13. Thomas
13
THOMAS
T homas and Lena spent a very pleasant afternoon together. They walked along the coastal path, paddled in the sea then sat on the sand and talked some more. She told him about her life in London as a journalist and about how she’d come to dislike the constant striving for more and more outrageous stories to grab the headlines. Her distaste for it had grown to the point where she was seriously wondering how she could continue to stay in the job. She was taking a sabbatical for the summer to write her novel and hopefully find a way forwards that didn’t involve being a journalist anymore. Thomas respected her for that and hoped she would be successful. He knew how it felt to have to consider reinventing himself and so he understood how hard it would be for Lena too.
She was kind and funny and he liked her. There was nothing pretentious about her and it was refreshing. He’d been surrounded by fake people when he’d been at the pinnacle of his career, and it wasn’t something he’d enjoyed at all. Every time he went out to a club, he’d find himself wondering if the people who approached him were genuinely interested in him or in the fame that came with his career.
Sitting on the sand now, he said, ‘Growing up, I was a quiet lad. I didn’t like being the centre of attention. I liked playing football and that was all I wanted to do. When my teachers encouraged me to focus on getting my qualifications, I stubbornly ignored them because I thought I’d always play football. Unfortunately, they were right about having that to fall back on because things did go wrong for me. But it was too late by then to change everything.’
‘I don’t think anyone is sensible as a teenager. Isn’t that normal?’ Lena asked.
She was easy to talk to and he wondered if it was her training or if she was always this way.
‘I guess so. At school though, there were some people who seemed sensible. The ones who studied hard and were very driven to reach their goals.’
‘They had goals but so did you. They were just different goals.’
He nodded. ‘I wish I could have been an all-rounder.’
‘An all-rounder?’
‘You know… the teenagers who are intelligent and sporty.’
‘Ahhh… those ones!’ Lena laughed. ‘I know what you mean.
‘Some of the people in my year seemed to be so mature in their outlook. They were good at everything and I was rubbish academically but good at sport, especially football.’
‘I was good at English and other essay subjects but awful at sport. I used to get into some scrapes trying to play hockey and netball. And as for long jump and high jump.’ She blushed and buried her face in her hands.
‘What is it?’
‘Oh… well… there was one time when we were in Year 9, and the teachers made us all go out to the fields to prepare for sports day. The high jump was set up and I really didn’t want to do it, but we had this one PE teacher who was positively draconian.’ Lena gazed out at the sea, and she seemed to drift back in time. ‘I warmed up and started to run towards the crossbar but when I got close, I tripped over my own foot. Instead of jumping over it, I headbutted the mat behind the crossbar.’ She turned to look at Thomas, her cheeks glowing red now. ‘It was incredibly humiliating and everyone around me was laughing.’
‘I’m sorry. It must have been awful.’ He bit his lip to stop himself laughing at the picture of Lena headbutting the mat.
‘It was. And whenever we played basketball, my team never passed the ball to me because I was so clumsy. I’d run up and down the court and they’d throw it over my head but never to me. Sometimes I’d just walk off the court and go and sit on the side because there was no point being there.’
‘I’d have passed the ball to you.’
Lena giggled. ‘Thank you. But you might not have, not if you wanted your team to win.’
‘But you have other strengths, so you haven’t done badly for yourself. I mean, I could never imagine writing a book. That’s amazing!’
‘I haven’t written it yet.’ She winked at him.
‘But you will and I’m sure it will be a bestseller, and you’ll get lots of fame and attention for it.’
Lena looked down at her hands that were splayed on her knees as she sat cross legged on the sand. ‘I don’t want fame and fortune. Some fortune would be nice obviously, so I can afford to live but fame has never really appealed to me. I’d have hated to be a footballer’s wife or partner. Being in the public eye would be terrible. Was it awful having your every move scrutinised?’
‘It really was. I only ever wanted to play football, but the fame bit came along with it. Still, it’s not a problem anymore. Well, I know the paparazzi would still like a gory story on me now and then when everything else goes quiet but I’m not big news these days.’
‘I think you’re amazing.’ She smiled shyly.
‘I think you’re amazing too.’ And he meant it. Lena was amazing and not at all the person he’d first thought she would be.
‘How about we grab something to eat and drink?’ He stood and held out his hand and Lenna took it then stood too.
‘You’ve got yourself a deal.’
They wandered up to the village and strolled around the stalls, purchased some Cornish pasties and scrumpy cider and took them to a bench overlooking the harbour. The water lapped gently at the walls of the harbour below them, soft rhythmic whispers that soothed him and he gazed at the water, the late afternoon sunshine turning it to burnished gold.
‘This is so good.’ Lena held up her recyclable cup of cider.
‘Nothing like the real thing, right?’ He tapped his cup against hers then they both drank.
‘And this pasty. I can’t believe it’s gluten free.’ She froze and her eyes widened. ‘At least I hope it is, or my belly is going to blow up like a balloon.’
‘It’s gluten free. I asked specifically for it.’ He smiled and saw her relax.
‘Phew.’
As they ate, he wondered at the fact that he’d told her so much about himself earlier. He never talked to anyone other than his counsellor and his family about the accident and yet he had found himself telling Lena all about it. She hadn’t tried to speak across him like some people did, desperate to share their own stories or to try to make him feel better. She had admitted that what he’d been through was terrible and not tried to diminish it in any way. Not that Thomas liked to seek sympathy. In fact, he hated it because it made him feel less of a man, but over the past three years, some people had been keen to reduce what had happened to him by placating him with cliches like It could have been worse . Yes, it could have been worse, and he could have died but what happened to him was still traumatic. Still dreadful. Still life changing. After speaking to Lena, he felt that she had in no way tried to take away from what had happened. Instead, she had tried to understand his feelings and to be there with him as he spoke, actively listening. He was grateful for her compassion and had the feeling he got whenever he spoke about the accident and its aftermath. It was a combination of relief and devastation, of exhaustion and being unburdened. Talking about trauma was incredibly hard, but it was, as they said, good for you.
When they’d finished eating, Lena got them another cider and they sat on the bench, side by side, and watched as boats returned with day trippers. Some were rosy cheeked and smiling, some carrying small grizzly children who were ready for an early night after all the fresh air.
‘Do you know anything of the myths and legends of Porthpenny?’ he asked her, aware that some of the trips would have taken tourists along the tours of the hidden caves and secluded beaches.
‘Not much, no.’ She turned on the bench to face him and his breath caught in his throat. With the peach glow from the setting sun, her skin glowed and her grey eyes were so pale they seemed almost translucent. She’d removed her baseball cap and shaken out her red hair and it fell in soft waves around her pretty face. ‘Tell me some.’
He swallowed hard, pushing down the urge to tell her how beautiful she was, how much he’d like to kiss her. Once upon a time he’d have been confident enough to do that but now, he knew no woman would want to kiss him. He was scarred, broken, hideous. Like the beast in the fairytale, he no longer looked the way he once had. Unlike the beast, there was no way Thomas was going to be able to transform into his former self. How could anyone love him the way he was now? How could he trust enough in another’s love to give his heart in return? In real life, scars remained inside and outside, and people had to accept that they were forever changed.
‘Thomas?’ Lena’s brows met in concern. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I was just making sure I remembered the details of the legend,’ he said, shaking himself inwardly. ‘So… Many years ago, there was a handsome young fisherman named Branok. He loved to fish and had done so since he was a small child, accompanying his father and grandfather out on their small boat in all weathers. Branok was strong and fit, a true Cornishman. He loved fishing but he also loved a beautiful young woman named Demelza.
Demelza was the daughter of the village wise woman. She was able to heal people with herbs and she helped her mother in her role as village midwife. They were respected and loved by the villagers and often called upon for help with ailments.
Branok and Demelza had pledged their love and sworn they’d be together as soon as she turned eighteen. Her mother had forbidden her to marry too young, not wanting her to follow the same fate as her older sister who had married at sixteen and died in childbirth.
But one day, Branok set out in the boat alone. His grandfather had taken ill and his father had stayed home to care for him. Branok insisted on going because they needed to eat and to provide for the some of the elderly villagers they supported. He set off, but a terrible storm blew up and it lashed his boat around on the sea. Demelza went to the cliffs, where the development is now, and watched as his boat was tossed around like a child’s toy. The rain hammered down, the waves crashed against the shore and the cliffs, and lightning pierced the sky. As Branok’s boat was torn in half, Demelza’s screams were swallowed by the thunder that cracked the dark sky.’
He paused and focused on Lena’s face and saw that she was worrying her bottom lip, her hands clasped together as if in prayer.
‘It’s so sad,’ she said.
‘Legends often are.’ He smiled. ‘Do you want me to stop?’
‘No, I have to know what happened next.’
‘Branok was swallowed by the sea along with his boat. It was the death he’d have wanted as a fisherman, but he was very young and had so much ahead of him. But it wasn’t meant to be. However, Demelza wouldn’t accept that he was gone. She spent days and weeks searching the beaches for him, watching from the cliffs and calling his name. She wouldn’t eat or sleep and she became ill as her heart broke. No one could help her, not her mother or any of the villagers, because the man she had loved and seen her future with was no longer around.
Finally, one evening she was on the cliffs, and she looked down and saw a familiar figure on the beach. She rushed down to the sand, desperate to embrace her lover once more. When she reached the beach, she paused, because she could see that Branok was no longer whole. He was a spirit, his body limned by the moonlight, there and yet not there.
As she approached him, she heard his voice on the whisper of the waves that caressed the shore. He said, “Demelza, I will always be with you. But you must live and treat the villagers with your medicine and your skills and learn to love again. This was my fate and so it must be, but yours is to care for the people of Porthpenny and to grow old and wise. I love you and one day, when the time is right, I will return to claim you.”’
‘Oh my god!’ Lena’s eyes glistened and a tear escaped then ran down her cheek. Without thinking, Thomas wiped it gently away with his thumb.
‘It’s so sad. What happened to Demelza?’
‘She never fell in love again, but she cared for the villagers, and she grew old and wise. Then one night, when she was in her eightieth year, she heard Branok calling to her again. She left her cottage under the glow of a full moon and went down to the beach where he was waiting for her. Taking his hand, she walked into the waves with him and was never seen again.’
Now Lena’s tears flowed down her cheeks so Thomas wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She trembled as she cried and he held her tighter, wanting to take away her sadness. ‘It’s such a… a s-sad story.’
Thomas nodded. ‘There’s hope in the story though because they were reunited. Their love wasn’t destroyed by time or separation. It was the kind of love that endures. And they say… they say that under the glow of each full moon, if you listen carefully enough, you will hear Branok calling to Demelza and her answering. If you’re really lucky, you might see them walking along the beach together before they disappear into the waves.’
Lena pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes then she looked up at him. ‘Sorry.’
‘Why are you sorry?’
‘For crying at a story.’
‘Don’t ever be sorry for crying. The story makes me think again about fate. Perhaps we should take from it that each one of us has a fate already mapped out, regardless of what we do, but we can still fall in love and that love can last more than a lifetime.’
‘Are you a romantic then, Thomas?’ She peered at him from under her damp lashes where tiny teardrops sat like diamonds.
He gave an embarrassed shrug at the direct question. ‘I don’t know. I think I used to be before… before this.’ He tapped his leg, rubbed at his cheek. ‘But I hate what happened to me. Fate or not. I mean, if that was my fate then what next? What am I meant to do now?’ And just like that, he felt himself sliding down the helter-skelter of trauma and grief. It was exhausting how the cycle continued, even when he thought he was possibly moving on.
Lena gently touched his cheek and then she moved closer to him and pressed a gentle kiss to his scar. He gasped in surprise and tensed; certain she’d be horrified by being so close to it. So close to him. But when he met her eyes, there was no horror or revulsion there at all. Her pupils dilated and he saw something he hadn’t seen in years in their grey depths. Desire. But how could she possibly desire him when he looked the way he did?
‘You are finding your way, Thomas,’ she said. ‘One hour, one day, one week at a time. Whether you know it or not, you are healing inside and out.’
‘Do you really think so?’ he asked, emotion welling in his throat and making it ache.
‘I know so.’ She held his gaze, her beautiful eyes almost silver now as the sky turned lavender and the stars emerged.
Over on the village square, music started up and Lena smiled. ‘Is that Cornish folk music?’
‘It is indeed.’
‘Can we go and listen?’ she asked.
‘Of course.’ He stood and held out his hand and she took it. They put their rubbish into the recycling bins and made their way over to the square. Arm in arm, they stood watching the band and tapping their feet as the light seeped from the sky. All round the village, solar lights twinkled, and above them a full moon glowed bright in the sky.
Thomas found himself wondering if they walked down to the beach now, would they see Branok and Demelza, hand in hand as they waded into the waves. They had found their eternal love and neither time, age nor death had been able to extinguish its flame.
To find a love like that would be a wonderful thing.
And when Lena looked up at him and smiled her beautiful smile, his heart skipped a beat, and he knew in that moment what his fate was meant to be. If only Lena would be able to see past his scars and to love him, just the way he was. It was a lot to ask of anyone and he didn’t know if he would ever be able to ask it of her.