Chapter 34
34
C ally kicked off her shoes and peeled away her socks, leaving them in a jumbled heap on the beach. As she stood for a second looking out to sea, little grains of cool and damp sand shifted beneath her feet. She wiggled her toes, dug them further under the sand, and stood there for a minute, waiting to see if being by the sea would do its thing. With a heavy sigh, she began to walk along the shoreline, peering in front of her at the endless expanse of water all the way to the horizon. Waves lapped on the shore and she crossed her fingers that they might actually do something to alleviate the chaotic thoughts swirling in her mind. They didn’t really, but it was worth a go. Seagulls wheeled and screeched overhead as she pounded along, taking in huge lungfuls of fresh sea air and tried to do something about her discombobulated mind.
The further she walked, though, the more Cally’s mind tumbled here, there, and everywhere. It drifted from Logan to her little flat, to the races, and then back over the previous few years before she’d even known about the existence of a family named Henry-Hicks. She thought about her own pathetic excuse for a family and the familiar low-frequency dull sort of sadness about all that it had ended up being. A lot of heartache every which way she’d turned and no one ever being there to help hold up her sky. Her brain flicked back to the latter years of her caring role and how her grandma, in her increasing frailty, had required near-constant care. How utterly exhausting and draining that had been. How sometimes the constant, never let up of it had made her so tightly wound she’d wondered if she’d ever be able to let go. As the sea washed over her feet and she pummelled along the sand, she was suddenly back in the room with the bed hoist, the smell of talcum powder and lavender soap in her nose, the sound of laboured breathing in the night, soft papery skin, watery pale blue eyes, the shrill of the alarm when something went wrong. Worry. So much dread.
Cally shook her head and tried to remember the good times, but her mind instead went to her mum. Her mum had battled all sorts of demons, and somehow, it had often been Cally’s fault at the end of the day. The ins and outs of her mother’s mental health had given her mum a very good excuse not to have to bother with the intricacies of the parental role. Indeed, since Cally had been able to do things for herself, she’d been the parent in the situation. Ever the adult as far as Cally was concerned. And adolescence, the teenage years, and navigating through them? That hadn’t been an option in our Cally’s world. No option to have her own life. Sucking it up for everyone else all the time.
With the waves not doing much to help, she thought about her half-brother too. The tantrums, the moods, and the doctor’s appointments swirled around in front of her face. Patience, understanding, care, all of the things. Just a shame the same hadn’t ever been extended to her. She paused on the sand for a bit, letting the cold water wash over her feet and took a few steps forward. The water was so chilly it sent a shiver up her spine. In a way, she quite liked the cold rush of icy water. Maybe it would be good for her. Enough people raved on about the benefits of getting out in the sea. Open water swimming or something, wasn’t it called? Worth a go? As another wave fell onto the sand and splashed up and over her ankles, she shivered. Maybe not.
Her mind moved from caring to her fight with Logan. Something about the two were somehow linked in her brain. She just couldn’t quite work out what, how, or why. Perhaps because with Logan, she’d, for the first time ever in her life, let herself go and he’d then gone and let her down. She’d dared to believe that she could have something for herself that was really good, really special, that she could really be loved. Something not tainted by duty or obligation or the thoughts and needs of anyone else. She shook her head and gritted her teeth. She’d gone in feet first. Look where that had got her. It felt as if she’d ended up right at the end of a creek without a paddle.
She kicked at the water, sending up a spray that glittered in the light. At least she was sad in a beautiful place. There was that, she supposed. She loved the smell of the sea, the curve of the bay, the distant silhouette of the magnificence of the lighthouse standing sentinel over it all. Despite her mood, Lovely Bay still worked its magic. The lighthouse stood right there in front of her, tall, strong, towering, doing its thing. At least she had that in her life.
Resuming her walk, her feet left a trail of footprints in the damp sand as she pondered what she was going to do with her life. Her intention when she’d first settled into Birdie’s flat had been to save up as much money as she could, eventually buy her own place, and do a course in something that would mean she’d be set up for life. There hadn’t been many big fancy pants dreams, really. No harbouring ideas of travel to foreign lands, no big plans for adventure, no real thoughts about a career that would set the world on fire. She felt almost as if she’d missed the boat on any and all of that. What Cally de Pfeffer really wanted was to simply feel safe. Coming in second, a good old dose of stability and a little place to call her own wouldn’t go amiss. In third place, a relationship with someone she trusted and who loved her. Someone who didn’t need her to care. And, with Henry-Hicks she’d thought she’d found just that. But it had all come crashing down around her ears.
No matter what she told herself or what Eloise said, the secret of Logan's previous marriage had made her feel as if he’d whipped a very nice rug right out from under her feet. Even though the rational part of her brain tried to argue that she was ultra-sensitive, another part was so hurt and downright raw that she just couldn’t let it go. She’d abhorred the feeling of being lied to so much that it messed with her head. Made her quite unable to listen to reason. Made her forget all the good stuff and see red.
The wind picked up, whipping her hair around her face. She tried to let it get into her head and take away the hurt. It smelt of the Lovely smell and her favourite things: salt and seaweed, the coast, and fresh air. She let it wash over her and nodded. At least being by the sea was nice and constant. It didn't care about her troubles or give a hoot about what was going on in her jumbled mind.
Bending down, she picked up a smooth pebble and turned it over and over again as her brain very slowly began to decompress. She remembered the look on Logan’s face in the Co-op. As if he couldn’t quite understand what was going on in her brain. He wasn’t the only one. She turned the pebble and ran her finger along its top. Was pushing away Logan, the best thing that had ever happened to her, out of some upside-down, ridiculous sort of pride? She remembered the shock of finding out about his marriage, the feeling that the ground had dropped out from under her feet. Putting the pebble in her pocket, she reached the end of the beach and clambered up onto a cluster of rocks, wincing a little bit as their rough surface scraped her bare feet. Plonking herself down she stared out over the sweep of the bay and the third smallest town in the country laid out before her like a miniature model. Tears pricked her eyes as she thought about Logan and how he’d cared for her. She’d been so tired of being strong. Always being the one who held it together while everything fell apart around her, and he’d swooped right on in and loved her. She nodded to herself. What was she making such a fuss about? It really was as simple as that.
A few minutes later, she’d clambered back off the rocks and ambled back along the beach. The fresh air and waves had indeed done something to her. Clarity had, perhaps, arrived. Yep, her mind was still churning, but it was somehow calmer than before. By the time she reached her discarded shoes and socks, her mind felt a bit clearer. She had to stop wallowing in it and move on one way or the other. She gave herself a bit of a talking-to. She couldn't change the past. She was unable to undo the years she'd spent as a carer. She could not go back and erase the Logan thing, but she could choose how to move forward.
As she brushed the sand from her feet and pulled on her socks and shoes, she told herself to get a grip. She would make a decision about Logan and what would be would be. She would make a list of what she was grateful for and reiterate that. She would put plans in place for her future and look after herself. She wouldn’t sit around moping. She had a sky that needed holding up.