No Filter

by Orlagh Collins

I don’t want to open my eyes.

  ‘This is messed up,’ he says.

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Feeling this mad and being … madly in love at the same time.’

  I feel my brain slowly brake and I play the words again inside my head. I know for a fact I’ve never felt this close to anyone ever. I never knew that closeness like this existed. ‘Are you?’ I ask, like a child. ‘Are you madly in love with me?’

  He pulls my elbows from under me and I dissolve on to the ground that is part sand, part tarpaulin. ‘Maybe.’ He smiles, leaning over me now.

  ‘Maybe?’ I roll my head away. ‘OK, I am properly mad at you now.’

  He gently tilts my face back to his and I can feel his breath again, stronger. I can almost taste him. ‘I love you,’ he says, slowly, pulling me up towards him and hauling us fully inside the tent. ‘There, will that do?’ His beautiful full lips beam at me.

  I pull him on to me, twining my arms around his neck. ‘Say it again.’

  He nestles his face into my hair and falls into me. ‘I love you,’ he whispers. ‘But you knew that. The very first night you looked at me, you saw me falling, right there in front of you.’

  I want the world to stop so we can stay like this forever. I need to see his eyes so I push his face away, but I find his mouth, open and waiting like the answer to a question I didn’t dare ask. I place my lips on his and let his warm tongue fall, full and heavy on to mine. I begin to taste something: like apples at first and then sweet tea, before he pulls away and covers my mouth in small salty kisses. He rolls on to me, plunging again, kissing me deeper. This is no ordinary kissing. He seizes my hands, holding them trapped against our sides. I can feel his thumbs brush my palms and then his fingers move up to my wrists, stroking their insides as I lie completely still and in bliss. Our lips open to each other again and he pulls me hard against him. God, oh God.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says, pulling away suddenly. ‘We better stop.’

  I press myself in to him, refusing to let him go. ‘No!’

  Mouths open, tongues deep and demanding. What is happening inside me? I can’t stop. He leans in to me, heavily, one more time before he pushes himself off. ‘I didn’t think this would happen,’ he says, his stubble rasping at my chin. ‘I mean I hoped it might, but I didn’t allow myself to believe it. I haven’t … I didn’t … you know, bring anything.’

  I can feel his weight on me and I am full with a longing that is entirely new. ‘I have one,’ I say.

  His eyes go so wide. ‘What?’

  ‘In my bag.’

  ‘You carry condoms?’ he says, part disbelief, part hilarity, part something else that I don’t even want to work out. ‘You think you know someone, and then –’

  ‘One! I have one! It’s been there since the Fifth Form Ball. Kitty gave it to me … it was a kind of joke. Well, it was to me anyway.’

  He swipes a lock of hair from my eyes. ‘But are you sure you’re sure, Em?’

  ‘Yes, completely.’ And it’s true; I know I am.

  ‘It’s just, I haven’t …’ He pushes off me and squints into the darkness. ‘It’s my first –’

  ‘Me too,’ I whisper, cutting him off and gripping a fist of hair from the back of his head and drawing him steadily forward.

  He kisses me again, soft and willing, before placing a hand on either side of my face and pushing himself up again. ‘OK, that helps, you know … that we’re in this together. Not gonna lie.’ He leans back through the open zip, limbo dancer style and swings my bag into the tent by its long strap. I fumble inside it, rummaging through the make-up and empty Haribo packets in rising panic. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. Eventually my fingers find the inside pocket and I undo the popper and slide my hand into the same scented envelope Kitty placed there a couple of months ago.

  I place the soft foil packet in Liam’s palm and I lie back, writhing clumsily out of my dress. I am naked now: completely naked, open and bare, watching Liam wrestling with his jeans. My face scrunches up into some sort of cringe I know can’t look good, but I can’t help it. I’m not sure I even care. I’m not embarrassed, but still, I keep my eyes closed until his hips fall on to mine again and I feel him press up firmly against me so that I have the full delicious pressure of him on me now. My nipples harden, which startles me. Everything is startling me. It takes a few tries before he finds me and I allow my hands to explore his back, tearing his sweat soaked T-shirt over his head.

  ‘What if I … ?’ he says, stopping again and pressing himself up.

  His arms tremble under his weight and I watch his chest rise and fall. ‘What if you what?’

  ‘Hurt you.’ His breath is urgent and his eyes are glistening now. ‘Or, that I get it wrong –’

  I raise my face to his without answering and let his lips cover mine again. ‘It’s OK,’ I say, pulling back as my body heaves. His hands are everywhere. Mine too. ‘We can’t get this wrong, Liam,’ I whisper, knowing with utter certainty that this is now true. I feel a small stab of pain somewhere between my legs. I push him back but the sensation has moved to my hips, turning into something extraordinary I don’t want to stop, and as we move together now I am nothing but my body, our bodies. I take his head in my hands and kiss him with all my life.

  ‘I never expected this, Emerald,’ he whispers, moving inside me now. ‘I never, ever expected you.’

  I open my eyes to his and it’s just us. Liam and me and the Irish Sea. We’ve shut out the world; all of its sharp edges beautifully blurred.

  LIAM

  Watching the day become itself

  Emerald and me huddle up on the low cliffs, watching a flock of razorbills diving off the rocks and swimming out together in a large circle. The sleek, black bodies disappear in an instant and then, all at once, they rise to the surface: elegant heads first, then dashes of bright, white throats with beaks wide open, expecting what, I don’t know. It’s like our own good-morning flash-mob. I look up at Emerald to see if she’s catching it all, but she’s staring out into the sky. My eyes follow hers and together we watch the day become itself.

  I nestle my head into her. ‘This has got to be my new favourite place.’

  ‘I know. It’s so beautiful here.’

  ‘Not the cliff. I mean lying here, on your chest.’

  She leans her head over and kisses me upside down.

  ‘We gotta go,’ I say, getting up reluctantly. ‘There’s no holding back that sun.’

  We run along the cliff edge and stumble down the rocky path, back to our little base camp. Together we gather up the last of the bags and haul them towards the boat. It’s only us and the birds up this early; even the sea looks sleepy. We board the RIB and push away from the shoreline, drifting out into the silky waters. Once we’re at a comfortable speed I look back through the binoculars. There’s no trace of us on the empty shore and I exhale slowly, deeply, happily.

  As we round the cliffs, I spot a line of wallaby tails bouncing out of the bushes. I reach over her seat and point up behind us. ‘Look up to your left.’ I have to shout it over the roar of the engine. Then I sit back into the helm and watch her, watching. My insides surge with something new and warm, softening the bite of the cold morning air. There is no golden egg-yolk sun this morning, just a pure, white light rising in the shining sky.

  ‘Liam, Liam. I see them!’ She goes to stand up but staggers and has to grip the backrest to steady herself. She’s pointing like a mad thing and rocking the boat.

  ‘Whoa, whoa, sit down.’

  She looks up again, binoculars clamped to her eyes. ‘There are four of them. Ohmygod, look!’ she squeals with delight.

  I need to keep clear of the cliffs and just steering is taking all my concentration. Still, I want her to get a proper look.

  ‘It’s like they’re whispering to each other,’ she says, turning to look at me. I catch a quick glance at her face, wild and alive, and then she starts to laugh: a beautiful peal of inexplicable laughter. ‘I can
’t believe it’s true. I can’t believe they’re really here!’

  ‘Careful!’ I call out.

  We’re riding steadily across the water now so I squint back up for another look. I’m watching the clumps of bushes in the high distance, but I can’t see anything. I follow Emerald’s eyeline but her gaze is off. She’s looking further left, away from our cliff.

  ‘Are there more?’ I say. She doesn’t turn. I don’t know if she’s even heard me. ‘Did you spot –?’

  She spins around and the binoculars tumble down from the strap around her neck. ‘There’s somebody there, Liam.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Up there,’ she points in the direction of Deadmaiden’s Cove. ‘He’s watching us.’

  ‘Jaysus.’ I stand up, waving her back down the boat towards me. ‘C’mere, gimme them,’ I shout, reaching.

  She dives towards me, slipping between the seats but she manages to hand the binoculars over. I fix them to my face, without letting go of the wheel. There in the distance, Gerry stands with his gun slung over his shoulder, looking like some lonely warlord. I’m staring at what looks like a large brown sack by his feet wondering what on God’s earth he’s sporting that bloody weapon for at all, when he bends down and swings the heavy brown bulge into the air and over his back. It’s only as I spot the thick line of blood that drips from the poor wallaby’s body I realise it’s not a sack at all. Nobody culls the island wallabies, even I know that. What’s more, Gerry knows I know, which is exactly why the bullying bastard’s done it!

  I tighten my grip on the steering. ‘Sit down, Em! Sit down!’ I can’t believe she nearly saw that. Ducking behind the wheel, I feel for her hand and pull her back towards the cover of the cab. My other hand is all over the dash, grabbing at the dials. I grip the engine throttle and set it at full speed. The boat lurches to port, tossing us forward as the RIB rips through the water. ‘Hold on!’ I shout, as I regain control. We’re doing over thirty knots. Adrenalin and rage shoot through me as we tear in the direction of home. We slice through the water, both of us now drenched in the salty spray.

  We’re a mile or two out before I reach for the throttle level and slow it to half, which is enough to catch my breath and then we slowly, slowly ease down. As we finally cross over the sandbank, I look over at Em.

  She looks back at me. ‘That was the gamekeeper, wasn’t it?’

  I nod. ‘Y’OK?’

  She nods back. ‘D’you think he saw us?’

  I want to put my arms around her but we’re almost at the marina and I need to navigate the buoys. I don’t want Gerry polluting the wonder of all we shared last night. ‘Nah. Not without binoculars. I got a fright; that’s all.’

  There isn’t a soul out as we saunter back along the coast road towards Portstrand. It’s even too early for the die-hard triathletes who pound this road in any weather. In the pale sunlight everything looks new, like we’ve earned the morning as truly ours. We follow the path along by High Rock and I can’t resist squeezing her hand; she squeezes mine back. We don’t need words. How can the world have changed like this in one night?

  The first bus of the day fires into life as we pass the terminus. I check my watch; 5.27 a.m. I hold it out for her to see.

  ‘We made it, Captain,’ she says, leaning against a pillar by the hotel entrance. She looks up at the sky and she exhales with a shiver. ‘There are faces in those clouds,’ she says, pointing up. ‘Smiling at us.’

  I slink towards her but it’s as though my clothes have shrunk with me in them and I can just about breathe. She tugs me towards her, kissing me. I’ve got to get her indoors but this could be our last kiss for hours and I don’t want to pull away.

  Pushing me slowly off, she plants a final kiss on my mouth. ‘You can leave me here,’ she says eventually.

  ‘No way. I’ll see you up. C’mon!’ I say, dragging her hand towards the gates of her grandma’s big house.

  We’re barely a foot through the dark gates when her body stiffens next to mine and I track her eyes up the drive. She stops dead. Light pours out from the downstairs windows. I’m trying to process this when I notice the navy car in the drive. Then I clock its aerials. ‘That’s a cop car, Em.’

  Her eyes flash wide. ‘She’s called the police?’ I take her shaking hand in mine and slowly nod my head. ‘What am I gonna do?’

  My head’s splitting apart, trying to work out what the hell has happened. ‘OK, we’ll go straight in there. We’ve got to. She’ll be up to ninety,’ I say. Em’s searching my face in panic but I’m terrified of what she might say in front of the Guards. ‘Don’t worry – I’ll explain it was all my idea. Nothing about the island. I’ll say we slept on the beach.’ Her eyes careen around in their sockets and I’m even more afraid she’ll blurt out about stealing the boat and Gerry will slaughter Da like he did the poor wallaby. ‘Have you got that, Em?’ I turn her face to me and squeeze her fingers in mine. I need eye contact, confirming this is understood. ‘This is important,’ I say, moving my hands up to her shoulders and squaring them. ‘We slept on the beach, OK?’ She dips her head back to me.

  We begin our march up the long, rose-lined drive, clutching each other’s arms. There’s a sound of a latch and our eyes fix on the hall door, gradually opening as we get closer. Bit by bit the figure of her grandma is revealed, standing there in her dressing gown. She doesn’t look at all like Emerald, but right now they share the same petrified expression.

  Emerald begins to run the last few steps, dragging me with her. It’s only when I have my sodden shoe inside the hallway door that I see him, Sergeant O’Flaherty, leaning between the hall table and the banisters, clutching a mug of tea. There’s another Guard with him; a young, fidgety fella, fresh-out-of-the-box. He’s got his eyes fixed on Em, not on me. Without any words, we’re ushered deep into the large hall. Emerald is the first to speak.

  ‘Grandma, I’m so sorry,’ she says, falling into her arms.

  The woman holds Emerald there for a moment; her eyes closed, lips moving like she’s praying, then she steps back a few inches and stares up at her face. ‘Heaven help us, where have you been all night? What in the name of God were you thinking, Emerald?’

  ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. Everything’s OK. I’m OK,’ says Em.

  ‘And everyone’s safe, which is the main thing.’ It’s yer man, Fidget, bouncing up and down on his feet. He’s a total bogger.

  ‘Grandma, this is Liam,’ Em says, seizing my hand and heaving me forward.

  There’s no way Em would have found herself in this sort of situation had it not been for me. Me, I’m used to the odd scrape, the occasional brush with some authority or another. I bet she’s never even coloured outside the lines. I’m feeling every inch the bad influence that all the gathered stares have decided I am. Where do I even start this apology?

  ‘Hi, eh … Mrs Rutherford,’ I say, unsure of what to do with my hands. ‘This is all my fault,’ I add, but she looks at me without a word. The air is thick with silence. Fidget starts to cough. He’s still at it when I glance back around the hall to find all of them gawking at me at once. ‘You see, Emerald didn’t –’

  ‘It’s Byrne,’ O’Flaherty’s gravelly voice pipes up from the stairs. ‘The lady’s name is Mrs Byrne, Liam,’ he says, shaking his head at me.

  I shoot him a stare, confused. His eyes have a mad look I’m not sure I want to decode. He’s still shaking his fat, dimpled chin ever so slowly from side to side.

  Emerald is hugging her grandma and I glance beyond her head, around Fidget’s back and into the kitchen, where my eyes land on a photo of her beside the fridge. She’s much younger, wearing earmuffs and holding a man’s hand. It’s far away but I instantly recognise his face.

  My mind turns to fog and I can no longer see straight. I spin back to face O’Flaherty, who sets his mug down on the hall table with a deliberate thud, right beside the old phone. I follow his thick, hairy hand jutting out the end of his coat-sleeve and w
atch as he tears the top page from a pad of old Post-it notes and hands it to me. My eyes dart from the scrap of blank paper in my hand, to Emerald, and then back to my shaking hand. There’s nothing written on it, only a printed logo somewhat faded from the sunlight. I blink a few times but my eyes won’t focus. I glare at the letters, willing them to stay still. Then, like some sort of Ouija board formation, the pattern emerges and I can suddenly see the word screaming at me:

  HORIZON.

  Bile skulks up my throat. I clamp my hand over my mouth, pushing towards the door.

  Emerald reaches for me as I pass. ‘Liam!’

  I start to run.

  ‘Young love, eh,’ Fidget announces in the distance but his voice is soon drowned out by the sound of O’Flaherty’s heavy boots, which follow me down the drive.

  ‘Get in the car, Flynn,’ he shouts, gaining on me.

  ‘Liam!’ I hear Em call out again but I can’t turn around. I feel O’Flaherty’s cold hand on the back of my head as he swings open the door and shoves me into the back seat.

  EMERALD

  ‘All this lip!’

  Grandma is sorting through paperwork at the kitchen table. She’s flicking through bank statements and totting up numbers on an old envelope before punching them into a calculator. Neither of us has been back to bed.

  I’ve left Liam yet another voicemail and I’m going out of my mind. ‘You must know something, Grandma – you were with that policeman for hours. I need to know what he said to Liam. Please!’

  I’m trying not to be angry with her, but it’s hard, because right now she’s my only lead. I slam my phone on to the kitchen counter, kind of accidently, mostly on purpose.

  ‘Emerald!’ she snaps. I’ve broken her concentration. ‘As you’re well aware I barely slept a wink last night and I’d like this behaviour to stop now.’

  ‘I was just asking!’ I did mean this to be an apology but it doesn’t quite come out like one.

  ‘You’ve asked plenty and it has to stop – all of it!’

  I’m on thin-ice already but I wish she could understand how unbearable this is. ‘That awful look on Liam’s face, Grandma. If I just knew what was said –’