Eight Foot Blue - 3

I did nothing. I just watched her as we walked, not together but apart. I was fascinated by the way she moved. It could have been the darkness, or her flowing clothes, but she didn’t seem real, instead more like a part of the game I’d just been playing. Perhaps it was because her skirt was as long as her legs and brushed where her ankles should have been, hiding her feet.

Lily was hovering above the sand, gliding. It all seemed smooth and also because she was a silhouette, it was like she was a part of the night, not separate, but joined to the outside air.

I was breathing hard. With every step, damp sand rose over the edge of my shoes and through my socks and I could feel it gritty against my skin. I stopped then Lily stopped. Or Lily stopped then I stopped, and we both stood still for a second before she brushed her hands over the back of her skirt and sat down. I watched her as she fumbled for something, somewhere, in a pocket maybe, before she pulled out a packet of cigarettes. I knew what they were, because straight away she clicked a lighter into flame.

I had listened to Mr Mills in our form period, when he’d said that smoking was bad, and I’d heard Mum nag Dad about it often enough, but a part of me wanted to Lily to do what she was going to do. I wanted Lily to rebel.

Although there was the wind, the lighter flame burned strong and it had been so dark where she was that the light it made was suddenly very bright, shining on one half of her face as she put the cigarette to her lips and lit it. I stopped breathing, relying on the little air I had left inside. There was a curl of smoke before the lighter flame went out, and then the smoke was sort of lost, sort of still there, but becoming the same as fog, or mist, or breath.

Now Lily’s cigarette was aglow, a tiny dot marking exactly where she was. She took a drag and the embers burnt. It was like the sailors out at sea would use her smoking to guide them. The conger fishermen in their night boats would see the light from her cigarette, and on their way home they would steer between rocks and between sand banks to her. Then, they would be safe or run aground.

Lily hunched her shoulders and wrapped her arms beneath her knees. She pulled herself in to keep warm. It was the start of summer, but it had been cloudy grey for two weeks and the night had a chill. I wished I’d worn a thicker jumper. I was nearly shivering, watching Lily sitting down. She took another drag and I began to move again. I started toward her, walking lightly, though I was on sand and I couldn’t hear my own footsteps anyway. And I still didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want her to see me, but I couldn’t help myself. I just knew I had to get close. Her blue hair and that line again.

Lily couldn’t have heard me, but she turned. It took me by surprise, as it was shadow dark where I was. She seemed to be looking in my eyes. I froze once more, like a statue in another kids party game. I was stone, not moving, not even the tips of my fingers. I didn’t even curl my toes in my shoes. I just stood there looking at Lily and thinking, I wonder how long I can stay like this, still, watching, not breathing.

Then the spell, or whatever it was, was broken.

“I... I... can see you, you know,” Lily said and it sounded like she was shivering, like she was scared, or maybe it was just the cold. “Why don’t you piss off,” she said again, but I didn’t answer her. “Go on, piss off back to your Mum,” she said, and I didn’t like the way she said it, though I was still in love with her, which was perhaps what made me answer.

“No, you piss off,” I said.

“No, you piss off,” she said in a voice that was meant to be mine. I tried to ignore her,

“It’s not your beach. I can stay where I want,” I said.

“It’s not your beach. I can stay where I want,” she said.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do that,” she said, and whilst I knew she was deliberately trying to irritate me, still she was really irritating me.

“It was only a game,” I said, thinking it would help, thinking Quest couldn’t have mattered that much.

“Only a game,” she said, like she was getting bored.

“I can stay here if I want,” I said and I started to walk to her, getting closer again.

Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, because Lily jumped up suddenly, like I was going to touch her. I mean I wasn’t, not yet. I wasn’t stupid and I wasn’t brave.

And when she stood, even in the dark, I was close enough to see grains of sand pouring off her clothes and back onto the beach. I could see too that she’d been crying. We were only yards apart now and despite the fact there was just the moon, and despite the fact she was just a girl, her face was heavy and lined. Her eyelids were swollen, her eyes themselves puffy, deep set in grey circles. She sniffed, drawing the last of her tears back into her, sucking them up through her nose and back to her eyes. I had a sudden vision, an inspiration, like I got when I was trying to write poetry sometimes, and these tears had become rock pools inside Lily.

I just didn’t understand, and this made me love her even more. I wasn’t sure why she crying, whether it was something I’d said or done, or whether it was nothing to do with me. I took another step towards her, but she took a step away. “Leave me alone,” she said.

“I... I... I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t say that.”

“What?”

“Don’t apologise.”

“I wasn’t... I mean I was... but...,” I said, and it was hard not to be confused.

“Who do you think you are?” she said.

“I... I...,”

“Who do you think you are, to try and teach me how to play the game?”

“I was only trying to...,” I said, but the truth was I wasn’t really sure what I’d been trying to do. I mean hadn’t I been trying to teach her how to play the game? I mean wasn’t I better than her? And so couldn’t she learn from me?

I took yet another step forward, and this time Lily let me. I got so close that I could have reached out to touch her shoulder, put my hands on her then and held her, but I wasn’t sure if this is what she wanted me to do. “Never do that again,” Lily said and I knew straight away she was serious.

“Alright,” I said, shrugging.

“Promise,” she said. I nodded. Then, she took a step to me, reached out and offered her hand for me to shake. It seemed formal, and polite, and odd considering she’d been so rude. My palm was still sticky and sweaty from playing Quest, and maybe from talking to her too, but I took her hand anyway. It was the only thing I could do and as soon as I did, I could feel the bones in her delicate fingers. She was a skeleton covered in skin and she was cold, or if not cold then still shivering anyway. Our hands went up and down together and I felt her bone rattle. “My name’s Lily,” she said.

“George,” I said.

“Lily and George,” she said. It sounded good. We were still shaking hands, up and down with a rhythm as sure as the waves, It sounded good and it felt good too, better than the killing in Quest even, but then Lily let go. “Let’s sit down,” she said, so we did.

She flicked her cigarette away off into the dark and it arced like a shooting star. Mrs Wilson, physics, again. Up and then down, before it hit the ground and was lost in the sand. She brushed her skirt under her once more, and sat all hunched up like before. I settled myself beside her, close so our shoulders touched. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. We were both looking out to sea. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” said Lily.

“What?”

“The water,” she said.

“Yeah... I suppose... I mean yes,” I said.

“All that life underneath,” she said. I nodded. “Shipwrecks and jellyfish and seahorses and starfish,” she said.

“Lots of things,” I said, trying to keep the talking up, because I loved her and the sound of her voice and I was thinking if we stopped talking, we’d stop sitting like we were.

“Mackerel and eels and cod,” she said.

“Dolphins,” I said.

“Yes, dolphins, porpoises, all this life we can’t see. Things swimming around, underwater, all this life we don’t understand,” she said.

“And sharks,” I said, and as soon as I did, I realised I’d made absolutely the biggest mistake anyone had ever made. Bigger than Pandora’s box. Bigger than the Trojan Horse. Bigger than any of Henry VIII’s weddings. Bigger than the First World War. Bigger than burning a strip of magnesium in a Bunsen Burner flame, when Mrs Wilson wasn’t watching. Bigger even than agreeing to play cricket in the cup match against St Gregory’s, when no-one else would, and then getting out for a golden duck. And bigger than going swimming off a beach at midnight. There’s a fin coming for you, George, swim as fast as you can.

Lily jumped up, sort of like she’d jumped up before, and sort of like she jumped up a lot. “NOT SHARKS,” she screamed.

“But...,” I said.

“I HATE SHARKS,” she screamed again, even louder the second time, and then I jumped up myself. I looked all around, though we were alone. I tried to touch her, calm her down or keep her quiet.

“Everyone hates sharks, but they’re there,” I said. Lily was looking at me.

“Well it’s not fair,” she said, “they shouldn’t be.” She was quieter again, and her voice was quivering, and I could hear she was on the tip of crying once more. “There just shouldn’t be any sharks,” she said, which didn’t make any sense at all, like she’d never done the food chain at school.

“I know, I know, but there are.” I was trying to be rational.

“Well there shouldn’t be.”

“No... but...,” I stammered.

“It’s your fault,” she said.

“What?” I said, losing the track.

“The sharks, they’re your fault, they wouldn’t be there if you hadn’t mentioned them.”

“But... but... they’re always there,” I started to argue, and I was panicking too, on the beach, but sort of thrashing around in the waves. Not waving, not drowning, but being eaten alive. It was stupid, because it was only a conversation, and I could have walked away, but I’d never been in love before and I didn’t know what to do.

Lily was looking at me, scrunching her face into one big frown, so she could have been ninety and she could have been twelve. “You don’t get it, do you? Sharks are only there when you mention them. Now it’s your fault. You put the sharks in our sea.”

And she was right, because I really didn’t understand.

“Sorry,” I said.

“NO, NO, NO,” she screamed. Even the gulls stopped cawing, flew down closer to listen.

“What?” I said.
“Don’t ever... never... never apologise,” she said, and yet this just made things worse, because now I wanted more than anything to say sorry again. “OK?” she said.

“OK,” I said and then the silence came. The stillness and the weirdness after the attack. The gulls began pecking at the flesh on the surface of the water.

I could see Lily was thinking, because she crouched down from standing up and took a handful of the sand, and then let it run hourglass through her fingers, dropping time. I wasn’t counting each grain and I don’t know how long we stood and crouched like this, before Lily spoke again. “Well you’ll just have to do something about it,” she said finally. She was totally in control of herself now.

“About what?” I said.

“About the shark you put into the sea,” she said, but I wasn’t Madam Imelda, and I couldn’t see where this was leading.

“There’s nothing...,” I started, and I was going to say something like, look there isn’t a real shark, so there’s nothing I can really do, but before I could Lily put a finger to my lips.

“It’s simple,” she said. “You’ll have to catch the shark yourself.”