Chapter 13
13
‘We’re going to Way-els , we’re going to Way-els !’ Ava sing-songs as she runs over and flings her arms around me for a hug. ‘We’re going to find out what really happened in 1899 and prove that mermaids are real! Best summer holiday ever!’
‘We’re really, really unlikely to prove that a fictional sea creature is real.’ The voice of reason appears in the doorway behind her, looking suitably less excited about the prospect of a trip to the Welsh coast. ‘Don’t get your hopes up.’
Ava ignores Ren’s grouching. ‘It’s no Disneyland, or Alton Towers, or Thorpe Park…’ She continues reeling off a list of what are obviously her bucket-list summer holiday destinations, and while Arfordir-M?r-Forwyn is nowhere near the top, I guess anywhere that’s not the Wye Valley is better than nothing.
‘ How did you persuade him? What spells did you cast?’ She releases me and looks around like she’s searching for the Fairy Godmother’s magic wand. ‘He never changes his mind about anything. And the most exciting place we usually go is to McDonald’s.’
‘Believe it or not, I didn’t have to persuade him, it was his suggestion. I think your dad’s much more of a great big softie than he’d have anyone believe.’ I meet his eyes and grin at him across the shop.
‘Oh, you do, do you?’ Ren beams back at me and pushes himself off the doorframe he was leaning against without dropping eye contact.
My grin gets implausibly wider. ‘Good morning, Mr Montague.’
His cheeks redden at the throwback to the riverbank last week, and even though it’s impossible to tear my eyes away from Ren, I can sense Ava’s head whipping back and forth between us before she eventually declares, ‘Oh my God, get a room!’
‘We’ve got a room,’ Ren mutters. ‘Unfortunately it’s only one room.’
It’s Friday and once we’d decided on this weekend for our road trip – leaving this morning, staying three nights, and then coming back on Monday afternoon – he tried to book a place to stay. Unfortunately, it’s a small coastal village with only one hotel and it’s smack-bang in the middle of the summer holidays, so every room was booked, although they’d just had a cancellation for one room, which he sensibly snapped up, but still.
‘It’s giving “classic rom com”!’ Ava squeals.
‘It’s giving “Ren sleeps on the floor and ends up with a bad back because Ren is too old to sleep on the floor.”’
‘Ren is too young to complain this much,’ I counter. ‘Ren is like a forty-one-year-old with a ninety-one-year-old living inside him.’
‘Touché.’ He grins, but it’s with a teasing, jokey wink and he can’t stop smiling. ‘The receptionist said they could provide a folding camp bed, so I’ll have that while you girls share the nice, comfortable real bed.’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ Ava calls from where she’s looking around the shop, before she reappears with a concerned look on her face. ‘What happened in here?’ She turns to her dad. ‘What did you make Mickey do to her shop?’
‘Actually nothing,’ I answer for him. ‘That was all me.’
‘I thought it was odd that I didn’t get concussed by a Victorian birdcage on the way in.’ Ren looks around with an approving nod.
‘You’ve made me realise where things have gone wrong lately. Everything has got so cluttered and I’ve lost sight of what I always wanted this place to be. It’s supposed to be an undersea treasure trove with an ocean theme, and that’s got lost along the way. I love mermaids and all things oceanic, that’s the direction I was intending to go in when I took over while my dad was still alive, but when he died, the waters got muddied, and you’ve made it seem clear again.’ I nod to Ren, loving the way his cheeks redden.
‘I know that feeling,’ he mumbles, out of Ava’s hearing.
‘I want my stock to be more curated. More selective. Lissa’s the curator of the Colours of the Wind museum, and she’s going to help me decide on what to keep and what to sell off. I’ve talked to Witt – the guy who owns the castle and has organised the antiques fair – and he’s agreed that we can have a big sale in the castle grounds on that weekend. I’ll display the diary as we’ve planned to give people something to talk about, and Lissa and some of the other shopkeepers are going to run separate stalls full of the other bits and pieces and sell them at a reduced price in an attempt to get rid of them, so loads of stuff is boxed up ready to be taken up to the castle, and?—’
‘You haven’t chucked the dragon fruit table, have you?’
Ava’s anxious interruption makes me giggle. ‘No. That’s staying put until it finds a buyer who loves it, just so I can rub it in your dad’s face when it does.’
They both laugh, and if I’m not mistaken, they both breathe a little sigh of relief.
Ren dips his head towards me. ‘It sounds like a good idea. About the shop, I mean, not about the dragon fruit table, no one in their right mind would buy that thing, but you seem… happier? Lighter?’
‘It’s the right decision. I can’t throw all of this stuff away, or give it all to charity shops because I’ve spent the business money on it and I need to get something back, and Witt’s convinced the extra stalls won’t give the antiques fair too many “car boot sale” vibes, and with the extra space in here, I can choose more important things to showcase – things like the diary – with real stories behind them that deserve to be known, and it really does feel like a weight has been lifted. So thank you. For all your help and your input. You might be harsh and blunt but you make the occasional good point.’
He blushes hard, and it gives me a little tingle to remember what Ava said about Ren blushing. For someone who never blushes, he’s been getting red-faced a lot in my company lately.
‘I’ve always said we never really own objects, we’re just looking after them until their real owner arrives, and I’ve lost sight of that and stopped considering whether their potential owners are likely to be part of my customer base or not, and as you can see, they’re not. This has become a home for unwanted things rather than a halfway house for things waiting for their new owners. I need to start matching my stock to my customers rather than rescuing every object I see.’
Ava picks up a blue and gold balloon dog ornament. ‘Can I own this one?’
‘No,’ Ren says at exactly the same moment as I say yes, and we meet each other’s eyes and break out into laughter.
‘Go on then,’ Ren acquiesces, but I stop him when he goes to get his wallet out to pay for it, and Ava comes over and gives me another hug.
‘I think you should own this one too.’ The diary is in my bag on the counter, and Ava is fiddling fondly with the strap, so I slip the bag off and hang it over her shoulder. ‘Whatever happens in Arfordir-M?r-Forwyn and after the antiques fair, you should keep this. No one loves it more than you, no one’s been more invested in it than you, and you did find it fair and square. It’s yours now. May it always remind you that, truly, anything is possible.’
She gasps and looks in the bag that’s banging against her side and then squeals. ‘Seriously? Eeeeeek ! Thank you, Mickey! It’s my most favourite thing ever. I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life. One day I’ll have children and they’ll treasure it too!’
‘Mick, don’t. It could be valu?—’
‘So are you. Both of you.’ I cut off Ren’s protest. ‘It’s too special to sell, no matter what it’s worth. Better it stays with someone who loves it and realises that value doesn’t just come from monetary price.’
Ava’s jumping up and down on the spot. ‘Can I read it in the car? We need to know if there are any more clues before we get there!’
I give the shop a final glance, surprisingly glad to be getting away from it for the weekend. I can’t remember the last time I went away anywhere, and the possibility of solving the mystery of the diary thrums through my veins. Getting close to the place where it actually happened will give us the answers we need. It has to.
Ava has taken my suitcase and headed for the car park, and Ren is rushing to catch up with her. When we reach the car, he unlocks the boot and Ava hefts my wheeled case up into it, and organises their bags around it, and I look up at him as we stand aside and let her get on with it.
It’s the third time I’ve seen him since the other night, and the third time there hasn’t been any product in his hair since then either, which I like to think I had a little something to do with. ‘I like your hair like this. The softer look suits you.’
‘I’m not so sure. Bad things happen when there’s no product in my hair.’
‘I’m not convinced it was entirely the fault of your hair gel.’ I can’t help laughing even though he’s clearly still embarrassed, and I nudge my elbow into his arm. ‘And I don’t think they were bad things.’
‘Good or bad, they were things that can’t happen again.’
The sharpness of his words makes me flinch, but I can’t deny he’s got a point. It would have been far too easy to kiss him the other night. It was hard enough to only let myself kiss his cheek when what I really wanted was to go much, much further. He might be embarrassed, but I told him he had beautiful eyes, the most kissable cheeks and the softest stubble, and I can’t blame the wine. Of all people, I’m the one who should be in absolute agreement that nothing that happened the other night can be repeated, ever.
‘How did you ever get me to agree to this?’ he says as Ava slams the boot closed.
‘You wanted to!’
‘I was… d-r-u-n-k!’ He glances towards Ava before spelling the word out under his breath.
‘Shouldn’t need to be drunk to throw caution to the wind once in a while, Ren.’
‘Can’t argue with that,’ he says with a huff, looking very much like he wishes he could argue with it.
Ava dives into the backseat, and I slip into the front next to Ren, he sets the Sat Nav and makes sure everyone’s strapped in, and Ava cheers as we pull out and start leaving Herefordshire behind. She puts her headphones in and pulls the diary out of the bag, and I glance at Ren.
‘Thanks for coming. I really didn’t want to do this on my own.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he says in response, because so far he’s even refused to accept any money towards the cost of petrol for this trip. ‘This has been good for her.’
His voice drops and his eyes flick up to the rearview mirror and focus on Ava behind us. ‘She’s not on her phone as much. She seems less worried about what people think of her, and more open about her feelings, and I think that’s your influence. Your confidence, your upfrontness, your courage in telling people how you feel, your… you ness.’
A few weeks ago, I’m pretty certain this would’ve been an insult, but right now, he can’t stop his lips twitching into a smile, and it fills my heart with joy because I know he means it in a good way.
‘I even got a hug this morning,’ he continues. ‘And maybe that’s something to do with you too.’
‘Hugs engender hugs?’
‘I guess we need to put that theory to the test?’ he says with a grin, and I reach over and rub his thigh, and he smiles to himself in a way that suggests it’s a good thing he’s not going to take his hands off the steering wheel any time soon.
‘Oh, noooo, he’s really ill. What if he dies?’ It isn’t long later that Ava rips her headphones out, and when I turn in my seat to look over at her, she looks distraught.
‘He’s not going to die,’ I reassure her.
‘You don’t know that. Not every story has a happy ending,’ Ren says. ‘What does it say?’
Ava paraphrases the entry, and Ren huffs. ‘It sounds like he has an infection and they have no medical intervention. He might die, Ave. You need to prepare yourself.’
On the one hand, I understand why he’s saying it, why he doesn’t want Ava to be upset if the mystery sailor does die, but on the other hand, a bit of hope wouldn’t go amiss, would it? ‘Can I read it?’
Ava passes the book over and I spread it open on my lap, trying to ignore Ren’s eyes flicking sideways as I read.
3 April 1899
His leg is causing him pain. I fear the broken bone will not heal, but I don’t know what to do about it. It has been many weeks. If he was under a doctor’s care, it would be mended by now.
His skin is too warm and his teeth chatter even though he is burning hot to the touch. I do not know if I should try to cool him down or keep him warm. My hands shake as I try to tend him, and my mind is flooded with all the worst possibilities. What if he is unable to recover? What if he is to die right here in front of me? What if I am not good enough to save him?
What if I could have got him help, but I have not, simply because I like him being here, and I had not realised how lonely I was until he came?
He does not want food. He cannot keep water down. I go out to the shore and ask my friends for help. If there is any magic in this boorish world, please let me find it tonight. I must save him.
I have done so many things wrong in my life, and tonight, I regret all of them. If I had not been so heartless, as selfish as my sister calls me, maybe the gods of the sea would see fit to save him. I will do anything. If I could give my life for his, I would.
My heart is in my throat as I turn the page to the next entry, wondering how the hell I’m going to cope if the next entry reveals the worst possible scenario.
6 April 1899
In my fear last night, I confessed my part in his shipwreck. I wrote the words that I had been hoping never to write – it is my fault you are here. I was supposed to prevent this from happening, but my mind wasn’t focused, and I caused this. Like all mermaids, my song ensnared you into the arms of danger.
He has accused me of luring their ship to its doom, and of murdering his best friend.
He is less warm today, but he pushes my hand away when I try to lay my fingers against his forehead. His leg is red and blotched. The bone is not healing properly, and the rope I have used to tie on the wooden boards is cutting into his skin, but I do not know how else to hold his leg straight while it heals.
He blames me for his predicament. It is my fault, after all, but I am glad that he does not look as unwell as he did yesterday. There is colour in his cheeks again, even though it is the putrid colour of anger, and it is directed at me.
He calls me a monster, and it makes me angry. I thought he was different to the others who label me with that name. I am not a monster, am I? I am different. It is he who has made me feel unlike a monster, and it hurts so very deep inside that in one angry exchange, he can undo all the good he has done.
I do not speak to him for the rest of the night. I am crying too hard. I didn’t want to cry in front of him, so I go out to the water where I have always been safe. I am weak and afraid. I will never be anything but a monster, and now, if he is to die, will I become a murderer too?
I suck air in through my teeth because it’s painful reading. You can feel her hurt in every word. You can sense the emptiness inside her now he’s called her the one thing she thought he didn’t see her as. Even her writing has changed, like he’s broken something inside her soul.
‘If someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to pull over so I can read this thing too,’ Ren snaps.
‘I thought you didn’t care, Dad.’
He glances at me and then meets her eyes in the rearview mirror. ‘Turns out your old dad’s a bit of a softie after all.’
10 April 1899
He says he is sorry. He was angry, in pain, and scared, and sometimes words come out when he doesn’t intend them to. I don’t understand this, but maybe I would understand it if I had a voice of my own. Maybe it is like when I go to speak and forget that I cannot. If the words were able to, might they come out, even if I didn’t wish them to?
I am both sad and frightened. I am frightened of how deeply I feel for him, and even more frightened of losing him. He is everything I have ever wanted, and yet, he is not mine to keep. Is love only ever supposed to be temporary?
I cannot get all my thoughts written down. They are too complicated to show to him. He will think me mad.
He is sitting on the floor in front of the fire and I sit down beside him. Sometimes, when words fail, I put my head on his shoulder and he puts his arms around me and that is all that needs to be said.
Tonight, we kiss. We go further than kissing. I have never gone that far before. I always believed such an act would be painful and immoral. My sister would surely die on the spot should she ever find out.
He says that if he is to die, he will be able to die a happy man.
And I might die a happy woman. I feel like I am soaring. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this good.
I will do anything for this man. I will do whatever it takes to save him – to keep him.
‘What the…?’ Ren’s knuckles turn white as his grip on the steering wheel tightens and he shoots me a frown. ‘Has this just turned into mermaid porn? Ava, don’t you dare read that!’
‘I’m thirteen, Dad. I know what happens when two people love each other.’
‘ I’m scarred for life!’
‘I thought you didn’t believe in mermaids…’ I say, because he seems increasingly invested in this book, and increasingly willing to believe there’s something real behind it.
‘I don’t, but I don’t want to think about the logistics of… that ! That’s just disturbing!’
‘Oh, stop it. She’s a young merwoman in love. There’s nothing wrong with that. Who knew that even mermaids have fights and make-up sex? These are her innermost thoughts, her most uncompromised feelings, and we have the privilege of reading them, even so many years later. This is something so special.’
Ren looks over at me. ‘You really are part of another world. How can anyone see so much good in something? Is there anything you don’t like?’
I give it some thought before answering. ‘Slogan bathmats. You know those ones that have words like “nice bum” or “get naked” on them? I hate them.’
He laughs so hard that the car is in serious danger of crossing into the wrong lane. ‘You are something else, Mickey Teasdale. Something else.’
‘Maybe she’s part mermaid?’
‘It’s beginning to seem like a distinct possibility.’ He glances over at me. ‘She’s definitely something otherworldly.’
‘Unlike you, Dad, you’re just a dinosaur.’
We laugh all the way to Wales. I’ve closed the diary because I’m laughing so much – and just in case things do get any more risqué between the mermaid and her mystery sailor – but mainly because these two make me want to be present in the moment and not lost in words from 1899, and it’s been a while since I felt like that.
For the first time in ages, real life is better than fiction.
* * *
‘Oh my God, there’s a mermaid!’ Within moments of pulling into the car park at the harbour in Arfordir-M?r-Forwyn, Ava has dived out of the car and run to the edge of the promenade.
‘Well, that was quick,’ Ren mutters sarcastically as he folds himself out of the car and stretches. ‘If we’ve found her already, shall we turn back and be home by nightfall?’
‘That’s The Little Mermaid.’ I stand on tiptoes and strain my neck to see the statue on the waterfront that Ava has gone over to. ‘It looks like a replica of the one in Copenhagen to honour Hans Christian Andersen.’
‘So we’re in the right place then?’ Ren looks around as I shut the car door and follow Ava across the tarmac to the statue.
‘Do you think that’s her?’ she asks me.
‘I don’t know, but maybe it means the people around here know something we don’t.’ I lean on the railings and look out at the ocean. There are the silhouettes of small islands in the distance, far out to sea, and when I look down at the water below, I half-expect to see the iridescent scales of a mermaid’s tail disappearing into the depths. Ren’s face shimmers into the reflection as he comes to stand beside me and looks over too.
‘Can we go out to those islands?’ Ava looks around. ‘Do you think one might be the island?’
From here, the islands off the coast look like craggy, rocky outcrops, but considering how many are on the horizon, surely there’s a distinct possibility that one of them could indeed be our Little Mermaid’s island?
‘Are you interested in the Arfordir-M?r-Forwyn mermaid, dearie?’
There’s an elderly man sitting on a bench nearby, looking out to sea, obviously near enough to overhear our conversation.
‘Yes!’ Ava goes over to talk to him. ‘Was she real? Do you know anything about her?’
‘It’s been said that these waters were full of mermaids, once upon a time. They say that if you walked on the beach on a quiet night, when the wind was dancing across the sea from Ireland, you’d be able to hear them singing. Mermaids sing songs to find love, you know.’
‘Can you still hear them now?’
‘My wife used to say that all the ships and marine traffic these days has scared them away, but maybe if we’re really quiet, they’ll come back one day.’
Ava is watching him like he’s an oracle on all things mermaid.
‘They used to rescue sailors who got into difficulties. The sea out there is treacherous. Where the Irish Sea meets the Atlantic, there’s a maelstrom of tidal currents, and there are rocks and sandbanks lurking not far beneath the surface. Many a ship met its maker in those waters, but the mermaids would drag the drowning sailors to the safety of the beaches. They saved countless lives. That’s why we chose that statue – a tribute to not just one mermaid, but all mermaids and want-to-be mermaids.’ He looks at her. ‘My wife wanted to be a mermaid. She was just like you when she was a youngster. Every night, we used to walk along the sand, listening for the sounds of a mermaid singing in the distance.’
‘Did you ever hear one?’
‘I didn’t need to. My wife sang the only songs I ever needed to hear.’
I feel my heart jolt in my chest, because he’s obviously talking in the past tense and his eyes have taken on a watery look, and it makes my heart thump harder as I think of my own mum, who spent many a night on the sands of darkened beaches, wishing to see something magical. When I glance at Ren, he’s looking more touched than I expected him to.
‘That’s why I sit here now. My wife always said that when she passed, she’d come back as a mermaid, so I come here every day and watch the waves, hoping I might see her, and I feel like she’s still here with me, in these sands, in every shell that washes ashore, every breeze that whispers off the sea. The statue is a tribute to everyone who’s ever stood on the shore and wondered if they belong out there rather than on land.’
Ren goes to speak but his voice doesn’t work and he has to clear his throat to hide the emotion in it. ‘Any of those islands occupied?’
‘Aye, some of them, others are rare seabird colonies that are off-limits to the public, but there are regular boat trips around them, weather permitting.’
‘Anywhere a mermaid might have lived?’ Ava asks him.
‘Well, mermaids live in the ocean, young lass. I don’t think they have much use for islands.’
Ava looks disappointed, but it’s a good point. Our mermaid is seemingly living on an island. I glance out at the rocky silhouettes again. They all look like the kind of places you’d need a good pair of sea legs to climb on to. How would it ever have been physically possible if she really did have a tail?
‘Do you know anything about a shipwreck around these parts?’ I ask the man.
‘There have been many ships run into trouble around here, dearie. Narrow it down?’
‘End of the nineteenth century. Two men on board. We don’t know any more than that. We’re trying to find out.’
He thinks about it for a while before shaking his head. ‘As I said, these waters are perilous, even more so in the days before modern technology. The local council office will have records, just along there, up on the hill.’ He gives us directions to a building that Ren has already marked on his map.
Ava looks like she wants to question him further, but Ren cuts her off. ‘Thanks for your help, enjoy the rest of your afternoon.’
‘What a lovely young family. Enjoy your stay!’
‘Oh, we’re not?—’
Ren cuts me off by dropping an arm around my shoulders and leaning his head against mine. ‘Thanks, we will.’
It’s a deliberate non-correction of the man’s assumption, and at first I think Ren is just trying to hurry away, but when his arm stays around my shoulders, I wonder if there’s a deeper meaning, and get a little flitter-flutter inside that there might be.
The hotel is a short walk along the promenade, right on the harbour front, and a cuddly looking middle-aged lady greets us with an enthusiastic welcome when we walk into the reception area.
‘What brings you to Arfordir-M?r-Forwyn?’ After introducing herself as Caryl, she gets us checked in on the computer.
‘We’re looking for a mermaid,’ Ava tells her.
‘Well, you’ve come to the right place. We have a lot of mermaids around here. Look.’ She points out the canvases of mermaids hanging around the walls, and Ava goes over for a closer look at the paintings by local artists.
‘What about real ones?’
‘Hmm, more like stories. It’s always been said that mermaids swam in the waters around our coast. They used to use their voices to tempt sailors towards the shore so their boats would run aground on the shallow rocks, and the seafolk below would steal their bounty.’
Ava gasps in horror. ‘But the old man on the bench said…’
‘Ah, yes.’ Caryl clearly knows who we’ve been talking to. ‘Some people have overly romanticised views of them, but I think they were just creatures, like any other animal that has to survive in a challenging environment. I don’t think they had palaces on the ocean floor and crabs putting on concerts for them. I think they had to fight for survival, and they ended up going extinct because things were so tough for them.’
‘But they were real?’
‘I like to think so. You’ll find a lot of people round here who believe so. Maybe one day we’ll find some proof, eh?’
Ava makes a high-pitched noise that suggests she’s moments away from exploding with delight.
By the time we’ve checked in, taken our bags up to the room, and got Ren’s fold-out bed set up, it’s too late in the afternoon to head to the council offices, so we go for a wander around the village instead. There are local people everywhere who are all too happy to tell us their opinions on the mermaid stories, from those who think Hans Christian Andersen got his inspiration from this very place, even though to everyone’s knowledge, he never actually visited, to those who believe mermaids were real but were driven deeper and deeper into the ocean by human curiosity, and eventually became extinct when they couldn’t survive in such depths. One thing made louder by its absence is the total lack of anyone who seems to think mermaids aren’t real, which buoys mine and Ava’s confidence and makes Ren roll his eyes.
By the evening, we’ve walked around the village, met locals, eaten ice cream and handmade fudge and sticks of rock, had dinner in a pub called The Mermaid’s Tail, and to be honest, I’ve almost forgotten that we came here for any purpose other than to enjoy ourselves.
As it gets dark, we stand at the harbour’s edge and watch the lights of the boats coming back and the ones leaving on night-fishing expeditions, and when it gets later, Ava and I sit up in the double bed we’re sharing and read another diary entry. There aren’t many pages left to read now. The unread portion of the book is getting thinner by the day, and I can feel my hope waning with it. There is still no resolution, and the more time that passes, the more unlikely it seems that the mermaid and her sailor are going to have a happy ending.
20 May 1899
As the promise of help comes nearer, I hold onto him a little tighter. The months are getting warmer. Soon it will be time for me to return to my old life under the water, and he will no longer be with me. I’m unable to bear the thought of such a thing. I don’t want to be alone again, but it’s more than that. I don’t want to be without him. Life was different before he came, and I cannot imagine anything more heartbreaking than it going back to the way it was before.
He is spending more and more time outside. He uses a stick to aid his walking, but it is more of a limp now. He says he will never be able to walk normally again, and my guilt grows larger. When I write these thoughts down, he assures me that had I not tried to immobilise his leg, he would never have walked again at all.
Mention of that night brings me back to a topic of conversation we have so far avoided. The night of the shipwreck. He doesn’t tell me much, but I know his intentions were not honourable on that night.
He has begun to tell me that I must send him away, for if I am caught harbouring him, I will be accused of being a party to his misdeeds.
I cannot do so. He will die if I send him away. There is no way off this island. There is nowhere to send him but back to sea, and there is no boat. He will drown, from the swell of the waves or the temperature of the water, or the pain of his broken leg, which will prevent him from swimming strongly.
I tell him that help will not come for six more weeks. He will have time to recover. We will think of a story that we will tell to save him.
He shakes his head as I write suggestions down. No one will believe us. They will know of the dishonour he will bring to his family. He says he will not bring dishonour to my name as well. He has begun gathering driftwood and tying it together with rope. He is intending to form a raft and sail away for good, and I cannot let him.
It is both his and my fault that we are in this situation. If there are consequences, we shall face them together. He has promised me that we will spend the rest of our lives together, somehow, and I will not give that up. That is what people do when they love someone. They stand by them.
No matter what.
‘That’s sooo romantic,’ Ava gasps. ‘He’s willing to sacrifice himself to keep her safe. She has to stop him. She will stop him, won’t she? They’re going to be okay, right, Mickey?’
Ren gives me a warning frown, and I think about my answer before giving her false hope. ‘All we can do is hope they are. They found each other in this completely random, fateful situation. We have to believe that they were meant to be, and somehow, they overcame all the odds so they could be together in the end.’
‘I hope so.’ She leans over to give me a hug and then snuggles down on her side of the bed, and Ren turns the light off and the fold-out bed creaks under him.
‘Night, girlies,’ he says, and it makes my stomach do a little flip-flop. Or so many flip-flops that I’m not sure how I’ll ever get any sleep.