The Boy from the Sea

by H L Macfarlane

  “You know fine well I have no other best friends,” I replied, “nor really many other friends to speak of.” I spared a thought for David, who had been discharged from the hospital the week before and had yet to message me with any of his pre-attack enthusiasm. I guessed I couldn't blame him; if he’d really been planning to ask me out that night in Millport only to discover Lir got there first he was probably not very happy with me. I did want to remain friends with him, though, so I hoped that whatever feelings he’d developed for me would quickly dissipate. Until then, I continued to send him memes and funny videos to let him know that I very much still valued talking to him.

  “And it's not as if I've ever really had a boyfriend before,” I added on as a valid afterthought. “Surely I’m allowed to lose myself in the honeymoon period for at least a little while?”

  My best friend sighed magnanimously. “Of course you can. I don’t want you to be lonely, especially when I’m over here having the time of my life. But Grace….just be careful not to fall too hard, too fast, okay?”

  Something about Louisa’s comment irked me. Who was she to tell me how to go about dating a guy? True, in the past, whenever I began to date someone the person in question pretty much always ended up being a narcissistic arsehole. They liked that I didn’t say much so they could talk at length about their own life and, when it transpired that I wasn’t nearly as quiet as I was in public, they stopped calling. I’d never been all that good a judge of character when it came to who I was attracted to, and each and every time Louisa had warned me against putting my heart on the line.

  But Lir was different.

  Lir was good.

  “I know you’re just looking out for me,” I said, choosing my next words carefully. “Really, I do. But I am an adult, whether either of us wants to admit it or not.” I laughed a little, and was pleased when Louisa joined in. “I really, really like him, Louisa. Lir isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met before.”

  A smile spread across Louisa’s tanned face, and she relaxed into the sun lounger she was sitting on even though it was night-time over there. She almost looked like a stranger to me now – her skin used to be ghostly pale, stark against her red hair. Now she was darker than the group of girls in Lir’s class who were overly generous with their fake tan all year round. Her arms and legs were toned, too, which meant even though she’d made fun of me going to the gym she had clearly been working out herself.

  “Well, if you're happy then I'm happy,” Louisa said. “But in other news – the literal news – what is going on over in Scotland right now?”

  I grimaced at the change in subject. But it was all over social media, TV and radio right now. More and more senseless attacks were spreading up and down the west coast of Scotland, with some of them even encroaching into the Central Belt. People were wary about leaving their homes at night, even in Glasgow. Glasgow, which was once the murder capital of Europe. That people were being more careful than normal here was really saying something.

  “It’s pretty scary,” I told her, which was an understatement.

  “Any news about Terry?”

  Louisa had met my neighbour on several occasions when she’d come to stay with me in Largs during our long undergrad summers. Of course I’d told her about him being attacked…only, I’d left out the small fact that I’d witnessed said attack. I had no desire whatsoever to relive that particular moment of my life, and I didn’t want Louisa unnecessarily worrying about me, either.

  “He's still in a coma,” I said, drooping my head. “He's doing well, though, the doctors say, but they have no idea when he’s going to come out of it. They don't want to try anything to wake him up because they’re worried he won’t react well to the shock.”

  Louisa said nothing. I could tell from her face that she hoped as much as I did that he would wake up.

  “Maybe he’ll be able to identify his attacker,” I thought aloud. After all, I knew I’d seen nothing of the person in question that would have helped anyone identify them. I didn’t even know if they were a man or a woman. “And if it’s the same person responsible for the attacks happening everywhere else, then –”

  “Yeah, that would help a lot,” Louisa finished for me. “In any case, Gracie, be careful. Have that boyfriend of yours accompany you everywhere. Especially after dark,” she added, which was ironic coming from her. Louisa had never been one to be careful around Glasgow after nights out, staggering home barefoot, spilling chips and cheese on the pavement and singing loudly down the street as she proclaimed she definitely didn’t need a taxi.

  “I’ve always been the careful one,” I reassured her. “And, besides, I have my thesis to finish, remember? You're the one outside enjoying mountains of free time.”

  Louisa gave me the finger. “You act as if I’m not working as a barmaid forty hours a week, bitch. It's exhausting!”

  “Clearly,” I said, pointing towards the mojito she was nursing even though it was after midnight.

  Louisa laughed. Then, unexpectedly, I heard the front door unlock, and I jumped so badly I almost knocked both my drink and my phone to the floor. “Is that you, Lir?” I called out, nervous for some reason.

  “Who else would walk into your flat uninvited? Don’t tell me you’ve given other men a key?” he called back, chuckling at his own joke as he tossed his battered, once-red-but-now-almost-black rucksack onto the couch. When he saw I was sitting out on the terrace he came bounding over like a golden retriever, standing behind my chair to wrap his arms around my neck and nuzzle my cheek.

  I was more than pleased by the attention.

  “Missed you,” he whispered into my ear. Then he propped his chin on my shoulder and took notice of my phone, waving to the camera with a stupid, lop-sided grin on his face. “Hey, Louisa,” he drawled, as if this wasn’t the first and only time he had ever met my best friend before. Then he turned his attention back to me. “I didn’t expect to get back from Rothesay so early. Did you get more lemon tea?”

  I nodded, so with another kiss on my cheek he left the terrace to put the kettle on. When I locked eyes with Louisa it was clear she wasn’t happy. “What?” I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest protectively. I sensed a lecture coming on.

  Louisa glanced over my shoulder. “You gave him a key? Isn’t that a bit…”

  “A bit what?”

  “Well, early?” she pressed. “You’ve barely known the guy two months – you’ve literally only been going out three weeks – and he has free access to the flat?”

  “He’s my boyfriend, Louisa, not some crazy stalker.” Because the stalker was me. “And you gave Josh a key.”

  Louisa rolled her eyes. “He’s my brother.”

  “Yeah, but he’s not my brother, is he?” I countered. “And all things considered I’d really rather he –”

  “What do you mean, all things considered?”

  “…never mind,” I muttered, remembering just in the nick of time that I never told Louisa about what happened between me and Josh. I’d been too ashamed of it, especially when it became clear he was never going to call me. And she’d have yelled at him to make things right with me, and that would have made things even worse.

  “Look,” I sighed, “it’s late for you and Lir is back, so I better go.”

  My best friend looked very much like this particular topic of conversation was not over, simply delayed for another time. “Remember what I said, Gracie,” she warned. Another glance over my shoulder. “About everything.”

  I ignored her not-so-hidden meaning. “Love you, loser,” I said. “Talk soon.”

  “We better. It’s impossible to get hold of you these days!”

  Before I could respond an arm reached over my shoulder and turned off the call. Lir perched on the armrest of my chair and clucked his tongue in distaste. “She’s so clingy for someone who just left you to live on the other side of the world:”

  I swatted his hand. “What were you doing, eavesdropping?”

 
He shrugged. “Had to do something while the kettle’s boiling. Why is she so over-protective?”

  “We’re best friends,” I said, as if that settled things. “How else would you expect us to be?”

  “More independent from each other?” Lir suggested. “You’re your own person after all. Are you so integral to Louisa’s daily life that she can’t go through a single twenty-four-hour period without constantly calling you?”

  Lir was exaggerating – it wasn’t as if Louisa called me every day – but he still had a point. I always thought I was a hindrance to Louisa, who was trying to fit in calls to her friend around her hectic Australian lifestyle, which only made me feel awful when I missed said calls. She was all I’d had here in Glasgow, even though she was half a world away surrounded by new and shiny friends.

  But she wasn’t all I had now. Perhaps she never should have been. It hadn’t occurred to me before that our relationship could be considered unhealthy, but through another person’s lens I could clearly see how it very much was.

  “Well I guess her leaving was the best thing for us, then,” I said, taking Lir’s hands when he pulled me up to my feet, enveloping me in his arms as if trying to protect me from the wind. When he loosened his grip I grinned up at him. “I don't reckon she'd have ever let me get away with stalking you for so long.”

  Lir chuckled, his grey eyes soft and warm on mine. He gently trailed a finger down my cheek. “God forbid she was around to stop you from doing that,” he murmured. “We’d probably have never gotten together.”

  I didn't want to think about my life without knowing Lir. It felt like he was always supposed to be in it – that, for twenty-five long years, all I’d been doing was waiting for him.

  A life without him now was unfathomable.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was Wednesday, and mid-April, and a gloriously warm afternoon. Since Lir was away to Islay at the weekend and we didn’t want to waste the weather, we’d forgone studying and thesis writing for a walk around Glasgow. Walking through the city was our usual routine when we weren’t in my flat – even when the weather wasn’t as nice as it was today. Lir wasn’t much of a pub and club-goer, and he didn’t like shopping, and he only liked going to the cinema if it was for a film he really, really wanted to see.

  I didn’t mind. I liked walking. And I liked talking to Lir for hours on end even more. It was therefore to my surprise when he told me he wanted to visit an old book shop on Great Western Road, which had the kind of worn-away sign and window display that I would have looked at and immediately forgotten had I been out on my own.

  “What is it you’re looking for?” I asked, naturally curious as Lir led me through the door. A little bell went off as we did so, which I thought was pretty old-fashioned and charming.

  “Just a couple of things,” he replied, already too distracted by the tomes surrounding us to really hear what I was saying. Though the last four weeks had shown me that Lir was actually more than happy to talk at length, he often had spells where he would disappear into his own head without speaking more than a word or two for ages – even when I was with him. Since I was a massive over-thinker I’d originally thought this was because he was already tired of me, but Lir was quick to reassure me that, sometimes, all he needed was silence.

  Such as right now, browsing the book shop.

  Dust motes floated in and out of streams of sunlight filtering through the window; I sneezed a couple of times as I got used to them. All around us were what seemed to be thousands and thousands of books, impossibly packed into the tiny shop. They were bursting from old, wooden bookcases, organised into boxes or literally stacked on the floor in precarious piles that threatened to tumble over when I brushed past them.

  The shop was sort of organised into sections and genres, but not in a strict way, and when we crept down the rickety staircase to the basement floor we found even more books, all largely non-fiction. Sheet music, atlases, historical accounts and the like. Lir ran his index finger along the spines of the atlases for a minute or two, a small frown of concentration furrowing his brow that I adored watching. But then he turned from them to wander back up the stairs, pausing to scan the spines of the expensive, decorative volumes of fairy tales that adorned a shelf as he ascended to the ground floor.

  Eventually I left Lir to his own devices, winding through the narrow shop in search of whatever it was he was looking for. I contented myself by looking at a shelf full of pulp fiction-style paperbacks from the nineties, whose hand-painted covers were simultaneously terrible and beautiful. They were the kind of books Louisa liked, alongside her trashy paranormal romances, which meant I recognised several of them. I’d even read a couple of them.

  I picked up a Point Horror book with a particularly ridiculous cover, thinking that I might send it over to my best friend to make her laugh. But then I considered the postage costs and pulled out my phone to take a picture of the book, instead, sending it to Louisa along with the message, ‘Have you read this one?’

  Since it was very early afternoon here, Louisa was still awake on the other side of the world. She replied immediately with an excess of heart-eyed emojis, saying the book was one of her favourites but Josh had accidentally thrown it out when she was seventeen during a parent-mandated household clear out. I was aware my face contorted at the mention of Josh, so I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and forced him out of my head.

  I’d buy the book for Louisa, I decided, but keep it back as a homecoming present if – when – she ever returned.

  When I reached the counter to pay (the counter in question was just as covered in books as the rest of the shop) I was surprised to find Lir already there, carefully placing two paper-wrapped books into a bag. He grinned at me.

  “I was wondering where you went,” he said. “I think we both lost track of time.”

  When I looked at my phone and saw that it was past two I realised Lir was right. We’d spent close to an hour in the bookshop and I hadn’t even noticed.

  He indicated towards the book in my hand. “What are you buying?”

  “Oh, it’s for Louisa,” I replied, lifting the book up so he could see the cover.

  A flash of displeasure crossed his face. “You’re spending your money on her instead of yourself? Why don’t you buy a book you actually want?”

  “I’ll read this, anyway,” I said. “I’m not giving it to her until she comes back.”

  “That’s not the point and you know it.”

  I did know it. But I didn’t buy things for myself all that often, since I usually didn’t have the money to and, to be honest, I wasn’t even sure what I’d buy if I did have the money.

  Then Lir sighed, a smile playing across his lips that screamed What am I going to do with you? “What do you like to read?” he asked. “I couldn’t really work it out from the books in your flat. They basically cover every genre.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll literally read anything. Most of those books are Louisa’s, anyway, or books my parents gave me. The sailing ones I stole from my dad. I guess I don’t have a preference. I don’t think I even know any of the authors of the books I’ve read.”

  “That’s not in the least bit helpful.”

  “Hey, if I’d known you wanted to go book shopping together I’d have warned you of my unfaithful nature towards the art of reading,” I joked, paying the doddering man behind the counter who looked to be as old as the shop itself in the process. When my stomach grumbled loudly my face flushed. “Look, we can come back another day with the specific purpose of buying me books, but for now I’m starving. Lunch?”

  Lir looked at me like I was a lost cause. But then he chuckled softly. “Fine. Next time. Sushi?”

  I made a face. “Again?”

  “It’s good for you.”

  “It’s practically all you eat. We’ve never gone anywhere but sushi restaurants together. Can’t we change things up?”

  But Lir stood firm with his choice. “I have to watch what I
eat to stay in good shape. Is that so wrong?”

  “Can we at least go to a general Japanese place rather than strictly sushi?” I asked, hoping for a compromise. “A katsu curry or teriyaki would be amazing right now.”

  At this Lir brightened immediately, which made my heart sing. When Lir was happy it was the greatest thing in the world – his eyes lit up, transforming his serious face into something angelic. It felt as if I somehow cured cancer or solved world hunger whenever I made him look like that.

  Though, right now, I’d settle for solving my own hunger.

  Because it was midweek the restaurant we went to was blessedly quiet. I ordered my katsu curry, and Lir ordered an assortment of sushi, as usual, and we relaxed into the easy atmosphere of the quiet, inoffensive music filtering through the air.

  “Why is it always fish you eat?” I ended up asking, when our food arrived and I realised most of the things Lir ordered contained it. Salmon, tuna, yellowtail, mackerel. There was an absolute minimal amount of rice, and hardly any vegetables or greenery that didn’t derive from the sea.

  There was an odd pause before Lir answered, as if he was working out what to say. “I’ve always been fussy,” he eventually explained. “There’s not really much more to it than that.”

  I wasn’t one to question someone on their oddities but something told me that there was probably a hell of a lot more to it than what he told me. Lir had remained very quiet on his childhood, though, aside from during our very first conversation when he told me he’d lived in Ireland before moving over to Scotland. I didn’t want to pry – his childhood was his business and his alone. If he ever felt comfortable enough to talk about it then I would eagerly listen. Until then, I didn’t plan to push him to tell me anything.

  “So what did you buy in the book shop?” I asked between mouthfuls of curry. I pointed to the bag by his feet. “They looked pretty big. Were they expensive?”

  Lir put down his chopsticks and dabbed at his mouth delicately with a napkin, then pushed his many small plates away to bring out the books. He unwrapped them as if they were treasures which, when I looked at them, I supposed they were. One was fresh and new, with a gorgeously ornate, illustrated gold cover and sprayed blue edges on the paper. The other was old and beaten; I could hardly make out the title at all.