The Cold Cold Sea (7 page)

‘Let’s sit by the bandstand for a bit, have an ice cream,’ he suggested, pleased when she smiled and nodded. If the radiotherapy gave her a few more ‘quality’ months he would definitely bring Jennifer over. A long holiday would do them both good, well away from home and all the unhappy memories.

He parked the wheelchair under a tree and went for the usual strawberry cornets. They sat in companiable silence, the old lady eating her ice cream with a dreamy, far-away expression in her eyes. Phillip glanced at her uneasily. She had always been such a chatterbox and these new silences were unnerving. It was almost as if she was slipping away from him already. She was better in that the side effects of the radiotherapy had gone now, but somehow she didn’t seem to be the same person. Or maybe he was expecting too much too soon. Maybe she simply needed more peace and quiet and time to do normal things. Exactly what you didn’t get in a hospital.

His thoughts turned to Jennifer. How could he best persuade her to come out to California? She had always hated long haul flights, her aversion almost amounted to a phobia and God knows he didn’t want to stress her. But she had to come, she had already been alone since the beginning of July, and now that she’d moved to Polpayne, Thea wouldn’t be around every day to keep an eye on things.

At least the new house was giving Jennifer something constructive to do, but it was difficult to know exactly what was going on. It
was
strange that Jennifer hadn’t waited for his return before tackling such a big project. Was she coping? She hadn’t spoken to her mother for months so he couldn’t ask Bea how things were, and none of their old friends lived anywhere near Polpayne to check up on Jennifer. She must be feeling pretty isolated. Phillip came to a sudden decision: if Gran’s scan results were good, he would go over for her at the weekend.

It
would
be alright. Jennifer always sounded busy when they phoned, she was organising the house and settling into the village... she was talking and laughing, telling him stories about the new front door and the garden. Surely she wouldn’t be doing that if she wasn’t alright.

Tears rushed into Phillip’s eyes as he remembered her terrible silence at the start of the Black Patch, and he blinked them away before Gran noticed. All this time, and he still couldn’t face the awful thing that had happened to them.

They’d been in Turkey, in a beautiful hotel complex near Side. It was the first holiday abroad they’d had for a couple of years, since Hailey had been born, in fact. Jennifer had booked it, and as usual her judgement had been spot-on. The beach, private to the hotel, was perfect, sloping gradually into the water. And the hotel itself had been out of this world. It should have been a wonderful holiday. Even the weather was almost guaranteed.

And for the first nine days their holiday
had
been wonderful. They had long lie-ins and leisurely breakfasts. Afterwards, Jennifer generally went off to do whatever was on the keep-fit schedule that morning, while Phillip and Hailey spent their time by the pool. How he’d loved those mornings alone with his daughter. They would meet Jennifer for a lunchtime sandwich in the gardens, and then in the afternoons they had done something different almost every day.

They’d visited Side, with its quaint shopping alleys. They’d gone on a boat trip to see basking turtles, which Hailey had loved. They’d driven to Antalya once, to see the market. And several times they had spent the afternoon on the beach, because that was what Hailey liked best.

There was a children’s playground where the hotel garden met the beach. Hailey had always gone there first, while he and Jennifer swam in the sea. Then he would fetch Hailey back and the two of them would go for a ride on the banana-boat. It had been such a joy, watching his little girl having fun, laughing with her, building sandcastles, looking for shells. Phillip had truly felt that this was the best time of his life.

Then came the tenth day.

‘Phillip, darling, do you have any tissues?’

Consumed with memories and grief, Phillip tossed his half-eaten cornet into a nearby bin and pulled out a wipe for Gran’s chin.

‘Here you are. Enjoy that?’

She took the wipe and applied it to her mouth, and he noticed that her fingers were shaking. She was tired, it was time to go back to the ward and let her rest. He pushed the chair back towards the oncology unit, taking deep breaths, forcing the memories to the back of his mind. This was Gran’s time now, not his, not Jennifer’s and not Hailey’s. He should remember that.

‘Thank you, Phillip darling. It was wonderful to be outside and hear the ocean and smell the wind,’ she said as they approached the building.

‘We’ll do it again very soon,’ said Phillip, unwaveringly cheerful, pushing her inside and realising just how very antiseptic the smell here was.

She was silent in the lift and Phillip couldn’t think of anything to say either. Perhaps she was worried about the scan. They would have the result very soon. But she was in less pain now so surely the tumours must have shrunk.

He was abruptly less sure about this when he wheeled Gran out of the lift and into the ward. Dr Powell was standing at the nurses’ station, clutching one of these portable screens they showed scans on. His eyes met Phillip’s, and the expression on his face was grim.

Maggie sat on her rock at the top of the cliff path. Out here, with the wind whistling past her ears it felt as if she was sitting on the edge of the world. If she concentrated hard enough she could imagine that there was no world at her back, just the never-ending ocean before her and the heavens above - and somewhere out there in the enormity of it all was Olivia. The rock had turned into the only place where she still felt connected to her daughter, and so here she would sit, from morning until night when the weather was fine, and sometimes even when it wasn’t. Livvy was gone, summer was dying, and the smell on the wind was autumn.

Today there was greyness everywhere. The sea was grey and swollen, and thick grey clouds were sweeping across a grey sky. Foamy grey waves rushed up the sands then back again. The tide was going out, and Maggie could see the rocky ring and the sand where Olivia’s last castle had stood so briefly. In the distance the beach huts were providing the only splash of colour: blue, green and yellow against the grey sky.

The rock was cold, but Maggie knew she would stay here until she barely had the strength to move away. Sitting here she could watch over the entire sweep of the bay, from Borrower’s cave on the right, all the way along to Joe and Colin’s rock pools on the left, filled with cold, fresh seawater now that the tide was retreating. The wet sand looked dull and uninviting, and no kids were playing down there today.

If only the sea would give them Olivia back. Until it did there would always be one thought hidden at the back of Maggie’s mind, an unbearable hope that she didn’t dare put into words because no-one believed it. She didn’t believe it herself any more, but if only they knew what had happened on that day. On the fifteenth of August.

She heard footsteps behind her, and turned to see Mary Barnes, shopping bag clutched under her arm while her husband reversed their Nissan into the lane. The elderly couple had the cottage two along from Maggie, and they had known Livvy since she was a baby.

‘We’re going to the supermarket,’ said Mary, and Maggie struggled to concentrate on the words. ‘Would you like to come too, Maggie? Or can I bring you anything?’

Maggie shivered. She hated going into town. Posters of Olivia were still everywhere; torn, battered affairs now, destroyed by the wind and rain.

And the stares that followed her everywhere, faces full of pity and horror and ‘thank God my kids are safe’. Eyes that never quite met her own, and she didn’t want them to, either. All she wanted was to be left alone and wait for Olivia.

But she had to eat, and Mary and Charlie were both over eighty. It wasn’t fair to let them lug bags of groceries around for her.

‘Could you maybe bring me a loaf and some eggs, please?’ said Maggie, reaching a guilty compromise. ‘That would be very kind.’

‘It’s quite alright, dear,’ said Mary, and Maggie could hear the concern in her voice. ‘Why don’t you go back inside and warm up? You’ve been sitting out here far too long.’

‘I will,’ said Maggie, standing up. Just go, she wanted to scream. Leave me alone, I’m waiting for my daughter.

‘Alright then, goodbye now,’ said Mary, patting Maggie’s shoulder anxiously.

Maggie forced herself to smile at the old woman. Poor Mary, poor Charlie. She had ruined this holiday for them, and who knew if they’d be able to return next year to enjoy another.

‘We’ll be back in an hour, and I’ll make us all a nice pot of tea. I’ll come and get you, dear.’

She turned away, and Maggie waved dutifully as their car lurched out of sight. They hadn’t deserved this. But what else could she do? She wasn’t even coping with the basic things in life, like shopping. Sitting here watching the sea was always more important. She was the last of the summer family, and it was up to her to wait for Olivia.

When the search was called off, Colin had gone back to Carlton Bridge with Joe and his parents. He phoned and texted her often now; the coldness between them was over and he was trying to rebuild the relationship. So was she. He’d come down to see her, but nothing could persuade Maggie to give up her vigil. It had turned into a sort of pact - if she watched long enough, the sea would give them Olivia back again. And then what?

Then she could go home and bury her daughter and be a mother to her little boy and never, ever go anywhere near Cove Cottage again.

Crossing her arms for warmth, Maggie sat back down and stared out to sea. After weeks of keeping watch, she knew the tides intimately. She knew exactly how the sea crept up the sand into Borrower’s and over rock pools, into Smuggler’s and up and up the beach, until the whole thing went into reverse and the water crept away again leaving the sands wet and clean.

It was windier than usual on the clifftop today and Maggie hugged herself, shivering. The Barnes would soon be back and Mary would fuss if Maggie was still outside. She would rush around heating soup and making motherly noises. She was a good, kind neighbour, and had actually helped Maggie more than her own mother had. Mum was stuck, trapped in her own grief, and of course it was less than a year since Dad had died.

Maggie stood up and took a long, hard look round the cove. One day, here or at another cove, there would be something, she knew. One day, a little body... Maggie felt the scream begin inside her, the one that left her weak and shaking, and she was helpless to stop it.

‘
O - liv - i - a
!’ The wind carried the name from her lips. ‘
Li - vv - y
!’

The scream was still echoing round the cove when something caught Maggie’s eye. Something at the edge of the water, just at the entrance to Smuggler’s Cave. Something pink.

Maggie ran. Down the cliff path, sliding on loose stones, grabbing rocks to steady herself, going over on her ankle at the first bend but rushing on in spite of the pain, down and down and down to the sand, the sliding sand, over the beach, there
was
something there. She was up to her knees in freezing cold water now, where
was
it, that pink thing...

It was gone. Perhaps it was in the cave. Maggie waded into darkness, frantically searching. She couldn’t see a thing, it was too dark. And what was she looking for anyway, what did a little girl in a pink and white t-shirt look like after so many weeks in the sea? The mental image was horrifying. Maggie retched and vomited, and the waves swirled the sick against the cave wall and then back to her. It was dark and cold and Olivia wasn’t here. Maggie turned and waded back to the entrance. Icy water splashed up her thighs, she could hardly feel her feet now. The pink thing, where was it? She
had
seen it...

And there it was. Just a few feet from the beach, bobbing underwater. Maggie fell to her knees, unheeding of the waves rushing over her legs and up her back, soaking her hair and stinging inside her nose. Dry sobs closed her throat as she knelt there and gathered a child’s torn rubber ring to her chest.

Strong hands grasped her and lifted her to her feet.

‘Come on, Maggie. Let’s get you inside.’

She dropped the rubber ring and allowed Howard to lead her out of the water.

‘On you come, that’s it. Mary Barnes saw you running down here and phoned us. Come on, Maggie. We’ll soon have you back in the warm.’

Maggie felt completely numb. It wasn’t Livvy she’d seen. Nothing of the sort. Just a piece of torn plastic that someone had thrown away.

Amanda Donnelly was waiting on the beach with a blanket that Maggie recognised as belonging in Howard’s car. There were tears on the other woman’s face. She and Howard wrapped the blanket round Maggie’s shoulders, pushing her towards the path.

‘Up we go, Maggie. That’s it.’

Mary and Charlie were hovering at the top of the cliff and ushered everyone into their own cottage. Maggie couldn’t speak.

‘She needs dry clothes,’ said Mary firmly, and Maggie saw a pair of her own jeans, and a jumper warming in front of the electric fire. Of course, she hadn’t locked her door. She had been stupid, she knew, and she was so tired...

The doctor arrived when she was sitting wrapped in a blanket with a hot water bottle, being fed lentil soup by Mary. It was as if she were at the theatre, and all the people here were putting on a performance especially for her. They were acting out a story, speaking their lines and gesticulating, but none of it was real.

‘It was lucky I suppose that I had forgotten my purse and we came back for it,’ said Mary. ‘Thank you for coming right away, Chief Inspector.’

‘We were just heading back from a case,’ said Howard. ‘You’ll be alright, Maggie.’

He looked at her sadly, but she was grateful that someone had spoken directly to her.

The doctor gave her two pills, and she knew that in half an hour’s time she wouldn’t be hurting half as much as she was now. Maggie took a deep breath. She had never behaved like that before. Like a crazy woman. She didn’t know what had got into her, she could easily have drowned. She and Livvy both could have been lost. And she had a little boy who needed his mother; she should be helping him, not sitting in an empty cottage endlessly waiting. Maggie took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. A drugged sense of peace seeped slowly into her bones.