Page 95 of Second Story

His next glance across the table is fleeting again like this eye contact is hard, but under the table, his feet find mine, slotting us together like puzzle pieces.

“It doesn’t have to be the same for you, Noah, whatever happens in your trial. This circle is mine. It might not be yours, but it kinda explains why I was locked in on one thing and one thing only—believing it was me who should be in prison.”

If I ever wanted proof beyond my own eyes that Emma Webber gave birth to Isaac and his brother, it’s this small sound of consolation. I hear it again when the train pulls into the station and a carriage full of passengers giddy with party spirit hurries out ahead of us to fill the platform.

“A reunion,” she sighs from the train doorway as a small boy runs into a man’s arms. His shout echoes.

“Daddy, Daddy!”

Hadi.

I see Ruth and her son get swept up into a hug next by a returning husband and father, I guess. She’s gone just as quickly. Steam from a tourist locomotive billows a white cloud between us. It parts a moment later to offer a glimpse of Luke, and I’d take a moment to appreciate how happiness suits him so much better than sternness if it wasn’t for who else I spot through steamy tendrils.

Isaac.

The platform might as well be empty instead of full of reuniting families. All I see is both he and Lenny searching,scanning, seeking out someone that another gust of steam hides from them.

I hurry then, and it doesn’t matter that Emma Webber is a shrimp who could easily get swamped on this crowded platform. She takes my arm, hand curling my elbow, then takes the arm Josh offers, and nothing stops us from bringing her home to the only little boy here who arrived without a parent.

“Mum! That’s my mum!”

Today, Lenny will get to leave with her at long last, and I’ll never forget what steam clears just in time to show me.

Isaac meets my eyes over his mother’s shoulder, his own glossy for the best of reasons, and I couldn’t wish for a happier ending with my brother right beside me.

EPILOGUE

Early summer the following year.

ISAAC

I miss my old van the most whenever Joe is away and Sealife School starts early to catch the turn of the high tide. That’s when the rock pools are at their fullest, crammed with so much more than seaweed. Lenny is as obsessed now as he was the very first time a crab tugged on his line, and Mum is fully invested in making up for lost time by listening to him chat endless shit about anemones and starfish, so I always find a way to take them even if Joe’s shared car isn’t in Cornwall.

I can’t regret any of those early starts whenever Lenny spots the harbour extending granite arms to shelter boats the same way Glynn Harber sheltered our whole family. He always whoops at that first sight from the coast road, and Mum melts to see him happy, but the day that old Transit of mine stopped coughing for good, its engine going up in black smoke, spelled the end of me rolling out of bed at the very last minute.

Now that my van is scrap metal in a junkyard, we all hitch a ride in Luke’s minibus where there’s no escaping that my boss is exactly the same kind of morning person as my brother.

Luke’s chatty at way too early o’clock. “Happy birthday, Isaac!”

There’s also no avoiding that he can be a dickhead.

This Sealife School session is a good example—I’m still sleepy when we stand outside the pub where Joe once stayed and Luke interrupts me mid-yawn by knocking my shoulder with his.

“Careful, birthday boy,” he murmurs. “Unless you want any giants around here to see what you had for your breakfast.”

My yawn turns into a bark of laughter that echoes around this sleepy harbour, and I lower my voice in a hurry. “You’ve been eavesdropping on my stories?”

He knocks my shoulder with his again. “Bit hard not to when you never stop yap-yap-yapping in the playground right underneath my study window.”

A year ago, I wouldn’t have believed someone who can appear as scary as him would trade jokes with me. More than twelve months later, I know Luke only ever looks fierce for good reason like the one he mentions.

“At least this early start means we’ll be back in plenty of time for the summer school recruitment sessions. I have high hopes for these candidates. Bit of a risk, but one worth taking, I think.”

“We’llbe back in plenty of time? What do you mean bywe? I’ve got plans for the rest of the day.” Those plans involve Joe returning from a longer trip to the city than usual, and us revisiting the same beach where our second story started, only this time he won’t walk into that water in the dark or alone.

The whole school will come to my birthday beach party later. For now, I drag my gaze away from the pub and from the same closed curtains I once watched Joe open. I can’t be certain, but I’m almost sure his sleepy delight that morning was when I knewI loved him. Or maybe it was when he hoisted Lenny up onto his shoulders while dogs barked at him in a farmyard. Either way, I can’t let myself get distracted. That’s a sure-fire way to end up roped into extra weekend duties by Luke that I don’t have time for.

“I’m seriously going to be busy. So will you, if you’re still coming to the beach with us.” Like all storytellers, curiosity gets the better of me. “But what do you mean by ‘a bit of a risk?’ I thought your summer school candidates were already fully qualified teachers.”

---