We Float Upon a Painted Sea (29 page)

The following autumn, when the family came round to his grandmother’s for dinner, Andrew was convinced that he could see his grandfather’s scowling face on a potato that the gardener had dug up from the vegetable plot. Graham muttered at the dinner table that Campbell had turned out to be a “great fertilizer, if the tatties were anything to go by.” Andrew’s mother referred to the funeral episode with a shake of the head, “It was an invidious ending to such a lovely service.” At that point she had looked derisively at Andrew who bowed his head in deep shame.

As the years drew on Andrew subjected himself to a form of enforced isolation. After three years of working with his father, in the family business, Andrew left to study business management at Edinburgh University. This brought about a large ironic smile to Graham’s face when he told him of his plans. His brother had always presumed he would become a church minister. Four years later, Andrew began working for an Edinburgh based finance company. Even the years of university socialising did nothing to quell his awkwardness, and his introvert behaviour didn’t go unnoticed by his work colleagues.

Joining the Territorial Army focused his mind, but it was being recruited as a Filter by the Defence Intelligence Committee that provided him with a true purpose in life. After two years of training in Cheltenham, he was introduced to Ashley Louisa Maxwell, a daughter of a wealthy philanthropist and donator to the Green Movement. He was immediately captivated by her luminosity and zest for life, and in consonance with his training, he adapted his character to suit hers. For the first time in his life someone had brought colour to his bleak existence.

Andrew was soon asked to provide financial accountancy services to the GM, but although achieving his clandestine objective, he was struggling to balance his work commitments with the demands of family life and moreover, guilt began to tear away at his conscience. He released the pressure through excessive drinking and attempting to drive a wedge between him and Ashley. When blinding headaches and blackouts started, Andrew was admitted to hospital. The following year he was diagnosed with major depressive disorder. He moved out of the family home and into a flat in Edinburgh’s New Town. He admitted to his psychiatrist that he had invented an affair with a work colleague as an excuse to leave his wife and release Ashley from the torment of being married to him.

One night, Ashley called him on her Shackle. She had been sitting for most of the evening by the fire and drinking a particularly awful bottle of Chinese red wine. She switched off the visual display so Andrew couldn’t see that she had been crying. She had said,

“I just wanted to know why you cheated on me. I’m not irrational, I know you hate it when I’m irrational, but I just need to know why you did what you did and was she worth the price of our marriage.”

“I’m truly sorry Ashley,” replied Andrew.

“You lied to me Andrew. When you took your wedding vows, you lied in front of everyone. You’re a total shit of a man.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t become irrational?”

“Fuck you Andrew, you lying bastard.”

“So I’m a liar Ashley, it’s in my nature. I come from a family of liars. It’s my defence. Although I believed what I said at the time, and I honestly did believe every word, I invoked my right to change my mind when it suited me.”

“What do you mean? When did you stop believing in your vows, in me, in us, the children and why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I believed my declarations of eternal love and faithfulness at the time, but I’m not so sure now. I’m not sure of anything now.”

“Is it my fault, is that what you’re trying to say. Did I drive you to this? Was I not enough for you? Is this to do with your illness?”

“Why do you persecute me with these calls? You no longer believed your vows either, you told me as much when you said you weren’t sure if you loved me anymore. But you hold these promises up like pillars of stone, as if you had carried them on your back, barefoot and over broken glass. I can’t give you what you want anymore.”

“Andrew, I promised myself I wouldn’t get angry or become bitter, but you leave me with a penetrating sentiment of coldness and you have worn me down over the years. I know you have problems but have you ever considered that you are talking utter shit?” Ashley hung up, leaving him alone with Ashley’s words still ringing in his ear.

Andrew convinced himself that his deteriorating state of mind was so rapid and dangerous, he had to let Ashley and the children go. At the time, it seemed a noble act which would enable him to break free from their marriage and Ashley would receive all the sympathy from their friends and family. He would be ostracised but this was a price worth paying for her sanity. As long as he could still see his children, his plan was totally flawless. He had long lost sight of his MoDs objectives as a Filter. Andrew hadn’t calculated for the pain and suffering he was about to inflict on his wife. It came as a surprise to him. He had always been convinced that she had detached herself from him, but the wheels of his plan were in motion and it was too late to turn back. Later that year, Ashley confronted Andrew at his flat after stopping off at his work colleague’s home to find out the truth. She was at her wits end.

“Why did you do this? What is going on in your mind man? Are you totally crazy? Have you considered what this is doing to the children?” Andrew had no answers. He stood on his front doorstep, in the rain and looking at his wet slippers. Ashley smacked him on the face then turned on her heels and got back into her car.

The next day, Andrew visited his psychiatrist. He talked about his wife, children, his grandfather and his mother. For the first time he mentioned his father without being prompted. Andrew talked openly about their relationship. For the most part he didn’t say anything that psychiatrists haven’t heard before, but he recorded how Andrew’s father had secretly installed an ultra sonic youth deterrent device in his study, where he spent most of his time. When the children came into bother him he would flick the switch from under his desk and Andrew and Graham would be subjected to an irritating high pitched noise, only detectable to animals and teenagers. As they both ran into the garden with their pet dog howling before them, they could hear the rare sound of satisfied laughter coming from their father’s study.

The psychiatrist talked to him about Ashley and what he thought was meant by the concept of love. He read back his own words from his previous session where he had been asked to write down his random thoughts on the subject. He had written,

Everything is judged on words these days not deeds and the word love is constantly thrown in your face. Well let me tell you this my friends, love destroys, love confuses, it deceives, betrays, beguiles and utterly devours the soul. Love is a hungry beast that at first so sweetly takes you by the hand and leads you blindly from reality to an irrational picnic of whimsical gluttony where one gorges oneself until sick; sick to the teeth but it still needs feeding like a greedy little beggar. Love is treacherous in every form or nature and I refused to eat from the beggar’s bowl that is shoved in my face.

Andrew was surprised and couldn’t recall writing the extract on his own notepad. It had been Andrew’s final session with his psychiatrist and at no time did he disclose his work for the MoDs. Later that day, Andrew drove to South Queensferry marina. He sailed his yacht under the Forth Rail Bridge and towards the open sea. He was distracted by a man shouting and threatening to throw himself off the bridge and didn’t see the bow wave from the oil tanker hit his yacht and knock him into the water.

Andrew opened his sore eyes and peered into the gloom of the lifeboat. Ashley’s voice emerged in his mind,

“
Andrew, your thoughts are random and uncontrollable. Do you wish to live your life without recourse from everything and everyone?
”

“I’m sorry, Ashley. Please don’t hold court, don’t judge me. I was foolish. I was confused. I needed time, time on my own, time to think, time to… ”

“
But this is not about you having time. This is about your selfishness and your inability to build any meaningful relationships. This is about you failing and running away. You always runaway
.”

“I’m so sorry Ashley. Don’t hate me. Please give me one last chance to prove to you…”

“
It’s not to me you have to prove your worth. Do you want to live the rest of your life escaping your responsibilities
?”

“Forgive me. Please forgive me my darling. I love you. Please don’t give up on me. I’ve got so much to explain to you. I see things so clearly now. Let me explain to you.” Ashley’s voice vanished.

Andrew got up and clawed the tears from his face. He gazed out of the porthole and surveyed the featureless seascape. The sky was a pig iron grey and banks of low lying cloud lay thick on the horizon. If there was land out there, I wouldn’t be able to see it, he thought. He went up into the viewing turret and rested his head on the pilot’s wheel. He contemplated his chances of survival and refused to resign himself to believing he was only delaying his death.

Chapter 21: Guillemots in flight

The following day, Andrew had been encouraged by the sight of a flock of guillemots. He cut the engine and sat watching them for a while and then he climbed down to the cabin. Bull lay on the centre bench, his fist held against his stomach and only moving at the behest of the faltering boat.  Andrew said,

“What’s the matter with you? Seasickness back again?” Bull was awake but his eyes were shut. He groaned, “It’s getting worse.”

“I’ve just spotted some migrating birds, presumably heading south for the winter so I’m quite sure we’re going in the right direction.”

Bull failed to see the significance. He stayed in the cabin for most of the day fighting the nauseating storm brewing within his stomach. He was determined to keep his breakfast down, but the ailing feeling of semi-digested ration bars moving from his gut up through his oesophagus, and the unmistakeable burning sensation of vomit at the back of his throat began to consume him. Bull rushed to the escape hatch and then on to the deck. He clasped the guard rails and retched. The wind caught hold of his gastric discharge as it uncoiled from his gaping mouth, sending it hurling towards Andrew who was watching him from the viewing turret. Bull’s ejection splattered across the Perspex windscreen.

Andrew gripped the pilot’s wheel and frowned. He heard the escape hatch door close then Bull popped his head up into the viewing turret and said,

“That’s so much better. I feel human again. I could really do with a hot bath right now.”

“Yes, on that we can agree.” Bull provided Andrew with a quizzical look. He felt a new remoteness from him.

“You hardly smell like a bowl of potpourri yourself. When can I get a turn at driving?” Andrew breathed in deeply and still staring out at the grey seascape, he said,

“I’m
piloting
this vessel and you’re the lookout, only you don’t seem to be doing a very good job of it at the moment. It was the same on the raft.”

“I’ve been ill.”

“Yes I can see that, the evidence is all over my screen.”

“Sorry about that but that, I thought I would have my sea legs by now. Maybe it’s your driving,” said Bull with a faint smile.

“Why don’t you try a spot of fishing? We’re running low on rations.”

Bull went to the escape hatch door. He turned and called back,

“Are you sure you know where you are going? Surely we should have made land by now?” Andrew didn’t reply and then he heard the hatch door close behind him.

“Oh God have mercy on us,” bewailed Andrew out loud. “Of all the passengers to survive the sinking of the Andrea Starlight, why did I have to end up with him? Andrew felt a pang of guilt and considered that his sentiments may have been harsh. They had already been through a great deal together and Bull was most likely coping with the mental and physical hardship in the best way he could. Andrew returned his gaze to the sea. Once more he could see Bull outside on the deck, one hand holding onto the guard rails struggling to keep his balance. He looked at him with more sympathetic eyes, and then Bull lifted up his fur coat, pointed his appendage out towards the sea and began to piss. The wind blew the fountain of orange coloured urine back across the deck and showered the viewing turret. Bull turned his head and offered Andrew a half-hearted apology.

Andrew winced as if in pain, and then he looked down at the space where his wedding ring once banded his finger. His psychiatrist had told him, during times of intense stress, to imagine a mental well deep within him. The well was designed as a source of reassurance and he was encouraged to imagine himself drawing a bucket of comfort. Andrew visualised his inner well but he had fallen into it and the waters were dark and contaminated. Another person had invaded his inner sanctuary, unseen, under the water, but he knew he was there. Watching and tormenting him. He fictionalised Bull emerging from the stagnant pool, his long black hair dripping wet, his clawing hands stretched out as he moved towards him. He snapped himself out of the vision. The morsel of confidence acquired that morning had departed with the guillemots. Andrew shivered and then started the engine.