Blood and Water

By Beth Daley

Dora lives by the sea. Dora has always lived by the sea. But she won’t go into the water.
The last time Dora swam in the sea was the day of her mother’s funeral, the day she saw the mermaid. Now she’s an adult, a respectable married woman, and her little sister Lucie has come home from university with a horrible secret. Dora’s safe and dry life begins to fray, as she is torn between protecting her baby sister and facing up to a truth she has always known but never admitted. And the sea keeps calling her, reminding her of what she saw beneath the waves all those years ago... of what will be waiting for her if she dives in again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hic Dragones
• Release date: Nov 6, 2013
• ISBN: 9780957679030

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First published in Great Britain in 2013 by Hic Dragones

PO Box 377

Manchester M8 2DE

www.hic-dragones.co.uk

Copyright © Beth Daley

Cover design by Rob Shedwick

Smashwords edition

The moral right of Beth Daley to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

A CIP catalogue reference for this book is available from the British Library.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

For my mum

Chapter One

Dora Gets Stuck

June 1994

On the day of Mum’s funeral, the adults perspired through dense black jackets and clinging polyester trousers. Dora and Lucie wore their best dresses, ones that Mum had bought for them in readiness for the long summer holidays. They were wet now with sweat and tears, and stuck to the skin like sodden seaweed. The girls got ready in Dora’s room, alone, trying not to show their unease. Nobody told them what would happen next. Perhaps they assumed they knew, or that they didn’t need to know and would instinctively follow the grieving adults. Or perhaps it was that no one could bear to say those things out loud. Hearse. Cremation. Wake.

Dora held Lucie’s hand and led her through the garden, along the path to the shiny black car that would follow the hearse and their mother in a box across town. Dora thought they would go to the church but the car drove past without stopping, straight to the crematorium. Dora had never been there before, never attended a funeral. She wanted to ask Dad whether they’d have to look at her like they do in the films, the coffin open, Mum in her favourite blue dress. She didn’t want it to be like that scene in My Girl where the girl shouts and shouts because the dead boy in the coffin isn’t wearing his glasses. Dad sat with them in the car, clutching a damp tissue far too tightly, his breathing sounding strangled. Dora didn’t think he was in the mood for questions. So she waited and prepared herself. Thankfully, Mum’s coffin stayed closed. There were hymns, even though they weren’t in a church. Dora hated the hymns. And nobody sang, which was even worse. Mum would have sung them loud, even though she didn’t much like hymns either.

Most of the people at the funeral came back to the house afterwards, filling downstairs with perfume and perspiration. It was a bit like Christmas; there were presents for the children, huge platters of party food and a big bowl of fruit punch—Mum’s favourite. Dora, Lucie and Will, who was Aunty Jan’s sixteen-year-old stepson and the girls’ new cousin, circled the guests dutifully with curling sandwiches and lukewarm sausage rolls until told they’d done enough. Relieved, Will picked a spot on the lawn in the shade of the cherry tree and collapsed onto the cool grass. Dora and Lucie followed, keen to peel away from the stuffiness of the house.

They’d sat in the same place, under the same tree, in the same burning heat, five days before, having just learned the news. It was Dora who found out first. Since Mum came out of hospital two weeks previously, all the doors in the house had stayed closed. Dora could walk from the top of the house to the bottom and no one would see her, everyone behind doors, shutting her out. And if a door did happen to open as she passed, the grown-up behind it wouldn’t invite her in; they’d just look up and down the landing and tell her to go and find her sister, to look after her. They never told her anything, never listened to her questions. They told her only that Mum was ill, that she needed peace and quiet, but that she loved them very much. They forgot that Dora was nearly fifteen, not seven like Lucie. She knew the word ‘cancer’ and was quickly learning what it really meant.

When Mum died, Dora was sitting on the top step of the stairs. From here she could see all that she needed: there was Lucie playing in the garden, seen through the tall window on the half-landing where the stairs turned; there, beyond Lucie and her toys, beyond the rooftops and the trees was the Irish Sea, the late afternoon sun giving it a diamante sparkle; closer to Dora, just there, was the door to her mother’s bedroom, firmly shut; and down there, if she looked through the banisters, was the door to the living room where Dad had been sleeping on a camp bed for the last two weeks. In that time, his skin had turned grey and his hugs had become harder.

Aunty Jan came out of Mum’s room and walked down the corridor to the bathroom. She didn’t close the door to the bedroom behind her, just let it fall to. And that’s how Dora knew.

The air that came out of the bedroom smelt stale and hot, of bodies and blankets, coffee cups left on dressers and waste paper bins overflowing with tissues. A tingling began to creep up Dora’s legs and she had to run before it pinned her down there, paralysed by the sour, still sadness. Dora threw herself down the stairs and out through the open heavy front door. Outside, cars roared past on the road beyond the hedge. The sun beat down, scorching the grass. Playthings lay on the lawn waiting to be picked up. Lucie was spinning around and around, her pink summer skirt drifting up, revealing her swimming costume with its yellow frill around the hips. She giggled and screamed, an excited high-pitched trill. Will covered his ears and groaned dramatically, egging her on, but then saw Dora and fell silent. Having lost his attention, Lucie stopped and dropped to the ground as though she were one of the tears spilling out over Dora’s cheeks and down onto the parched lawn. Lucie looked at her for a moment, then at Will who had already understood. With her hands digging into the grass to ground her, she whispered to no one in particular, Does that mean Mummy is dead then?

On that day, as on this, Will took charge. He led Dora into the shade, made her sit. He put an arm around Lucie. He held Dora’s hand. On that day, he told them how very sorry he was. Today, he said he wished he’d known their mother better, then looked up and smiled. Dora followed his gaze and saw her father coming out of the house, melting into his white shirt, his black tie still tight. Dora wanted to protect him from the people inside, stop him flinching whenever they mentioned Mum’s name. She pulled him down onto the grass and shrank into a hot midsummer embrace that enveloped all of the remaining members of the Bradbury family, and new cousin Will.

Dad didn’t move or say anything for a long time and no one wanted to break the silence. But then Lucie wriggled, loosening the firm hold he had on her. Daddy, can we go down to the beach and paddle?

Dora glared. No, Lucie. You can’t.

Dad frowned.

Please, Daddy. I’m so hot. It’s horrible.

Will fidgeted. Not today, Lucie.

Dora kissed her father’s hand to reassure him, but he was studying Will. You’re a decent swimmer, I hear.

Will shrugged.

Dad squinted against the sun. The large garden of the semi-detached house sloped slightly down, giving a view out over several rows of houses covering the half mile between them and the sea. On other days, Dora, Lucie, Mum and Dad would play the game of naming all of the families in all of the houses, making up the ones they didn’t know. Mum was good at making things up. Dora wouldn’t play that game ever again. She looked at Dad who was gazing out at the shimmering sea. From here, the main beach was hidden from view, the sand flats revealed only at low tide. Tide’s in, he said.

Lucie jumped up.

Dora tugged on Lucie’s skirt to get her to sit down again. No, Lucie.

Yes, Lucie, Dad smiled gently. Go and get your cossie on.

Lucie yelped with pleasure and ran off towards the house, skipping and singing, as if she’d suddenly been given permission to be herself again.

I’m staying with you. Dora snuggled closer in to her father’s side, despite the heat, despite the lack of her mother’s scent that had, till now, been perpetually mingled with his own.

Mum said she’d watch over you, so what’s the harm? His eyes filled with saltwater. Go and have some fun. Cool off.

Dora shook her head. I want to stay with you.

It’s okay, Dora. Lucie needs looking after. I’d be happier if all three of you go. You and Will are the grown-ups now.

Dora nodded, unsure whether to feel proud or annoyed, happy or sad.

I’m ready! Lucie shouted from the house five minutes later, running across the grass, swimming costume in one hand, towel in the other. Dora and Will followed, their towels draped around their necks. Dad was just where they’d left him, under the tree.

Right then, said Dad. Off you go. He kissed Dora on the top of the head and stood up just in time to catch Lucie as she tripped over the trailing towel. A laugh escaped Dora before she could censor it. Her little sister, so simple and straightforward. She felt an overwhelming desire to keep her that way, just the way Mum had left her.

Dora reached the water first, lifting her feet high to get further in quickly. The cool water cut straight through the numbing grief and she felt a lightness of the heart that had been absent for the last few weeks. She waded further and further in, the water splashing up, cooling her down. She licked droplets of water from her lips, tasted the salt. Her yellow cotton shirt, which at the last moment she had decided to keep on over her swimming costume, clung to her body. With the water up to her thighs she took a deep breath and dived confidently under, knowing that the others would follow.

She swam out a little way, then stopped and rolled onto her back, looking up at the blue sky. It was the same blue as always. How could the sky stay the same when everything else had changed? Perhaps it hadn’t. Perhaps when they went home, Mum would be there, sitting at the kitchen table doing a crossword and eating her favourite cottage cheese with prawns straight from the tub. Dora would sit on her knee, even though she was far too old now, pick the prawns out and suck the milky white juice off them.

Hey, Dora! She turned her head and blinked to focus. Will was waving at her. Come back! She had drifted much further than she intended. She turned around and set off back towards the shore. By the time she got there, she was out of breath, her arms and legs tired and aching, and there was a pain behind her eyes from the dazzling reflection of sunlight glittering the water.

Lucie sat in the shallows, her legs straight out in front of her, scraping out holes in the sand with her fingers and watching the water rush into them. You have to play with me cos Will needs a proper swim without having to look after his kid cousin. Will tutted, not used to seven-year-olds repeating him word for word.

She looked at Will and blushed, aware for the first time that her eyes were drawn to his bare chest, not his face.

I just want a bit of a cool off. He was already wading out, away from the girls. He bent his knees so only his shoulders and head were above water. Dora looked at his shoulders, the skin was starting to peel. It looked raw and pink underneath. She wanted to reach out and touch it, but he pushed off into a front crawl and was already too far away.

Lucie’s holes in the sand filled up faster than she could dig them. It made Dora restless. Why are you doing that?

Lucie looked up and shrugged her shoulders. It’s fun. You try.

Dora screwed her face up. No thanks. Dora watched Will swim swiftly away as if he were heading for the other side of the world.

Lucie carried on smiling and carried on digging holes that the water carried on filling. I dare you to dig a hole!

Dora turned to look at Lucie who was grinning at her.

Go on. I dare you.

You dare me? What do you mean you dare me? said Dora scornfully.

Lucie giggled. We played it yesterday. You have to tell a secret, a proper cross-your-heart one, but if you don’t want to then there are four fits.

What?

It means you have to do what I tell you. Why’s it called four fits?

You played Truth or Dare with Will?

Lucie shrugged. Is that what the game’s called?

And what secrets did you tell him?

I didn’t tell him secrets. I did four fits! Lucie giggled.

Dora frowned. What did he make you do?

Not telling. He said that’s one of the rules.

Dora crouched down by Lucie and stopped her hands plunging once more into the sand. Dora knew the types of thing that boys dared girls to do. She’d played Truth or Dare on a school trip last year. They’d stayed at a youth hostel and the boys had crept into the girls’ bedroom in the middle of the night. Lucie, tell me what he dared you to do.

Lucie shook her head. Can’t. I promised.

Dora stood up, feeling her face red with anger, she wanted to find him, confront him, pound him with her fists. Partly for Lucie, partly for Mum, partly for the excuse to grab hold of something and shake it, but mostly because she couldn’t get the image of his pink shoulders out of her mind. She scanned the horizon. He was too far away to hear if she shouted. She glanced at Lucie. Stay here. Then she launched herself back into the water.

Will’s arms curved gracefully in and out of the water, his feet kicking powerfully, his head ducking in and out with each stroke, oblivious to anything but himself and the water. When she got close, Dora grabbed his arm as it came up above the surface. Taken by surprise, he shook her off violently and she gasped and coughed from swallowing the seawater that rushed into her mouth and up her nose.

What are you doing? Will was panting and his cheeks were red. For a moment, Dora forgot the answer to his question. Even treading water, he appeared a head or so taller than her. Droplets of water ran down his face from his sopping light brown hair, dripped down his cheeks and off his chin back into the sea. Dora watched them. She wanted to touch his cheek to see if she could feel any stubble. What’s wrong with you?

And Dora remembered. Her toes began to tingle and she could feel her whole body shake. She groped for the seabed with her feet but it was too deep. It was a struggle to be angry and tread water at the same time. What did you dare Lucie to do?

Will’s countenance changed. He smiled, amused. He sculled the water with his hands, finding it much easier than Dora to stay afloat. It was only a game. We had nothing else to do. It’s so boring up at that house at the moment. He wiped his face and waited for a response from Dora.

Will, our mother just died! Dora’s voice cracked. She looked at Will’s face, noticed the water droplets on his eyelashes.

Will stretched his arms out as if he was getting ready to swim on again. Won’t Lucie say?

No. You made her promise. Dora’s frustration was exhausting her. She didn’t know how long she could continue out here, out of her depth, before she burst into tears and showed herself up as the stupid little girl she felt. She had to control herself. Just tell me. Please.

You really want to know? Will looked down at her, his face earnest. Are you sure?

Dora nodded, rising and falling with the water.

I’ll tell you… if you do a dare.

What? Dora tried to break her gaze away from the brown eyes looking down at her. She’d never noticed the tiny blond flecks in them before.

You do a dare. I’ll tell the truth. That’s the deal.

She couldn’t avoid it. She’d made a big fuss about it and now he was offering to tell her if she did the dare. So she had to. But she insisted on going back to be with Lucie first. She didn’t like leaving her alone. They swam back side by side, Dora’s kicking foot accidentally touching Will’s leg every now and then. Each time she tried to apologise, saltwater rushed into her mouth. She tried to spit it out without him noticing.

There was a tunnel in the rocks not far away. They’d often used it as a storage space when they’d had barbecues down here on the beach, before Mum got ill. It was long enough and wide enough to keep a couple of cool-bags stuffed full of burgers and cans of pop out of the sun, or to stow towels and buckets and spades in if the wind was up. Now the tide was in, the tunnel was underwater.

Will’s dare for Dora was simple: Swim through the tunnel. I’ve done it. It’s easy. Lucie wasn’t a good enough swimmer yet so they had to think of something else for her to do when she insisted on joining in. I’ll just hold her under the water until you come out the other side, said Will. That’s fair isn’t it? It’s the same thing really. Lucie nodded enthusiastically and started practising holding her breath.

Will leaned in to Dora and whispered in her ear. Are you sure you want to know everything I dared her to do? His breath tickled her neck and she felt suddenly very self-conscious, aware that her sodden shirt was sticking to her body. She was annoyed that he was making her do a dare to get the information she wanted, but she couldn’t back down. She didn’t want to look a fool. She crossed her arms and looked him in the eye. The whole truth, Will.

If that’s what you want. Go when you’re ready. Mind out for the jellyfish and the sharks.

Lucie yelped. Sharks?

Dora shook her head and glowered at Will. She took a deep breath and signalled to Lucie to do the same. She disappeared under the water just as Will pushed Lucie down.

Water rushed into her ears and everything became muffled. The shouts of children playing were still audible but it was as though she were dreaming them. The sound of the sea enveloped her as the waves moved her body from side to side. She liked the sensation, being weightless, at the will of the water, being cradled, supported, rocked. She opened her eyes. The water wasn’t very deep; she could see the sand and pebbles at the bottom quite clearly, and she could feel her feet kicking out into the air above her. The tunnel was just a couple of strokes away. It looked different underwater to how it had before. The rock was darker, but more alive. As she got closer, she could make out that the limpets and mussels were open, yawning.

As she propelled herself forward, enjoying the feeling of power, cutting through the water, she turned her head to look at Lucie. She was quite still, held down by a hand gripping each shoulder, her knees tucked up and her arms hugging them, as if she was midway through a bomb jump. Her cheeks were puffed out and her eyes screwed up. Her blonde hair streamed out around her with the tide, creating a sort of halo. Her skin looked pale and ghostly, slightly green. She looked like a specimen of something in a jar, just hanging there. A pickled baby sister. Dora’s hands touched the rock and she looked back to where she was going. She brought her legs together to kick like one flipper. One strong movement would make her body ripple, first her hips then