Page 45 of The Love Game
‘Are you warm enough?’
Violet bumped shoulders with Cal sitting alongside her on the sea wall. It was a cooler day than of late, overcast and grey.
‘I’m fine Cal. When are you going to stop worrying about me?’
It had been two weeks since the fire, two long, exhausting weeks.
Vi had spent most of the first one in hospital being attended to by a constant carousel of visitors: Cal, her parents, Cal, Keris and Barty, Cal, Lucy and Beau, Gladys even, and Cal, always Cal.
The haunted look had slowly left his eyes as she’d gathered her strength back and the doctors had confirmed no lasting damage to either Vi or their baby.
Della had finally returned to Swallow Beach too; her parents were staying in the Lido apartment.
Violet was staying across the landing with Cal, mostly because he couldn’t settle unless she was within arm’s length.
‘Probably never,’ he said, picking her hand up and playing with her fingers.
Violet gazed out to sea, at the blackened shell of the birdcage strung out at sea, its windows shattered by the heat, cut off now the central section of the pier had fallen into the sea.
It made for an eerie sight, iron struts standing tall of the water like the masts of a sinking ship, a terrifying reminder of the horror that had taken place there.
‘It’s still hard to believe it happened, isn’t it?’ she said, leaning into Cal. He put his arm around her, nodding.
‘Let’s just be relieved it wasn’t worse,’ he said. ‘No one died. Businesses can be started again, things can be rebuilt.’
‘Not that,’ Vi said, nodding towards the pier.
He shook his head. ‘No, not that.’ He paused. ‘Beau called earlier,’ he said. ‘They might come and see you later, if you feel like it.’
She nodded. Beau had quickly shot to the top of her all-time heroes’ list after what had happened on the pier, and it was clear Lucy and Charlie felt the same way.
‘I have something for you,’ Cal said, digging in his pocket. ‘Hold your hand out.’
She did as she was told, smiling quizzically as he laid something in her palm. She bit her lip, tearful as she looked down at the delicate shell bracelet in her hand, the slender ribbon of leather he’d made for her all those weeks ago.
‘Where did you get it?’ she said, touching the miraculously uncrushed shells, trying to remember.
‘Lola the headless showgirl. She washed up on the beach the morning after the fire,’ he said, laughing a little. ‘Gave everyone a fright.’
Ah. Of course. She’d put it around Lola’s wrist not long after Ursula returned to Swallow Beach. Cal’s estranged wife had blown out of the bay while Vi was in the hospital, only this time she’d left without Cal’s heart stowed carelessly in her hand luggage.
‘I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at the beach without feeling upset,’ Vi said. She’d sat for countless hours staring out of the windows of Cal’s apartment, trying to come to terms with what had happened out there.
Cal’s hand slid into her hair at the back of her neck, massaging.
‘You know what I see when I look at the beach?’ he said, pressing a kiss against her hair. ‘I see you. I see you and me together in the sea that night before everything went wrong. I’ll never forget the way you looked, you took my breath away.’
He kissed her then, a slow affirmation of the love between them.
Sometimes in the darkness of the middle of the night Vi questioned if it had all happened too quickly, if they’d fallen too soon, and then Cal held her and loved all of her fears and doubts away.
He was a good man; strong when she wasn’t, not afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve even when he’d had it broken.
What had happened on the pier that night had pressed fast-forward on their love affair; they’d both realised in the space of one fateful night that they belonged together, and that they were ready to welcome the fledgling new life they’d created into the world.
Sure, it was sooner than either of them might have chosen, but in a strange way, it felt entirely as it should be, that a child should come of their unforgettable, sea-drenched union.
Cal had waited in agonised fear on the night of the fire, first to know that Violet was safe, and then to hear if the child he’d learned of only hours before had survived the ordeal.
His bone-deep relief had been absolute and pure; he’d known beyond doubt that he wanted this woman, and he wanted this child.
Taking the bracelet from her fingers, he slipped it over her hand, back where it belonged.
‘There,’ he said, holding her close. ‘You’re part of Swallow Beach forever now, mermaid girl.’
Vi smiled softly, her eyes on the birdcage. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I am.’
Out at sea, the swallows gathered on the charred roof of the birdcage, just like always, and a pale shaft of sunlight passed through the broken windows into the shell of what would have been Vi’s studio.
If there truly was a curse on Swallow Beach Pier, it was lifted now.
A late summer breeze blew through the birdcage, scattering ashes across the painted boards, revealing the damaged remains of the rainbow Monica had painted there all those years ago.
Just one glittering, faded word remained.
Violet.