The Boatman's Wife(43)

Once we had settled into life in Maine, you told me you liked to keep it simple, too.

‘I get it, Lily,’ you said to me, the first night we moved into our house, gazing at a shimmering sunset over the Atlantic Ocean. ‘We don’t need to go anywhere.’

I did wonder sometimes why you never went back to Ireland, or suggested we went together, but it was never mentioned. Since I hate flying, I wasn’t going to bring it up. Did you resent me for it, Connor? Should I have pushed you to take me to where you grew up? I mean, you would have been there right beside me the whole way, holding my hand as the plane took off. You worked hard to get my parents to accept you as the man for me, and yet I never could do the same for you.

Back to our honeymoon, and after the terror of the long – oh, it felt so long – flight, we landed in paradise and it was all worth it. We were staying up on the northern shore of Oahu, in a resort called Turtle Bay and it felt like the most luxurious place I’d been in my entire life.

We couldn’t wait to get out onto our surfboards together.

‘This is where you and I belong,’ you said to me as we paddled out on our boards. We’d only been in Hawaii twenty-four hours and your skin was already turning golden brown, whereas I felt so pale compared to all those Hawaiian babes. But you only had eyes for me. I will never forget the pure joy, the liberation of riding those waves that day.

Lying on the boards with our eyes closed, we listened to the surf, the crash and drag of the sea. Feeling the aqua reflections of light on water dappling our skin. The salty taste in our mouths, loving it every time we went under. Opening our eyes to see the magical underwater kingdom beneath the surface. Fish flickering by, the sea garden swaying on the bed, so luscious and wild, and the sea turtles slowly paddling past. The awe we felt watching them, as if they could impart some deep mysticism to us. In the ocean, we didn’t feel human at all, but as if we belonged to another species, part mer.

Later, we rested on the beach, with the satisfied exhaustion of paddling, surfing and swimming underwater. At peace and at one, after we’d been spinning beneath the surface of the deep blue, staring into each other’s eyes, tiny bubbles pluming from our mouths. You fell asleep, and I counted the bridge of sun freckles on your nose, admired your lashes – so long for a man – and your tender lips. I leant over and kissed you, and you grabbed me by the waist and rolled me in the sand. You hadn’t been asleep at all, only pretending. We laughed, the two of us together, our bellies aching, as we pressed against each other.

In the dark, which descended early, we walked down the beach. The moon shone on the water, all the waves gentle now. We peeled off our clothes and waded in. Made love, tenderly, caressed by the soft tidal drag of water against our skin. The ocean was the beginning of our love, our marriage. But the ocean was also our end. Now I am frightened of the very place I always felt was mine. Because the ocean took you from me.

What were you hiding from me, Connor? Why were we never able to go back to your home and visit your grandmother, Rosemary? I hold the memory of my young, laughing, golden husband on his surfboard in Hawaii like an icon in my heart, but was that really who you were?

I remember the day after we went surfing, we took a hike into the rainforest. Let the trees close in around us, seduced by the colours and scents of all the huge luscious blooms. You wanted me to climb a small hill with you, helping me up the uneven ground when we neared the top. The view was incredible. Mist wafting through the treeline of the forest below us. The Pacific rolling into shore in the distance. We sat on a rock sharing a bottle of water, and you told me how you liked to climb mountains in Ireland.

You’d been so vague about your family back in Ireland coming to our wedding. I wondered if I should ask you about your grandmother, about your dead mother, and the father you’d always said you had no idea about – but I didn’t want to break the beauty of the moment.

I am arriving in a foreign land on a quest for truth, Connor. But did I even ever know who you were?





Lily fidgeted in the airline seat and looked out the window again. They hadn’t even taken off, and she was already a jumble of nerves. She took the packet of melatonin out of her bag. Her cousin Angie had said to take one just before they took off, and then get a glass of wine with the meal and that should knock her out for the whole journey. It was Angie who’d brought her to the airport. Her mom had gone crazy when Lily had told her she’d spent the money she’d given her on airline tickets to Ireland.

‘But your dad isn’t working, and nor are you,’ her mom had said. ‘Honey, we really need that money!’

‘I need to get out of here,’ Lily had said, the first sure feeling she’d had since Connor had been lost.

‘Please forgive your father,’ her mom had said. ‘It wasn’t his fault.’

‘But it was, Mom,’ Lily had spat at her mother.

She felt so hurt, so furious with her parents. Her dad for ignoring the weather warning, and her mom for standing up for him.

‘You can’t go to Ireland all on your own,’ her dad had said to her. ‘You’ve never even left mainland.’

‘I have, remember I went to Oahu with Connor for my honeymoon? And I got my passport because I always meant to go further,’ Lily said. ‘I’ve always been the good daughter, working hard lobster fishing. Well, now I need a break.’