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Chapters (86)
  1. Title Page
  2. CONTENTS
  3. Love
  4. Before
  5. One
  6. ONE
  7. Two
  8. TWO
  9. Three
  10. THREE
  11. Four
  12. FOUR
  13. Five
  14. FIVE
  15. Six
  16. SIX
  17. Seven
  18. SEVEN
  19. Eight
  20. EIGHT
  21. Nine
  22. NINE
  23. Ten
  24. TEN
  25. Eleven
  26. ELEVEN
  27. After
  28. One
  29. ONE
  30. Two
  31. TWO
  32. Three
  33. THREE
  34. Four
  35. FOUR
  36. Five
  37. FIVE
  38. Six
  39. SIX
  40. Seven
  41. SEVEN
  42. Eight
  43. EIGHT
  44. Nine
  45. NINE
  46. Ten
  47. TEN
  48. Eleven
  49. ELEVEN
  50. Twelve
  51. TWELVE
  52. Thirteen
  53. THIRTEEN
  54. Fourteen
  55. FOURTEEN
  56. Fifteen
  57. FIFTEEN
  58. Sixteen
  59. SIXTEEN
  60. Seventeen
  61. SEVENTEEN
  62. Eighteen
  63. EIGHTEEN
  64. Nineteen
  65. NINETEEN
  66. Twenty
  67. TWENTY
  68. Twenty-One
  69. TWENTY-ONE
  70. Twenty-Two
  71. TWENTY-TWO
  72. Twenty-Three
  73. TWENTY-THREE
  74. Twenty-Four
  75. TWENTY-FOUR
  76. Twenty-Five
  77. TWENTY-FIVE
  78. Twenty-Six
  79. TWENTY-SIX
  80. Twenty-Seven
  81. TWENTY-SEVEN
  82. Twenty-Eight
  83. TWENTY-EIGHT
  84. Eleven Months Later
  85. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  86. Copyright

The pebbles are more slippery than I expected. I don’t think she did, either, because she loses her balance and I catch her by the elbow before she falls, arse first, into the water. She laughs wildly as I do, stopping for a moment to catch her breath, letting me know when she’s ready to take another step forward. We’re more careful this time, the water lapping around our ankles now as we stop, regain our balance then keep going. Step. Stop. Step. Stop. Step. Stop. Until the water is up to our knees and she’s shivering, her mouth open so wide that I can see the pink of her tongue.

This is probably far enough, but she looks so happy, looking out at the sea like she’s found a secret room in her house, a door that opens up to a grand ballroom she didn’t know was there. Because how can it be? It’s the same sea she grew up with. The same sea she looked out of her bedroom window at when she was a kid, watching the boats go by. The same sea she must gaze out on every day, from her window at Roedean, watching it go from blue to bluer to black, until it’s hard to see where it ends and the sky begins. The sea she’s swum in so many times, but much like how the sky is a different colour at 4 a.m., now she knows that the sea at 4 a.m. is completely different.

Something not everyone knows about.

Now she does.

We take a few more steps and I feel a bit steadier, wondering how much further the pebbles go out, if we can walk for miles and miles – walk all the way to France, like her grandmother did – and they’ll always be there. But just as I think it, I feel them begin to slope down – down, down – until it becomes harder for my toes to find them. Then they’re gone and I start kicking wildly, the water whipping up around me.

‘Ash,’ Poppy says softly. ‘It’s OK.’

It’s not.

It’s in my eyes.

My mouth.

But then she’s there, her arms around my waist and her chest to mine. The water is up to my chin now and I tip my head back before it swallows me up.

‘Don’t,’ she says, a hand cupping the back of my head to bring it back up. ‘Just stay still.’

But I can’t.

I can feel the water circling my neck.

‘It’s OK,’ she says again. ‘It’s OK. It’s salt water. You’ll float.’

No.

It’s devouring me, I can feel it.

‘I’m going to let go now, Ash.’

‘No!’ I gasp, kicking as hard as I can.