Selkie

While I’m waiting to get stuck into my second round of edits and haul myself back to the shopping centre at the end of the world, I’ve been treating myself to a burst of my WIP. It’s romantic and slightly fantastic and I’m loving writing it. I’m up to 22,000 words, and this is the last bit I’ve written. Thought I’d post it because it’s mine, and I can.

The painting, by Franciszek Zmurko is a favourite of mine.

“Hiya! Will you slow down so a poor crippled lad can catch up with you?”
Ronan’s voice was infectiously cheery and dragged me out of my misery. For a second I lit up. He must have seen it because he beamed back at me. But it was only for a second. I couldn’t have Ronan. I belonged to Aidan—he has proved that to me. The smile faltered, too difficult to hold, and Ronan’s grin too faded. He moved closer, walking in step with me, his arm touching mine.
“What’s up?” he asked. “You look as sick as a plane to Lourdes!”
I tried to smile, but I wanted to cry. My lips trembled and I clamped my mouth tight to stop the sob leaking out. He knew though, and put his arm around me. “Hey,” he whispered. “Don’t be after embarrassing the both of us in the street.”
We walked quickly—me with my eyes fixed on the pavement, Ronan probably watching me. I was certain I could feel his gaze boring into the side of my head.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”
“When you have me to walk you to the bus?” Ronan feigned astonishment.
I lay my head briefly on his shoulder. “I’m not sorry about you…”
“Tara,” he said, a hesitation in his voice, “…would you come out with me?”
“What d’you mean? I already go out with you.”
“I mean, can I take you away somewhere? Just the two of us? Just for the day?”
I smiled to myself, allowing myself the luxury of imagining Ronan and me by the sea, lying in the sand, dancing our wild dances among the waves.
“It’s February,” I said finally. “Where do you want to go in February?”
“I can borrow a car,” he said and I stared at him, unpleasant memories drowning the idyllic picture of Ronan taking me in his arms in an underwater embrace. “It’s half term next week. We could go to the coast. I know a place. There’ll be nobody there at this time of year.”
“Too bloody cold, that’s why!” I said, venting some of my anger with myself on Ronan.
“We don’t feel the cold though, you and me.”
“How do you work that one out?”
“We’re special,” he said, with that daft grin. “We’re sea people.”
I laughed, and the feeling of despondency lifted. When I was with Ronan it seemed possible to believe in a future that did not involve Aidan’s oppressive presence.
“I don’t feel special,” I said. “Unless you count specially stupid.”
He kissed the top of my head, so quickly and lightly I hardly felt it, like the brush of his body against mine when we swam together.
“Well you are. You’ll see. Soon.”