The Girl by the River (34 page)

‘Come on – only a few yards more and we’ll be on the beach,’ said one of the lifeguards, and Tessa realised that he’d been talking to her quietly, all through her
panic, and she hadn’t listened. ‘Do you want us to carry you?’ he asked.

Tessa shook her head. A group of hippies were standing on the shoreline watching the rescue and they were clapping. A girl with stringy hair and a full length patchwork skirt took a moon daisy
from her headband and gave it to her silently. Another woman who looked like a Native American came forward and wrapped an ethnic brown and white blanket around Tessa’s shoulders. It felt
strangely welcoming, and a welcome was not what she’d expected at all.

‘Do you think you need an ambulance?’ the lifeguard asked. ‘It might be as well to get checked over.’

Tessa shook her head. She looked at him for the first time and noticed the sea water glistening on his thighs, and looked in surprise at his grey hair and wizened face. He was older than her
dad! And she’d been incredibly rude. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I freaked out.’

He gave her a fatherly pat on the shoulder. ‘No hassle,’ he said. ‘All in a day’s work for us. Proud Cornishmen!’

He wasn’t the one with the hazel eyes. She looked at the other one, and it wasn’t him. She sat down on the sand and allowed her legs to shake, the moon daisy in her hand staring up
at her with innocent love. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and the group of hippies sat down with her like a protective seed pod. They didn’t ask her any questions. A feeling of trust and
acceptance emanated from them.

A mug of hot coffee was put into her hands. She studied the tiny bubbles round the rim and sipped it gratefully. The magnificent sea and the surf were still there. She looked at the man who had
brought the coffee, and it was him. The steady hazel eyes locked with hers. Silent thoughts took root and burst into bloom between them. It was the way it had been with Selwyn. Only this was a man,
and he needed healing. He had rescued her because, in some way, he needed her.

He wasn’t a Michelangelo. He was ordinary. It was the eyes that were oddly expectant, a curiously disturbing blend of neediness and confidence.

She wanted a name. ‘I’m Tessa,’ she said.

‘Paul.’

The hazel eyes held hers for a few more moments and then he looked down. He turned away, picked up his surfboard under one arm. ‘I’ve got to catch the waves,’ he said.
‘I’ll see ya, Tessa. Glad you’re okay.’

She watched him run down to the sea, his reflection in the wet sand a slice of bright colour from the orange surfboard.

‘It hasn’t put me off,’ Tessa said to the two women who were still looking at her caringly. ‘I’ve never seen the surf before, and I love it. I went out too
far.’

‘There’s a current out there. You have to bathe between the two flags,’ the elderly lifeguard explained, ‘so you take care, young lady; I don’t want to be fishing
you out again! Now if you’re sure you’re okay, I’ll leave you to it.’ He grinned and held out his hand. ‘Friends?’

‘Friends.’ Tessa gave his hand a squeeze, and managed to smile.

‘I’m Clare, and this is Lou,’ said the moon daisy girl, ‘and we’re camping out on the cliffs at Clodgy. Any time you want to join us, Tessa, you’re welcome.
Love and peace is where we’re at.’ She pointed at the distant rocky headland to the left of Porthmeor Beach.

‘Thanks – I might,’ Tessa said, ‘but I’m a bit of a loner.’

‘That’s okay. Do your own thing.’

‘I’ll give you a healing drum session, any time,’ Lou said, looking at her with mysterious, hooded brown eyes.

‘A healing drum!’ Tessa raised her eyebrows.

‘I do sacred drumming, five element rhythms. It’s healing the Earth through resonance and love. Stop by sometime and I’ll teach you.’

‘Resonance. Yeah – that means a lot to me,’ Tessa said. ‘I might take you up on that, Lou. And thanks for the blanket. You’d better have it back.’

‘Keep it,’ Lou said. ‘As a token of caring love. It came from Peru.’

‘Thanks – I’d love it,’ Tessa said, and to her surprise Lou gave her a hug, and so did Clare. ‘Group hug,’ she said, and the hug went on for about a minute.
Tessa could smell incense on their clothes and hair, and spicy cooking smells. For a moment she felt their three hearts beating in unison, there on the warm sand, with the mighty heartbeat of the
ocean in the background.

‘Love and peace. You know where we are, Tessa.’ Lou and Clare walked away, their skirts flowing, and the rest of the group followed, leaving Tessa alone on the wide beach, the coffee
mug still in her hand.

Wrapped in Lou’s blanket from Peru, she sat against the wall at the top of the beach, thinking, and watching Paul on his orange surfboard twisting and swooping on the wild Atlantic
surf.

Kate had taken to waiting for the postman, busying herself near the window or in the garden. He came at 8.45, each morning, and to Kate it felt like eternity as she watched him
lean his bike on the wall, rummage through the letters in his basket and stroll up the path. There was a mini-flame of hope, then a rush of disappointment when Kate saw the letters on the mat and
knew there was nothing from her girls. On the days when the postman cycled past she felt bleak and forgotten.

At night she lay awake with the curtain back, staring out at the summer stars and worrying. Letters from Lucy were rare, usually defiant diatribes about her life in a tiny bedsit in Taunton. The
friends she had. The fun she had. Her wonderful boyfriend and his open-minded family who had ‘moved with the times’. On occasions Lucy’s letter had been so hurtful that Kate
hadn’t shown it to Freddie. She kept the deep hurt to herself, and told no one. But at least they knew where Lucy was.

She worried obsessively about Tessa. The idea of her daughter out there, sleeping rough, shattered the bedrock of Kate’s maternal, sheltering love. She felt disempowered and helpless.
Freddie loved her for her radiance and her shining optimism. Maintaining it was a struggle, creating a damaging inner conflict in Kate. A sense of failure. A sense that her life had been
wasted.

A week after Tessa had gone to Cornwall, Kate caught a glimpse of a brightly coloured card in the postman’s hand. She waited by the door, her heart thudding. Then, huge relief and joy as
Tessa’s postcard shot through the letterbox and landed on the mat like a gold brick.

Kate took it to the kitchen table and sat down. Even touching the postcard, touching Tessa’s handwriting, the stamp she’d licked and stuck on, was somehow like touching Tessa.
‘A little bit of treasure,’ Kate mused. ‘Is this all I have left of my daughter?’ She hardly dared to read it, but she did, and it brought a smile to her eyes. She read it
again, and scrutinised the picture of a quaint harbour town with an impossibly blue sea. Then she took it out to show Freddie.

‘Look what I’ve got!’ she beamed. ‘A postcard from Tessa.’

Freddie turned round from his workbench and put down the hammer he’d been using to nail the larch wood roof slats onto a Japanese bird box. His eyes sparkled when he saw Kate’s
smile. ‘You read it to me,’ he said. ‘It’s such tiny writing.’

‘Dear Mum and Dad,’
Kate read,
‘I’m having a groovy time. I’ve been swimming, and I love the wild surf. St Ives is the most beautiful place, and
it’s full of art galleries. The streets are so narrow that people hang their washing across them. I’ve made friends – Lou and Clare – and they’re looking out for me.
I’m very happy here, and okay, so please don’t worry at all. By the way, I’ve met a really nice man, Paul. With love, Tessa xxx PS Put a moon daisy on Jonti’s grave for
me.’

‘There you are,’ said Freddie. ‘Will you stop worrying now? You’ve got shadows under your eyes, love.’

‘I can’t promise not to worry,’ Kate said, and her eyes brightened. ‘And how about that? – She’s met a man! At last, Freddie.’ Kate visualised Paul
– a ‘really nice man’. He’d be tall and wearing a good tailored suit. ‘I hope he’s got a sports car,’ she said.

‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ Freddie said. ‘But – well at least we know where she is, don’t we?’

‘I can enjoy the day now,’ Kate said. ‘And look at these beautiful bird boxes. I can’t wait to get out there and sell them, Freddie. So many different ones! Ooh, I do
like that one with the little bird on it – so cute.’

Freddie basked in her encouragement. Making bird boxes wasn’t what he’d dreamed of doing, but it was easy and pleasant, and maybe it would make them some money.

‘I haven’t seen Mother this morning,’ he said. ‘Will you go and show her Tessa’s card?’

Suddenly the colour drained from Freddie’s face. A shadow filled his eyes. Kate stared at him in concern. ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’

‘It’s Mother,’ he said quietly. ‘Something’s wrong.’

Together they walked through Annie’s garden where bees were busy on the lavender flowers, and the wistful faces of pansies lined the garden path.

‘Her curtains are closed.’

‘And she’s locked the door.’ Freddie knocked on it gently. ‘Mother?’

‘I’ll get our key.’ Kate ran into the house, still clutching the postcard, and took Annie’s key from its hook. Inside Annie’s apartment it was silent except for a
few flies buzzing at the window. ‘Hello! Annie?’ she called. The kitchen was empty, and the sitting room. Annie’s knitting trailed colours from Levi’s chair, and a bunch of
sweet peas drooped from a vase on the table. ‘She can’t still be in bed.’

They looked at the bedroom door, and each other. ‘You go in,’ Freddie said.

Kate found Annie in bed, in her flowery nightie, the sun spilling a beam of light on her silver hair. Her eyes were open, and frightened. ‘I thought you were never coming,’ she said
in a weak voice. ‘I can’t move, Kate. ’Tis my heart.’

‘Oh Annie!’ Kate held her hand and saw that the nails were blue. She felt the pulse in her wrist. It was fluttery and erratic. ‘Don’t try to talk,’ she said.

‘I’ve – got to . . .’ Annie whispered. ‘Got – things I want – to say.’

‘You need the doctor, Annie. He might send you to hospital,’ Kate said.

‘No – no – don’t you call him. I don’t want it. Let me go, Kate. It’s my – time.’ She stretched out a shaking hand to Freddie, and her voice faded
away.

‘She won’t go to hospital,’ Freddie said quietly to Kate. ‘But you ring the doctor anyway. He might give her something.’

‘No – no!’ Annie cried, when Kate tried to leave. ‘I want to tell you something.’

Kate went back to the bed. She listened caringly as Annie tried to speak.

‘Where’s Tessa?’ she said. ‘Is she here?’

‘No, not yet.’

‘I – want – to say – sorry. Sorry I’ve been down on her. Will you tell her? I – only – meant to help her.’

‘I’ll tell her,’ Kate said. ‘She’ll understand, don’t worry Annie.’

‘And you,’ Annie clutched her hand, ‘I’ve criticised you – I’m sorry, Kate. You’re – you’re an – angel.’ Tears ran down her old
cheeks.

‘Don’t upset yourself. We know,’ Freddie said, taking her other hand. ‘And Tessa’s all right. We’ve got a postcard from her here.’

Kate held up Tessa’s card, but Annie couldn’t seem to focus on it.

‘Don’t leave me,’ Annie begged, and Freddie pulled up the basket chair and sat close to the bed.

Annie was quiet for a moment, her eyes searching his. ‘She’s going to get hurt,’ she muttered.

‘Who?’

‘Tessa.’

In the days that followed her rescue, Tessa was increasingly drawn to the hippie commune out on the low cliffs at Clodgy. She still went back to her grassy hollow at night, and
spent the nights alone there, gathering stores of joy from the moon and stars, and the dawn over the sea, exulting in her aloneness. After her ‘brunch’ pastie by the harbour, she headed
out towards Clodgy, and walked the coastal path towards Zennor. The granite boulders got bigger and more thickly bearded with lichens in incredible colours, sage green and hot golden orange, then
the burn of intensely pink heather growing in the cracks. Between the rocks were intimate bright green fairy gardens where there were ladybirds and tiny spiders, and mosses with red-gold stamens.
Tessa loved it. She spent time studying it all, and did some drawings in her sketch pad. She sat for hours watching enormous waves surging into rocky coves, the beads of spray pausing high in the
air before spattering down on the rocks. Later in the afternoon the rising waves glittered as the sun came round to the west. Tessa was sure there were secret angels in the sunlit waves. She felt
she could manipulate the sparkles and make a magical picture happen.

She wanted nothing else.

Paul sought her out a few times, and they sat on the beach talking about poetry. When he wasn’t on a surfboard, he had a book in his hand. He did a lot of energetic talking, about politics
and war, about his home in London. Tessa half listened and watched his eyes. She felt the words he was using so lavishly were pelting down like a rainstorm, hiding the real Paul. She wished he
would shut up.

‘Aren’t you lonely?’ he asked her, in one of the pauses.

‘No,’ she said, ‘I’m the opposite of lonely. I avoid people mostly.’

‘Why’s that?’

Tessa shrugged. ‘I’ve always been like that.’

‘So – who do you talk to?’

Tessa wanted to tell him she talked to spirits, but whenever she tried to say something like that, a crowd of frowning faces popped up before her; Miss O’Grady, the Reverend Reminsy, Lucy,
her grandmother, and mostly her mother.

‘You can talk to me,’ Paul said eagerly, his hand on his chest. When Tessa just stared at him, he said, ‘I can’t figure you out, Tessa. I need to know where you’re
at.’

Tessa looked away. She let some of the shell sand trickle through her fingers. ‘I’m an art student,’ she said. ‘But I’m on the brink of dropping out.’

‘What’s stopping you?’

‘I don’t want to hurt my parents.’

‘Shit! You can’t live your life like that,’ Paul said. ‘It’s your life, not theirs. My parents want me to work in a bank in the city. ME! That’s why I’m
down here, roughing it, finding myself – who I am – they locked me away for years.’

‘Locked you away? Literally?’

‘No – metaphor. But they kidnapped my mind and used it as an ego trip.
My son is a genius. My son is this. My son is that.
And, at the end of the day, if I just wanted to fall
in a heap and listen to music, they dragged me out to extra coaching and chess clubs and stuff like that.’