Bringing the Summer (25 page)

‘See there? That dark space beneath the overhanging rock? That's the cave!'

I'm not sure I want to go clambering so high up; for now, I'm trying to think what we should do to say a final goodbye to Bridie.

There's loads of wood that's been washed up by storms. I start collecting it, piling it up to help it dry out more so we can have a fire later, if we want. Theo's a small dark speck at the far end of the beach now. I try to remember what he wrote in his story – they made a fire, didn't they? And they planned to swim in the moonlight . . . only the tide was too high . . .

When I next look for him, I can't see Theo anywhere. I scan the beach. No sign of him. Surely he wouldn't think of trying to swim? Not in such rough sea? You would drown in an instant. I turn around again to the cliff. I screw my eyes up to see better. The light is too bright, but there's something – someone – moving along towards the ledge about halfway up. Now I know he's safe – sort of – I go back to collecting firewood. There are beautiful shells too: I line them up in a row. I rearrange them to make the shapes of the letters for Bridie's name, collect some more. I stand back, so I can see how they'd look from Theo's viewpoint on the cliff, but I guess they're too small for him to see from up there. I pick up some bigger stones to make a fireplace. I wish I'd packed proper food for cooking on a fire.

I go searching for more treasures. The tide's definitely coming in; it's already much closer than I expected. I start to run towards the sea; I know Theo's still up on the cliff, but I run anyway, down to the edge of the rocks we walked round earlier, to check we can still get back round to the main part of the beach.

But it's already too late. I'm so mad with myself I could cry. Such a stupid, stupid mistake to make! How could I? Me, Freya, who's always so careful about tides! It's been bred into me from when I was born, practically; all those island summers with Evie and Gramps, the thousands of time they've drummed it into me . . .

 

The sea is already deep and crashing on to the rocks. There is no possible way we can wade back round now.

The sandy beach is so flat and wide that the sea comes in really fast. On parts of the Brittany coast the tide is faster than a galloping horse. I know that, but I don't know this beach, on this part of Wales. I start to run back up the sand, calling and waving to Theo. The wind is strong, it whips the sound away, he can't hear me, he's too busy exploring to notice what is happening down here. There is no other way off the beach now except up.

I try to calm myself down. There's no immediate panic. I've got time to slow down a bit, to find a good route up the cliff. If Theo managed, I can too. And maybe the sea won't come up the whole beach in any case: there's a tide-line, after all. I noticed because I made sure to put the driftwood above that mark, on the drier sand.

I try to remember what the moon is doing: if I were on St Ailla I'd
know
instantly! I'd have been paying attention to all that. The full moon and the new moon are the strong spring tides, with the biggest reach.

Theo's waving and pointing at something. I can't hear what he's shouting, but I guess he's just noticed the sea too, how far up it has come. I'm trying to think. The moon was out when we were sledging. Boxing Day. It was about three-quarters then. So that means it will be full moon either tonight or tomorrow. The highest tide.

I watch Theo make his way down the cliff. He makes it look easy. He jumps the last bit. ‘We're cut off,' he said.

‘Yes.'

‘That's exciting!' he says. ‘We'll have to stay here, then.'

‘At least as long as it takes the tide to come the rest of the way up and then down again, till it clears the rocks. Theo, it might be hours! It'll be dark!'

‘Or we could go up the cliff? I've been about halfway, to that cave, and you can probably go further up and over the top, and I expect we can find a way back that way.' He grins at me.

I'm staring at the smooth cliff face above the ledge: there's no obvious way up that I can see from here.

‘Or we could stay in the cave,' Theo says.

‘How big is it? Is it damp?'

‘It's big enough. We could make a fire up there. It would warm up, I reckon. We'd be fine.' Theo's eyes are glittery bright.

‘OK,' I say, ‘Let's lug the wood up there. You might have to help me a bit. I don't like heights.'

He doesn't tease me, or get exasperated about how slow I am, picking my way over the rocks. I need both hands in places, so he ends up carrying the wood and I just focus on clinging on. Below us, the sea rushes in, grey and swirling and wild. Once I'm up on the ledge, shaky but safe, I dare to look down. The sand's almost completely covered. My shell letters have already been washed away.

Theo makes three trips to bring up all the wood, just in time.

He fishes a box of matches from his jeans pocket.

‘What else have you got that's useful?' I ask.

‘Da – dah!' He magics a bar of chocolate from his coat pocket. ‘Emergency rations.'

It takes a while to coax a small fire; the wood's damp, it smoulders and stutters but eventually we get it going enough to make a little warmth if we sit right close to it, and the cave does keep the wind off a bit.

I shiver.

Theo huddles up close behind me, so I'm sitting with my back leaning into him. He unbuttons his coat so he can wrap it half round me, too. He rests his chin on my head.

My hands are still freezing; I slip my right one into Theo's coat pocket and curl it round for warmth. My fingers touch something small and cool and metallic: I pull it out of the pocket and hold it out on the palm of my hand to see. The light from the fire catches the gold surface and makes it gleam. It's a small ring, like a wedding band.

I pull away from Theo slightly. ‘Where did you get this?'

He leans forward to see. ‘What?'

‘This ring.' But I know the answer even before he says the words.

‘Bridie gave it to me. The last time I saw her. She wanted me to have it. I didn't want it, but she insisted I take it. “It's worth something, it's real gold,” she said, even though it isn't.' He takes it from the palm of my hand and turns it round in his own. It's too tiny to fit over any of his fingers.

Get rid of it
, I want to say.
Let the ring go, and let go of Bridie too
. But I know that won't work. He's got to decide for himself. You can't make someone do that.

He reaches forward and lays the ring down on the flat stone near the entrance of the cave. He starts telling me about some human bones that were found in a cave near here, along with mammoth bones, and the bones of a horse and a dog. ‘The man who found her called her The Red Lady; he thought she was from Roman times. Only she turned out to be a man, and way, way older that that: from Palaeolithic times. Don't you think that's extraordinary?' he says. ‘There were people here twenty-six thousand years ago!'

‘What do you think they were like?'

‘Same as us, I reckon. Thinking about the same sort of things: getting enough food to eat. Keeping warm. Falling in love. Being happy.'

I laugh. ‘And the meaning of life and everything!'

‘I'm serious,' he says. ‘Don't joke about it.'

‘You're
too
serious, Theo,' I say. But I regret it, instantly, because that's what we're supposed to be here for, after all. The serious business of saying goodbye to Bridie.

I make my mind travel back, all the weeks and months to that train journey, the moment of impact, and everything that followed. I'd wanted to know who it was, and why. And now I have most of my answers. I know it was Bridie, that she was ill, her mind addled by drink, drugs, stuff that messes you up really badly. She took her own life when she was in a state where she couldn't think clearly.

‘When was the last time you saw Bridie?' I ask Theo. ‘Tell me about it.'

He sighs. I feel it shudder through his whole body. He rests his chin on my head. I notice, suddenly, how dark it's getting in the cave, the light outside fading to grey. But it's easier to talk in the dark like this.

‘We had a drink in a café,' Theo says. ‘But we couldn't stay long: she was shaking, she couldn't speak properly. She said she was scared all the time.

‘So we went outside. I had this stupid idea that she'd feel better in the open air, in the sunshine. I held her arm and led her down the steps to the river and we sat on a bench for a while and watched the light on the water. She told me she'd lost herself. That nothing gave her any joy. All she wanted to do was sleep.'

Theo's shaking too, just remembering. ‘She'd never talked to me like that before. And nothing I said made the slightest difference. She'd sort of gone, already.'

‘That's the illness,' I say. ‘She was really ill, Theo.'

‘It was still a shock,' Theo says, ‘to hear how she died. Unbearable, really.'

There's nothing I can say to make it better.

‘So, I guess it was a choice,' he says. ‘She decided she'd had enough. But it's terrible for everyone else.'

‘Her family?'

‘What family? She didn't have one. Her mum was already dead. She never knew her dad. We were the closest thing to a family she ever had. And we were rubbish.'

‘Well, I think she was lucky to have had you as a friend, Theo.'

‘But I wasn't enough. Nowhere near.'

We stop talking. We sit in the grey light of a winter sunset when there is no sun, just the steady draining of light.

‘OK,' Theo says at last. ‘Now what? What do I do? I haven't a clue.'

‘Think of a happy time,' I say. ‘A good memory of Bridie, like when she was little, and you played together. Think of her laughing, and full of life. And say goodbye.'

He walks out on to the windy ledge. I hate him standing so close to the cliff edge like that. The tide must be at the highest point: the sea's bashing the bottom of the cliff now, crashing and thundering as the waves break on to the rock face and send up great plumes of spindrift.

I watch as he lifts his arms up: a dark figure, silhouetted against the grey sky. He hurls something with one hand, and for the briefest moment I think I catch the flicker of light on gold.

I glance down at the stone. The ring has gone. He must have picked it up as he left the cave and I didn't notice. He picked it up and he let it go.

And I'm glad, glad, glad.

 

Now there's just the long, cold wait for the tide to turn and the sea to retreat down the sand, and we will at last be able to start walking back to the car, and travel home in the dark. And it will be the end of the old year, the beginning of the new.

Twenty-seven

 

It's properly dark by the time the tide's gone down enough for us to walk back the beach way to the car. We're both shivering with cold. I remember to text Mum to say we're fine and I'm going to be late, and not to worry.

We sit in the car to eat the sandwiches I'd packed.

‘Are you too tired to drive?' I ask.

Theo shakes his head. ‘We can stop for coffee, any way. It'll be fine. At least it's not snowing.'

The roads have emptied out compared to the morning. We listen to Beth's entire CD collection (all five discs) and sing along to the radio. We stop for petrol and coffee at the service station.

‘You've missed Duncan's party, now,' I say. ‘Do you mind?'

‘No.' Theo laughs. ‘It'll be a bit of a piss up, and I've promised Mum to give up drinking for now. And I'll see Duncan in a couple of weeks anyway when the term starts.'

We drive along in silence for a while. I'm trying to summon up courage to tell Theo what I've decided.

‘I don't think I can visit you in Oxford this term,' I say, carefully. ‘I think it's better that way.'

Theo doesn't say anything. The turn-off for our junction off the motorway is coming up soon. When we wait at the lights before the roundabout, he turns to look at me. ‘This is the
let's just be friends
conversation, yes?'

‘Yes.'

Theo sighs. ‘What did Gabes say? Or was it my mother?'

‘It's nothing to do with Gabes, or Maddie,' I say. ‘It's about me. About what's right for me.'

Theo doesn't reply. But he nods his head slightly, as if he accepts what I have said.

We're almost home. I can see the lights of the city in the sweep of the valley; the orange glow lighting up the night sky.

‘
All will be well
,' Theo says. ‘
All will be well. And all manner of things will be well
.'

‘What's that from?'