Chapters (29)
I looked down at the creature in Amy’s hands. ‘OK. Do we just throw it?’
‘Try and put it in gently, or it’ll get stunned and a seagull will swoop on it.’
I looked up and there were already two circling above us.
‘Give me a hand, Paul.’
I came over and we held the fish together.
‘Do it when the tide’s going back,’ Mike said.
A wave came in and we came too close to it; the water went into my shoes and socks.
‘Fuck it,’ we said, and stepped out further into the freezing water.
‘Now,’ said Amy, and we let the fish slip out of our hands. We looked up at the seagulls and waved our hands. Wah! Wah! Fuck off, you beasts! And then we looked back to the water, looking for the flash of silver, imagining we could see it, and that we knew what it was like to be out there, untethered, without the pull of the line; the freedom we would never be sure we wanted.
Amy put her hands on her stomach. ‘Let’s go home and get warm.’
We said goodbye to Mike. ‘It was nice knowing you,’ he said.
‘We’ll still come home,’ I said. ‘We’ll see you again.’
‘Well,’ he said. ‘I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when the tide’s up, seeing what gets washed in.’
He faced back to the water, and checked his rod. We turned and headed up over the shingle back to the prom. On the way I picked up the dead seagull by the feet and bagged it, left it by a bin, and Amy and I walked back to the house together listening to the waves, and looking out to the lights on the water, the homing points the small boats used to find the channel into harbour.
We could call it home for now. It would be home until we left it behind.