Cathy Kelly 3-Book Collection 1: Lessons in Heartbreak, Once in a Lifetime, Homecoming. Cathy KellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
there too.
But as she walked quickly through the sand, down to the damp swathe of the beach, she realised that the people weren’t looking desolately out to sea: they were looking at something in the water.
‘What is it, Claire?’ she asked a woman who lived several miles inland and who was often on the beach walking three black-and-white collies who danced around the surf in delight.
‘Hello, Anneliese,’ the woman said. The dogs were at her feet, whimpering because they wanted to keep walking and not stand. ‘It’s a whale, look. She’s come in too far and now she can’t seem to get out.’
‘Poor whale,’ said someone else, moving so that Anneliese could stand on the highest part and see for herself.
There, in the waters of Tamarin Bay, was a dark shape circling in slow, aimless arcs. It was huge, had to be, because they were easily half a mile away from the shape and it was easily visible. Just as Anneliese was wondering how anybody could tell for certain what the creature was, it moved gracefully up in the water, a gleaming mound of darkest, silky blue, and she could see that it was clearly some sort of whale.
A tall fountain of water sprayed up from the whale’s blowhole before the huge mammal sank back beneath the waters of the bay.
‘They rise when they’re in distress,’ said a voice, explaining. ‘She won’t know what to do.’
Anneliese hadn’t noticed the man before in the group of local people. He could be taken for a fisherman in his dark pants and bulky sweater, but she knew most of the fishermen and she’d never seen him before. He was tall and grizzled looking enough to be one of them, with a greying beard that matched thick, slightly too long, hair.
‘What should we do?’
‘I’m sorry to say, there’s not an awful lot we can do,’ he said.
‘But there must be!’ said Anneliese, furious at the resignation in his voice. Didn’t he care? That poor whale was like her: lost and alone, and now nobody wanted to help. It just wasn’t good enough. ‘Has anyone phoned the maritime wildlife people to tell them about her?’
‘That would be me,’ the strange man said. ‘I’m the local maritime expert. I’m living in Dolphin Cottage.’
Dolphin Cottage was less of a house and more of a barn, nestled among the sand dunes on Ballyvolane Strand, the next horseshoe-shaped bay up from Milsean. A squat wooden building, painted blue by man and washed beige by God, Dolphin House was one of the local houses that were permanently rented out.
‘I’m Mac,’ he added. ‘Mac Petersen.’
Anneliese glared at him, not taking the hand he held out. She’d done polite all her life: she wasn’t doing it any more.
‘And you can’t do anything to help?’ she snapped.
‘When whales become stranded in shallow harbours, they often die,’ he said, calmly ignoring her rudeness.
‘So this is it?’ Anneliese demanded, waving her arms to encompass the whole group. ‘Us standing around watching her die? That’s great. Well done Mr Marine Specialist.’
As she turned to see the whale’s dark shape move silently through the water again, Anneliese felt more empathy with the great creature than with any of the human beings around her. They knew nothing. Pain, loss, fear – they knew nothing about it. But the whale, circling in fear, she understood.
The man began to speak again but she didn’t want to hear.
Tears bit at the corners of her eyes as Anneliese stormed back up the beach.
She knew she’d lost it, but she was past caring. Bottling up her feelings had got her nowhere in life. She didn’t care enough about the world to hide who and what she was. Let the bloody world deal with it.
As she got in the door of the cottage, she caught the final ring of the telephone, before it clicked into answering machine mode. The message was still Edward’s voice, telling everyone that he and Anneliese were busy and couldn’t come to the phone, but to leave a message. Strangely, it was Edward’s own voice that came on the phone then, leaving her a message.
‘Anneliese, love – sorry, don’t know how to tell you this, but just had a phone call from Brendan and…I’m really sorry, darling, Lily’s in hospital, they think she had a stroke. She was sitting outside the church in town and they found her there this morning after Mass. Anyway, she’s in the hospital, they took her in by ambulance. Brendan’s on his way there now. I can’t go just yet, I have…’
He paused. ‘…something else to do, but I’ll drop in this afternoon, if that would be all right, if…’ he paused again. ‘If you wouldn’t mind me being there, I mean. Nell won’t be there, obviously, but I’d like to be there for Brendan and for you. OK, goodbye, Anneliese. Sorry to be bringing you such horrible news.’
The phone call ended. Anneliese stared at it for a moment, before rushing over and hitting one of the speed-dial buttons to ring Brendan’s number. Brendan Silver was Lily’s son-in-law, and Anneliese’s cousin, well, cousin-in-law, if such a thing existed. He was actually Edward’s cousin. A good, kind man, but not the sort of person you’d need in a crisis, and poor darling Lily was in a crisis. Anneliese felt her heart ache for her darling aunt. Lily mightn’t have been a blood relation to Anneliese, but she was one of the dearest people in her life. Strange how Lily – who had virtually raised her granddaughter, Izzie, when Izzie’s mother had died – seemed to understand how difficult life had been for Anneliese and Beth. Anneliese couldn’t imagine Lily ever suffering from panic attacks or depression. She was so calm, so serene, and yet she did understand. She’d been through the darkest thing a person could deal with: the death of her daughter, Alice. Lily understood darkness.
When Beth and Izzie were teenagers, Lily often stepped in and invited Beth to come and stay when Izzie was spending a few days with her. Anneliese hated the sleepover concept, but with Lily it was different: when Beth was in her house with her cousin, Anneliese could relax. The two girls were like chalk and cheese, mind you, and Izzie was three years older too, but they loved each other and got on well despite the squabbling. It was also a welcome distraction for Beth. Lily never said why she was doing it, nothing so bald as saying: ‘You’re clearly depressed, I’ll take your child off your hands.’
It had never been like that. But she had understood that Anneliese sometimes needed the space to recover, so she could get her life back on track again. Lily had been such a part of Anneliese’s life ever since she had first come to Tamarin, thirty-seven years ago, and now Lily needed her.
Brendan’s mobile phone was turned off, but she left a message anyway. ‘It’s Anneliese here, I’ve just heard about Lily, I’m on my way to the hospital. I’ll run by her house first and pick up some things for her.’
Anneliese grabbed a few things for herself first. Coins for the phone in the hospital, the plug for her mobile phone charger, a few of her tranquillity teabags, a big jumper and socks in case she had to stay overnight, her knitting and the spare keys Lily had given her years before for emergencies. Then she locked up, put her overnight bag in the car and drove off. In the distance she could still see the people standing on the high dunes, looking down into Tamarin Bay, and she thought of the whale circling aimlessly in the water, not knowing where she was or how to get out. Even with all the people watching her and all the ocean life teeming in the Atlantic out beyond Tamarin Bay, Anneliese knew the whale felt lost and alone in the world.
It had only been a week since Anneliese had last visited Lily’s house. So much had happened in that week. Edward had left her and now Lily herself lay in hospital. Anneliese felt the guilt again, guilt that she hadn’t gone out and talked to Lily about her and Edward splitting up. She just hadn’t been able to face it, to face the pain and pity in Lily’s beautiful old face.
‘Oh love, I’m so sorry for you. Is there anything I can do?’
Anneliese had known all the things Lily would say, and she was afraid