The Endless Beach Read online

  “No. Me stay with Abba.”

  It was as if he’d been frozen on the day his family disappeared: crystallized as a toddler. He held his son closer. He wanted to say, Of course. I will turn you back into a baby and we shall start over.

  But he couldn’t start over. The days had ticked relentlessly past—the months, the years—and they would never ever get those days back again. And there was no point wishing things could have been different. Everyone wished things could have been different.

  He held the boy tight. “You are my big boy,” he said and kissed him hard. “And I will never ever leave you again except for school, I promise.”

  The boy’s little body relaxed a little.

  “When Mama coming?” he said, sleepily.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  No!” Mark said, shooting out a hand. “I mean, this place! It’s awesome! It’s just . . . I mean . . . I thought living in the middle of nowhere . . . It sounded like Alcatraz or something. I could never get my head round it. But this place . . .”

  Joel half smiled. The Rock was perched at the very northern tip of the Endless Beach, and they were walking down it, slowly. He still felt a little fragile.

  “It’s not always like this,” he said, as two tiny puffs of cloud chased each other across the sky, and the water lapped far up the beach. It was high tide, and it was as if someone had filled up a bath between Mure and the mainland.

  “I mean it’s just . . . it’s just so . . . clean. So pure. Look at the water!”

  Joel nodded. “Yes.”

  “I can see . . . I can see why . . . Shoot, is that a heron?”

  Joel let him walk on some more.

  “Joel. Forget me being your friend. I’m not your friend right now, you have to understand that?”

  Joel looked up and sighed. “I just need sleep.”

  “You need a lot of things.” Mark glanced around. “This is better than any yoga class I’ve ever been to,” he said, mostly to himself. “I have to bring Marsha out here. She thinks she’ll evaporate if she ever leaves the island of Manhattan, but I think this would surprise her.”

  “So, what’s going to happen?” said Joel.

  Mark sighed, and took his glasses off for a moment. His eyes were light brown: clever and penetrating. He looked much more direct and sharp without the spectacles, which gave him a distracted professorial air. Joel wondered briefly how much he really needed them, or how much they let him set up a barrier of professional affability.

  “Well,” said Mark. “That’s really up to you, isn’t it?”

  “Saif thinks I had a nervous breakdown.”

  “I agree with him.”

  Joel blinked. “That’s . . . Professionally I had some bad news.”

  “Well, that will happen,” said Mark. “Most people develop some resilience to that kind of thing.”

  Joel nodded.

  “You also made a series of major life changes.”

  “I move about a lot.”

  “And this move was meant to be the opposite of that.” Mark looked at him carefully. “This isn’t a placement, Joel. You’re not being judged on whether you can stay.”

  Joel halted. “Of course I fucking am,” he said. “By every single last person here. Who don’t think I’m good enough for their local princess.”

  “Can you be?”

  “You want me to be better.”

  “I want you to get better,” said Mark. “That’s not the same thing at all.”

  They walked on again.

  “Is this what you want, Joel?” said Mark. “Because until you’re sure and until you’ve figured it out, I don’t think you should be breaking that nice girl’s heart if you’re going to flee again.”

  Joel sighed. Everything he had wanted Mure to be felt like it was falling down around his ears. “You think I should leave her alone . . .”

  “I just think you need a break from all distractions.”

  “Flora’s not a distraction.”

  Mark didn’t answer that. “I think you just need some time to heal yourself first.”

  Joel hated the neediness in his own voice as he said, “Will you stay?”

  “Everyone needs a vacation,” said Mark, beaming as the harbor came into view. “Now, is there anywhere good to eat around here?”

  “Oh God,” said Joel.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Almost imperceptibly, a routine developed. Joel was forced to stay in bed until late, even though he protested he was a poor sleeper. He’d be made to eat a huge breakfast, then he and Mark would play Scrabble or read quietly in the empty hotel, before taking huge long walks covering the length and breadth of the island via its many hidden byways and long quiet roads. Mark had bought a sturdy stick and a large straw hat and looked ridiculous but incredibly happy, and both men grew brown under the sun. He kept trying to persuade Marsha to come out, but she refused, pretending she didn’t want to leave Manhattan. In fact, Manhattan in summer was sticky and unpleasant, but she intuited that what the two men were doing together was incredibly important, and she wanted to give them every chance to get on with it by themselves.

  Mark kept in touch with Flora—and spent plenty of money in the Café by the Sea—but kept her and Joel apart. Joel was either going to come round and face up to things, he figured, or he wasn’t, and he wanted to spare Flora as much pain as possible.

  In fact, Flora was already in pain. She threw herself into where she knew she was needed: work. Annie’s Café by the Sea was in very real danger of going under, and Flora was trying to solve its money problems by working harder and longer hours. She wasn’t going to add to anyone else’s worries by discussing it, but it was constantly on her mind. The holiday crowd was in full swing now, and she spent all day feeding people freshly baked cakes and scones, pies and pasties, endless coffees, and thank goodness it got hot enough for them to sell a lot of cold drinks, a major source of their markup. She also decided she needed something else to do; Lorna was incredibly busy with the school end of term, and everything had been so tough for everyone.

  Then Fintan wanted an engagement party, and how could she deny them that?

  “Family rates,” Fintan had said. “You’ll give most of the food for free. I don’t want it to look to Colton like we’d take advantage.”

  Flora hadn’t answered that. She desperately needed to take advantage of Colton Rogers, but she saw Fintan’s point.

  “Everyone tries to rip him off,” explained Fintan. “I want him to see . . . to realize . . . that’s not why.” He blushed.

  “I know,” said Flora, wincing slightly. But of course they could do it. Of course she could, couldn’t she?

  “To be honest,” said Fintan, “I’ve hardly seen him since we got engaged. And he looks really worried all the time. Do you think he thinks he’s doing the wrong thing?”

  “I think all American men are completely and utterly fucking useless,” said Flora, scattering flour to roll out dough. “Next question?”

  * * *

  Colton in fact had finally agreed to meet up with Joel, who was feeling awkward about the fact that he was still living at the Rock.

  Colton was looking thin and drawn as Joel knocked and let himself in.

  “How are you?” Colton said.

  Joel shrugged. He was aware he was the topic of conversation on the island, but he felt insulated from it, somehow. And putting down his laptop and his phone (Mark had threatened to flush it) was also doing him a world of good.

  “How are you?” he asked in return. He still couldn’t quite believe what Colton was planning.

  Colton shrugged. “Who cares?” he said. “It might amaze you to know that you managed to finish all the paperwork before you had your . . . little turn. I didn’t realize I’d hired such a sensitive flower.”

  Joel blinked. He didn’t want to give Colton the satisfaction of showing him how awful he’d felt.

  Colton shuffled his papers. “So, let’s cut the crap, Joel. This
is happening whether you want it to or not. You’ve been with me this far. It’s practically finished. There’s no more work to be done . . . for now.”

  Joel nodded.

  “But . . .” Colton’s face suddenly looked uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I’d still like you to be my lawyer.”

  There was a pause.

  “Come on, Joel. Someone has to do it. I’d rather it was someone I trusted. Completely.”

  Joel looked up at that.

  “Please.”

  Joel heaved a sigh. “I can’t . . . I can’t work much.”

  “That’s okay. Do a little bit as and when. Stay in the Rock. Eat a lot of cream. You know I don’t care about the expense.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem,” said Colton. “All you have to do is back me.”

  Joel closed his eyes. That was, indeed, a problem.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The days continued to lengthen—and every single one of them, Saif dreaded once again going to school pickup. Ibrahim was refusing to play at all with the other boys, who had done what children do naturally in such situations and withdrawn from him, even for shinty.

  Ash was still showing no signs of becoming less clingy, although he had begun to say a few English words—“dog” had come up, and “sweeties” (Saif suspected major bribery on Mrs. Laird’s part, which would be correct). Saif was still so worried though. He was up all night doing paperwork he didn’t get round to in the day and he barely thanked the old ladies who brought casseroles, even though he couldn’t do without them. He also couldn’t do without Mrs. Laird, who, between looking after his boys and making her incredibly popular bread for the Café by the Sea, was working more hours than her arthritic knees could strictly handle. But he still couldn’t get a smile out of either of the boys.

  Ibrahim was only happy on the iPad, which was a terrible dependence Saif didn’t have the first idea how to break. He’d taken them for their counseling classes on the mainland but they had just sat there, completely mute, Ash with his head once more in Saif’s armpit. The psychologist had nodded and suggested that they meet by Skype from now on, which wasn’t particularly making anything better.

  Neda was coming in a week to check up on them. Saif was terrified she’d see what a pig’s ear he was making of everything and take the little ones away. And his early morning walks of course had ceased, and he missed them. Now Lorna was his children’s headmistress, it felt even harder to have her as a friend, and he was privately amazed by how much he missed her.

  There had been one saving grace. The replacement covered his on-calls several nights a week when he couldn’t get babysitting. One wet and windy night, when she was meant to be on duty, she’d called him, having just half-severed one of her fingers in a Bolognese incident.

  The boys were both asleep; he didn’t know what to do. Mrs. Laird was visiting her sister in the Faroes. He tried Lorna first, then Flora, only to discover that apparently they’d gone to the pub together.

  “I’ll come down if you like,” said the friendly voice from the farmhouse, and Saif hadn’t even known which brother it was until Innes turned up five minutes later, apologetically with Agot who’d caught wind that something was up and insisted on coming with him, whereupon both the boys had instantly gotten up too.

  “Thanks so much for this,” said Saif, throwing on his coat and grabbing his bag.

  “Aye, no worries,” said Innes.

  Ash had been fascinated by the little girl instantly, and put out his hand to touch her white-blond hair. Agot in her turn tried to grab his incredibly long eyelashes, which made him cry. Agot immediately started rubbing his back suspiciously hard, saying, “THEAH, THEAH, DOAN CRY, DOAN CRY,” until eventually, to Saif’s surprise, Ash repeated, “DOAN CRAH” and Innes and Saif swapped a thumbs-up.

  “I’ll stick on some cartoons,” said Innes.

  Saif looked at him, genuinely touched. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Agot will watch anything as long as it flashes enough to give you a seizure.”

  “I’m worried Ash will get a little . . .”

  Indeed, seeing that Saif had put his coat on had made Ash very anxious, and he ran over to his father and put his arms around his knees.

  “I’ll be back very soon,” said Saif, trying to peel him off gently.

  “NOT GO.”

  “I’m coming back. I have to do my job.”

  “ABBAAA!”

  Saif looked at Innes apologetically.

  “Ach, he’ll be fine,” said Innes. “We have plenty of lambs who are exactly the same.”

  “Whom you then kill,” said Saif, then stopped when he saw Innes’s face.

  “I am joking,” he explained.

  “Oh,” said Innes, who genuinely hadn’t been sure.

  “I have to stop joking in English,” said Saif.

  “No, you should joke. It’s good,” said Innes, smiling even as Ash started to yell and panic-breathe.

  “There, there, young man, don’t worry.”

  “DOAN CRY!” Agot was back. “DOAN CRY, BOY!”

  There was a moment when Saif was minded to tell the substitute to stitch up her own hand or basically just go anywhere where he didn’t have to leave his family.

  Innes nodded. “They’ll be okay,” he said roughly. “You have to go sometime.”

  “They need a dad.”

  “The island needs a doctor. You’re going to have to be both.”

  * * *

  Saif did the fastest stitching job of his life and handed over some painkillers to his wildly embarrassed substitute, then drove at eighty miles an hour along the deserted country roads to get back to the house, his heart beating. How would Ash have coped? Would Innes have managed the screaming? What would they have done without him? Would they feel abandoned all over again? How much would this set him back? And the horrible, clawing thing at the back of his mind: could childhood trauma turn a grown man into . . .

  Well, there was no point focusing on that now. None. He just hoped things weren’t too . . .

  As he entered the gloomy, foreboding house, a strange noise met his ears. Was it screaming? His heart rate surged and he ran forward into the sitting room . . . There was nobody there. He turned round, in full flight-or-fight mode. Where was he? Where were they?

  He followed the noise to the top bedroom, the spare room he’d earmarked for the boys, and entered.

  There they were, bouncing furiously on the beds: Ash, on his injured foot, and Ibrahim, throwing himself about in an ungainly way, and Agot, who was screaming, amid fits of laughter from all three of them, “BOUNCE, BOUNCE, BOUNCE!” and the boys were shouting, “BOUNZ! BOUNZ!” and then Ibrahim fell off and they all collapsed laughing.

  Saif looked around for Innes, who was sitting in the corner, half asleep even through the racket.

  “Hey,” he said, as the three noticed him.

  “ABBA!” Ash was back in his arms immediately—but panting, out of breath. Ibrahim looked up, then his face shut down as he saw his father. Agot carried on bouncing.

  “Well, I am guessing you are all fine,” said Saif, half cross, half delighted.

  “MIDNIGHT FEAST?” suggested the little pagan Agot, but Innes carried her, complaining madly, down the hill, and Saif tucked the boys back into bed, and he lay sleepless until morning time, contemplating the school uniforms he’d bought them that hung over the chair, which were made for ten- and six-year-old Scottish children, and made them look as if they were wearing sleeping bags.

  * * *

  Flora and Lorna had missed all this, propping up the bar in the Harbor’s Rest.

  “Crap,” said Flora, swallowing gin and tonic. “And now I’m apparently throwing a huge party I can’t afford for Fintan and Colton to celebrate their perfect love.”

  “He’s still here though,” pointed out Lorna.

  Flora nodded. “He is. Mark doesn’t think it’s a good idea we have a relationship till he’s . . . well. Til
l he’s recovered.”

  “Do you recover though?”

  “Dunno,” said Flora. “I think I shall also eat some peanuts. You know, Lorna, you can’t miss what you never really had.”

  “I do,” said Lorna crossly, accepting a handful of peanuts. They sat closer on their chairs.

  “How are the boys doing?”

  “Also awful. I am failing in every conceivable way.”

  “You’re fabulous!”

  “I am getting older and older every single second, waiting for something to happen. And nothing’s going to happen. I have to snap out of it.”

  “More gin . . .” Inge-Britt got it. “Ooh!” said Flora.

  “What?”

  “You know who else is brilliant and single at the moment who isn’t Saif?”

  “This better not be one of your brothers.”

  “It’s . . . Oh.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Come on. Innes is handsome. Apparently.”

  “Innes? Seriously, Flora. I’ve known him since I was four.”

  “So, you know he’s a decent guy.”

  “It’s icky. Like Joey and Rachel in Friends.”

  “Or maybe Ross and Rachel in Friends . . .”

  “Which is also icky.”

  “Oh yeah. Come on, let me marry off my brothers.”

  Lorna thought about it. “Flora. I’ve lived on this island thirty-two years. Innes has lived here thirty-five.”

  “Ooh, you know how old he is! You must like him!”

  “No, I’ve just been at every single birthday party he’s ever had.”

  Flora blinked.

  “My point is: don’t you think if we fancied each other, we’d have done something about it by now? There’s nobody else here!”

  “Well, maybe that’s it. When you’ve been through everyone in the world and there’s nobody left . . .”

  “Seriously?” said Lorna.

  “He’s been single for ages! Agot and the business take up all his time.”

  “What if we got together and broke up and you had to take sides?”

  “I’d take yours,” said Flora. “I’ve got loads of other brothers.” Lorna smiled. “Oh, come on, are you telling me you find him disgusting?”