Chapter 19
Nineteen
there’s just something about the sea
Max
Dylan and I slip into an easy flow. Coffee is her job; mug brownies are mine. Sometimes, we cross paths in the cabin and she’ll
say, ‘I put your phone on charge for you, by the way.’ Or I’ll say, ‘Be careful with the hot tap in the bathroom, it’s being
temperamental.’
She learns that just because I don’t do every chore immediately like she does, it doesn’t mean I never will. I realise she’s
at her most relaxed when all the chores are done, so I try to do them sooner than I usually would.
And every morning, the sun is up when we leave for a walk–sometimes alone, sometimes together.
This morning is different, just the faintest thread of light on the horizon before we leave.
‘I wonder how many people Jude’s convinced to do this,’ Dylan says, pouring coffee into two Thermoses while I’m in a crouch
at the end of our living room, digging around my bag for my camera.
’Knowing her, probably everyone.’
She’s silent for a bit, and when I look her way, she’s fiddling with her friendship bracelet, leaning against the counter in her T-shirt and leggings with a tote bag hanging from her shoulder. ‘How well do you know Jude?’ she asks. ‘I mean, I know how you know her. But do you . . . know her?’
I get to my feet. ‘Are you asking me if I know her Big Three? If she has a criminal record?’ I know what she’s asking, but
I want to hear it from her mouth.
She tucks the Thermoses under her arm and heads to the door, letting a blast of cold air into the cabin. ‘Do you two have
a romantic history?’
There it is. ‘You really haven’t asked Jude about this?’
‘Didn’t seem like any of my business.’ Her tone’s casual, but I hear the interest. Because if it wasn’t her business then,
it must mean that, for whatever reason, something’s made it feel like her business now.
‘Romantic history? No.’ I take both flasks from her while she locks up. ‘Physical? Yes.’
She nods slowly. ‘I thought so.’
The wind chimes by our door tinkle in the breeze, and our footsteps on the path sound too loud on this dark, quiet morning.
‘Since you won’t ask if this history extends to the present–no, it doesn’t.’
She lowers her voice, though there’s no one else out here. ‘What does the history consist of?’
‘We’ve slept together.’
There’s a stronger, colder gust of wind and she stops in place to dig through her bag. ‘Just once?’
‘More than once. We had . . . an arrangement. But it was a long time ago, and we were both different people. I’m not interested
in her like that anymore, and she isn’t interested in me, either.’
She scoffs. ‘But she looks like that. And you look like,’ she doesn’t look up but waves a hand in my direction, ‘that.’
She’s too busy tugging her jumper from her tote and pulling it over her head to see my grin.
‘Maybe I’m more into six-foot blondes now.’
‘She looks like a model. She is a model. I don’t look anything like that.’
‘I know what you look like, Dylan.’ Our eyes meet in a clash of sparks. ‘I’ve been looking at you for weeks.
A breeze drifts between us, and it seems to give her focus. ‘You shouldn’t have been.’
I shrug. ‘How could I not?’
I risk reaching out to unloop a piece of hair from her neckline, but the sound of approaching footsteps sends Dylan a few
steps backwards before I can do it. When some figures appear on the path, she untucks the hair herself.
‘Rise and shine,’ Jude singsongs through a yawn, a lot more upbeat than I’d expect from her at this time of day. ‘Let’s head
down. We still have,’ she checks her phone, ‘about twenty minutes before sunrise.’
By the time we make it down to the beach for what will be a very cold swim, a few others are already huddled on the sand. And as the sky starts to lighten, people strip off their layers,
some already at the water’s edge taking photos.
I peel my hoodie over my head and already feel a bite in the air. ‘Remind me why we chose today to do this?’
Jude tugs off her jumper and replies, ‘Because the next few days are even colder, so we have to take what we can get.’ She
turns to Dylan, who’s set up camp on the sand and is looking out at the water. ‘You getting in too?’
‘I’m just here for moral support,’ she replies, watching my joggers land in a pile next to her, along with the rest of Jude’s
clothes.
‘Ooh, you can take pictures with Max’s good camera.’ With that, she flounces towards the water in her blue bikini, wading
in with squeals that’ll probably wake up half of Wales.
‘I can, if you want,’ Dylan says, standing up. ‘But you’ll need to show me what to do.’
‘It’s honestly not that complicated,’ I explain, taking my camera out of its battered case and handing it to her.
She pulls the strap I forgot was even there around her neck and finds the power button, before holding the viewfinder up to her eye with a frown.
I remove the lens cap and adjust a few settings while it’s still attached to her, pointing out how to zoom, how to focus, how to change the shutter speed.
‘You’re not going to attempt a Ghost scene where you wrap your arms around me to show me how to use it?’ she asks, as I set the camera back in her hands.
‘I considered it,’ I admit, taking a few steps backwards. ‘But you need a test subject.’ I nod towards her. ‘Try it now, let’s
see what the lighting’s like.’
She brings the camera to her face and I recognise the familiar clicks of the shutter. And it’s weird, because I know she’s
photographing me, but it feels like I’m taking snapshots of her; this grey morning light turning her hair more silver than
its usual gold, slender fingers adjusting the zoom, one foot crossed over the other on the sand.
‘How do I look?’ I ask, moving towards her.
When she lowers the camera, her voice is quiet. ‘Good. I don’t think you can help it.’ She chews the inside of her cheek.
‘Show me how to do videos, and then you should get in. You don’t want to miss the actual sunrise.’
When I submerge myself a minute later, the freezing water is an onslaught of sensation. It’s the kind of frigid that feels
like knives slicing my neck, and for a few moments I’m not sure my lungs are working, but then my breathing evens out and
my body adjusts, and I feel like I’m at one with the water. It’s nice, feeling this connected to the earth. Peaceful. I hope
that when I die, it’ll feel a bit like this; out here in the waves, drifting wherever the tide takes me.
But for now, I’m here. Alive, alive, alive, my heartbeat sings.
I swim over to where Jude’s standing, her phone in the air, and we alternate, filming things for each other, well aware of
what the internet likes best from us. It’s what I like best from me, too, nowadays. Every so often, I’ll dream about someone
I’ve met once, or someone I saw on TV for a split second. I like to imagine that all the millions of people who’ve seen my
face might dream about me sometimes too. Even when I’m no longer around.
There’s a laugh from behind us, and I turn to see Dylan talking to Fiona, up to her thighs in the water, the hem of her T-shirt submerged already, legs bare beneath the waves. My heart stutters unexpectedly, but that’s probably just my body trying to cope with the freezing water.
Bertie’s nearby too, and when he offers her a hand, she takes Fiona’s instead, and I don’t even try to hide my smirk. Dylan
told us the other day that she’s rethinking hanging out with Bertie, after learning that his intentions were, in her words,
dishonourable. Her silent glare told me not to dare say, ‘I told you so’.
‘That smug expression is unbecoming, Maximus,’ Jude says, floating on her back next to me.
She ignores my muttered, ‘Not my name,’ and with her right arm up completely straight so her phone doesn’t go under, I can’t
help but say, ‘You look like a fucking periscope.’
A shaky sound comes from behind us, and I know it’s Dylan’s laugh, even though it’s chopped up and cut off by her chattering
teeth. I know, because it plucks at one of my tattered heartstrings the way her laughs usually do.
I turn to find her up to her hips in the water, shoulders up to her ears, T-shirt floating around her like some kind of ghost.
Behind her, the sky is streaked with the palest pastels, like it couldn’t quite remember colours but tried its best to replicate
them.
‘Look who decided to join us,’ Jude says.
‘This is why we usually wear wetsuits,’ Dylan says, the words staccato.
‘We can huddle together for warmth,’ I suggest. She lets out a strangled sound, but from the way she eyes me, I get the feeling
she’s not fully against the idea.
‘Go up to your neck,’ Jude offers. ‘It’ll be awful, but then it’s invigorating.’
Dylan looks at me as if for support, and then she drops under, submerging even her head. When she emerges, her hair’s a mess,
her T-shirt’s completely slick to her skin, and she’s taking short, gasping breaths.
‘Or that,’ Jude says.
‘Breathe, Tiny,’ I remind her, setting my hands on her shivering shoulders. I squeeze once, twice, pressing my fingers into the tense muscles there. ‘You can take it.’
There’s a flash of heat in her eyes, but then she blinks hard and matches the pace of my breathing, and after a few long moments
of acclimatisation, she mutters, ‘Holy crap.’
Jude flings her free hand across her forehead and pretends to faint. ‘Someone alert the authorities, Dylan practically swore.’
‘If I keep hanging out with you two, I feel like it’s only a matter of time before I get worse,’ she says grimly.
‘Unfortunately, I cannot hang out any more because I am starving,’ Jude says. ‘I’m going to head up for breakfast. You coming?’
‘I’ll join in a bit,’ I reply. I’ll stay as long as Dylan’s here, however inhospitable this water is.
‘Being an early bird really took it out of me,’ Jude says wearily, wading away. ‘Don’t know how you two do it every day.’
Gradually, the others head back to the sand too, and then it’s only the two of us in the water watching the last people disappear