Sea of Memories (Page 39)
Ella shook her head. ‘No. If anything, I’m more determined than ever. There is so much for me here – a life with Christophe, the possibility of happiness, freedom too. I have none of that back home in Edinburgh.’
‘I know it’s hard, Ella. But think of your children. What is going to happen to them?’
‘I’ll keep them here. You’ve said yourself how happy and well they look now. I know it’ll be a big adjustment for them, but they’ll adapt. Children do.’
‘But Angus? Rhona, especially, will never forgive you. She talks about her daddy constantly. It will be a terrible wrench for her.’
‘Angus should have thought of that before he embarked on his affair,’ Ella retorted angrily, seared by guilt which she tried to block out. ‘He is the one who initiated all this. He is as much responsible for the outcome as I am.’ She brushed away furious tears that suddenly blurred her vision as she watched the two small figures at the water’s edge, heads bent over their latest find.
‘Two wrongs don’t make a right. You know that, Ella.’ Caroline’s voice was gentle, carefully non-judgemental. ‘But Angus won’t give up his children without a fight. Are you prepared to lose them? Because it may come to that. If you choose to leave your marriage, the court may rule that the children must stay with their father. And you have only experienced the Île de Ré in the summer. It’s entirely different in wintertime when the Atlantic gales lash the island. What about schooling for your children? What if Robbie needs more medical attention sometime? All of these questions will be taken into account when some judge is deciding which of you gets to keep Rhona and Robbie. It will tear you apart, Ella. It will tear them apart.’
‘No. You’re wrong, Caroline. People make their lives here, children grow up here. We can too. I know it will be painful for a while, but when Angus sees how strong Robbie has grown, how well they are both looking, he will have to admit this is the best place for them.’ She held up a hand to silence Caroline’s next objection. ‘Please. Don’t make this harder than it already is. I need you to help me through it, not to try to talk me out of it.’
Ella stood up and dusted the sand from her skirt. She walked away, up the beach towards the children.
Christophe arrived the next morning and scooped them all into the car. ‘Come on. I’m taking you to one of the wilder beaches today. It’s a beach I want to paint. There are some good waves there.’ He pulled a sun-umbrella and a heavy wooden surfboard down from the rafters of the shed. ‘Let’s take this with us.’
‘Ripping! Is it yours?’ Robbie asked.
‘No, it belongs to an American friend. I’m storing it for him while he’s in Paris.’
‘Can you stand up on it?’
Christophe laughed. ‘No, Robbie, not with my bad leg. But I’ll teach you how to body surf if you like, it’s really good fun. And then, if you get tired of jumping in the big waves, you can float on it instead.’
They drove along the south side of the island, then turned down a sandy track, leading to a stretch of golden sand which followed a straight course for a mile or so before curving into a point like a fish-hook in the distance. Breakers washed ashore in a tumble of foam.
‘The trick to this beach,’ Christophe explained to the children, ‘is to understand its shape. If we stay up at this end, where the waves are white, we’ll be fine. This is where it’s shallower. But be careful, because the water gets deeper suddenly, just there, you see, where the waves are still travelling in, unbroken. That’s where the channel is.’
‘Are you sure it’s safe?’ Rhona asked, anxious.
‘Don’t worry, darling, Christophe wouldn’t bring you anywhere that wasn’t.’
‘You’ll be fine, Rhona. The tide is coming in at the moment so it’s perfectly safe. And I’ll be with you in the water all the time.’
Soon they were splashing happily, jumping in the waves and whooping as they soared towards the beach on the surfboard.
Ella came out of the water first, shivering despite the heat of the sun. The Atlantic was bracing, to say the least, but she warmed up again quickly, sitting on her beach towel and basking like a seal. Completely waterlogged, Rhona came running to find her own towel. ‘It’s so much fun, Mummy,’ she gasped, breathless with exhilaration. ‘I’m going to go back in!’
‘Alright. But tell Christophe and Robbie ten more minutes and then it’s time for lunch.’
They were all starving and devoured the baguettes that Christophe had brought. Juice ran down their chins from the peaches he pulled out of a paper bag for afters.
‘Can we go back in? Can we, Mummy?’ Robbie was impatient to get back to the water.
‘No. We need to let our lunch go down for at least an hour. You know that, Robbie. Have a snooze. Or go and look for some more shells to add to your collection.’
Annoyed, he curled up in his towel. Five minutes later he was asleep, and Ella carefully repositioned the sun-umbrella to protect his face from the sun. Sleepy with food and sunshine and worn out by the churning power of the sea, Rhona lay down too.
‘This is how it will be,’ Ella thought. ‘Days like this, the four of us, perfectly content.’ She smiled at Christophe and then curled up next to her children.
He bent down close to her. ‘I’m going to head over that way to sketch.’ She nodded, already drowsy. ‘Back soon.’
It was Rhona’s scream that woke Ella.
In a split second she was up and running, racing to the water’s edge. Beyond the white water, Robbie was just visible. He was lying on the surfboard, trying desperately to turn it back to shore. But the tide had turned whilst they slept and a strong rip current had seized him in its grip and was carrying him out to sea.
Without stopping to think, Ella plunged into the water. Dimly, from far off, she could hear shouting voices, Christophe’s amongst them. But all she could see was her son, his new-found strength ebbing from him fast as he struggled against the power of the sea.
She felt the water seize her, the current in the channel sweeping her out. But she didn’t care, it was carrying her to Robbie. She had to reach him before he fell off the board and the waves claimed him. She swam strongly, not fighting against the rip but using its power.
She reached the surfboard. ‘Hold on tight, Robbie. I’ve got you now. But you have to stay on the board, alright?’ He nodded, his face white with exhaustion and panic beneath his tan. She held the back of the board and tried to kick, to turn them out of the current. But the surfboard tilted sickeningly, the rip refusing to relinquish its grip, and Robbie screamed as he nearly fell into the water. Choppy waves washed over her head and she swallowed salt water, choking and gasping as she turned the board back into line with the flow. She glanced back over one shoulder. They were far out now, the figures on the beach receding rapidly. She hoped Christophe had got Rhona, making sure she wouldn’t try to swim out after them.
She clung desperately to the end of the board, trying to tread water so that she wouldn’t weigh it down and make Robbie slide off. Suddenly she realised she couldn’t feel her legs. The icy waters out this deep were sucking the warmth from her body, draining her.
She tried again to turn the board out of the current, but again it tipped. There was nothing for it but to let the rip carry them out even further. She just had to hope it would eventually slacken off enough to allow her to turn the board. But would she have the energy to steer them back to shore when it did?
She clung on. ‘Please, God.’ The thought was loud in her head. Louder even than the roar of the wind and the slap of the waves. ‘Please, God, don’t let him die.’ As the current swept them onwards, a feeling of calm crept over her, the numbness seeping upwards from her limbs into her brain.
And, suddenly, she saw it all so clearly. Like the current, her plan to stay on the island was a terrible, destructive force. One that would carry them far from the life they had known; one that would sweep them all away.
It was madness.
She would lose her children.
She would wreck their lives. And how could her own remain undamaged therefore? She would drown, and she would carry Angus and Robbie and Rhona, and Christophe too, down with her.
As she and her fragile son were swept ever onwards, she began to bargain with a god that she wasn’t even sure she believed in. ‘Please, God. Let us live. I’ll go back. I promise. I won’t stay on the island. Just let us live.’ Her fingers were numb now and she felt her hands beginning to slip from the board, unable to grip.
‘Mummy?’ At the sound of Robbie’s voice, weakening now, a surge of strength jolted through her, a sudden heat flooding her veins like quicksilver.
‘Hold on as tight as you can, Robbie.’ She kicked out, with every ounce of strength that remained. And the board turned, slowly, ponderously, as the current relinquished its grip. Up ahead, miraculously, she saw the spit of sand, like the tip of a fish-hook, that projected from the beach. Christophe was running and hobbling along it, waving to attract her attention, calling her in. And then he splashed into the breaking waves himself and swam out to them, catching Robbie as he slipped from the board.