Some Veil Did Fall

by Kirsty Ferry

  She carefully edged herself backwards and shuffled somehow towards the cliff path. Just as she was almost there, she felt someone grab her ankles. She yelped and twisted around, half-expecting to see Jacob standing there, ready to pick her up and toss her into the sea with the rest of them. Dear God, save me! But it wasn’t Jacob; however, it was almost as bad.

  ‘Seb!’ she managed. ‘What the hell are you doing here? For God’s sake will you stop bloody stalking me?’

  ‘I’m not stalking you!’ said Seb. He looked genuinely concerned. He tugged half-heartedly at her ankles until she kicked him away and managed to crawl out from the wreckage of the fence.

  ‘I can’t deal with you at the minute,’ she told him. ‘I just can’t.’ She tried to stand up, but her legs felt as if they were made of jelly. She swayed, trying hard to stay upright and not actually pass out either. She dipped her head and ground her fists into her eyes. All she could see were the images that had flashed into her head. She’d never be able to prove it, though. Never. But she knew it was the truth.

  She was aware of a quiet muttering sort of noise. She opened her eyes and saw Seb talking away to her. Here we go again, she thought angrily. She composed herself and focused on him. What on earth did he want now?

  ‘Seb, slow it down, please,’ she said unenthusiastically.

  Seb stopped talking and his face darkened. ‘I’m sick of repeating myself to you,’ he said. ‘That’s the one thing that always bugs me. I came here to get you back. All I wanted was another chance. And maybe I was, well, wrong in some of the things I said and did. But we can all learn from our mistakes, can’t we? Anyway, it’s lucky for you I came up this way, isn’t it? Before you bungee jumped off the cliff.’

  ‘Enough!’ snapped Becky. ‘Look, Seb. I won’t pretend that we didn’t have some fun. We did. But you blew it. That thing with Abbie – the whole set of … things that led up to that. And what you just said there, about me bugging you and the things you said at the summer house. We’ve been through all this.’ She pushed her hands into her pockets and met him directly with her gaze. ‘Seb, I liked you. Yes, we did some good work together but when everything else happened I just knew it was no good. It would never work with us. At the end of the day, you just couldn’t cope. And I would never, ever be able to let my guard down with you – and I can’t live like that.’

  Seb opened his mouth as if to defend himself, but he shut it again. Instead he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. ‘So that’s it?’ he asked. ‘That’s your choice? I liked you, Bex,’ he said eventually.

  He looked at her with that calculated Hugh Grant puppy dog eye thing which actually annoyed her all over again.

  She shook her head. ‘You’re never going to like the whole of me,’ said Becky. ‘Let’s just agree to leave it there, yes?’

  Seb opened his mouth to respond, then he stopped and his attention was caught by something behind Becky. He looked startled, then confused, then all of a sudden he was on the ground; decked by a well-placed punch from Jon, who had come running up behind them.

  ‘And stop bothering her!’ yelled Jon, staring at Seb who was sitting on the ground looking, to Becky’s eyes, comically shocked. Jon stood over him, breathing heavily and glaring at him.

  ‘Jon, he’s not bothering me!’ said Becky. ‘Honestly, it’s fine. We’re fine. We’ve had a chat.’ She reached out and grabbed his arm. He was ready to land another punch, his fists were curling up. She tugged on his arm. ‘Stop it. Right now,’ she commanded.

  Jon’s eyes narrowed and he looked at Becky. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘Really sure?’

  ‘Really sure,’ she said, looking directly into his eyes. They weren’t exactly Jon’s eyes for a moment. Then she blinked and the look had gone. ‘Absolutely sure,’ she said.

  Then she couldn’t help it. She swore later that it was the stress. She kind of spluttered, then she sniggered and then she started laughing; she was laughing so hard, that she had to bend double and try to catch her breath through it all.

  ‘Oh, Jon, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t … I didn’t hear you sneak up …’ And she was off again. She knew Jon must think her crazy, but she really didn’t care. She was also aware of Seb clambering to his feet and dusting himself down, trying somehow to maintain his dignity.

  Becky managed to stand upright and looked around as a hand rubbed her arm. Lissy was there, of course. She had obviously been given the coffees to hold as Jon hurtled up the cliff path to rescue Becky and was balancing the paper cups dangerously.

  ‘I’ve never seen him do that before,’ she said, leaning close to Becky. ‘I didn’t know he had it in him.’

  ‘Me neither. But it’s the best entertainment I’ve had all day,’ murmured Becky. The girls stood together as Jon awkwardly held a hand out to Seb.

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ he said. ‘Just thought, you know …’

  ‘Yeah. No problem,’ replied Seb, but he didn’t take Jon’s hand. ‘Good luck with it all.’

  ‘Thanks,’ replied Jon.

  Seb took a last look at Becky and nodded at her. ‘Good luck. Whatever happens,’ he said.

  Becky knew those words were loaded and she felt herself colour. ‘Thanks, Seb,’ she replied. ‘Guess I’ll see you around.’

  Seb raised his hand in a goodbye and strode away along the cliff path, his shoulders set and angry-looking. The three of them watched him go.

  ‘Well,’ said Becky. ‘That was exciting. Hopefully he got the message this time.’ She turned to face the others. ‘I think I know what happened with Ella. I’ll tell you as soon as we get back to the studio.’ She looked directly at Jon. ‘Please? I have to get something and it’s in my bag.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Jon. He looked faintly ridiculous. His dark hair was stuck up on end with the wind and he looked as shocked as Seb must have felt. ‘I’m so sorry. I just don’t know what happened there. He’s lucky it was just the one punch – then sanity kind of took over. I could have kept going, I swear. Poor bloke.’

  ‘I can probably help you with that one,’ said Becky. She tried to tuck her hair behind her ear and gave up. She took hold of Jon’s hand instead. ‘He is lucky it stopped there. Come on. Let’s go.’

  ST MARYS

  ‘So this is where it’s taken us,’ said Jon, his arm wrapped protectively around Becky as the wind whipped up from the North Sea. They stood high up in St Mary’s churchyard, overlooking the harbour and the pier.

  ‘Or brought us back?’ suggested Becky. ‘We have to tell their story somehow. I think that’s what they would have wanted, don’t you? Why they looked for us? We’re probably ideal candidates; words and pictures, and all that.’

  They had been to the studio, and she had told Jon and Lissy what she had experienced on the cliff path. Everyone knew the story now, and both Jon and Becky, by mutual consent, felt the need to go back up on the cliffs. Lissy had graciously agreed to stay behind and man the studio. Or ‘woman’ it, as she told them. She was a girl of many talents.

  Becky laughed nervously, now. ‘I don’t know. I’m more or less convinced we aren’t reincarnations, but who knows? Maybe we just have to go with it. We’ll soon find out if we’re not meant to be together.’

  ‘Always so glib,’ said Jon, turning her around so she had no choice but to look at him. ‘What makes you think we aren’t meant to be together? I said I wanted a girl who loved Whitby as much as I do and I think I’ve found her. There’s a perfect set-up in the flat for her to work from as well, so I don’t know why she wouldn’t want to come here. But if she wanted to stay in York, that’s cool too. So long as she visited every so often.’

  ‘I don’t want to stay in York,’ replied Becky. ‘Not if you’re here. I feel more at home here – with you. But things don’t always work out the way you plan them, do they? That’s all I’m saying.’


  She dropped her gaze and stared at something apparently by their feet. Jon put his finger under her chin and lifted her face up towards him.

  He was smiling. ‘Do you ever stop? The glib thing, I mean.’

  Becky pulled a face. ‘Not really. No. It’s a defence mechanism, I suppose.’ Again, the nervous laugh. ‘You know, don’t you? I wasn’t sure. But you do. You’ve known for ages. You with your funny coloured eyes.’ She raised a finger. ‘One blue, one green. That’s your genetic make-up. They make you see everything, don’t they?’

  ‘Heterochromia,’ said Jon proudly. ‘Supposed to have come down from someone on my mother’s side, way back when. I like them.’

  ‘I like them too,’ said Becky. ‘I was always jealous of Lissy’s eyes. I used to want different coloured contact lenses so I looked like her.’

  Jon laughed. ‘Your eyes are perfect as they are. But it’s your turn to talk,’ he said. ‘What’s your story? What happened?’

  Becky shrugged. ‘About five years ago, I started to realise things weren’t right. I had some hearing tests and I failed them about as spectacularly as Lissy failed her maths GCSE. All they could tell me was that it was probably congenital, just like Princess Alice. And then it just kept getting worse and worse. So I guess that’s my genetic flaw. It’s still getting worse and my hearing will probably go altogether, but nobody can tell me when; it’s my own personal time bomb. But I’ve got no idea where it came from. And the thing is, if it’s hereditary, then it could be passed down the generations. They think it was recessive in my case – it came out of nowhere. And something like that is so hard to tell someone. I wasted too much time with Seb. Do you know, one of the last things he said to me, before he went off with Abbie, was that he would never want children with me, “just in case”. And then, that night at the hotel, he told me I wouldn’t be able to keep doing my job and I should stay with him to guarantee I could, because he would make sure everybody knew about me and I wouldn’t get any more work. Which is clearly rubbish, but it did shake me up. And I needed you to know before we, well, before we took it any further. I’m a different person from when you knew me before, and I could never find the right moment to tell you. How did you know?’

  ‘When you put your hair behind your ears at the studio, that first day when you saw the writing slope. You always put it behind your left one and sort of fluff it up over your right one.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Becky, surprised. ‘I thought it was before that.’

  Her mind went back to his light touches, seemingly to get her attention when they were in the crowd of people heading to the coffee shop and the studio. Her hand went up to her right ear and touched the tiny hearing aid that had been her lifeline for the last few years. It wasn’t the one she had started the day with, though. That had fallen down the chasm of the cliff when she’d been hanging over it. Bloody typical. Just as well she had a spare one in her handbag. You just never knew when you’d need it.

  ‘I’ve just got the one,’ she said. ‘It’s no good having one in the other ear; no sound gets in there to amplify any more. It was difficult that night in the hotel – I raced into your room after the sand appeared without it.’ And the battery had been going that first day as well, she remembered. Things hadn’t been as clear as she would have liked – which had made Ella calling her name and the roll of thunder she heard even more disturbing. ‘You seemed to know. You were dragging me around all that first morning.’

  ‘More glibness. I don’t know; I just knew I wanted you to come with me. I’ve missed you, Becky Jones. And I certainly wasn’t dragging you,’ said Jon, laughing. ‘But I wonder if that’s why Ella contacted you? She knew you would understand her; you’d understand what she went through.’

  Becky shivered. ‘Maybe. I’ve had it easier than her though. It’s never stopped me doing anything I want to do. Fair enough, I can’t lip-read four different languages like Princess Alice, but I get by on English. I’ve done what I can to learn sign language, just in case. And I can’t play the piano. At all. Never have done.’

  ‘Well, that’s where I come in,’ replied Jon. ‘I’ll be a bit rusty, but I could take it up again I guess.’

  ‘If it’s that bad, I’ll take the hearing aid out,’ said Becky. ‘And make you practise finger spelling instead.’ Then she remembered something else. ‘Oh! Damn. Damn, damn and double damn!’

  ‘What?’ asked Jon, surprised.

  ‘Adam’s portrait. We never got a chance to look for it at Carrick Park. Bloody Seb.’

  ‘Hey, don’t worry. It’s all taken care of,’ said Jon with a smile. ‘I did a little research of my own when I went back for the coffees. With all the excitement, I forgot to tell you. I called the hotel and said we,’ he indicated both himself and Becky, ‘were working on a project and I asked if they possibly had any pictures of Adam Carrick, the guy who lived there in the 1860s. They said there was an unnamed watercolour portrait in one of the corridors on the third floor in a stairwell – just a tiny thing, but they reckon, judging by his clothes, it was dated about that time. We’ll have a look when we go back later and compare it with our photo. We’ll see if it matches up. That’s if you want to?’

  ‘Want to?’ said Becky. ‘Why would I not want to go back there with you? I feel like it’s our second home now.’ She laughed, embarrassed, but was gratified to feel Jon’s arms come around her and hold her tightly in agreement.

  ‘Can’t wait,’ said Jon. ‘And do you know what, just for the record, I don’t care about it being congenital. If our children were …’ His attention was suddenly caught by something over Becky’s shoulder.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, turning around. A girl was sitting on a bench overlooking the sea. It wasn’t just any girl, though, Becky realised. It was the blonde girl from the Goth Weekend, the one who was following the funeral procession. Becky recognised the white dress and the neatly folded hands, only this time they were folded on her lap.

  ‘It’s her!’ she said, breaking away from Jon. ‘And I don’t have my camera. Wait here – I need to speak to her.’ She ran across the grass towards the girl, hoping she wouldn’t get up and leave before Becky got there.

  The girl remained motionless, still staring out to sea as Becky approached, breathing heavily and cursing her lack of fitness. ‘Hey! Hey, excuse me!’ Becky shouted, her voice carried away by the wind on the cliffs. She ran up to the bench and stopped.

  The girl turned and looked Becky directly in the eyes. Becky’s stomach flipped. The girl’s face was instantly recognisable from the portrait in the hotel and the photograph. Becky stared back at her, frozen. ‘Ella?’ she managed.

  The girl smiled at her and raised her right hand. She touched her fingers gently to her chin and then moved her hand forward and down. Thank you.

  Becky instinctively signed back, holding her hands out, palm upwards and closing her fingers twice. You’re welcome.

  The girl nodded and looked over Becky’s shoulder. She smiled and her fingers fluttered. I have told you this before. He loves you very much.

  Becky turned to look at Jon who was leaning on the railing, his attention on the sea waiting for her. She turned back to Ella, ready to respond. But the bench was empty.

  Becky stood by the bench, staring at the spot where Ella had been sitting. She stood there long enough for Jon to come wandering over, bored of the sea and probably wondering why she was alone next to an empty bench. He took her hand and squeezed it.

  ‘Didn’t you catch her?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I did catch her,’ said Becky.

  ‘And? Did she say anything interesting?’

  ‘Quite interesting,’ said Becky. Some things were best kept quiet, she thought.

  ‘I guess she was waiting for someone. I saw a man coming up the cliff path. He looked like he was heading her way,’ said Jon. ‘He seemed to be looking for
someone.’

  ‘Well, I hope they found each other,’ said Becky.

  ‘Me too. But seriously, after all your searching for her, you didn’t manage to get a photograph of her?’ persisted Jon.

  ‘No,’ repeated Becky. ‘It’s so maddening!’

  ‘Well, it’s just as well I took one then,’ he said.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Becky stared at him.

  Jon smiled and disengaged his hand from hers. He fumbled in his pocket and produced his mobile phone. ‘It might not be the best shot in the world, but I got her,’ he said.

  ‘Let me see!’ Becky had to stop herself from snatching the phone off him.

  ‘Like I say, it’s not brilliant, but she’s there,’ he said, his fingers swiping and tapping at the screen. ‘I had a quick look. I was more interested in looking at you, though.’

  Jon held the phone out and Becky eagerly took it from him. Sure enough, there was a picture of Becky running across the grass and the figure of the girl sitting on the bench, as solid as any real person might be.

  ‘Ella,’ she whispered. She couldn’t stop staring at the picture. ‘Jon, I know you hate digital photography, but can you bring yourself to do anything with this shot?’ She looked at him, silently pleading.

  ‘Of course I can,’ he said, smiling down at her. ‘I’ll download her, crop her down, zoom in on her – whatever you want. I’ll sharpen her up, bring her into focus. You want her for your article, yes?’

  ‘No,’ said Becky, looking back at the screen. ‘I want her for a different project. I want to tell her story. Hers and Adam’s.’ She raised her head and met Jon’s eyes. ‘Will you help me?’ she asked. ‘You’re part of it as well. Words and pictures, you know.’