Page 27 of On The Edge

15

She felt the sun on her skin and giggled, her heart felt full. Her mother stood above her and scooped her up into her arms, tickling her until she couldn't take it anymore. She wriggled free, and padded clumsily across the sand, squealing with delight as her mother ran after her. The beach went on forever; to her left was a building not quite in focus, and on her right; the water. She tripped suddenly, but her mother caught up, took her quickly into her arms again and cuddled her there on the sand, rocking her, and taking her tears away before they had even started to fall. She was safe.

Cat spent the next few days painting and settling into the cottage. She felt invigorated walking along the nearby shoreline, sitting on the pebbled beach and gazing up at her new home. She thought of Patrick. She hadn’t heard anything from him since he dropped her off at Jess’s after the gig. They had shared another kiss before Cat tucked into bed a very drunk and merry Jess. The last few days of solitude had, however, given Cat the chance to get bits and bobs organised for the house. She had put up Jess’s vibrant painting of the standing stones on the bare wall in her living room. It hung above her newly-delivered sofa, which sat perfectly up against a wall between the stairs and the door to the kitchen. Sitting on the sofa, she could look out the large window on the opposite side of the room to the sea ahead; she just needed to trim back those bushes that clustered around the house outside and the view would almost be a painting itself.

She couldn’t believe the generosity of the locals. News got around at the pub that she was moving into an empty house. Subsequently Monique had given her the sofa, and also a bed which she had ‘in the garage and needed a home’. Then some kitchen appliances appeared from Angie, and Jim delivered a wardrobe for the bedroom. Cat was truly touched by everyone’s well-wishes.

“I better not leave now!” she joked with Monique who helped her one night in the busy pub.

“Don’t you dare!” Monique wagged her finger. “We want you to stay, it’s lovely having another young girl around I can chat to!”

Monique wasn’t exactly a spring chicken, but she certainly did put Cat to shame with her sense of style and energy. The younger woman squeezed her arm, and smiled warmly.

The rain had started, so Cat walked briskly back to the cottage, casting her eye down to the sea before her. The dark clouds spilled a shadow over the water, and as Cat drank it all in, its beauty was so magnificent, she knew she had to paint. She quickly ran to the house and picked up her sketchbook and pencils, before returning back to the same spot to find that the view had completely changed again. Sunlight burst through the clouds, streaming more bright light over the dark sea. She sighed with pleasure and gave in; allowing herself not to think, and just to sketch, letting her hands do all the work. She stood there for what felt like only minutes then fumbling for more paper, saw that she had sketched several pieces already. Pages had been torn out of her book and lay on the rocks around her, remnants of her creative fury. She smiled in her state of relief and calmness, the rain had completely passed, but the clouds still lingered. Cat breathed in the salty air; she decided to get her paints and settle for the day, putting colour to the outlines she had started.

Cat poured herself another cup of coffee and stood in her living room with her paintings covering the floor. Sheets of rough sketches and vibrant landscapes looked up at her. She walked around them, feeling cleansed, free and elated. All the time she’d spent in Glasgow, all those years, and no creativity had come to her. It was like it had been locked in a box, she had known she needed to open it but she had been unable to find the key. Since living in Orkney she couldn’t help but be creative. Is it here or is it me? Have I changed? Cat felt she had to do something that very second to let off more energy. She rummaged through her bags and found some old CD’s she’d brought with her. She put on a classic Rolling Stones album. Singing out as loud as she could, she turned up the volume and danced around the room, singing along with Mick Jagger. What utter bliss to be on your own with no neighbours!

Cat was woken up in the early hours by her phone ringing loudly. She cursed it, switched on the light and tried to find the offending item. Standing on wobbly legs, tripping up half asleep, she stood on her hairbrush, and she was very grumpy by the time she answered the phone.

“What?” she snapped

“Hey, sorry I know it’s late,” came a male’s voice.

Cat lay on her bed confused. “Who is this?”

“It’s Johnny... long time no speak!” came the voice. Cat almost had to ask Johnny who? This person certainly didn’t sound like her old friend.

“Johnny, is that really you? I haven’t heard from you in ages!” Cat looked bleary-eyed at her bedside clock; it was 3am.

“Yeah, I know... It’s been crazy busy here. You know marketing duties are always on the move.” Johnny’s usually fun, friendly aura did not shine though the small-deflated voice on the other side of the line.

Cat sighed, put her dressing gown on and made her way down to the kitchen. “What happened?” she asked in a gentle tone.

“Oh you know, parties, people and more parties...” The faded voice joked on the phone.

Cat pressed further “Johnny, is everything ok?”

The sound of a grown man crying choked out over the phone.

“J... do you want to come and stay?”

The ferry arrived smoothly at the pier. The size of the vessel still amazed Cat, it towered above the buildings as it crept into the small village harbour. Cat thought of Patrick, despite herself: would he be on the ferry today?

Johnny was one of the last to leave the ferry; Cat stood waiting for him by her own rickety vehicle. Johnny had always dressed immaculately, and today was no exception; he wore a smart white shirt, jeans and a tailored jacket. Johnny beamed at Cat, ran up to her and twirled her around. Cat laughed. She had no idea why her old friend was here, but she knew he needed her.

“Hey gorgeous, it’s been too long!” he kissed her on the cheek.

“Yes, ages! I haven’t heard from you – have you been receiving my voice messages and texts?” Cat reflected that she had heard nothing from Johnny after she left Glasgow.

“So - look at this quaint place!” Johnny interrupted. “How did you end up here?” He briefly glanced around, then opened her car boot, and placed his small suitcase in between drills, screwdrivers and various other tools. Johnny looked down at the clutter, one eyebrow raised. “Are you opening a hardware store?” He chuckled and closed the car boot.

Cat ignored this last comment. “I did say about all this in messages to you, but maybe my phone isn't working?” Cat thought of the messages she sent to Jess and Monique, which were always received promptly, and wondered how bad a time of it Johnny had really been having. “Anyway, it’s kind of a strange story, the place just sort of... spoke to me.” Cat started the car and waited for Johnny to put his seatbelt on.

“Strange, but of course – it’s so you darling!” He kissed her again on the cheek. Cat rolled her eyes; she knew Johnny well, and she knew the face he put on for the outside world was that of a happy-go-lucky guy, who thought everything was fabulous. Well, everything was clearly not fabulous, and that’s why he had reached out to her. She would soon find out why.

“Coffee!” Cat announced firmly, and they headed for the nearest café, while a downcast Irishman with sad green eyes watched from the ferry behind them, hands clenched in his pockets.

After they were seated comfortably in the café that Cat had begun to love, the waitress Bernie took their order. “Here again Cat?” The short dark-haired girl said with pen and paper in hand, and smiled at Johnny. “And with a new fella?”