My Selkie Wife.

I was sitting on a rock just round the corner from Kynance Cove,
taking a breather from my sister and her kids, when Morva appeared in
the water just below me. Of course, I didn't know her name then.

She climbed up on to the rock.

"I couldn't blag a fag, could I?" she said.

"Sure, no problem."

I felt among the boxes of paracetemol in my pocket for my pack of Super
Kings, stood up, and flicked it open. When the girl stepped forward,
she wobbled and fell on to me, and I put my arm round her to steady
her. I felt a charge go through me. As soon as she touched me, I
desired her.

We sat down next to each other. My shirt was wet from the embrace, but
it was a hot day, and the cool felt good on my skin.

"Are you unhappy?" she said.

"Why?"

"You seem so."

"Well, I suppose I am."

"I can tell."

"Can you?"

"From a long way out, I could tell."

"My wife just left me." I couldn't believe I was confessing this to a
stranger. "Last week, actually."

"Why?"

"Oh, a number of things. You know. We'd moved down here from Reading
with the company, and she doesn't like it. Says the people are
unfriendly."

"Are they?"

"I'm Cornish myself, so I can't say."

"You seem friendly."

"Ha."

"And that's why she left?"

"Yeah. And other things. So where are you from?"

"Flores."

"Where's that?"

"The Azores."

"Wow."

It seemed odd. She had a west-country accent, stronger than mine. But
she did look Spanish. Her hair was black and her skin brown. She had
this physical presence about her. Even though we were both looking out
to sea, I was aware of her knees next to mine. I knew we were going to
make love. It was just a matter of when.

"It's a long way away," she said.

*

I helped Ellen carry the beach stuff up to the car park and pack it in
the back of her old Sierra.

"Look," I said. "Er, it's been a great day, but you go on back. I think
I'll stay a bit."

"Stay here?"

"There's bed-and-breakfast places at the Lizard. I'll take a
room."

"Are you mad?"

"Yeah, probably."

"So, I've come all down here from bloomin Reading, to help you over
Angie, and now you expect us to stay in your house without you?"

"Just one night, Ellen. Then I'll be back. I promise."

She looked me hard in the eye.

"You need to get yourself together, Philip Reid. Really."

I turned to walk back to the cove. Behind me I heard little Katie's
voice.

"Mum, does that mean I can go in the front seat?"

"No, I want to," Jack said.

"But I'm older."

"Phil, Where are you going?" Ellen called.

"Back down to the cove. I like it. Just need some peace and
quiet."

"Oh, thanks."

*

Morva was still sitting on the rock when I got back. When the
holidaymakers had gone and the sun fell red in the west, we kissed. And
when the sky was grey we made love on the rocks. My knees scraped on
the limpets. Her skin was warm and rubbery. I couldn't get enough of
her.

Then we smoked the last of the Super Kings. She had my jacket on over
her bikini.

"Where are your things?" I said.

"Things?"

"You know, your clothes and stuff."

"Oh, the tide took them."

"The tide?"

"I left them on a rock and went for a swim. When I came back they were
gone."

"That's awful."

"I don't care."

"What about your car?"

"Don't have a car."

"No? How did you get here then?"

"Um, by boat."

"Really?"

"I was dropped off."

*

I booked a room in a guesthouse in Lizard village, and in the shower we
made love again. It wasn't planned. I'd left Morva watching the
television, but then I felt her hands come round me from behind. We
rubbed gel into every crevice of each other's bodies and made love
standing up.

After that I thought we were in for a marathon night, but Morva fell
asleep as soon as we got into bed, and I was left alone with my
thoughts, watching the lighthouse beams passing across the
window.

In the morning we made love in the shower again.

At breakfast Morva did a strange thing. She put salt on her
cornflakes.

*

I married Morva.

It was her idea, and I didn't argue. Angie was surprised and, I think,
annoyed, when I badgered her for a quick divorce. After all, I'd only
just stopped begging her to come back. But I wasn't wasting thoughts on
Angie now I had Morva. My life was on the up.

I took voluntary redundancy with Vodaphone and got a job as commercial
manager at the Eden Project, where they grow tropical gardens inside
giant white puffballs among the china-clay hills behind St Austell. We
bought a house at Luxulyan and an otter hound we called Flores.

I was earning so much money that it didn't matter Morva couldn't get a
job. She never got past the application-form stage, probably because
she lacked papers. I got the impression a blot on her past was coming
up on the computer checks. But I'd learned not to ask too much about
Morva's history. She was touchy on the subject, so I let it lie.

Then we had a stroke of luck. She landed a job at the seal sanctuary at
Gweek. No application forms, nothing. She just walked in there one
morning, and they liked her, and that was that. She was happy
there.

But our marriage wasn't happy, not after the early months. Later I was
to blame for much that went wrong. But the first problems were all down
to Morva, because of the way she behaved. One example was a garden
party we went to at Adrian Cuke's, in that big poncy house of his at
Puddle.

*

"Morva's very beautiful," Adrian said.

He'd inherited the Cornish Ales brewery at St Austell, which had made
him a very rich man. I'd met him during negotiations for the bar
franchise at Eden, and he was a contact worth having. This was the
first time he'd invited me to Meniot House. All the great and good of
Cornwall were there, chattering and drinking wine, listening to a jazz
band on the lawn.

"Yes she is," I said.

"A bit strange, though," Adrian said.

"Strange?"

"Oh, that's not a criticism. When a girl's beautiful, she's licensed to
be as strange as she likes."

When dusk fell, the jazz band stopped playing, and Adrian set off a
line of fireworks on the far side of his pond. It was a round pond,
divided into segments, with lilies in each one and a fountain in the
middle.

I didn't really look at the fireworks. I was watching Morva's
reflection in the water, thinking how right Adrian was about her
beauty. She was wearing a silky lilac dress that glowed each time a
starburst hit the sky.

As I watched, she sat down on the edge of the pond, pulled up her
dress, and slipped down the submerged steps till she had lilies around
her thighs. Then she slid underwater on her back.

Everyone clapped, but I was horrified. I didn't want anyone knowing
what I knew about Morva. She was totally underwater, her long dark hair
floating on the surface among the lily pads.

I didn't think. I ran round the pool and plunged in and seized her
under the armpits and dragged her out.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I said.

"Oh, leave me alone."

Everyone thought it was funny. They were all drunk, that's why. But I
was angry. I led Morva to the car and drove her home.

*

The thing was that the incident at Puddle wasn't the first of its kind,
just the first that happened in public. Our life at Luxulyan had become
stranger than Adrian and his friends could have imagined. For one
thing, we now had separate bedrooms.

Not that our sex life had lost its intensity. Making love in the shower
and the bath had become a way of life for us, every morning and every
night, and at weekends in the middle of the day. No, it was sleeping
together that was the issue. Sleeping.

The first time I realised there was a problem was one night when I woke
up to find the bed empty next to me. I thought Morva had just popped
out to the toilet, but when she didn't return I went to look for her. I
switched on the light in the bathroom, and there she was, lying in the
bath, her head underwater.

For a moment I panicked. I thought she'd drowned. I should have known
better. The moment I pulled her up out of the water she opened her eyes
and smiled.

"Hello, darling."

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah, fine. Of course."

"What are you doing?"

"Sleeping."

"Sleeping? In the bath?"

"Yeah. Are you angry?"

"No, I'm not angry. Just, just glad you're all right."

She came back to bed with me then, and for a time we talked.

"I can't sleep in here," she said. "The bed's too dry."

"Dry?"

"It's too dry. My skin goes all scaly. I'm getting through a jar of
moisturiser a day."

I didn't try to understand, just took her word for it. After that she
often got up in the night and slept in the bath. I'd turn over and try
not to think about it.

In the end we had another bath fitted in the back bedroom, with a
raised part for a pillow, and she slept in there permanently. The
understanding was that what went on in her room was Morva's own
business. I slept alone.

*

Then there was the business of the distemper.

About four months after Morva started work at the sanctuary she fell
ill. It seemed nothing much to start with. She was just paler than
usual and felt weak and lost her appetite. But then scabs started
appearing around her mouth and lower parts. I called the doctor, a
doddery old bird called Pildrew, who didn't know what was up with her
and didn't seem to care.

It was Jody Aceverill, the local vet, who diagnosed her. Which happened
by chance. I was playing pool with him one night at the Luxulyan Arms,
and I mentioned Morva's illness, more by way of slagging off Pildrew
than anything else. Jody was instantly fascinated. Like all vets, he
was keen to get one up on doctors, and so he offered to take a look at
Morva.

When he came down from her room, he drank a glass of port with me in
the kitchen.

"Distemper," he said.

For a moment I thought he was talking about paint.

"Pardon?"

"Phocine Distemper Virus. I'm pretty sure of it, Phil."

"What's that then?"

"Morva works at Gweek, doesn't she?"

"Part-time, yeah. Been there since Christmas. Loves it."

"Well, there's this virus infecting wild seals at the moment.
Distemper. Last time we had it, in 88, it wiped out half the British
seal population. It's come back again just recently."

"Really?"

"The symptoms are the same as Morva's."

I thought about that for a moment.

"You telling me she's got an animal disease? Surely that's
impossible."

"Improbable, but not impossible. Humans catch animal diseases now and
again, especially when they work closely with animals. Remember that
bloke who got foot-and-mouth a couple of years ago?"

"Revolting."

"I know. But now the good news. If I'm right, Morva's only in the early
stages. Should be easy to keep the symptoms down. Tell you what, I'll
bring the dope over tomorrow, and you can sort her out yourself."

"Oh, hey thanks, Jody. What do I owe you, mate?"

"Don't be silly. Vets charge, doctors don't. Couple of weeks, she
should be fine."

"Look, er, you won't tell anyone about this, will you?"

*

Jody was right. Three weeks later Morva was back working at the
sanctuary. Unfortunately, she didn't stay there very long.

"I've been sacked," she said one evening over tea.

"You're joking. What for?"

"Um, I dunno. They don't like my methods, or something."

"But you're cool with the seals. I was talking to Pearl Bassett the
other day. She said you understood them."

"Too much, it seems."

"What d'you mean?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

And that was all I got out of her.

The next day I rang Pearl and asked her what had happened.

"Morva told me not to tell you,"' she said.

"Oh, come on, Pearl. I know it's low-paid, but she loves that job. If
she's been wrongfully dismissed, then I'll make them pay."

"She's not been wrongfully dismissed, Phil. There was no excuse for
what she did."

"Well, what did she do?"

"The first thing was, she got in the pool with the seals."

I sighed.

"You know Morva. She's physical. Is that wrong?"

"Yes it is wrong. It's against Health and Safety. And she was
warned."

"So they sacked her for that?"

"Not for that, no. Two of the seals was missing this morning. And she
was suspected."

"What, of nicking them?"

"Of putting them in the sea."

"Any proof of that?"

"She admitted it."

"But, but, isn't that what Gweek's about, Pearl? Healing the seals and
returning them to the sea."

"Yes but it has to be done officially, not just when part-time
assistants feels like it. And them seals weren't better. They still had
distemper. Hadn't finished their injections. They could infect every
seal in Britain, them two."

"Morva knows what she's doing."

"Well, between you and me, I can see her point. Johnny and Timmy was
like the main attractions, know what I mean? They was the ones what
always turned it on for the visitors. Timmy used to flip fish back at
the keepers."

I put the phone down and went into living the room and found Morva
cuddling Flores on the sofa.

"I've just spoken to Pearl," I said. "You're an idiot."

"I'm sorry." Morva's lip quivered, and then she started to cry. "I've
let you down."

I loved her so much that I decided to leave it at that. Who cared about
the stupid job? I took her in my arms, her and Flores together, and
gave her a full-on hug.

"Never mind," I said. "You did what you thought best."

Morva sniffed.

"Those seals were healthy," she said. "They were being
exploited."

"I know. Pearl told me. Don't worry, love. We'll soon find you another
job."

*

But we didn't.

What with her document problems and the rumours about Gweek, no one
would touch Morva with a bargepole. But then she invented her own job.
She became pregnant.

That perked her up. Her skin regained its old colour, and she became
even more beautiful than before. And I was chuffed too. I couldn't take
my eyes off that rounded belly of hers. This was the thing Angie had
always refused me. A child of my own.

*

Six weeks before the baby was due, Morva vanished.

When I got home from Eden that day she wasn't home. I rang round
everyone she knew, which wasn't many. I phoned the police. They weren't
interested. They didn't count being out of the house for a few hours as
disappearing. But I was terrified. This wasn't like Morva. Since she'd
been pregnant she'd rarely strayed from the house.

Just after midnight I had a phone call from Adrian Cuke.

"Your wife's in my pond," he said.

I jumped into the car and drove the three miles to Puddle like a
demented maniac. Adrian, Tamsin, and their oldest boy, Edward, were in
the garden standing by the pond. They'd turned on a floodlight, which
bathed the pond in an apricot glow. I ran along the gravel path towards
them. When I reached them, Tamsin turned to me.

"I've never seen anything so beautiful," she said.

I don't think I had, either.

Morva was sitting up to her waist in water, leaning back on two lotus
leaves that arced above her shoulders like wings. In her arms she held
a tiny baby. She looked lovingly across the water at me. Honest, it was
like a scene from a film. For a moment I didn't know what to say.

"What is it?" I said.

"A boy."

"Brilliant."

I'm ashamed to admit it, but the joy of fatherhood was tangled up with
my embarrassment in front of the Cukes. I walked around the pool and
knelt. I could see the umbilical cord floating on the water. Morva
passed the baby up to me.

"He's called Lily," she said.

I hugged my son, surprised at how warm he felt. I kissed him.

"Darling, we can't call a boy Lily," I said gently.

Tamsin called across the pond.

"Shall I phone Pildrew?"

"Please don't," Morva said.

She stepped up on to the grass, dripping water. She couldn't have
looked fitter.

"No," I said. "We're all right, Tamsin, honestly."

"Edward, go and make a cup of tea," Tamsin said.

Much though I liked Tamsin, I knew she'd be dining out on this one for
years.

*

Despite my embarrassment that night, I was thrilled with Cholly, as we
eventually called the boy. The name was Morva's choice. I didn't like
it much at first, but it was preferable to Lily. And I quickly became
used to it. A name grows to fit a character, and Cholly was certainly a
character. He was a bright, clever baby. He learned to swim before all
the other babies. And he was soon scooting round carpets on his hands
and knees, while other people's babies were still lying on their backs
analysing ceilings.

But happy as I was with Cholly, things between Morva and me
deteriorated even more. And this time it was all my fault. I'd better
tell you about Lisa McEwen.

Lisa joined Eden as a lepidopterist, to supervise the stocking and
breeding of our tropical butterflies. She was attractive, blonde, and
sexy, though not in Morva's league for beauty. Nobody was. But she was
streets ahead of Morva for worldliness and wit, and I'd missed those
things. She reminded me of Angie.

One day she invited me to a pub in St Stephen for lunch, and afterwards
we made love behind a field wall in a hayfield off the road back to
Eden. It wasn't love. I loved Morva. It was sex. Lisa needed sex
because she didn't have a man, not in Cornwall anyway. I needed sex
because I wasn't having any with Morva. And I wanted to make love in a
dry place.

I can't excuse my behaviour. I was a married man who'd made his vows.
But at the time I felt resentful that marital sex came only on Morva's
terms.

One night I arrived home late after spending the evening with Lisa. I
could tell by Morva's face that something was wrong.

"I've just had a call from Pearl," she said.

"Oh, how's Pearl?"

"Pearl's fine. She said she'd seen you in St Austell with Lisa."

"Lisa?"

"Lisa from work."

"Oh, Lisa. We were buying some stuff for the office. Phones, you
know."

"Pearl says you're having an affair."

"No, no. Ha. You know what an old stirrer Pearl is."

"Tamsin says it too. I just rung her, and asked. And she backed up
Pearl."

"What does Tamsin know, except gossip? Come on."

"Tamsin's Adrian's wife, remember? Your big buddy's wife."

"He wouldn't tell her anything."

"So, you've told Adrian?"

It was no use. For all my faults, I'm a poor liar. I confessed, and
left the ball in Morva's court.

*

She took it surprisingly well. She became quieter, talked more to
Cholly than me. But one way and another it was the end, and we both
knew it. After six more months of empty living, I said I'd make the
whole thing easier for both of us and move out. She could have the
house and a good monthly settlement. I'd see Cholly as often as I
could, and maybe we could still do some things as a family.

Morva wasn't interested in the money or the house. I'd broken her
heart.

*

I forgot to say that we'd been having trouble from Social Services. The
mothers from the baby-swimming classes had put them on to us, and a
thin-lipped young woman called Jasmine Skinley kept visiting us to make
sure we weren't being cruel to Cholly.

"We'd never harm Cholly," I said, the first time she'd called. "Cholly
gets everything he wants in this house. Cholly's the king of our
castle. We love Cholly."

"I know," Skinley said. "Everyone loves their children. That doesn't
mean they know how to treat them. We're just here to help, Mr Reid.
Just here to help."

"So, how many children have you got, may I ask?"

"None," Skinley said. "But that's not the point. I've done all the
training. Now can I have a look at Cholly, please?"

What she meant was, can I check your son for bruises.

The trouble was that Cholly did sometimes have bruises. In that he took
after Morva. But whereas Skinley wasn't interested in Morva's bruises,
she took exception to Cholly's. For a time I even doubted Morva myself,
till one day I was carrying Cholly downstairs, holding him very
lightly, and when I took my hands away from his arms, bruises were
already forming on his skin, in the shape of my fingers. He was just
one of those babies. Other than looking a bit blotchy now and again,
Cholly was in the rudest of health.

Try telling that to Skinley.

"We've had a report from Mrs Pentecost," the bitch said one day. "That
she saw you carrying Cholly through the village with only his nappy on.
Last Tuesday, to be precise. Is this true?"

"What of it?" Morva said.

"No, it's not true," I said.

"You were at work, Mr Reid," said Skinley, without looking at me.
"Morva, it's November."

"But Cholly's like me," Morva said. "He doesn't feel the cold."

"Doctor Pildrew tells me you have psychological problems, Mrs
Reid."

"Rubbish," I said.

"I'm just different," Morva said. "I'm not English, that's all."

Skinley turned to me.

"And is it true, Mr Reid, that you intend moving out of the family
home?"

"Mind your own business."

"This is all most serious," Skinley said, taking her biro out. "I'm
going to have to put a recommendation in my report."

"You won't take my baby away, will you?" Morva said.

*

That's exactly what they wanted to do, as Morva and I were well aware.
And never was there a couple that loved their child more than we two
loved our Cholly.

I talked it over with Lisa, and with Adrian, and with every friend
whose ear I could bend on the subject, and they all said the same
thing. If I bid for custody of Cholly, I'd win, because there were
plenty of witnesses to make the case against Morva. That way I'd keep
Cholly.

But I'd never never have done it, for I knew the truth. Morva was the
best of mothers. The worm in the fruit was me. I was the bad parent,
the one who was having an affair. I was the one who came home from work
late each night. Not only that but Cholly loved his mother, whereas for
me he held only a distant respect.

I put down a deposit on a flat in Fowey. The Saturday before I was due
to move out of the house in Luxulyan, Morva approached me in the garden
as I raked the leaves. She put her arm around my neck. I felt her
warmth and kissed her, and she held the kiss. She'd not done that for a
long time.

"Can we go to Kynance?" she said.

"Today?"

"Yes, today. Now."

"What for?"

"I don't know. I'd like to show Cholly."

I looked at the sky. It was autumn grey. Brown leaves blew round our
shoes.

"Be rough down there today."

"Doesn't matter. Wear your gloves. Me and Cholly will be all
right."

I drove us down to Kynance. There were only three cars in the car park.
The sea glittered silver as we wandered down the long path to the cove.
When we stepped on to the sand, the tide was going out.

I picked up Cholly and followed Morva along that familiar shelf of
rock, splashing through puddles, till we reached the place where we'd
first met. I set Cholly down on his knees next to a shallow rock pool,
safely away from the drop to the sea.

I was freezing. The wind whipped spray on my face. But in a strange
way, I was happy. We felt like a family, for once. I put my arm around
Morva and held her close.

A little later, she pulled a pack of Super Kings out of her pocket and
offered me one. I'd long given up smoking, but I took one for old
time's sake. Morva lit the fags with a match cupped in her hand. After
we'd smoked the cigarettes, she stood up and took off her
waterproof.

"I'm going in," she said.

"Don't be daft," I said.

Cholly stopped splashing his hand in the rock pool and watched
her.
Morva stripped to her underwear. Her skin was glossy and brown, as it
always was. It had never known a goose pimple.

She eased the hood of my parka down and kissed me on the mouth, and the
old stirring ran through my body. She was worth a thousand Lisas, I saw
that now.

She slid away from me and walked quickly down the stepped rock in front
of us into the sea, till her head was rising and falling with the
swell. She swam out on her back beyond the waves, kicking with her
feet. Then she dived underwater. For a long time I didn't see her. I
glanced at Cholly. He was looking into his rock pool. When Morva came
up again she was far far out. She waved, and then I lost her. I didn't
see her again.

For a moment it didn't register. Morva could stay underwater for
minutes on end. She might be playing a trick. I kept expecting her head
to pop up just below my feet, as it had done that first day. Then
suddenly, in my bones, I knew she'd gone for good.

My eyes filled with tears. I put my head in my hands and my body shook.
When I looked up again she still wasn't there. I looked to my right.
Cholly's striped woollen hat was lying next to the rock pool.

"Cholly? Cholly!" I stood up and roared. "Cholly!"

I glanced wildly around me. Where the hell was Cholly? I stepped to the
edge of the rock and looked into the water. No Cholly. No sign of
Cholly. I stared at the sea for ten minutes, twenty. A decision formed
inside me. I'd throw myself in too. What else to do? I was responsible
for everything.

I didn't have the guts to do it straight away. I moved back up the rock
when the tide came in, and moved down the rock when the tide went out.
I was still there long after dark.

*

"Ga!"

I jumped up. I looked down into the blackness.

"Cholly?"

Was I going mad? I thought I'd heard Cholly.

"Cholly?"

There was a pale shape bobbing up and down on the waves. I waded down
the steps of the rock and swam out into the icy water, and within a few
strokes I had my darling Cholly in my arms. As I carried him up the
rock he was giggling. I slipped him inside my jacket. He felt warm,
almost hot.

In the car park, I did what I should have done hours before. I phoned
the police.
It was three days before the rescue services gave up the search.

*

In the pocket of Morva's jeans I found a note.

"No human mother leaves her child," it said. "Now I know I am inhuman.
I want Cholly to be human. This is the only way. I'll love you both for
ever. Morva."

*

"It's not as strange as it seems," Jody said when we were playing pool
in the pub. "We all came from the water once, you know. The whole human
race."

"Yeah, millions of years ago."

"Quite recently, actually."

"But we've evolved."

"Evolution doesn't always go forward," Jody said. "I mean, wouldn't we
be better off if we could still breathe under water?"

"I haven't thought about it."

"For a start, half of us could live in the sea. The world would be less
crowded."

Jody had been on the Guinness all evening. I took no notice of him, vet
or no vet.

*

In the months that followed, I often drove down to Kynance Cove on my
own, and sat on our rock, looking out, thinking of the past. Sometimes
a seal swam by, its black head half out of the water. For a second I'd
think it was Morva, and memories of her unswerving love would flood my
heart.

I'd had no other lover since she'd gone, not even Lisa. I knew I'd
never love again.

*

Four years after Morva's going, when Cholly was already at Junior
School, I received a phone call from Tom Vean, the police sergeant
who'd liaised with me at the time of the searches.

"Hello, Phil, mate," he said. "You'd better get down to Porthleven.
They've found your wife."

I dropped Cholly off with Tamsin Cuke. Adrian drove me to Porthleven in
his Porsche.

I identified Morva straight away. Her body was as smooth and brown as
ever. For a moment I thought she might wake up, the way she used to
wake up in the bath, and sit, and let me hold her. I kissed her gently.
I tasted salt on my lips.

Tom led me away by the arm.

*

Later, in the Ship Inn, he introduced me to a weather-beaten fisherman
called Jason Garmoe.

"We was a good four hundred miles out, Mr Reid," Garmoe said. "And we
pulled up the nets, and there she was, among all the fish."

"I've never heard anything like it," Tom said.

"I know, it do seem crazy, Tom."

Garmoe left Tom at the bar and drew Adrian and me aside.

"I'd better tell ee. She were still alive when we drew her in."

"You're joking?"

"No word of a lie, she were breathing. But not normal. Like a fish,
know what I mean? Gulping. We wrapped her up in a blanket and took her
down below and got a fire on. And then she did die, about an hour
later."

"Was she in pain?"

"Oh no, not in pain. Peaceful she was. They always is."

"Tom says she must have fallen from a boat," Adrian said.

"Ah, that's what we told him, see. What we told him. We dun't want no
nonsense on the news and that."

"No?"

"Oh no. I recognized your wife straight away, Mr Reid. We all said at
the time, we knows what's going on there. We knows what's going on
there."

"What d'you mean, going on?"

Garmoe lowered his voice further.

"Look, she's not the first we found. Ask any hand in Porthleven.
Normally we, like, gives em a quiet sea-burial, and no one's the wiser.
Fishermen can't be messing about with post-mortems and enquiries every
time we finds one. We got a job to do."

"She's not the first, you say?"

"Not by any means. But we brought Morva back because we knowed about
her. I seen picture in the paper, to be honest. No, I'll tell ee summat
I don't think ee know. Your wife, she was a selkie."

"A selkie?"

"A selkie wife, we calls em. That's what married you."

"Is that, is that a good thing?"

"Tis a very good thing, but tis a bad thing too. They say selkie comes
ashore to save a life, but then she must die.