Page 11 of From Now On

Marty stands by their side now. He’s told them what had happened over and over; sometimes they’ve asked questions and sometimes they’ve just listened. Eventually they have all run out of words. None of them speak. Not Charlie, her brother, who is an adult but doesn’t seem to know what to say. Not Duke who is silent, face white, dry eyes wide. Not Pippa who drove them here at 6 a.m. after the news. Luckily, she’d been the designated driver last night so she hadn’t consumed any alcohol at her party.

Not like her parents who had apparently been drunk.

Her parents are dead.

Alan, the coastguard, eventually wanders off, followed by Marty who wants to get back to his family in Sheffield. He promises to keep in touch. Nina, Charlie, Duke and Pippa remain clumped together on the beach, their sight trained on the horizon, the grubby sky merging with the grey, choppy sea, watching, waiting. Billie, sensing something is wrong, doesn’t tug at her lead to be free; instead she sits on Nina’s foot but Nina’s extremities are so cold she can barely feel her fingers or toes.

Seagulls screech out their sorrow for the fractured family. The odd passer-by stumbles across the uneven sand, wellington boots crunching over shells and pebbles. Sometimes they call out ‘Happy New Year’ to the group. Nina wants to tell them to fuck off but her teeth are clattering together so hard she can’t speak. She can’t stop shivering. The dampness in the air sneaks between her skin and her clothes, chilling her flesh until there isn’t a single part of her that feels warm. She wishes she were home. She wishes she could pretend the last few hours have never happened. That she’d been able to run away to London like Sasha had after the police had left. That’s probably not a fair way to put it; she’d offered to come to Colesby Bay but she has an important meeting tomorrow in London and, because there is limited public transport today, Charlie insisted she leave. Nina wishes she were anywhere but on this beach with the biting wind and the myriad footprints imprinted on the damp sand. She studies each one wondering if they belonged to her mum and dad, but although she can dismiss some as too big or too small, with others she just can’t tell and she wants to hold back the tide, order the sky not to rain, so she can preserve them all.

Her parents are under that freezing grey water along with the seaweed and the fishes. As she thinks this it sparks a memory. She glances at Charlie. Longing to slip her hand inside of his. He is only inches away from her, but emotionally they’re an ocean apart.

When she was small she had idolised him. He’d called her ‘little sis’ once and she’d misheard. Misunderstood.

‘Little Fish?’

He had laughed, ruffled her hair as she’d smiled up at him, asking, ‘Does that make you Big Fish?’

It had stuck for a while, those nicknames for each other. Their own private joke. But once Charlie had moved away he’d seemed to forget about her. He probably can’t even remember the affection that was once between them.

Or perhaps she’s remembering it wrong.

He hadn’t thought twice about abandoning her. He hadn’t called her Little Fish for years. He probably doesn’t even remember that he once did.

Big Fish.

Big fucking disappointment more like, and now her parents have abandoned her too, or that’s what it feels like. Charlie’s gaze is still fixed on the horizon. Oblivious to her pain. Oblivious to her.

She crosses her arms and seeks out Duke.

He is crouching down, picking up shells and dusting the sand from them before he stuffs them into his pocket. He wanders down the beach, growing smaller until Pippa calls him back.

‘Let’s go and get some food.’ Pippa’s hand rests gently on her arm but she shakes her head. She can’t leave here; she can’t leavethemhere. Out there. Alone.

Her parents are dead.

She hadn’t even bothered saying goodbye to them last night.She clamps her lips together, afraid she might say it now; it sounds so final.

She doesn’t believe it. She won’t believe it.

‘Nina?’ Charlie touches her arm. ‘It’s time to go.’

She shakes her head but he gently tugs at her arm and numbly she allows him to lead her to the steps, which carry her away from the sand and the sea and the memories of holidays past: her and Duke digging a moat for the castle they had made; Dad fetching ice creams that were half-melted and dripping down the cones by the time he reached them; Mum tipping her face to the sun –it feels good to be alive– rubbing cream into her skin. Nina doesn’t say goodbye to any of it as they settle themselves on wooden benches on the pier. She clings tightly to her memories as Charlie and Pippa fetch chips. Cardboard cups of hot chocolate, clumps of powder rising to the surface. Duke cuddles up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder and, for the first time in a long time, she lets him.

Only Billie has an appetite and after she’s sampled each of their chips, licking her lips in delight at the unexpected treat, there is nothing left to do but go home, but home is where the heart is and Nina’s heart is here with the big expanse of sea and her lost parents but still she trudges on her tired, heartbroken legs to the car.

‘I’ll be back in a sec.’ Charlie dashes into a seafront shop, the yellow and orange bunting outside flapping furiously in the wind. He returns minutes later with a box of fudge as though they’re on some sort of day trip. It is this, more than anything else today, that springs tears to Nina’s eyes.

He doesn’t care.

She ignores him the next time he speaks, and the time after that, until he stops speaking at all.

On the way home Duke sleeps, his head jerking upright every now and then before settling back against the window. Nina wishes she could at least doze. Block out what happened.

Forget.

Her parents are dead.

Pippa fiddles with the radio, settling on Classic FM before switching it to an eighties pop station five minutes later. Madonna isTrue Blue. Nina is too.

---