I can and another pot.’ Which will be easier said than done, but there’s no point in troubling him with that.

  He reaches gratefully for the cakes.

  ‘You mustn’t go outside,’ I tell him again. ‘Not during daylight. It�
�s not safe.’

  He stares at me blankly but I’ve no time to explain. Laying more driftwood on the fire, I tell him I’ll be back tomorrow and jump down from the ledge. Glad as I am to find Dev alive, I hope that the world has no more surprises for me for a while: my emotions feel raw and jumbled, relief mingling with worry over the detail of feeding and caring for him, and the fresh problems created by the loss of our saucepan and Merryn’s healing ointment.

  With my thoughts as tangled as the bull kelp that lies in ragged swathes along the beach, I run across the bay and scramble up the barely recognisable path.

  By the time I reach our farmyard, mud is plastered across my skirt. My legs and boots are heavy with it. Ty is standing in the yard, one hand on the pump. His eyebrows lift as he takes in the state of me.

  ‘You’ll have Tilda on your back double,’ he says, as if I don’t already know it. ‘Marn is about to go looking for you.’

  ‘He sent me to Merryn’s,’ I say, flaring at the disapproval in Ty’s voice. ‘I thought it’d be quicker, coming back by the bay, but I’d bargained without the mud.’

  Ty says nothing. I’m not sure why I keep the news of Dev to myself. Perhaps it’s simply that I’m tired and his disapproval irks me; perhaps it’s something more. I’m no longer as certain of Ty as I once was. There was a time when he’d never have sided against me with Marn.

  ‘Here.’ Ty sloshes icy water over my legs. ‘Clean yourself up a bit. I’ll let them know you’re back. Ness –’ Whatever he was about to tell me is lost as the kitchen door opens and Marn appears. He pulls up short at the sight of me but my attention has already shifted to the person at his side. Jed’s smile when he sees me is not a smile I like.

  ‘You took your time,’ Marn says, striding across to the pump. ‘Is all well with Merryn?’

  I nod. Tiredness has a hold of my tongue.

  ‘You look as if you’ve been through the pig wallow.’ Marn frowns. He’ll know I didn’t come back by the road but I’ve no energy to think of an explanation, and he saves me the trouble. ‘You boys had best fill a couple of extra buckets and tell Sophie to get them on to heat. Jed, once you’re done, Ty can show you where you’re sleeping.’

  My eyes widen. ‘Jed’s staying with us for a few days,’ Marn explains. ‘Ton was caught on the shoulder by a branch as he cleared the tree that struck their house. Elsie’s driving him to Tarbet to have it seen to.’

  They’d as well have gone to Merryn for help, but I’m past caring about such foolishness. I sag against Ty’s shoulder.

  ‘Better get her inside,’ I hear Marn say. ‘She’s still the worse for her outing in the storm.’

  I’ve a vague notion of Ty leading me across the yard, then of the light of the kitchen and the rasp of a rough towel on my legs, together with a noise that must surely be Tilda making a fuss.

  ‘Leave it, Tilda. She’s asleep on her feet,’ I hear Marn say. I’d tell him otherwise but before I’ve formed the words I find myself sinking off into a wonderful, soothing darkness.

  Chapter 18

  ‘Colm has called a meeting,’ Marn announces at breakfast.

  Four days have passed since I found Dev alive, and I’ve only once managed to visit him. He was coughing still but the wound on his leg seemed to be healing at last. I should have been pleased, but it seems the greater the odds that he’ll live, the more I worry for his future. It’s as if a noose is tightening, and it’s my neck as well as Dev’s that’s like to be caught in it. Marn’s mention of Colm Brewster pinches at my throat.

  ‘And not before time,’ Tilda says with a sharp smile, like a stoat sighting chickens left loose in the yard. ‘There are things that need dealing with rather than ignoring.’

  Tilda listens too closely to the talk of Elsie Barritt. The trouble that’s brewing hangs heavy in the air, stirred and thickened by Elsie’s tongue that’s busy wagging through the town. Marn took Ty and Jed to Tarbet to buy a new bullock two days since, and to check on Ton besides. Ty came back full of the tales that Elsie has been spreading. According to Elsie, all our troubles – and hers especially – are the result of the bans being broken, and her hints point accusingly at Merryn. No matter how many of the bans Merryn might have broken, I don’t see how she could be responsible for a storm and a tree falling down, but no one seems bold enough to say so.

  ‘When will this meeting be?’ Tilda asks.

  Marn shrugs. ‘Not till Ton is able to travel. Colm’s called for the full Council to meet in Dun.’

  The Council is made up of men, most of them tied in some way to Colm. Ton’s voice speaks for Wester and all its surrounding farms.

  ‘What of the women?’ Tilda demands. ‘Ill-wishing doesn’t limit itself to Council members, and neither should the resolving of it.’

  ‘Colm is head of the Council and the decision is his,’ Marn replies. ‘If you’ve a mind to do something helpful, you might visit Elsie once she’s back. Ton plans on returning at the end of the week.’

  Relief flows like a tonic through my veins with the news that Jed will soon be gone. At times I think he was sent to spy – he watches me close enough. By rights he should be too tired to trouble himself, for Marn has been driving the boys near as hard as he drives himself, finishing the repairs to Barritts’ roof as well as ploughing both farms. I can’t help but think sourly on why Marn wants to prove himself such a good neighbour.

  Jed, meanwhile, takes every chance to discomfit me. The threat of his sudden appearances is worse even than the threat of Tilda’s tempers. At least with Tilda, we know what to expect, her rage building and bursting like a pus-filled sore. Jed’s malice, by contrast, oozes from him cold and measured.

  He caught me alone in the pantry only yesterday, pressing himself into the small space beside me with an expression that turned my skin cold. Sophie’s appearance at his back sent him off with a sneer, but I had decided already that I would split open Jed’s head with the last crock of preserves if need be.

  Tilda, doubtless annoyed that Marn and the Council won’t bend to her will, decides to turn her wrath on me instead. ‘Enough of your dawdling,’ she snaps. ‘Once Elsie’s home you can go to Cotterburn to help her get the house back in order. Meanwhile there’s no shortage of work here – all the bedding needs airing and the blankets are due a wash.’

  I turn away to hide the look on my face. Surely she can’t mean I’m to stay at Cotterburn? I’d have no escape from Jed then, and no way of visiting Dev besides. As for the blankets, it’s not washday till Thursday and Marn’s already asked me to take the goats back out to the top field this morning, then to clear their soiled straw bedding from the barn.

  I try to catch his eye but he has his back to me as Ty follows him to the door. It’s Jed who meets my gaze and the look on his face is one I’d rather have avoided. Tilda sees it too, and misreads it. ‘And you can stop making eyes,’ she says. ‘You’ve chores to get on with. I can add more if you wish.’ My anger sends a dark flush across my face as I turn and sink my hands into the hot dishwater. Jed’s snigger, as he closes the door behind him, does nothing to improve my mood.

  My temper’s still alight as I carry the first load of washing out to the copper. Sophie follows. ‘I don’t mind helping,’ she says.

  ‘It’ll only rile her,’ I reply with bad grace. It’s unfair and I know it. It’s not Sophie’s fault that Tilda’s behaving more unreasonably than ever.

  Sophie’s quiet a long while, so that I know something’s brewing. ‘Ness,’ she says finally, just as I’m hefting the first wet armful from the steaming water, ‘It’s probably for the best, that Dev’s gone.’

  ‘Leave it Sophie,’ I tell her.

  ‘You did all you could,’ she continues.

  I round on her. ‘Really? For I’ve a notion that “all we could” would have been to care for him properly, in a house, with food and warmth and medicine, not to keep him half-starved in a cave at the mercy of the weather!’

  Sophie shakes her head. ‘Maybe if
things were different,’ she suggests. ‘But they’re not, Ness, and there’s no use thinking on what might have been.’

  ‘Oh, indeed not!’ I agree. ‘After all, Pa and Mama might still have been alive, and Bella too, why not! I might have been living in Tarbet and never come to this place at all. While we’re wishing on it, there’s a whole raft of might-have-beens worth having!’

  I’m sorry for my gush of anger as soon as it’s spilled, as well as for the distress it puts on Sophie’s face. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ she says quietly.

  ‘I know you didn’t,’ I amend. ‘But Sophie, I can’t live like this! I don’t belong here any more than I’m welcome, and if Marn’s solution is to marry me to Jed – well, I’d rather be drowned in the bay than that!’

  Sophie’s shocked expression reminds me I’ve not told her of Marn’s plan for my future – or for the future of our top fields. ‘Marn wouldn’t do that,’ she says. ‘He’d never make you marry Jed!’

  ‘He would,’ I sigh. ‘He told me so, two weeks ago.’

  Sophie’s reaction startles me. I’ve never known her to take against Marn, but her first thought is to march up the fields to find him, her small fists clenched and her arguments ready on her tongue. Arguments have never been the way to change Marn’s mind, and we both know it.

  ‘I won’t let you be married to Jed,’ Sophie announces, and the set of her face makes me think, of a sudden, that she maybe shares a little of Marn’s stubbornness.

  It’s not until the day’s end that I find time to sit quiet and consider this new side of my cousin. With my head resting against Sal’s warm flank, I wonder whether Sophie’s changed or whether I’ve just not taken proper notice of her before. There’s a strength to her that you don’t expect with her delicate face and thin arms. Tilda and Marn might underestimate her, but I’m beginning not to.