Selma
Kent, UK
30 July 1991
Becky jumped up and waved to her dad, then suddenly stopped. ‘Oh. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s a secret, right?’
‘It’s okay,’ I said, faking a smile. I’d asked her earlier to say we went to the café. ‘I think we’ve been busted anyway.’
Becky jumped up, running to her dad. He leaned down to cuddle her, glaring at me over her head.
‘I had such fun!’ I heard Becky exclaim as they walked over to me. ‘I went fishing and swimming really far out, further than I’ve ever been! Oh, and I saved a dog’s paw, and it didn’t even bite me even though Mummy said it might.’
Wow, that’ll go down well.
‘Before you say anything, I didn’t plan on coming here,’ I lied. ‘We were swimming and then Becky saw the cave and ran to it before I could stop her.’ Becky looked at me, frowning at the lie. But she didn’t say anything. ‘We were about to leave. It’s just that this dog got injured and—’
‘The dog that bites?’ Mike asked sarcastically.
I laughed nervously. ‘That dog wouldn’t harm a fly. I was just being over-cautious.’
‘Right, yes, that’s what you are Selma, always so cautious. Letting our daughter swim out to sea, tend to injured dogs. Taking her to the cave I begged you not to.’ He looked into the cave, shaking his head at the empty wine glasses on the table. ‘Yes, very cautious indeed.’
Becky looked between us, a confused expression on her face.
‘It’s just half an hour, Mike!’ I said.
‘Thirty minutes longer then we agreed! And you brought her to this bloody place!’ He looked towards Oceane and Caden who were drunkenly swinging each other around. ‘I won’t have her being here, among these people. It’s not right for a child.’ He paused, face going very cold. ‘I clearly can’t trust you. This puts me in a very difficult position.’
I felt panic build inside. What did he mean by that?
‘Mike, let’s talk about this sensibly,’ I said, putting my hand out to him.
He stepped away from me, shaking his head. ‘I can’t rely on you to be sensible. Come on, Becky.’ He grabbed Becky’s hand but she resisted him, trying to pull away.
‘I like it here, Daddy!’ she exclaimed.
‘See!’ I said, going after him and taking Becky’s other hand, anger surging through me. ‘Becky likes being here. You can’t stop me from seeing her, from bringing her here!’
‘Can’t I?’ I could see the look on Mike’s face, a steely determination. It scared me.
‘Don’t you threaten me!’ I said in a low voice.
‘Ow, you’re hurting me, Mummy and Daddy!’
I looked down at Becky, her arms outstretched, one wrist clutched by each parent. I dropped Becky’s arm, tears filling my eyes.
‘Say goodbye to your mum,’ Mike said.
‘I want to stay,’ Becky replied, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing her face into my tummy. I stroked my daughter’s hair, blinking back tears as I looked at Mike.
‘I’m her mum,’ I said to him. ‘I won’t let you stop me seeing her.’
‘You might not have a choice in the matter.’
‘And you might not either,’ I spat back. ‘You can’t watch her twenty-four hours a day, can you?’
His eyes widened. ‘What do you mean by that?’
I looked down at Becky, trying to contain my anger. ‘Go to Daddy, darling. Mummy will see you very soon.’ I gave her a hug then gently pushed her towards Mike. Becky started crying and I had to turn away, stifling a sob.
‘Why can’t you just come back with us?’ Becky shouted at me as Mike pulled her away.
I pursed my lips together, still unable to look at her. ‘Mummy can’t. She just can’t.’
It wasn’t until they left the beach that I turned, watching as they disappeared across the road. Then I sank down onto the sand and sobbed.
I stayed like that for a while, not even going to join the others for the feasting, my appetite gone. Nobody approached me, knowing as they always seemed to that I needed to be alone. I was shaking with rage. How dare Mike say all that? I was Becky’s mum, for God’s sake!
I picked up a fistful of sand, flinging it into the distance.
‘You okay?’
I looked up to see Idris approaching.
‘No, not really. Mike—’
He put his hand up. ‘No need to tell me. All that matters is now. I want you to do something for me. Go into the sea.’
I frowned, peering out at the growing darkness and slippery rocks that spread out between me and the frothing waves. ‘Now?’
‘Yes, now.’
‘My swimsuit’s drying in the cave.’
‘No need for it. Go in your clothes.’ He smiled. ‘Trust me. I’ll be with you.’ He stood, kicking his flip-flops off. I hesitated a moment then I did the same. He took my hand and led me over the rocks, the seaweed squelching beneath the soft skin of my feet. Sometimes, I trod on broken shells, their jagged edges cutting into my feet. But Idris encouraged me along, telling me to blank out the pain and focus on the sea ahead instead.
When we stepped into the waves, I saw blood shimmer around my feet. But I ignored it, putting one foot in front of the other, the splash of the water echoing in the tranquil silence of the low tide. As we got further in, my top and long skirt grew heavy, making it hard to walk. But I continued until the waves were to my chest, my breath shallow.
Idris made me stop, his hands on my shoulders as he looked at me. ‘Close your eyes and feel the weight of your clothes, how they drag you down.’
I closed my eyes, felt my floral skirt bubble up around me, my sodden vest heavy against my skin.
‘Now think of all that has passed between you and your husband this evening, this week, this month, this year. All the years. All the weight of the years, the dark thoughts, the negative vibes. Feel them all weighing you down.’
I took in a deep breath, my mind going back in time: first my argument with Mike, then my strange numbness recently, those difficult few months after Becky was born. And then my mother, tongue like acid, words ballooning around me like the skirt I was wearing now, so heavy my feet were sinking into the sand below. I thought of the other dark times I’d experienced, times long forgotten. How I would feel a black cloud descending over me and the see-saw between intense anxiety and strange numbness. Even my teachers had noticed and I’d been referred to a counsellor. The counsellor had tried to blame it on my mother. Yes, my mother’s words took my depression to a whole new level. Made me feel even more unworthy. But it was more than that, wasn’t it?
‘Now open your eyes,’ Idris said. I did as he asked, looking into his beautiful face in the dying light, heavy now with the weight of his gaze as his eyes travelled over me. ‘Take your clothes off. I won’t look, I’ll turn my back to you. Take every scrap off.’
I laughed. ‘Now this is where I definitely say no.’
He smiled back. ‘Selma, I adore your cynicism, I really do. It’s what makes you unique. But I think sometimes it can hold you back. I need you to trust me, just as you did when I showed you the cave. It’ll be worth it, really.’ Then he turned away.
I hesitated a moment then a thrill ran through me.
What the hell?
I pulled my vest off, unhooking my bra, sighing as I always did at the feel of my breasts being free of pinching wires. Then I leaned down, clutching onto Idris’s strong arm for balance as I pulled my skirt off, then my knickers. With each item that was removed, I felt lighter, freer. I watched my clothes float away, my skirt a bed of flowers in the sea.
‘I’m going back now to get you a towel,’ Idris said, still not turning. ‘I’ll be waiting for you on the shore. Stay here for a few moments, take it in.’
I closed my eyes, smelling the salty air, hearing the ripple of the waves. He was right, the lightness I felt was overwhelming.
After a while, I opened my eyes to see Idris standing in the shallow waves, holding up a towel. He was watching me but I didn’t care, I walked towards him without covering myself. It somehow seemed completely natural and the way he looked at me as I approached, so different from the way other men savoured my curves like they were food.
When I got to him, his eyes were on mine. He wrapped the towel around my shoulders, covering my nakedness, and I felt desire stir in the pit of my stomach at the proximity of him.
He leaned in close to me. ‘How do you feel?’ he whispered in my ear.
‘Like I was gliding.’
He smiled. ‘Now you know how it feels to walk on water.’
I tried to call Mike the next day from a phone box in town. I didn’t want things left as they were. When there was no answer, I turned up at the house, but I could see that the lights were off and there was no car outside. Maybe that was a good thing – it would give him some time to calm down. I vowed to arrange a meet-up the next day and buried myself in my writing instead. It was another beautiful day, swathes of blue sky with wispy threads of cloud. The cave provided a cool respite from the heat and, as I began to write, aware of everyone else around me working on their creative pieces, my mind began to enter a strange rhythm, matching the swish of Idris’s paintbrush and the ebb of the waves outside. It was different from how I’d felt before. Instead of everything disappearing, the noises and the smells around me built into a crescendo, adding to the sound of my pen on paper, encouraging me along. And as it did so, I felt myself rocking slightly to the music in my mind, my heart soaring with each word I wrote.
When I reached the end of a particularly intense scene, I gasped, as though coming up for air. Sounds separated, became normal again: the chitter chatter of Donna and Julien outside, the yelp of Caden and Oceane splashing about in the water, the swish of Idris’s brush and the whir of Maggie’s clay wheel.
‘I told you you’d do it.’
I looked up to see Idris smiling down at me. ‘Do what?’ I asked.
‘The current. You were in the current, I can tell. You can’t deny it.’
I looked at him dubiously. ‘I’m not sure about being in the current. I think it’s just being here with no distractions.’
‘Always the cynic,’ Idris said, smiling.
‘You wouldn’t have me any other way.’ We held each other’s gaze, his eyes dropping briefly to my lips then up again.
Then Donna ran over, leaning down to catch her breath.
‘Everything okay?’ Idris asked her, stepping from his ladder, a look of concern on his face.
‘There’s someone outside for Selma.’
I frowned. ‘Not Mike again?’
‘No, someone else,’ she replied. ‘He’s in a suit, looks rather serious. Come see.’
I rose and followed Donna outside, heart thumping. There was a man standing on the beach, looking very uncomfortable in a grey suit.
‘Selma Rhys?’ he asked in a grave voice.
‘Yes,’ I answered.
He held an envelope out to me. ‘You’ve been served with an emergency residence order.’ Then he walked off.
‘I don’t understand,’ I shouted after him, hand trembling as I looked down at the letter, Idris putting his hand on my shoulder as everyone gathered around us.
Julien put his hand out. ‘Looks like legal documents. Do you want me to translate?’
I nodded. He opened the letter, his eyes running over it. Then he sighed. ‘Your husband has sought orders for Becky to live with him permanently. He’s prohibiting you from removing her from his care save for agreed supervised contacts. There will be a hearing in about a week.’
I looked up at Idris. ‘Mike wants to take Becky from me!’
He shook his head, face flashing with anger. ‘We won’t let that happen.’
I looked towards where my house was, suddenly yearning to hold my daughter in my arms. Anger replaced fear.
‘You’re right, he will not take my Becky away from me, I’ll make sure of that.’
‘We’ll make sure of that,’ Idris said, taking my hand as the others gathered close around us, nodding. ‘You’re not alone in this, Selma,’ he said, squeezing my hand. ‘You’ll never feel alone again.’