Breathing Underwater (16 page)

‘Where's Matt?' Lisa asks Huw as we climb on board.

‘Getting things ready for tonight,' Huw says.

‘Why? What's happening tonight?'

‘Izzy's having a party,' he says. ‘On the beach. You're all invited, of course.'

 

The boat's packed with day trippers. We stand together at the front of the boat, and even after the last load of holidaymakers have got off at Main Island and we're the only passengers left on board, we stay there, rather than sitting on the empty benches. As we come out of the sheltered harbour into the Sound, Dave revs up the engine. Huw and the others egg him on. Going against the current, the boat makes a huge wash that sprays over the bows and over us. Everyone laughs. We're wet through by the time we're back at St Ailla.

‘Don't forget tonight,' Huw announces as we pile off again at our jetty. ‘Eight o'clock on the beach.'

 

All the time I'm getting ready to go out, I'm working out what to say to Huw. He's bound to be there. It's a golden opportunity. But it's scary. For a start, I've hardly said two words to him this summer: I've been avoiding him as much as possible. I'm still too angry. Then there's the way he is – older, arrogant, a bit aloof – and that's all before actually thinking what to say, and how to begin.

You remember that girl last year? Samphire. Did you keep in touch? Have you got her address?

It sounds too weird.

Remember that girl last year? Did you know how much Joe liked her?

Weirder still.

I've been trying to work out something about my brother Joe . . .

Evie looks up from her paper as I come into the kitchen. ‘That blue top suits you,' she says. ‘Better than all those dark colours you've been wearing.'

‘They're just my normal clothes,' I say. ‘Everyone wears black, Evie.'

‘Well. Enjoy the party. Take something warm for later. I won't wait up. Just put your head round the door so I know you're safely back.'

Smoke's already curling up from a huge driftwood fire by the time I get there, and Luke's playing his guitar. Izzy waves as I pick my way across the stones. She looks gorgeous: she's wearing this thin, floaty orange top and a long pink cotton skirt, like a sari. Her hair's loose down her back, straighter than usual. Matt stacks more wood on the fire and it sends a shower of sparks spiralling upwards. From the other side of the fire, Maddie waves her can at me as a greeting. Lisa squeezes herself between Maddie and Huw. I can't see Danny anywhere. My courage is already draining away.

Maddie leans over towards me. ‘Have you heard? Izzy's going away.'

‘Back to her mum's,' Lisa adds.

‘Why? How long for?'

‘A level results. And her mum's birthday or something.' They both laugh.

I don't see anything funny about it.

‘So Matt will be at a loose end,' Maddie says.

‘We'll have to keep an eye on him,' Lisa says. ‘Keep him busy. While the cat's away . . .'

It's horrible. I don't know what to think. Are they teasing me? Have they noticed something about Matt and me? Is it obvious to everyone?

It's a relief to see Danny and Hattie coming over.

Hattie gives me a hug.

‘You've made a friend for life,' Danny says. ‘Reading all those stories to her that afternoon.'

‘I should hope so!' I smile gratefully at Hattie and she wriggles closer. ‘So how come you're allowed to a party this late?'

‘It's only for a while,' Danny says. ‘Dad's taking her back in half an hour.'

We watch the fire together, and eat sausages and crisps. I try not to think about Maddie and Lisa, that
look
. I don't want to think about Izzy going away. Just as I'm getting to know her. Just when I need her.

Hattie gets hauled off by her dad soon after, kicking and going on. He lifts her on to his shoulders.

‘I don't WANT to go to bed. It's not fair! I'm NOT tired!'

I listen to their voices as they jog away across the beach, his jollying her along, playing at horses, her protesting all the way. A memory tugs at me. Riding like that on my dad's shoulders, and Joe running behind, trying to catch us, and much further behind, Mum, though I can't remember her really. I just know that's where she'd have been: not quite part of the game, and carrying all the beach stuff, probably. Somebody has to, after all. A sudden pang of loneliness grips me. Mum. Dad. Joe. Me. None of us together now.

The mood of the party changes once the families and young kids have gone. The fire looks brighter against a darkening sky. Matt and Izzy pile another load of driftwood on to the flames. Huw gets up to help them. It's not a random load of wood, I see now: it's the remains of an old boat, still nailed together at the bows. Odd, and sad, to see a boat burning.

‘Like a funeral pyre,' Izzy says, as if she's read my thoughts. ‘A Viking burial.'

‘We should sail it out on to the sea still burning,' someone suggests, but no one moves. More cans and bottles are passed round. Danny hands me a bottle of beer.

‘No thanks.'

‘How was the snorkelling?' Izzy asks Danny.

‘Cool.'

‘I hear Freya's a bit of an expert,' Izzy says.

‘She swims like a fish,' Danny says.

I don't say anything.

‘That's because she's a water sign,' Izzy says. ‘What about you?'

Danny hasn't a clue what she's talking about.

‘When's your birthday?' I prompt.

‘April.'

‘So you're Aries, or Taurus. Fire, or Earth. Not water, anyway.'

‘
What
?'

‘Star signs,' I explain. ‘Duh!'

‘That's just stupid,' Danny says. ‘How can stars possibly affect people?'

Izzy gets her dreamy look. ‘There's more to life than we can know or understand, Danny boy. Not everything can be explained by science.'

‘No?'

Izzy laughs. ‘There you go: such a rationalist. You can't help it. You must be Taurus.'

Danny snorts and shoves Izzy so she crumples up, giggling, on to the pebbles.

‘You don't really believe that stuff, do you?' Danny asks me, once Izzy's out of earshot.

‘No, of course not. It's just fun, sometimes. And Izzy's right that we don't know everything. Not yet, anyway.' It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him about seeing Joe. But I hold back. ‘Did you hear about Izzy going away?' I say instead.

‘Yes. Huw's helping out instead, at the farm. It's only for a week. Don't look so miserable!'

‘Who's miserable?' Izzy says, coming back over. ‘I thought we'd cured you, Freya?'

‘She doesn't want you to go away. She's missing you already,' Danny teases.

My cheeks burn.

Izzy hugs me. ‘I'll miss you too. But it's not for long.'

Close up, her face is the shape of a heart. Her eyes are green like river water. She glances over to Maddie, Lisa and Huw.

‘You can look after Matt for me,' she says quietly, so only I can hear. And then she goes over to join the others, and squeezes herself in between Huw and Matt. Matt puts his arm round her; she leans her head into the hollow of his neck.

I turn back to the fire. A sudden swirl of smoke makes my eyes water.

Look after Matt.
Why did she say that?

Sparks from the burning boat explode into the sky. It's turned indigo now, a velvet cloak studded with hundreds and thousands of stars. So many tiny stars, that with my watery eyes I can hardly tell which is fire-spark and which is real star. I'm not crying exactly, but the tears keep coming. I'm not even sad, this minute: I love sitting round the fire like this; I've actually started to feel like I belong here again, with everyone else. Luke playing the guitar; voices rising and falling . . .

‘You staying late?'

Danny's voice makes me jump. ‘I don't know!'

He looks hurt.

‘I'm just enjoying being here,' I say more kindly. ‘Not thinking, for once.' But of course, soon as I say that I've started up again. Huw. Izzy. The rest.

‘Who's for a swim?' someone shouts.

It's a ritual, the midnight swim. A load of them are already stripping off down to their shorts, laughing and joking. Matt looks at Izzy but she shakes her head.

He goes ahead anyway, without her, pulling off his shirt and hobbling barefoot down the shingle after the others. Lisa and Maddie paddle in the shallows, jeans rolled up, whooping encouragement.

‘Is it safe, in the dark?' Danny asks.

‘They won't stay in long. They're all together. It's fine,' Izzy says.

Danny looks torn; as if he half wants to join in, half doesn't. Izzy comes to his rescue. ‘Put some more wood on the fire for us, Danny.'

Laughter, splashing, shouts drift up the beach from the dark water. I watch the sky for shooting stars.

‘It's really late,' Danny says. ‘Think I'll be going back. You coming, Freya?'

‘Not yet.'

‘See ya, then.'

‘Bye, Danny.'

Izzy and I watch him go. Then we lie down again, side by side, under the cloak of stars. She squeezes my hand, ‘Oh Danny boy,' she says wistfully.

‘What? '

‘Just a song. My nana used to sing it.'

We're quiet together. I close my eyes.

‘He does like you, though,' she says, after a while. ‘Doesn't he?'

I think of Matt, and what she said before. Perhaps it was just a joke. She didn't mean anything by it.

I stay there with my eyes shut. I hear and feel the people coming out of the water, back up the beach, as a kind of vibration in the ground beneath me.

‘Urgh! You're dripping all over me!' Izzy's voice.

Matt's leaning over her. I imagine their kiss: his cold salty lips on her warm ones. I listen as people dry themselves and get dressed and rake up the fire to get more warmth out of it. Luke plays some wild flamenco stuff on the guitar. Izzy stretches and sits up. ‘Dancing time,' she says.

I lie still, listening, getting sleepier and sleepier. The air's still warm, even away from the fire, as if the pebbles store heat from the day. Voices and music and laughter spin in my head, and weaving in and out and under it all is the voice of the sea, shushing and soothing me, steady like breathing.

 

‘Where's Freya?'

‘She went back ages ago.'

‘No she didn't. She's sleeping over there.'

Boots crunch over pebbles. I feel someone close up. A cool hand smoothes a strand of hair back from my forehead.

‘Freya?' Matt's voice.

I open my eyes.

He's kneeling next to me. ‘Time to go back. You've been asleep!'

‘What time is it?'

‘No idea. But you can't stay here. We're all going back now. We're the last ones.'

The fire's burned almost to ash. Matt and Izzy kick shingle to quench the last glowing embers. Izzy gathers up the remaining bottles and cans. I walk back with them, stumbling along the path to the campsite still half-asleep. Matt takes the box of bottles and rubbish so Izzy can hold my arm and keep me upright.

The campsite looks different at this hour. The tents are patches of darkness against dark grass. One dim light on the wall of the shower barn casts huge shadows over the field. You can sense all the sleeping, silent people, almost hear them breathing.

At Izzy's tent, Matt puts down the box. The clanking of empty bottles sounds eerily loud. So does the sound of the tent being unzipped.

‘Can you walk Freya back home?' Izzy whispers to Matt. ‘I'm absolutely shattered.'

I feel his hand on my arm. Nothing seems real. I'm sleepwalking.

‘Sleep tight,' Izzy whispers after me. ‘See you in a week or so, Freya. Be happy, remember!'

I've chilled right down, but Matt's body is warm next to mine. My arms and legs are stiff and achy. We're going under the trees, up the lane. We pass the farmhouse in silence. Not even the dogs are awake. Now we're at the gate.

‘All right now?' Matt says. ‘Or shall I take you right in? You're asleep on your feet!'

‘I'm OK. Thanks for bringing me back.'

He steers me through the gate. ‘Night, then.' He touches my hand, and as I turn he pulls me very slightly towards him. For one moment I think he's going to kiss me. But he doesn't. He just squeezes my hand, and lets me go.

Twenty-two