Twelve
The next morning, I have a bit of a lie in. And as I snuggle under the duvet of my single bed, with Jon Bon Jovi looking down at me from the wall, I think about the previous evening.
Our little get-together was a lot of fun, and it was great to catch up with everyone again. Although I was used to seeing Claire when I came home to visit, for lots of reasons – but not for a want of trying – I hadn’t seen the other mermaids in a long time.
And I hadn’t seen Rob in about three years, I decide, as I try to remember our last encounter. I think it was probably in our first year of sixth form, when Rob had been home from his private school for the holidays and we bumped into each other on the beach one day when I was early meeting Claire and Suzy.
It was a little awkward, as it often was after the night of the school dance. Neither of us ever spoke about what happened that night; our ‘relationship’, if you could even call it that, simply faded away, and we were both happy to keep it that way. At least, that’s how it seemed.
Rob would still, occasionally, hang around with us when he was home from school, but as our little gang slowly thinned out with the departure of Mandy to London, then Suzy to follow her singing career, followed by Eddie and then myself after our A levels, our encounters became fewer and far between, until they never seemed to happen at all.
I thought about Rob more often than I cared to admit, and wondered how he was getting on. As casually as I could, I would try to get information about him from Mum or Claire when I was back in St Felix. But really Rob was just my teenage crush from school, who I was lucky enough to be with for a few fun days one summer, until he messed everything up at the dance with that girl.
However, if it wasn’t for Marnie, Suzy might never have had the confidence to showcase her voice. We all knew she could sing, but she never had the confidence to share her talent with anyone else. Now, it seemed, the confidence she gained from performing was about to get her foot in the door of her dream career.
I envied her.
Although I got into art college and I loved being in Glasgow, I still have no idea what I’m going to do when I graduate next year. Being a professional artist, as many of us on the course already acknowledged, was a dream that was incredibly hard to achieve.
‘It’s all right for you,’ I murmur, looking up at the poster of Jon Bon Jovi. ‘I bet you always wanted to be in a band. I bet you never had any of these problems, and I bet you never had a patchy love life, either?’ I grin at the poster silently smiling back at me. ‘No, of course you didn’t. Just look at you!’
Eventually I get up and grab a cup of coffee and a piece of toast from the kitchen. Mum and Dad have gone to do their weekly big shop at the local supermarket so I have the house to myself.
I work out roughly how long it will take me to get ready to be on time for Claire’s wedding at three o’clock. I need to shower, wash my hair, blow-dry my hair – I hate blow-drying my hair as it takes ages to dry, but it will have to be done today – then I need to do my make-up and actually get to the church.
I decide I’ve got just enough time to take a walk to freshen up both my mind and body after last night. In comparison to some of my student nights out, last night was fairly tame alcohol-wise, but I still want to look and feel my best for the wedding later, and a blast of fresh sea air will be just the job to blow away any alcohol-induced cobwebs.
I pull on some jeans, an old T-shirt and my burgundy Doc Marten boots, which I virtually live in at uni. I pull my unwashed hair back into a loose ponytail, then I wrap a checkered shirt around my waist in case the sunshine through the window is a decoy, and, as so often happens in St Felix, the wind is blowing in off the sea and it’s actually quite chilly – even in August.
I lock up the house, then walk down the hill into town.
St Felix, as is inevitable on a sunny Saturday in August, is filled to the brim with holidaymakers as I wind my way through the town. In their hands they carry a mixture of buckets and spades, bags filled with pasties, and melting ice-creams. It’s quite the art getting through them without getting ice cream in my hair or Cornish pasty in my face as they dawdle around on ‘Tourist Time’ or ‘Holiday Hours’ as we locals call it – i.e. slowly with all the time in the world.
I wonder if they’ve discovered my little hideout yet?
I head up to my favourite place tucked high up in the rocks. When I was there yesterday it was late in the day; now it’s lunchtime – peak time for someone looking for somewhere quiet to sit and eat their lunch.
As I begin to climb the path, my heart sinks as I see a couple sitting high up on the side of the cliff-face in the spot I cherish so much.
But as I get nearer, they rise, and begin to climb back down the hill together hand in hand, helping each other as they descend the rocky ground.
I pause and wait for them to reach the much easier and smoother route of the little tarmac path I’ve just come along. While I’m doing so, I pull my shirt from around my waist and pop it over my T-shirt. Although it’s not cold, I can already feel the wind blowing in off the sea, and I know it will only get stronger as I get further around the side of the hill. The couple smile as they pass me, and I’m just about to continue my climb when I notice someone else hurrying to take their place.
No!
I groan internally, watching them. I only wanted to sit up there for a while and breathe in the air to clear my head.
But then I notice the figure climbing towards my favourite spot is a familiar one. I squint behind my sunglasses to try to see more clearly.
Yes, if I’m not mistaken, that’s Rob clambering up the grass towards the little viewing area.
I stand for a moment wondering what to do. If I go up there now, will he think I’m following him?
No, don’t be daft
, I tell myself. Why would he think that?
But do I really want to sit up there with Rob, making polite conversation? After all, this was the place we came to on our first date.
While I’m thinking about this, Rob sits down. Now that his back isn’t to me, he’s spotted me just as easily as I saw him.
He waves, and the choice is made for me.
‘Hey,’ I say as I catch up with him. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
‘You still remember, then?’ he says, and I wonder if he’s referring to our date. ‘I mean, you still come up here when you’re home?’
‘It’s one of my favourite spots in St Felix.’ I sit down next to him on the little ledge. ‘But I fear a few more people are finding it now.’
‘Sorry,’ Rob says. ‘Do you want some peace? Shall I go?’
‘No, I don’t mean you,’ I reply hurriedly. ‘I mean, there’s quite often someone up here now – especially in the peak summer months.’
‘Ah, right. Yeah, I think it’s since they tarmacked the path around the hill; it makes it easier to get up here. The more people that come, the more people who notice our little spot.’
I notice he says ‘our little spot’, and again I wonder if he’s referring to the fact we came here on our date, or simply – and more likely – that we both enjoy sitting here.
‘The tarmac does make it easier to get up here, but the climb around the edge is still challenging – as long as they don’t put a path around there, we’ll be fine.’
‘How’s your head after last night?’ Rob asks.
‘Not too bad, thanks. What about you?’
Rob shrugs. ‘I’ve had heavier nights.’
‘Me too. University teaches you many things – and how to handle large amounts of alcohol is one of them!’
‘Absolutely. How’s your course going?’
‘Good, thanks. I have my final exhibition and degree show at the end of next year. What I’ll do after that, I don’t know.’
‘Me neither. It’s been a great course, but what it will lead to I’m not sure.’
‘You’ve enjoyed it, though?’
‘Oh, yes. Actually, the thing I’ve enjoyed the most has been the social side of uni – I recently joined the Footlights and I’ve really enjoyed being a part of that.’
‘What’s the Footlights?’
‘It’s like an amateur dramatics society – they mainly do comedy sketches and stuff like that.’
I look at Rob.
‘What’s that look for?’ he asks, smiling at me.
‘I just never saw you doing am-dram, that’s all.’ I grin. ‘When we were at school, you were really worried about being on stage with us that time, and back then you were into your rock music and your guitar.’
‘I can do both, can’t I?’ Rob says, still smiling.
‘Do you still play?’
‘Of course. Not as much as I’d like, but I still have my guitar with me at uni – except it’s an electric one now, which I have to play with headphones plugged in or I get complaints from my housemates.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘And you’ve clearly not noticed my T-shirt.’ Rob sits back so I can see the emblem on his black T-shirt a little better. It’s a yellow smiling face with its tongue sticking out.
‘Nirvana,’ I say knowingly.
‘It is indeed.’
I open up my shirt and show him my T-shirt.
‘Ha ha! Great minds!’ Rob says, seeing my own T-shirt with the same emblem, but in black on a white shirt. ‘Things don’t change that much, then?’
‘Look at me.’ I gesture to my clothes. ‘Do I look like I’ve grown out of being a rock chick?’
‘Bit more grunge in there now, though.’ Rob grins, looking me up and down. ‘Mixed with a tad more art student.’
‘I’m going to take that as a compliment,’ I say. ‘I’m never going to be elegantly strutting my stuff down the catwalk in a designer dress like Cindy Crawford now, am I?’
‘Do you want to be?’ Rob tilts his head a little. ‘I’ve always liked the fact you’re you, and you don’t try to be anyone else.’
My cheeks pink a little at his compliment.
‘Thanks,’ I murmur, feeling suddenly embarrassed. ‘And I like the fact you can be rocking out on your electric guitar one minute and prancing around on a stage the next.’
‘I don’t do much prancing.’ Rob winks. ‘But I’ll let you off.’
We stare at each other, and for a brief moment it feels like we’ve never left this spot, this town or each other.
There’s a splashing sound in the waves below, but we don’t turn to look at it. We still only have eyes for the person opposite.
The splashing sound intensifies and we both turn to look down into the sea below us.
‘Did you see that?’ Rob says, staring hard into the waves, which are now rhythmically rolling into Morvoren Cove again as if nothing has happened. ‘It looked a bit like . . . you know . . . Do you even remember?’
‘Of course I remember.’ I turn my gaze back from the sea to look at him. ‘Like you, I remember everything
from back then. It looks like it might have returned.’
‘Or . . . ’ Rob says slowly, looking into my eyes once more. ‘Perhaps it never went away . . . ’
And I’m pretty sure neither of us are talking about the splashing in the waves any more.