Selma
Kent, UK
7 September 1991
As I walked back to the cave, my mind was in turmoil. I thought of Idris. Maybe it wasn’t so bad? A part of him was growing inside me. His blond mixed with my dark. His idealism with my cynicism. What kind of child would we produce?
But then other thoughts crept in, such as memories of Becky’s newborn days: the blinding exhaustion, the crowding away of anything but the baby. No writing. No going out. No ‘me’ time. And then there were the dark thoughts too, the slumping into an abyss of sadness.
Would it happen all over again?
I crunched my fist softly into my stomach. At least I’d had a roof over my head then: four walls, maternity pay, a husband. But now? How could I deal with a newborn in a cave? And what about social services? This could ruin my chances of getting joint custody of Becky. Another cross to put on my report.
No, I couldn’t allow that. It was early enough to do something about it. It could be as though it had never happened. Idris wouldn’t even have to know.
I thought of my mother then and that time she was hidden up in bed for a week, the word ‘abortion’ whispered by her friend. I really was getting more and more like her.
‘No!’ I snapped to myself, curling my hands into fists. I couldn’t.
That night, I lay awake the whole night. Idris sensed my unrest, waking up too. We were sharing a bed now, a double mattress at the back of the cave. We slept with our arms wrapped around each other, something I wasn’t used to. Mike and I often slept back to back, contact rare, both starting if skin touched skin. But it was so different with Idris.
Would it stay like that if we had children? Or would the magic wear off?
‘It’ll be fine,’ he whispered in my ear, his arms around my waist.
I froze. Did he somehow know?
‘Social services will love you,’ he added, voice sleepy. ‘It’ll work itself out.’
I relaxed against him. I’d almost forgotten about the visit from social services in the shock of everything that had happened that day.
It’ll work itself out, I told myself.
The next morning, we woke to shouts.
I untangled myself from Idris’s arms and sat up. Donna was standing outside the cave, looking up at it in distress.
‘Idris,’ I said, jogging his arm as I jumped out of bed.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I don’t know. Donna’s upset about something.’
We both walked to the front of the cave as the others woke. Then I froze. Graffitied across its entrance was the word ‘THIEF’.
‘Jesus Christ,’ I said, raking my fingers through my hair. ‘Social services are due this morning.’
‘It’s not just that.’ Donna pointed towards her beach garden. All the plants had been uprooted, the supporting sticks pulled out and snapped in half. The cushions around the fire had been shredded too; someone had even emptied their bowels there.
I instinctively put my hand to my tummy, stroking it.
I noticed Idris wasn’t moving, just staring at all the destruction, face white. I’d never seen him like that.
‘It’ll be fine,’ I said, softly stroking his arm. ‘We have time to clear it up before social services get here.’
He seemed to snap out of it, eyes blinking. ‘Social services.’ He walked into the cave, clapping his hands. Those who weren’t already awake woke with a start.
‘Right everyone, we have a job to do,’ he shouted. ‘Someone has graffitied the cave and we need to get it cleaned up before social services arrive at ten.’
Over the next hour, we all worked together to clear the mess up. Soon Donna’s little beach garden was even starting to resemble its old self, but the writing graffitied on the wall was still there, despite being scrubbed. It had faded, but was still obvious. Idris looked up at it with hooded eyes.
‘Who do you think did this?’ I asked him in a low voice. ‘And what could they possibly think we stole?’
‘Just kids,’ he said. But he still looked worried.
An hour later, a man and woman walked down the beach towards the cave. The social workers.
‘Hello,’ I said, wrapping my cardigan around myself and putting my hand out. It was silly, I wasn’t showing at all. But somehow, I felt the need to protect my stomach from view.
They both smiled, shaking my hand. ‘You’re Selma Rhys, I take it?’ the woman asked.
I nodded. ‘Please, come in,’ I said, leading them to the cave. Their eyes flickered up to the graffiti. ‘That appeared last night,’ I quickly explained. ‘We’ve done our best to remove it. Just some silly kids, I imagine.’
The two social workers exchanged a look.
‘Would you like a drink? Tea, coffee?’ I asked, trying to hide my worry as I led them to the large kitchen table.
‘Tea would be good,’ the man said.
‘Coffee for me,’ the woman added.
They both sat down, pulling out some forms.
‘We just need to ask you a series of questions,’ the woman said. ‘Then we’d love for you to show us around.’
‘Of course.’ I went to the kitchen area, placing the kettle on the small stove. I caught Idris’s eye. He was helping Maggie make a large vase. He’d been quiet as he’d helped everyone, deep in thought. It wasn’t like him. It unnerved me.
He gave me a reassuring smile. I smiled back.
‘So how long have you lived here, Selma?’ the woman asked as I gave them their drinks.
‘Nearly two months now. Seems like forever though. In a good way, I mean!’ I quickly added.
‘And why did you come here?’ the man asked.
‘My husband and I weren’t getting on. I met Idris and the rest of the dwellers. It just felt like home. It’s difficult to explain. I’m happy here, really happy.’ I put my hand to my stomach again. How long would that happiness last?
‘And what about Becky?’ the woman asked. ‘I believe she visited for a few hours not long after you started living here?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, she loved it.’
‘Can you talk us through what she did here?’ the man asked.
I went through Becky’s day at the cave, leaving out the part about the dog and the swim out to sea.
‘I believe she helped care for an injured dog?’ the woman asked, peering towards Julien’s dog.
‘Oh,’ I said with a laugh. ‘She likes to tell people that but she just handed us the dressing.’
‘She said she pressed the dressing to the dog’s leg when we spoke to her.’
‘No,’ I said, blinking. ‘She didn’t.’ Sure, it was a lie. But it was for a good reason. It was my word against a child’s, surely they’d believe me?
‘Right,’ the man said, scribbling down some notes. ‘Can you tell us about your day-to-day routine?’
I went through a typical day, mainly focusing on my writing.
‘And what about your job?’ the woman asked.
‘Oh yes, that’s three days a week,’ I lied again. I’d been umming and ahhing about what to tell them about that. In the end, I reasoned it wouldn’t harm to lie. My solicitor had told me how important a steady job was and I was still on the company’s payroll as I was using up my holiday allocation to leave earlier. Officially, I was still working for them.
‘But the plan is to focus on writing full-time soon,’ I quickly added. ‘I’m very close to finishing my latest novel and chances are, as a published author, I’ll receive a decent advance. In the meantime, I don’t need much money here.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s a simple but good way of living.’
‘How have relations been with your daughter since you left?’ the woman asked.
‘Good,’ I said. Another embellishment. Truth was, I was finding Becky more and more sulky with each visit we had. She’d even stopped asking me when I was coming home. ‘We see each other three to four days a week.’
‘What do you do?’
‘Oh, lots of things! Swimming, playing on the beach, parks, cinema if it’s raining.’
The man looked at his notes. ‘I see there have been no overnight stays at hotels as the judge suggested, instead of the two of you sleeping in the cave?’
I paused. I simply hadn’t been able to afford it. All the cheap hotels were quickly taken during peak season, the more expensive ones completely out of my budget.
But I didn’t want to bring attention to my delicate financial state.
‘I felt it would be better not to disrupt her night-time routine,’ I said. ‘Not until we know for sure how things will go after your report.’
The two social workers nodded. I took a nervous sip of my tea.
‘How have you been feeling when you see Becky?’ the woman asked.
I frowned. ‘I don’t really understand the question.’
‘Happy? Guilty? Sad? Overprotective?’ she said, putting emphasis on the word overprotective.
‘I see.’ I sighed. ‘You’re referring to what happened when Becky was a baby? I can assure you that’s far behind me. I got treatment for it, it was just the baby blues.’
I thought of the baby growing in my tummy again. Was it far behind me?
‘You left Mike then too, didn’t you?’ the woman asked. ‘When it got too much?’
I crunched my hands into fists. ‘It was just one night. And anyway,’ I added, feeling panicked about where this questioning was leading, ‘it was more about my marriage than Becky.’
‘What do you mean?’ the woman asked carefully.
I stifled my annoyance at such probing questions. ‘Mike – Mike threatened to hurt Becky when she was crying.’
The two social workers exchanged looks. ‘Hurt her?’
‘It was just a momentary lapse of judgement,’ I quickly added, regretting the lie as soon as it came out of my mouth. ‘She had been crying a lot.’
‘Did you tell anyone at the time about what happened?’ the woman asked.
‘No,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I was worried they’d take Becky away. Look, I shouldn’t have mentioned it, it was a small thing really.’
The two social workers exchanged looks again.
‘Shall I show you around?’ I asked, desperate to get off the subject.
They nodded.
Over the next half an hour, we toured the cave and met its occupants. Everyone had been so lovely and it all seemed to go well. They’d even smiled when they saw the play area, and I noticed the way the woman hungrily watched Idris stretch up to paint something, his bronzed stomach showing, and felt a strange purr of pride.
‘Well, this has certainly been interesting,’ the woman said after. ‘We’ve never visited a cave before.’
The man laughed. ‘Yep, it’s a first.’ He peered up at the old hotel above it. ‘My aunt and uncle used to stay there when I was kid. Beautiful place when it was in its prime.’
I followed his gaze. ‘I used to dream about owning it,’ I said, smiling.
‘Maybe you will if you get that book deal?’ the woman said.
‘Maybe. Do you know who owns the hotel now? It’s been up for sale for ages.’
‘No idea,’ the man replied. ‘I used to see the former owners around town though, Mr and Mrs Peterson. Mrs Peterson was always so friendly, smiling and happy. They ran the hotel for years but then she committed suicide. I remember even as a kid being shocked. My mum knew her, said she’d had a long struggle with depression.’
‘How terrible. I had no idea.’ We were all silent. ‘So I guess the next step is the court hearing?’ I said.
‘That’s right,’ the man replied. ‘We’ll be compiling our report and will submit it to the courts.’
I took a deep breath. I might be showing by then … if I kept the baby. Was I really thinking of not keeping it? The thought made me suddenly feel sick. But what option did I have?
‘I hope it’s clear that I adore my daughter,’ I said as I led them out of the cave. ‘I didn’t leave her, despite what Mike might say. He told me to leave, but he probably didn’t tell you that. She’s the most important thing in the world to me. I want her to be happy – that’s all I’ve ever wanted, and I truly think she can be happy here.’
‘Thank you, Selma,’ the woman said, shaking my hand. ‘We’ll get started on the report right away.’ Then they walked away.
‘How did it go?’ Idris asked, strolling over to me.
I smiled, giving him a kiss. ‘Good, I think.’
Idris nodded. ‘Anyone on the outside might expect something totally different, sleeping bags slung over sandy floors and a bucket for a toilet. But it’s so much more than that now. I could see they were impressed.’
‘With the cave, yes. But I’m not so sure they were impressed by me. They brought up that incident when Becky was a newborn,’ I added, lowering my voice.
‘Of course they did! But I saw the way they interacted with you. They believe you to be a good person. I can sense it. I truly think it’ll all work out for you.’
I put my hand to my stomach. ‘I hope you’re right.’ I peered up at the sun, using its position in the sky to guess the time. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to not wearing a watch. ‘I better head into town. I’d like to get something for Becky.’
Idris smiled. ‘Good idea. Shall I come with you?’
‘No, it’s fine, really. I might wander around for a few hours actually, take a break from the writing.’
‘Good idea.’
The truth was, I wanted to explore my options. If I were to get an abortion, I needed to know how. There was a family planning clinic just outside Queensbay, a short bus ride away. But when I got to town, I couldn’t face getting on the bus. Instead, I sat in the café all afternoon, drinking tea and eating cakes, ignoring the looks people gave me.
After a while, a couple walked in, shaking their brollies from the rain that had started falling.
‘I knew this would happen eventually,’ I heard the man say, shaking his head. ‘Didn’t I tell you? That cult would get its comeuppance and now it’s happened.’
‘What happened?’ someone called over.
‘Haven’t you heard the sirens? One of the caves has collapsed.’
I jumped up, heart thumping. ‘What do you mean?’
The man looked me up and down, clearly recognising me as one of the cave dwellers now.
‘You better get back there, love,’ his wife said. ‘The little cave collapsed. People have been injured. Your people,’ she added.
I ran out of the café, looking up in horror at the darkening sky, which flashed blue with ambulance lights.