Chapter 22
Kitty and Shazza made their way to Dún Laoghaire, just a few minutes’ walk from Sandycove. The sea, after a long grey winter, seemed to dance and glitter, like the floor of a New York nightclub, shooting out laser beams of sunshine.
They stood in front of St Brendan’s Yacht Club, a pillared building with huge oak doors and neat hanging baskets and the kind of brassware which was polished to such a high gleam that you had to look away in case of being blinded.
‘I hope Tom’s friends are not annoying yachty types,’ said Shazza. ‘My only goal today is to stay alive long enough to get to that yacht club bar this evening. I’ve heard it’s all mahogany and gold and they have superior bar snacks, things like wasabi peas and, I don’t know… smoky bacon crisps. Those are today’s priorities. And if I may say so myself, they are not bad priorities to have. I live in the now… And now, I need to find a loo and adjust my bra because the wire is about to sever my left breast. And then we’ll find these annoying yachty types and get going.’
Except, it turned out, none of them were annoying and the boat wasn’t some big posh yacht, it was an old, varnished wooden vessel with a turquoise stripe and Pansy-Pearl painted on the hull. Even Shazza looked quite pleased when she saw the set-up and shook everyone’s hands, telling them how nice the boat was.
Tom was in his cargo shorts and T-shirt, as was Fergal – tall, with floppy sandy hair, freckled arms, faded pink long shorts and a backwards baseball cap.
‘We have no sailing skills whatsoever,’ Shazza announced loftily, making Fergal laugh.
‘That’s grand. We’re not in the Olympics…’ he said, before introducing them to his girlfriend, Sadie, petite and tanned, bare feet and a tattoo of a four-leafed clover on her wrist.
‘What’s the plan?’ asked Kitty. ‘Where are we going today?’
‘No plan,’ said Sadie. ‘Just see where the wind takes us. Probably make for Howth Head and see where we end up. Why? Is there somewhere you would like to go?’
Kitty shook her head. ‘I was just wondering…’
‘Kitty’s the kind of person who doesn’t like to just end up somewhere,’ explained Shazza. ‘She usually has it all mapped out and planned to within an inch of its life. Every time we go on holiday together, Kitty has an Excel spreadsheet with our days itemised to the minute. I always need a holiday when we come home.’ She nudged Kitty to make sure she wasn’t taking offence and then added, ‘I wish I was more like Kitty, though. I went on a weekend away last summer with another friend and it was so chaotic, neither of us had done any reading up or any preparation. We missed every museum opening, ate in bad restaurants and couldn’t find anything nice at all… it was a disaster. I remember on the flight home, feeling a bit depressed, wishing I’d gone with Kitty rather than him.’
Sadie was smiling. ‘He sounds useless,’ she said.
‘Oh he was,’ said Shazza. ‘But that’s the past. I live in the now… and the future.’ She beamed at Sadie. ‘We’re very much looking forward to a drink this evening in the yacht club… the one with the gold and mahogany?’
‘And the smoky bacon crisps.’ Kitty nudged her.
‘Oh, we never go there,’ said Sadie. ‘Too stuffy and boring. We always go to the secret bar…’
‘The secret bar?’ Shazza and Kitty looked at each other in excitement.
‘All will be revealed later,’ said Sadie, grinning back at them.
Tom held out his hand to help Shazza aboard, making her shriek when she almost lost her sandal in the water. ‘Tom Sweetman,’ she said, ‘if I lose one of those flip-flops in the sea, then you’re going in after it.’
Tom laughed, glancing at Kitty’s feet. ‘You should be wearing shoes like Kitty is… ones that stay on.’
Fergal divvied out the life jackets as Tom propelled the boat away from the jetty and leapt aboard. The boat lurched a little as the motor puttered into life, and Pansy-Pearl headed out of the harbour, between the two lighthouses towards the open sea.
Fergal stood behind the large steering wheel, staring at the horizon, as Pansy-Pearl puttered away from land. Kitty could see Sandycove, the small golden beach, and the small figures of walkers and swimmers far away. There was the coffee van she walked down to and there was the bench she drank it on. She was struck suddenly with the sense of freedom, that life was what you made it. If you stayed in all the time and waited for someone else to do things with, living by their clock and their rules, then you weren’t living.
Tom was perched on a pile of coiled ropes, leaning back on his elbows, his face in the sun, his long brown legs stretched out. Shazza was lying on her back on the roof of the cabin, eyes closed, sunbathing as though on holiday, and Sadie was at the front, her face in the wind, eyes scanning the horizon. Kitty leaned against the side of the cabin, watching the wavy white caps, the roll of the sea, the sparkling iridescence… and felt, somehow, happy.
It was strange, she thought, when you created a vacuum, it got filled with something else. It was impossible to do nothing because something always happened. When Dave came back, she would have to talk to him all about this. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing, perhaps he too was experiencing the same revelations about life and would want to go out more.
Life was for living… and, Shazza was right, for bringing fun in where you could. She had imprisoned herself in her relationship with Dave. It hadn’t been fun. It hadn’t even been enjoyable. And worse, she’d chosen it. She’d wanted to be imprisoned. But she liked her new freedom, she thought. The world had suddenly opened up in front of her and she felt a shiver of excitement about what on earth would happen next.
The sea was a glittering, shimmering wash of abalone green as Pansy-Pearl gathered up the wind. Even Shazza seemed to be ready for action, as Fergal shouted out orders and Tom and Sadie untied ropes and winched them tightly. The sails flapped albatross-like, catching a tailwind until it began to soar.
Kitty had done sailing courses at school, where they kept falling off the small boats and into the sea, developing hypothermia and having to be dragged into the rescue RIB and submerged under silver foil. This was better than anything and she felt invincible, as though they could go anywhere in the world. They could go to Sydney and keep going. The idea was impossibly exciting.
Tom was beside her, gesturing to the winch. ‘Tighten this as hard as you can,’ he shouted into her ear before he tied another rope beside it. ‘Watch your head!’
She ducked as the boom swung around and then there was a moment, as the sail paused, and then whoosh, Pansy-Pearl was off again, this time heading in the opposite direction.
‘We’re tacking,’ shouted Fergal. ‘Heading towards Howth.’
Kitty nodded, still thrilled, and gave her winch another turn for good luck.
Howth was the long headland which swooped out to sea, encasing the city of Dublin within its reach. They zigzagged their way into open water and then past Howth Head and its lighthouse, staring up at the beautiful gardens belonging to the mansions which tumbled down towards the sea.
Kitty and Shazza sat together, smiling.
‘The word is “glorious”,’ said Shazza. ‘Not that I ever use that word and if you ever do hear me using it again, you have permission to drown me at sea.’
‘Deal,’ said Kitty, looking out at the waves, and feeling part of something bigger than she could ever have imagined.
They spent the rest of the day cruising around the islands off the coast of Dublin, where seals basked in the sunlight and shoals of fish shimmered in the shallower waters. They glided towards a small green-grassed island, the sea lapping where it met its rocky edges. Sadie and Tom were tying up the sails, a rumble from the engine beneath them, as Fergal manoeuvred the boat through the shallow waters.
‘It’s beautiful,’ breathed Kitty, holding on to the side of the boat, staring down at the golden sand.
Beside her, Tom smiled. ‘We’ve been coming here for years… first in Fergal’s parents’ boat and now in Pansy-Pearl. We camped on the island once, me and Fergal. We were seventeen or so… lit a fire, and slept in just our sleeping bags.’ He looked over at Fergal, whose face was contorted with concentration. ‘Fergal was convinced the island was haunted, weren’t you, Fergs?’
‘What’s he saying about me?’ said Fergal, still focused on guiding the boat. ‘Because whatever he’s saying it’s a lie. He was the scared one.’
Tom laughed. ‘We both were,’ he said. ‘One of the most magical and terrifying nights of my life.’
He and Fergal grinned at each other for a moment before the engine was silenced and all Kitty could hear was the slapping of the sea against the hull and the sound of the seabirds as the anchor was dropped.
‘Swim then lunch?’
Tom pulled off his T-shirt and shorts to reveal his swimming trunks. His chest was lean and brown, his legs were slender and long. He looked, Kitty thought, even better like this, especially the way his… but she realised that her look might be lingering too long, and she managed – with Herculean effort – to look away.
Fergal was tugging off his life jacket and T-shirt and before Tom had a chance to jump in, Fergal shouted, ‘I’m in first!’ He launched himself off the side of the boat and into the sea, closely followed by Tom, and then Sadie did the same.
Kitty and Shazza looked at each other.
‘Are we meant to get in?’ asked Kitty.
‘I suppose we should…’ Even Shazza looked perturbed. ‘I mean, it’s June, but what if it’s freezing?’
‘We’re going to have to,’ said Kitty. ‘Remember, we have fun these days?’
‘Me and my big mouth,’ said Shazza. But after a quick change, the two of them held hands, teetering at the side of Pansy-Pearl.
‘I’ll count us in…’ said Shazza, and then, ‘One, two…’
Sadie, Fergal and Tom joined in with the counting, and then, ‘THREEEEE!’
Shazza and Kitty threw themselves in, and for a moment Kitty felt as though she was flying, and then the cold black of the sea, and she thought she was dying… She surfaced, the salt on her lips, the wet of her hair, the ice of her body… and she felt incredible.
She and Shazza paddled in the water, grinning wildly at each other and laughing at the crazy fact that somehow the two of them were in the Irish Sea, miles from home. How quickly life could change.
‘Oh my God,’ said Shazza. ‘How are we here? How is this happening?’
‘I have no idea… you said to trust the universe and I am so glad we did!’
The five of them swam around, floating on their backs, taking turns to climb back onto Pansy-Pearl and launch themselves off.
‘Shark!’ shouted Fergal suddenly.
Kitty’s blood ran cold, and she began to swim manically for the boat, heart beating, and then realised that no one else was swimming, they were all laughing.
‘Sorry,’ said Fergal, giving her an apologetic wave.
‘He always does it,’ said Sadie. ‘He’s an eejit.’ He and Sadie clung to each other. ‘You’re my eejit though,’ she said, kissing his cheek.
By mid-afternoon, they all clambered back onto the boat and dried off as best they could as Tom brought up a large cool box from the cabin and they sat in the sun, eating chicken salad sandwiches and sharing crisps.
‘Anyone fancy a drink back in Dún Laoghaire?’ said Fergal.
‘We thought you’d never ask,’ said Shazza.
Tired, windburned and happy, they zigzagged back to port and to land. Kitty needn’t have worried about filing the weekend. Somehow, she had had one of the most wonderful days of her life.