Elpie

This one has been hanging around for a while. I started writing it back in 2021 and never got around to finishing it. I guess this counts as clearing clutter and making space for other things.

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Sean and I first crossed paths in my godfather's bookshop.

I was seventeen, ridiculous in my faux-goth phase, playing at being an interestingly-ragged lost soul. I was digging through the assorted works of Lovecraft and Poe, looking for something that I had not yet read. The shop door opened, the bell jangled on its hook, and I paused and watched him walk in. He stood there, sandy brown hair brushed back from his face, quiet and self-possessed as he greeted my godfather as "Uncle Jimmie". He knew the shop well, that was clear. He smiled at me as he eased past me, and, flustered, I fumbled and nearly dropped a copy of 'At the Mountains of Madness' that I'd been clutching as I tried not to stare.

I snuck to the corner of the bookshelf and peered around it like a dark-side Juliet.

He was looking through the Romantics. I knew that shelf of the bookstore well enough. He gently slid a hardcover book from the shelf, considered it, sighed, then returned it. He shook his head and moved over to Dickens.

"Set works then, is it?" I heard my godfather ask. I could hear the grin.

"Bane of my life," my Romeo answered. He glanced once towards my side of the shop, and I ducked back behind the shelf, flushing guiltily.

"Ah, Great Expectations. At least they've spared you Oliver Twist this year."

"You know me, Uncle Jimmie. I prefer Hardy."

"You and me both, lad. Here you go. Give my regards to your Nan, will you?"

"Will do, Uncle Jimmie. Take care now."

"You too, lad."

The shop door opened and closed with a thud and a jingle, and I waited a moment before sauntering out from behind the bookshelves. My godfather was not fooled, and I flushed deeper at his knowing smile.

"Who is he?"

My godfather grinned. "Who?"

"Uncle Jimmie, don't tease me."

"That's Sean."

"Sean... wait, is he nanny Jenny's grandson?"

"That's the one."

"I didn't recognise him at all."

"He's in sixth form up near Sevenoaks. Scholarship at some posh school. Plays a lot of sports and does quite well from what Jenny tells me."

"Hmm."

.:.

I saw him down by the sea the following evening, walking along above the tide line, staring out at the horizon. Every so often he'd look down at his feet, find a shell, and spend a moment or two inspecting it before he'd carefully put it back where he'd found it.

Of course I didn't follow him. I just happened to decide to walk on the same beach, from the other direction.

I was less goth, more seventeen-year-old waif, barefoot in a long flowing skirt and a distressed black jacket, carrying my sandals carelessly in one hand. I ignored him as we crossed, turning my chin dramatically to sea.

He was still as gorgeous as my first impression of him, even in his teeshirt and faded jeans.

.:.

Weeks became months and months turned slowly into years. I'd see him sometimes on my jaunts down the coast to visit my godfather. We would cross paths on the beach; sometimes deliberately on my part, sometimes seemingly by chance, and he'd always smile and nod to me.

But he never tried to talk, never tried to get my name, and there were many nights I stared at myself in my pitted bathroom mirror, wondering what was wrong with me.

.:.

It was June, and hot. I'd abandoned skirts for sundresses, had stopped dying my hair jet black and let the natural brown return. A year of university had expanded my tastes and horizons, and these days I was as likely to listen to Dire Straits as Nightwish. I was trying the carrot cake in the village's new beachfront cafe when he walked in and ordered a coffee. I watched him like a cat, chewing on my liver in envy as the rather pretty girl behind the counter pushed out her small but nicely-proportioned chest and preened for him. But he treated her with kindness and courtesy and gave her nothing else, and I was both amused and somewhat ashamed at myself for my reaction. I left three pounds and some change in the tip jar as a mea culpa and left not long after he did.

He was leaning on a promenade railing and staring at the waves, but I elected not to invade his space and let him be. Instead, I walked down one of the many concrete ramps to the sand, kicked off my sandals, and made for the water's edge.

I had gone quite some way before I realised that he'd followed me.

.:.

"It's... Theresa... isn't it?"

I stared at him, then remembered my manners. "Yes. I'm Theresa. You're... Sean? Sean Jackson?"

"That's me. I thought it was you," he said with an easy grin. "You've changed a lot since Year Two."

"You haven't," I replied. Then I flushed as I realised how that could be taken. "Wait... that... that didn't come out right. Um..."

"I'll take it how you probably meant it," he said, still grinning. "You're not from around here though? Didn't your family live down Hastings way?"

"They do these days but Uncle Jimmie is here... so I always come up when the weather's nice because it's much quieter here than at Hastings and I can actually get to the water's edge here."

"Fair enough. Mind if I join you?"

"It's not my beach," I teased him.

"We've walked this beach often enough, we might as well do it together and actually talk to one another."

"What makes you think I want to talk?" I said, amused.

"Most people do," he retorted, eyes crinkling as he smiled.

"Maybe I'm not most people?"

"Then I'll be graciously wrong."

I grinned at that, and tucked my hair back. "So what are you doing here?"

"Visiting Uncle Jimmie," he said. "He's an old family friend, practically my blood uncle. And I love the shop, it's been my sanctuary for more years than I can count."

"It is a place of safety," I agreed. "I spent hours there when I was hiding from life."

"Life has a funny way of finding you when you do that."

"That it does," I said softly. "Are you here long then?"

"This weekend, heading back to campus on Sunday."

"Where's campus?"

"King's College," he said, self-consciously.

"London?"

"Oh. No. The other one," he said, softly.

And just like that I realised how ephemeral this would all be.

"Oh."

Cambridge.

It might as well be the moon for someone like me, doing my B.A. at my small second-rate satellite campus because I'd lacked the focus to ensure I got decent A levels.

We walked in silence for a minute or two, then I sighed. "Well. I can't waste the day. Need to get back home soon."

"That's a shame," he said. "It's been nice to finally talk to you, however briefly."

I smiled a well-rehearsed smile as I worked to rebuild the wall between us, and managed desultory small-talk as I extricated myself. I even turned and waved a cheerful goodbye to him as I made for my bus stop.

But on the slow bus trip home I sat, head leaning against the grimy window, battered headphones feeding me "Self-pity Playlist number two" just loud enough to muffle the noise of the road.

.:.

It was the first Friday evening of July, and I was at an outside table at the Royal Oak with Molly and Shannon, nursing my second cider as we watched the sun dipping towards the sea.

"Gosh I love it out here," Shannon said. "You're so lucky, Tess. I'd kill to live by the coast."

Molly snorted. "Just wait, Shannon, she's going to complain about damp laundry and her rusty bicycle chain."

I closed my mouth and glared at Molly. I'd been about to do precisely that. "It's nice in summer," I admitted. "But it's a bastard in winter, Shan. And besides, I'm not by the coast. I'm a mile or so back."

"Trade you."

"No thanks," I said with a grin. "Summer here tides me over until the next year."

"Whorebag," Shannon retorted with her characteristic smile. Then she sat up straighter, staring. "Oh my God. Girls, look at that," she said, craning her head and peering behind us.

We turned on our seats.

"They can't be local. Oh my God," Molly echoed her. "I'm in love."

I stared at the gaggle of well-dressed men, and with a strange frisson I saw Sean in the middle of them.

"Oh no," I said. "He brought his entourage."

"You know one of those visions?" Molly demanded.

"Yes," I admitted.

"Tess! How have you never mentioned this?"

"He knows my godfather."

"Which one is he?"

"Straight brown hair and the blue polo shirt."

"Turquoise," Molly objected.

"Let's not get lost in the details here, ladies," Shannon announced. "There are five of them. Tess' friend is out of bounds. That leaves four between the three of us."

"Two," I announced. "I know my limits; you sluts are on your own."

Molly and Shannon shared a predatory grin, and rose as one to move in.

And I shifted around to the far side of the table so I could watch the show. Shan and Mol were masters of tight pants and low-cut-tops; both had far nicer figures than me crowned with pretty faces, lovely hair and winning natures. The outcome was as certain as the tides.

I finished my drink on my own, and then took a walk down to the promenade to watch the sun set.

He found me there.

.:.

"Those friends of yours are scary," he said, amused.

"When the two of them work in tandem it is incredible. They are unstoppable. It's like watching lionesses take down a gazelle."

"I'd hardly describe Mark or Niklaas as gazelles."

"You know what I meant," I said. The sun was a finger's breadth above the horizon, and I was happily buzzing on my cider.

"Why did you run off?"

"I've seen it before. There's only so much massacre of the innocents I can stand."

He laughed at that, an honest explosion of mirth that he tried to stifle. I grinned up at him. "And anyway, you came over so it's not like I'm alone."

"True."

"This is the high temple of Pallas Theresa. I like the sunset. I like drawing a definite line under the day. Good or bad, it resets me."

"Do you need much resetting?"

"Sometimes," I admitted. "I tend to drag my baggage with me, so it's helpful to stand somewhere pretty and let go of it sometimes."

"Mm," he agreed. "It is nice to stand here and listen to the waves."

"Won't your friends be missing you?"

"Nah. There were other interested girls in there so I'm sure they're all just fine."

"Oh, the Oak's a local hang-out. Totally shark-infested," I added, with a smirk. "Your friends are fish food, I'm afraid."

"I'll go fish the chunks out later then," he said as he stared out to sea. "They're all consenting adults... well, allegedly anyway. I'm sure they'll all enjoy the experience. Eventually."

"Why did you all come here of all places? It's a very long way down from Cambridge."

"Free accommodation near to the beach," he said. "It's an easy sell to a bunch of lads who want a cheap weekend away."

"I suppose it is at that. So you're here for the weekend?"

"Yes. The boys will no doubt spend most of it drinking and womanising. Or womanising and drinking. Certainly something involving women and alcohol, likely an excess measure of both."

"And you?"

"I want to go check in on Nan and Uncle Jimmie. And maybe do some walking."

"Where?"

"I might go tramp around up near Battle."

"It's likely to be a good weekend for it. Nice weather. Senlac hill and the abbey are beautiful this time of year." I watched the sun kiss the water, and sighed. "Reset time."

I closed my eyes, stood up straighter, took a deep breath and held it for a moment, for two. Then I exhaled and turned to face him. He was watching me, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes, she is in fact bonkers," I agreed.

"I didn't say anything."

"No, but you were thinking it. I'm going to get another cider." I eyed him, head askew. "You coming?"

He grinned in answer, and we made our way back over the street to the pub, where he bought my drink for me, and spent the rest of the lovely evening at my side.

.:.

I spent intervals of Sunday morning thinking of him, hoping that he'd managed to go walking. It was a glorious day with high fluffy cumulus making their stately way towards France and the Low Countries. I baked a bit, read a bit in my mum's back yard, and fielded calls from my extremely hung-over and shagged-out friends. Molly had done her usual thing and fallen for the bloke; I could smell the drama coming and I made a note to stock up on gin for the Monday evening why-hasn't-he-called-me histrionics.

I went for a beach walk in the mid afternoon and rounded my day off as I liked to; watching the world warm and soften as the sun sank towards the sea.

.:.

Saturday morning, a week or two later, and I was browsing the small pile of new arrivals at Uncle Jimmie's shop. I'd picked up a likely book by an up and coming fantasy author, and was looking for something else when the shop door opened with a clang. Sean walked in, face as stony as the Eiger, but he still managed to conjure the ghost of a smile as he saw me. "Hi, Theresa," he said in passing.

"Hey Sean," I said softly. I watched him as he stepped over to the counter, saw Uncle Jimmie look up from his paper and then set it aside.

"Sean?"

"Hey Uncle Jimmie."

"You alright, lad?"

"Yeah. Just... you know what she can be like."

"She causing you grief again, lad? Why do you answer the phone?"

"Because she makes Nan cry. I can handle it. It just gets old. I won't be sad... no. I will be, but I won't miss the drama."

My godfather sighed and reached out to clasp Sean's shoulder.

"Come by the house later, lad. You and I will have a tipple and a chin-wag."

"Thanks, Uncle Jimmie. I was hoping you'd offer. Gives me a place where I don't have to think about... her... for a couple of hours."

"You know I've got a sleeper bed, lad. You can stay the night if you like."

"Thanks, Uncle Jimmie. I might just. I'll be over once Nan's down for the evening." Sean sighed. "Got anything in that's light and good?"

"Tess is holding it."

Sean turned and looked my way. "Oh. Only the single copy?"

"You know how few people walk in here, lad," Uncle Jimmie said with a wry laugh. "I'll get another if Tess takes that one."

"I'll take it," I said, louder than I'd intended. I walked over, pushed it into Sean's hands. "Here. You need this more than me."

"No, I can't," he protested, trying to hand it back to me.

"Nuh uh. Nope." I stood back, tucked my arms behind me and grinned. "Too late, you can't unaccept a gift. Ring it up please, Uncle Jimmie."

My godfather laughed and obliged.

"Find me sometime and tell me whether it's worth reading," I said to Sean with a smile. I handed ten quid to my godfather and put the change into the RNLI collection box.

"Hey, Theresa?" Sean said softly.

"Yep?"

"Thanks. I owe you one."

I reached out, and patted his cheek. "You're welcome. Buy me a cider sometime and we'll call it even Stevens. Bye, Uncle Jimmie, love you, see you later."

"Bye love, say hi to your Mum and Dad for me."

"Will do!"

I glanced back once as I opened the door and gave them both my brightest smile.

The beach beckoned to me, and I surrendered to the hiss and sigh of the waves.

.:.

Curiosity took me back to my godfather's shop later that day. I wanted to chase down the hints Sean had been scattering about his life. So I armed myself with a slab of Cadbury's Top Deck; I knew it would help to grease the wheels.

Uncle Jimmie snorted when he saw me. "Been expecting you," he said.

"Am I that transparent?"

"To me, yes."

"Oh." I pulled the chocolate from my bag and placed it on the counter with a rueful grin. "I came to bribe information out of you."

Uncle Jimmie laughed softly. "I'll tell you what I know - that is, I'll tell the stuff that won't be a betrayal."

"I'd expect nothing less from you, Uncle Jimmie."

He tore open the wrapper, took a block of chocolate, popped it into his mouth. He stared up at the dark beams of his shop's roof as he chewed. Then he swallowed, and sighed.

"His mum's... abusive. Lots of mental health issues. She's... broken is the kindest way to put it, so let's go with it. His nan, Jenny, basically raised him as her own. His mum... well... she surfaces to basically make his and Jenny's lives miserable. It's pretty horrific."

"It sounds horrid."

"It is. So... I look out for him when I can. And when he'll let me. He's a proud lad, but not too proud to accept help when he needs it."

"He's nice. I like him."

"I guessed," Uncle Jimmie said with a smile. "You'd never give away a book otherwise."

I flushed at that. "He was down. It cheered him up."

"You cheered him up, you mean."

I blushed more.

"Does he have... anyone?"

"Not that I know of," my godfather answered. "Nothing serious, anyway. Nothing he's mentioned to me."

"Do you talk much then?"

"From time to time. He phones me when he needs a sympathetic ear."

"What about his dad?"

"Doesn't have one."

"What?"

"Nobody knows who his dad is except his mum, and she won't tell. She uses the knowledge to take stabs at Sean."

"She sounds like a complete cunt... sorry," I said, as I realised what I'd said. "That just slipped out."

Jimmie shook his head. "It's not a word I'd use, Tess, but you're right. She's a real piece of work. It breaks my heart. And it breaks Jenny's every time they talk."

"So that's why..."

"Yeah. Sounds like she's raising hell again. Ah well. Won't be for much longer."

"Why?"

"Alcohol, girl. Pam loves the sauce."

"Oh God. Poor Sean."

"All I can say is that it's a mercy he has his Nan."

"And you," I said softly. I reached out, touched Jimmie's hand. "Thanks for telling me."

"Be careful, love."

"How so?" I asked.

"Sean is hurt. He's a lovely lad but... that witch of a mother of his has done a number on him. He... struggles with some things."

"Like what?"

"Like people, love," he said sadly.

.:.

Sean and I crossed paths again the next morning. I was picking up supplies for the week from the little corner Co-op when he wandered in. He smiled and greeted me, and I felt a flutter in my chest as he walked over to me.

"It's a good book," he said, by way of opening gambit. "You were silly, you should have held onto it."

I grinned at him. "It's at a good home."

He snorted. "I wouldn't go that far."

"It's with an appreciative owner then," I amended.

"Better," he agreed. "Flows more naturally. What are you up to today, Theresa?"

"Not much," I answered. "Groceries, as you see. Then maybe I'll plonk down in my garden with a sunhat and a book."

"Sounds nice."

"You?" I said as an aside as I grabbed some sugar-free yoghurt from the shelf.

"Walking, I think. Need to get out and clear my head."

"Uncle Jimmie get you too drunk, then?"

"Nah, he never does. But it's nice to have an... older man I respect to talk to about... things."

"Life can be hard. It's good to have someone to talk to. Jimmie's an absolute saint. I've lost count of the number of my rants he's had to listen to over the years."

Sean laughed softly. "Rants?"

"I have strong opinions," I retorted, grinning.

"About?"

"Most things. Where are you going walking?"

"No fixed route. I ramble more than anything."

"Want company?"

He paused, then smiled. "You know what? That would be grand."

"Let me offload my supplies at Uncle Jimmie's; it's not far and he won't mind. Then I'm all yours for the day."

And I flushed at the boyish grin he gave me in return.

.:.

We sat down for a water break in the pleasant shade of a gnarled oak. Golden fields of wheat undulated gently downslope of us; I could hear little but the gentle rustling of the oak's leaves, and the occasional buzz of a passing insect.

"This is nice," I said softly. "I don't move beyond the shore very often. It's beautiful up here."

"So that would make you a Nereid, then," he said, amused.