A better one.
Leaning forward until her forehead touched the sand, Martha sat there, furled like a fern leaf, with her hands over her ears. She rubbed her fingertips into her hair as she let her tears flow. When she cried out loud, her sobs echoed inside the cave and it sounded like a dragon roaring.
Sometime later, Martha sat up straight, unsure if she’d fallen asleep or not. The cave had grown dark and she blinked, trying to adjust her eyes. He back was stiff and she felt something lap, wet, against her outer thigh. Raising her head, she watched a stream of water, snakelike on the floor of the cave, trickling toward her. Her eyes followed the silvery trail, along and upwards, to where it spilled down the rocks, a slim waterfall.
She got to her feet, not being able to feel them. After stamping away the numbness, she stepped over the water and made her way back toward the slit in the rocks. A sense of foreboding hummed inside her, as she grew closer and saw what was happening.
The tide was coming in.
She immediately reached up and grabbed onto the rocks. Struggling to find a foothold, she managed to wrench herself up and across to the edge of the slit. Straining her neck, she peered through to the other side.
And she gave a sharp intake of breath.
Instead of the familiar igloo-like room of the cave, empty with a sandy floor, it was now half-full of water. The sea sloshed around inside it.
Martha inched back. She tried not to think of the horrors of her recurring dream of being surrounded by the sea, but her heart beat so fast she thought she might faint.
Think, Martha, think.
She tried to estimate the depth of the water in the cave. If she was lucky, she could wade out. If she was unlucky, then she’d have to swim.
As the quicksilver waves crashed and glided away, her stomach churned with fear. She imagined the Sandshift Seven, their noses and mouths thick with salt water as they pawed at the water.
She spotted her and Joe’s initials, white against the dark wall. He had stood on his tiptoes to scratch them there. The sea almost touched the bottom of the letters.
Martha knew that her only way out was to get into the water.
She jutted out her chin, ready for action, then hurriedly took off her shoes. Her coat felt heavy as she tugged it off, and she delved a hand into its pocket. When she pulled out her Wonder Woman notepad, the cartoon superhero grinned at her with a scarlet smirk. She reminded Martha of the life she’d chosen, to be of service to others.
Letting out a frustrated cry, she flung the notepad with all her might. Wonder Woman and her lasso spun through the air. The pad hung in the air for a moment before splashing into the sea.
Martha placed her coat and shoes high above her head, on a shelf in the rocks. Tears streamed down her face as she tentatively lowered her foot into the water. The sea slapped against her toes, then her calf and knee. She held on to the rocks, wincing at the coldness, before she let herself go.
She crashed into the water and felt the sea maul at her clothes.
She pointed her feet into tiptoes, to try to reach the bottom, but couldn’t feel anything beneath her. The white surf surged and when Martha managed to swim her way out of the cave, she was met with a frightening sight. Miles of sea stretched in front of her.
She didn’t see a wave coming at her, its grayness bubbling and rearing up. There was a roar, then a few moments of silence, as it broke then crashed over her head. It raked her hair with its icy fingers and pulled her under.
Martha resurfaced. She coughed, spluttered and shook her head. Disorientated, she tried to get her bearings. But another wave engulfed her, causing her to flounder in its midst. Sea salt stung her eyes and she watched as her notepad bobbed on the waves, a few meters away.
Retrieving it suddenly felt like the most important thing in her world. She had been okay when she had her tasks to focus on. She had a purpose, an anchor. And now that was gone. She’d tried to make changes to her life and they hadn’t worked.
I just want my old life back.
She reached out for the notepad, but her effort felt feeble and the sea took the pad farther away. Martha watched as it bobbed and swirled into the distance, and she reluctantly let it go.
She now had to focus on trying to swim towards the mermaid statue. But the water had its own agenda. A riptide pulled her in the opposite direction, out towards the jut of rocks and the lighthouse.
A wave came at her with the force of a brick wall falling down, so she no longer knew which direction she was facing. The sea tried to suck her under and tears burst, fearfully, from her eyes.
She tried to call for help but each time she opened her mouth, the sea gushed down her throat. It expanded in her mouth like dough. She tried to wave, but her hand splashed weakly against the tide.
Beginning to lose her fight and strength, Martha closed her eyes. Zelda appeared in her head, with her gappy smile and kind eyes. She half sobbed and half retched at this image of her nana.
She’d expected Zelda to save her from life. To be her fairy godmother again. And now she had no one.
She imagined the sailors from the Pegasus below her, on the sea bed, staring up at her kicking feet. Their blue hands might reach up and pull her toward them. Daniel could be down there, waiting for her.
The thought took hold and stuck in her brain.
Would it be so bad, to join him under the waves?
Perhaps it’s best to stop fighting.
Would anyone even care?
Martha let her kicks dwindle, allowing herself to be at the mercy of the sea. She no longer tried to swim.
She felt herself sink. The water covered her ears then the top of her head, welcoming her to its darkness.
It was calmer under the surface, her ears plugged. Martha’s skirt floated up around her body like large petals on a flower, closing when daylight ends. A strange feeling of peace engulfed her and she readied herself for her feet to touch the bottom. She opened her eyes and looked up, to say goodbye to the sky.
A dark shape on the surface moved over her, like a shark, obscuring her view. She saw a shadow moving down, reaching for her. Something fastened tight around her wrist.
She tried to wriggle, to remove it, but it remained firm.
The something pulled at her arm with such force that Martha yelped and water flooded her mouth again. She gagged and felt her body tug upwards, until the top of her head broke the surface. Yellow light blared in her eyes as a beam from the lighthouse swept over her. She tried to shake the thing from her wrist but it tightened even further.
Arms crushed around her back and she didn’t fight them. Her cheeks scraped against wood, and then her chest and stomach, as she was lifted out of the sea. She saw a person, a beard and woolen hat in silhouette. Moonlight reflected in a set of determined eyes.
Then Martha felt her body and the back of her head hit against the deck of a boat.
And the last thing she saw was the moon in the navy sky, shining like a silver bottle top. Like a giant’s waistcoat button.
34
Lighthouse
When Martha next opened her eyes, she saw black-and-white checkered linoleum in close-up. She was surrounded by pale-blue kitchen units and her forehead was pressed against a table leg. She heard a door slam and saw boots and a man standing over her. His coat almost reached his ankles.
Siegfried.
She watched as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Martha tried to move her limbs, but her clothes were wet and heavy, pinning her down. A large puddle of water encircled her and she instinctively tried to mop it up using her hands. “Sorry,” she spluttered. “I’m making a mess of your floor.”