Thirty-Seven
‘I’m so pleased you like it,’ I say happily, as later that afternoon I’m back in my shop showing Muriel, the lovely old lady who commissioned me to paint Morvoren Cove for her, her new piece of art.
‘It’s exactly like I asked you to do it,’ she says, gazing up in awe at the painting from the chair I found for her to sit on. ‘The detail is amazing, and I see you’ve put all the mermaids in there for me.’
Muriel had been at Eddie and Dexter’s wedding, although I can’t remember seeing her there. Apparently, she used to work at the café with them as a waitress many years ago before she retired and moved away. She admired my painting, as many of the other guests had that night, so when she decided she wanted a painting of her own, she got my number from Eddie.
Although she was quite loose about how she wanted me to depict the cove, she was very specific about the placement of several mermaids she wanted in the painting. They were partly hidden, so you had to look quite hard at the painting to find them, just as in Eddie’s picture. But if you knew where to look, you could find them easily.
‘Of course, just like you asked.’
‘Do you know much about mermaids, Frankie?’ she asks, turning away from the painting to look at me. ‘They’re very interesting creatures.’
‘Not a lot,’ I reply. ‘But me and my friends called ourselves the mermaids when we were at school.’
‘Did you? How interesting. Why did you choose that name?’
‘I don’t know really. Probably something to do with a show we put on when we were dressed as mermaids. It was a very long time ago now, though.’
‘How lovely. I imagine you looked wonderful.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ I smile. ‘But we had a fun time.’
‘I bet you did. I’ve always been fascinated by mermaids. I used to sit and watch for them in the cove when I was a girl.’
‘And did you ever see any?’ I ask, playing along. I should really be shutting up the shop now, but I get the feeling Muriel wants to chat, and she’s been so lovely about the painting I haven’t the heart to try to move her on just yet.
‘Oh, yes, many times,’ Muriel says to my surprise. ‘Very enigmatic creatures they are. You know some people say they are the sea’s version of angels.’
I want to stop Muriel and ask her more about seeing mermaids, but she’s already moved on. ‘But whereas angels leave white feathers as their calling cards, it’s said a mermaid will leave a shell when they’ve visited you.’
I stare at her now. What did she just say?
‘Are you all right, dear?’ she asks. ‘You look a little pale. Do you want to sit down?’ She goes to stand up, but I stop her.
‘No, no, please, you stay seated. A shell, you say?’
‘Yes, like a calling card. You must know the story of St Felix’s mermaid?’
‘Oh, yes, my friend told me when we were at school. Erm . . . it’s something to do with a maid who stole some jewellery from Tregarlan Castle and tried to pass it on to smugglers in a barrel, I think. But she got very drunk before she was able to send the jewellery out into the waves, fell into the sea and drowned, and that’s why the pub in St Felix is called the Merry Mermaid, because of the myth.’
Muriel smiles. ‘Yes, that’s the story that’s developed over time. I feel that’s a lot to do with marketing the pub to unsuspecting holidaymakers, though, and less to do with the real mermaids of Morvoren Cove.’
‘Mermaids? You think there’s more than one?’
‘I know there is. I’ve seen them.’
I’m about to ask what they look like, and did she ever see more than a tail, when she continues. ‘The reason I know that story is made up is because a mermaid’s treasure would never be a set of fancy jewels, as is depicted in that version. Mermaids live a much simpler life. Their treasure is always made up of natural objects – like shells, and items found in the sea.’
‘Like The Little Mermaid
?’ I suggest. ‘I used to watch that movie a lot with my daughter, Rosie, when she was young. Ariel’s treasure was things she’d found in the ocean.’
‘Ah, you are referring to the animated film.’ Muriel gives a little shrug. ‘A good attempt, but about as true a tale as the drunken maid version is.’
‘What is the true story, then? And how do you know so much about this, anyway?’
‘I don’t suppose you have a kettle here, do you?’ Muriel asks, looking towards the back room where I do all my painting. ‘I’d love a cup of tea if you could spare one?’
‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Give me a couple of minutes.’
I make Muriel and me both a cup of tea and then I pull up another chair and sit down next to her in front of the painting.
‘Lovely name your daughter has,’ Muriel says as she admires the painting again while sipping her tea.
‘Thank you. I named her partly after someone I used to know, and partly because Rosemary, which it’s short for, means “dew of the sea”. When she was born I lived in Glasgow, so I felt a long way from my home here by the sea.’
‘That’s lovely,’ Muriel says. ‘It’s surprising how many names have a sea meaning, isn’t it? My own does too. Muriel means “of the bright sea”. It’s a little old fashioned now, though. You chose well with Rosemary or Rosie. I’m sure it suits her much better. Now,’ she says after another sip of her tea. ‘Let me tell you some more about mermaids. That’s if you’re still interested?’
‘Yes, of course I am.’
Muriel looks pleased. ‘Right then, I have been studying mermaids and the stories that surround them for many years. It’s quite the passion of mine.’
‘That’s why you wanted all the mermaids in the painting?’
‘Partly. The true story of the St Felix Mermaids, I believe, is as follows – Mermaids are said to live for hundreds, sometimes even thousands of years. Again, to use the angelic realms for comparison – an angel needs to earn their wings by looking after humans for a certain amount of time. A mermaid needs to do the same, but instead of wings they try to earn their legs.’
I’m about to use The Little Mermaid
again for reference, but I think better of it.
‘To become human?’ I ask instead.
‘Oh, no, why would something as beautiful as a mermaid want to become human? No offence to you, but humans are considered much lower beings in terms of the universe as a whole, than say something like an angel or a mermaid.’
‘But you said they want to earn their legs. What would be the point in having legs if you were going to carry on living in the sea?’
‘Earning your legs isn’t about becoming something else, it’s about having the option to.’
‘I don’t really follow . . . ’
‘It’s quite common knowledge that mermaids are often able to shapeshift. That means they are able to take on the form of another living being. But to do that they have to earn their “legs”, i.e. the gift of shapeshifting.’
This conversation is getting stranger by the minute. But I’m finding it incredibly compelling too. Muriel doesn’t seem particularly eccentric or batty, she just seems very knowledgeable about her passion – which is clearly mermaids in all their guises.
‘How do they do that?’
‘When a mermaid, or a merman for that matter, reaches a certain age, it’s their chance to prove themselves. To move up the echelons of merpeople so to speak. A bit like when a human reaches eighteen, or twenty-one as it used to be, they become an adult. Humans are bestowed with certain privileges in life at that age, and we hope they use those privileges sensibly and to the best of their ability. Many however do not, and they are often the ones that need the most help. That’s when the more experienced beings are needed – your winged angels and the like. But whatever type of being you are, when you are just starting out on your spiritual journey, you need to choose humans to help that have slightly easier problems to fix. But the more you can help, the more you build up credit – let’s call it – so eventually the gift of wings, or the ability to shapeshift is yours as often as you need it.’
I drink my tea while I listen to Muriel speak, part of me thinking I should be finding everything she says totally beyond belief, and simply the words of a little old lady who clearly takes great comfort from her own notions and beliefs. But she speaks with such confidence and total conviction, that I feel myself completely drawn to her every word.
‘Go on,’ I say when she pauses to have a drink.
‘I’m glad you’re so interested.’ She smiles at me. ‘There’s many folks who would simply put my thoughts and observations down as the fantasies of a silly old woman.’
‘I am interested – genuinely. I might have seen something strange too when I’ve been in the cove.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Muriel pricks her ears up. ‘What sort of things?’
I tell Muriel all about my experiences in St Felix with what may have been a mermaid. From our first encounter with the barrel full of supposed treasure, to our wishes, and the splashing and huge fishes’ tails we’ve witnessed over the years.
‘Is there anything else?’ she asks when I’ve finished.
‘Isn’t that enough?’ I smile, feeling like a huge weight has been lifted from me now I’ve told someone.
‘It’s plenty to be going on with. And have you found any of the mermaid’s treasure by any chance?’
‘I thought you said the treasure wasn’t real?’
‘Not that treasure. I said a mermaid’s treasure is much more likely to be something natural. There have been stories about a mermaid giving their necklace to a human piece by piece until they’ve collected it all. If they keep it, so it can be repaired and put together again, then they know the human they’ve helped is truly worthy. But if the human loses or discards the pieces they’ve presented to them, then they’ve failed and chosen badly.’
‘So what are these mermaid’s necklaces likely to be made of?’ I ask, although I’m pretty sure I know what Muriel is going to say.
‘Shells,’ she says, looking at my collection on the windowsill. ‘Very much like the ones you have over there.’
‘I met a really interesting woman today,’ I tell Claire that evening.
‘Really, who?’ Claire asks. Claire is currently running around looking for her phone before she heads out to a meeting of her organising committee for the school reunion. Which is only a couple of weeks away now.
‘It was the lady I told you about who commissioned the painting of Morvoren Cove. She came to collect it today.’
‘Oh, yes, the one with all the mermaids hidden in it. What was she like?’
I choose my words carefully. ‘Intriguing.’
‘How so? Oh, there it is!’ Claire finds her phone, where it often is when it goes missing, behind one of the cushions on the sofa.
‘She just was. Look, you’re in a hurry. I’ll tell you about her later. Oh, Claire, just before you go, you don’t happen to have a book of baby names lying around somewhere, do you?’
‘Why, you’re not pregnant are you?’ Claire grins as she pulls on her jacket. ‘Oh God, you’re not, are you? I mean, I know you and Mack are . . . ’
‘No!’ I say firmly. ‘I am not pregnant. Menopausal, perhaps. But not pregnant.’
‘Why do you want a baby book, then?’
‘I want to look up some names and their meanings, that’s all.’
Claire glances at the bookshelves stuffed with books. ‘No, I don’t think I have any more. I had one when the children were born, but I think we gave it to a charity shop. Why don’t you just look on the internet? There’s bound to be loads of websites full of names on there. Right, I have to go. See you later.’
‘Bye!’ I call as Claire dashes out of the door.
Why had I not thought of looking online? It was so easy these days, compared to when we were all at school and had to use encyclopaedias and the school library to find anything out. These days, all the information you could ever need was at the touch of a button.
I grab my phone and Google baby names.
Then I enter several very specific names into the search box, and I find exactly what I’m looking for . . .