Epilogue
‘If a mermaid’s treasure washes up on the shore
Return it to the waves and be happy forevermore.’
Two months (and thirty-five years!) later
It never really changes does it – the sea?
The seasons change, the weather changes; the light that bounces on the waves and makes them look either an inviting turquoise blue or a bitterly cold grey – that changes. But the sea, with its rhythmical waves washing in over the sand, time and time again – it doesn’t change. It simply remains a constant. You can rely on the sea to do its thing, day after day, year after year without any fuss or worry. It’s always there – just like it always will be.
As I sit up on the little viewing area that I’ve sat on so many times during my half a century on this earth, and I look out over Morvoren Cove, the weather may be a little grey and overcast, but it is October, and the temperatures are just beginning to drop as autumn sets in.
But sitting up here today, I feel incredibly content with life, because now I know. I know that everything I’ve gone through over the years, both good and bad, has brought me here to this point, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been before.
Of course, I miss Rosie when she’s away at university, and I’ll always miss Rob – that goes without saying. I can’t walk around St Felix without thinking of him, or remembering places we’d go, or things he’d say. But I think of him with joy and happiness now, instead of sadness and sorrow as I did for the first couple of months after he passed away.
Rob and I were never meant to be. I know that now. Marnie and perhaps one or two others did us a favour in trying to keep us apart.
Mack was who I was supposed to be with all along, but if it wasn’t for Rob I never would have met him, and for that I’ll always be grateful.
The night after Rob’s memorial, as we all sat on the rocks together talking about our lives, I didn’t go into too much detail about my suspicions. I wasn’t sure any of the others would really believe it if I started talking about shapeshifting mermaids leaving me a calling card in the form of a shell. It sounded crazy even to me, yet I knew it was true. I just left it that our wishes were all granted one way or another, and the others seemed happy to accept that explanation.
But I know that all the women who helped set us all on the right paths in life had sea-based names. I checked and double-checked them all. Each of those women left a shell behind, and after what had happened to Rob, I was pretty sure that a mermaid was involved in that too. How else could I explain the exotic shell clutched in his hand when he was brought ashore, and the female police officer with another sea-inspired name who pressed it into my hand and then disappeared? We were told because the tide was going out, Rob’s body should have been taken out to sea, not washed ashore. How did that happen if he wasn’t helped back onto the sand in some way?
None of it really made any sense, and yet so much did.
Muriel, of course, never took the painting from my studio. She paid for it and said she’d come back and collect it when her holiday ended. But a note arrived for me some days later.
Frankie,
I love the painting. You know I do.
But I don’t think it’s quite the right fit (or should I say waterproof enough!) for where I live.
You keep it. I want you to be reminded every day of the magic that can live in and by the sea.
As you know, there are six mermaids hidden in the picture, with a seventh floating above in one of the clouds.
I asked you to paint it like this. And I hope now you understand why.
It’s been a pleasure knowing you, Frankie, and all your friends.
Have a good life, and remember, some mermaids will be with you . . .
Always.