The caves were his thing. Whenever we visited them, Mum would stay behind and have a little nap, whereas Dad would leap at the chance to clamber about the caverns and give us talks on rock formation. “Look,” he’d say every year, his glasses gleaming with enthusiasm in the dim subterranean light. “This rock is a thousand years old. Nearly as old as me!”
Every year we took the same cheesy picture of ourselves grinning self-consciously in the Rainbow Cave, our favorite of the caverns. I searched out those photos last night and scrolled through, watching the gradual unfolding of time. Dad looks the same enthusiastic, slightly goofy dad every year, barely aging beyond a thinning of the hair. But Kirsten and I transform, year by year. In the first photo, I’m a toddler; I only reach Dad’s knees. By the age of twelve I’m up to his shoulder.
I’d be up to his ears now, almost eye to eye. And he’d be gray. He never went gray. He’s eternally forty-six.
A tear runs down my cheek, and in embarrassment I wipe it away. I’m hoping Finn won’t notice, but he must be more aware than he lets on, because he asks quietly, “Are you OK?”
“It’s just my dad used to bring us here every year. When he was alive. I was remembering.” I force a smile. “It’s fine.”
The taxi pulls up and I busy myself with finding cash—we’re going strictly half-and-half on the fare. By the time we’re both standing on the street, I’ve got my composure back, but Finn is surveying me in consternation.
“Have you just been through—” He stops himself. “I don’t want to pry, but are you here because you’re grieving?”
“No, Dad died years ago. I’m here because of … something else.” There’s a long beat of silence, and for a moment I consider leaving it there. But I have a weird compulsion to confide in him. Finn’s seen my messed-up lodge; he knows something’s up—he might as well know the whole story. “I had a flip-out at work,” I explain, avoiding his eye. “I was quite stressed. It all got a bit much, and … Anyway. The doctor signed me off. I needed some time out. So …” I spread my arms around. “Came here.”
“Huh,” says Finn after a pause. “Me too. I had a kind of meltdown at the office—” He stops dead. “Oh, right, you heard.”
“Look, I want to say sorry about that,” I say guiltily. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I came across you in the dunes, and I … I heard you before I could help myself.”
It’s a white lie. I could have crept away the minute I realized I was hearing something confidential, and he must know that. But he doesn’t call me out on it.
“The sand dunes were a pretty stupid place to dictate emails,” he says with a wry smile.
“I don’t know anyone else who dictates emails,” I say honestly, and his smile broadens.
“I do it when I’m stuck for words. I was particularly stuck for words right then.” He shrugs. “Anyway, what I did at work is no secret. If you embarrass yourself at the office, everyone’s going to know about it in a heartbeat.”
“God, yes. I’m sure everyone’s talking about me at my company. What I did was …” I lift my hands to my face. “Mortifying.”
“I’m sure you didn’t embarrass yourself as much as I did,” Finn counters.
“Believe me, I did, a million times more.” I half-smile, half-wince. The memory of running down the street, away from Joanne, drenches my whole body with embarrassment. What was I thinking? Why didn’t I just stop and talk calmly? Already I feel like I have more perspective. “Anyway.” I draw breath. “We should go in. They’ll be waiting for us.”
We both turn to survey the entrance to the caves, which is marked by a big faded wooden sign reading, Stenbottom Caves, Café and Gift Shop, Ice Creams, Treats! It’s the same sign they had when I was a child.
“Have you been here recently?” I ask Finn.
“Not for many years.”
“Me neither. I’m sure it’s different now.”
But as soon as we get inside, I realize it’s not different. It’s exactly the same as it ever was. The same wooden ticket booth, the same stone floor, the same chilly air. Behind the ticket booth is a guy with red hair and an eager expression, who springs to life as he sees Finn and me entering.
“Welcome to Stenbottom Caves!” he exclaims. “Save Our Caves!”
“Save Our Caves!” echoes a tiny voice beside him, and I blink as I notice a second figure—a woman with a thin face and a mass of dark curly hair, lurking shyly behind him.
“I’m Neil Reeves, manager of the caves,” carries on the man, “and this is Tessa Connolly, assistant manager, and we would like to welcome you warmly to your Magical Sound and Illumination Experience, which we hope will be a transcendent experience for you both.”
“Thank you!” I say, slightly bowled over by his enthusiasm.
“Connolly,” says Finn, frowning thoughtfully. “Any relation to Terry Connolly?”
“Tessa is Terry’s daughter,” says Neil. “Aren’t you, Tessa? She’s shy,” he adds. “Needs to come out of herself. Tessa, step out of the shadows! Say hello!”
I feel a pang of sympathy for Tessa, who reluctantly shuffles sideways, into the light, and pushes some hair off her face.
“Terry’s my dad,” she allows.
“We were wondering, is he still around?” asks Finn. “He taught us both surfing. I’m Finn Birchall and this is Sasha Worth, and we both have really fond memories of your dad.” He glances at me and I nod.
“Really fond,” I say. “He was such an inspiring teacher.”
“Terry was the best,” chimes in Neil. “Taught me to surf too. Taught us all to surf.”
“Dad’s doing well,” says Tessa, in such a timid voice that I can barely make out the words. “Considering.”
“Considering what?” asks Finn.
“He’s not himself,” says Tessa, looking anxious. “He’s not … how you would remember him.”
“Hasn’t been well, Terry hasn’t,” puts in Neil soberly. “Not these last … three years, is it?” He glances at Tessa, who nods, her face tight, as though this whole conversation is a misery for her.
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Finn looks dismayed. “Please send him our love. We were saying earlier what an awesome teacher he was. Awesome person.”
“Thank you,” Tessa says. “I’ll tell him. Thank you.” Her face has become rigid as we’ve been talking, and her hands are twisting together, I notice.
“Tessa love, why not get us both a coffee?” says Neil, and Tessa disappears at once into the back room.
“Sorry,” I say. “Did we upset her? We had no idea about Terry being ill.”
“Don’t worry. She just gets a bit shy, Tessa does,” says Neil confidingly. “Freezes up. She wants to take a management qualification, but whenever she sees the customers, she goes silent or hides. It’s a bit of a challenge.…” He looks momentarily troubled, then brightens. “Anyway, we’ll get there! And luckily, I don’t mind chatting to the punters. In fact, you can’t shut me up!” He passes two tickets across the wooden booth. “You’ll want to get going on your tour. Two Magical Sound and Illumination Experiences coming up. Hard hats to your left, earphones included.”
“Earphones!” I say, impressed. “There never used to be earphones.”
“Ah, well, that’s the upgrade, isn’t it?” says Neil proudly. “That’s the sound.”
“What about the magical illumination?” asks Finn.
“Is there a light show?” I ask, starting to feel excited.
“Very much so!” Neil nods. “Self-automated light show. Pick up a torch from the basket and shine it around the ancient rocky caverns for a magical spectacle!”
Finn and I exchange glances.
“Is that an upgrade?” asks Finn. “Didn’t you always used to get a torch?”
“The torches have been upgraded,” says Neil without flickering. “Long-life batteries. Hardly ever run out anymore.”
“Gotcha,” says Finn, his mouth twitching. “Sounds excellent.” He glances at me. “Shall we?”
Two minutes later, Finn and I are descending the steep stone steps into the caverns, both in hard hats and carrying torches. My earphones are playing a kind of eighties synthesizer music, and as we reach the bottom of the staircase, a voice intones in my ears.