Swimming at Night: A Novel (37 page)

“If he was anything like you, he’d tell you to get away from the edge,” she said.

“What does it matter? He’s dead!”

Bile filled her throat. She breathed deeply; she had to concentrate, draw Noah back from the edge. “What about Jez?” she said, forcing her voice to be level, calm. “If you do this, he’s on his own.”

“He’ll be better off.”

“He loves you—”

“No.”

“I saw it, Noah. He came in the surf after you. He was terrified he was going to lose you.” She continued, “His last memory will be of fighting you, blaming you for Johnny’s death. And everything
you’re feeling right now will be transferred to him. You wouldn’t just be taking your life—you’d be taking his, too.”

She watched, horrified, as he inched his feet towards the cliff edge. The movement loosened a stone that rolled forwards, then dropped into darkness. She listened for the sound of it reaching the rocks below, but there was none.

“I’m sorry,” Noah said simply.

Panic flooded her. Her senses sharpened to a point: she could feel the corner of a stone pressing into the arch of her foot, taste salt drawn by the wind from the ocean, hear the tread of her feet as she propelled herself forward.

“Mia, no!”

But already she was at his side. She waited until she felt steady, certain. Then she forced herself to look down. Moonlight glinted off her toe rings and, an inch beyond her feet, the cliff stopped and air began. Darkness stole the depth, but she could see the ghostly shadows of the granite boulders below, where waves shattered.

There were no bargaining chips left except one: “If you do this, Noah, then I will, too.” Slowly she raised her head and turned to look at him. His lip was split and there was blood dried to his cheekbone.

“Don’t be stupid!”

She stayed very still, fighting the wave of fear that was rising up in her body.

“Get away from the edge!”

“When you step back, so will I.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“You know I’m not.” From her pocket she carefully took out his suicide note. She raised it in the space between their bodies. “You
never wrote this, Noah. You never came here. Take it. Then we step away. Tonight never happened.”

She waited. A cool breeze curled around her hand, making the page flutter. “Take it, Noah.”

Time seemed to pause. The world was reduced to just the two of them on the cliff edge. She could hear the rapid inhale and exhale of breath, only to realize it was her own. Sweat beaded across her top lip. She willed him to take the page, to end this now.

Then the air shifted and she was aware of Noah’s arm, solid and strong, rising. His fingers stretched towards hers where she held the page. She felt the gentle release in her hand as he removed it.

The relief was immediate. The tension that had held her knees rigid now released, and she felt them bend an infinitesimal amount: just enough to tilt her fractionally forward. Time slowed. Her hand stroked the air in front of her body searching for balance, but there was only darkness, emptiness, and her arm swung through it. The momentum caused her to hinge forward from the waist, her other arm beginning to swing, too. Her bangles clinked: she was a breathing windmill whirling on the breeze.

Her weight rolled onto the balls of her feet, her heels peeling from the cliff so she was on tiptoe. She heard the grind of stones as Noah lunged towards her, felt the brush of his fingertips reaching for her.

But she knew it was too late.

She was aware of him calling her name, but already she was far away. She felt the cool rush of wind against her face, saw the brilliant glimmer of the stars, and heard the hypnotic call of the waves as she fell towards them, her body as light as a teardrop.

(Bali, August)

B
lood pounded in Katie’s ears. Everything she had believed had been a lie. “She fell?”

“Yes,” Noah said.

“But the witnesses—”

“Reported what they
thought
happened. From the lookout point you can only see part of the cliff top. I was in dark clothes, or maybe was just out of view.”

She shook her head. “What about the police?”

“There have been other suicides here. I suppose it looked straightforward.”

“You never corrected them? You let us all think—”

“A dozen people saw me beat up my brother that night, then shove Mia to the ground. If I’d told the police what’d really happened, they’d never have believed me.”

“I thought she’d killed herself!” Her voice was ragged with disbelief. “I’ve been going over and over it, asking myself what I could have done differently. How I could have been a better sister.”

He hung his head. “I’m sorry. About everything. I am so sorry.”

The word “sorry” on his lips flashed into the sky like a flare. “It was you. You sent that flower to Mia’s funeral.” She thought of the white moon orchid with the bloodred center that she’d held, her fingers still trembling after the slap to Finn’s cheek.

“Yes.”

“There was a note with it. All it said was,
‘Sorry.’
”

He opened his palms. “I didn’t know what else to say.”

“My God,” she said quietly as all this new information ricocheted through her thoughts. Her head felt light and she pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heart beating rapidly. She was no more than a foot away from the cliff edge, Noah beside her. Her dress fluttered in the breeze and goose bumps traveled up her thighs.

“Mia phoned me,” she told him suddenly, “the day before she died. It was the last chance I’d ever get to speak to my sister. And I said such terrible things.”

She closed her eyes.
If I could have that conversation again, Mia, I’d do it so differently. I would tell you that I’d always admired you. Your determination and strength. Your ability to be yourself. The way rules and expectations never inhibited you.

I would tell you that most of my happiest times were ones spent with you. Eating fish and chips at the pier. Listening to a radio, the two of us stretched out in the sun. Doing handstands and somersaults in the bay.

I would apologize, too. I loved you more than anyone, but sometimes I felt capable of hating you more, too. And I’m sorry for that. It was jealousy. I wanted to be bold and adventurous like you, but instead I felt stifled by my fears.

If I could have that conversation again I would lend you the money you asked for. I would see beyond myself and sense that you were in
trouble and needed help. And then I would tell you that I love you. That I love being your sister.

But I didn’t do any of those things. And now it’s too late . . .

She began to sob, her face flooding with tears.

“Katie . . . ” Noah was saying.

“I can’t make it up to her. She must have hated me.”

“No. She didn’t,” he said. “Mia talked about you. Often. She told me about Cornwall. About growing up with you. You spent your summers on the beach. Porthcray, was it?”

She wiped her eyes, nodded.

“When I first met her she was in the sea. She told me she was doing this thing that you two used to do—floating with her face underwater, completely still. ‘Listening to the sea,’ she’d said.”

Katie smiled.
You remembered us doing that?

“There’s something you should see.” He reached into his pocket and carefully removed from it a folded piece of cream paper. “If you’ve been reading Mia’s journal, you’ll have seen there’s a page missing at the end.”

“Yes,” she said, surprised that he knew.

“When I went to Mia’s room to leave her a note—a suicide note, I suppose—I didn’t have anything to write on. Then I saw her journal. It was open on her desk on a blank page. So I wrote it there.” He unfolded the paper and handed it to her.

She stared at it. The page was worn and heavily creased. In the moonlight, she could just see Noah’s scrawled message.

“I didn’t realize, but I’d written it on the back of one of Mia’s entries. Look at the other side.”

She recalled the last entry she had seen, the sketch of Mia’s side profile filled with disturbing images and the faint words,
“How I am.”
She turned over Noah’s note with its jagged edge that would
later fit exactly to the journal. The page fluttered in the breeze and she held on to it tightly.

“Here,” he said, pulling a slim flashlight from his pocket.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the light. She blinked rapidly as the page came into focus. At the bottom, Mia had written,
“How I want to be.”
Above was an illustration of a side profile again, but rather than it being filled with images, this time it was clear, light. However, what surprised Katie was the photo beside it.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

The beam bounced off the gloss of the photo. She lifted the page closer to her face to see. It was a picture of a young girl in a bright red sundress with a white feather tucked into her pocket. With one hand she held on to the reins of a sapphire seahorse, and the other hand was outstretched. It was her, Katie. The missing segment of the photo she had thought she’d been discarded from.

Mia had drawn herself beside Katie.

Together.

Sisters.

“How I want to be.”

Her head felt light. She pressed her fingertips to her temples. Below them the sea raged, fists of froth smashing into jagged outcrops of rock. Understanding can arrive in a word, a smile, a glance. It arrived for Katie in that photo, peeling back the years. Years that had been filled with slammed doors and opened arms, with sharp words and heartfelt apologies, with long silences and shared laughter. She understood that despite everything, Mia had loved her and wanted them to be close again.

She pictured Mia coming here to help Noah, running along the cliff path in the dark. She’d have passed the witnesses, but there wouldn’t have been time to stop or explain. Katie imagined Mia
standing on the cliff edge, her thoughts spinning from alcohol, the night disorientating her and beckoning her forwards. She could see Mia stumbling, her body curving forwards, her arms instinctively lifting to become wings.

She would never know what Mia was thinking in those few dreadful seconds of falling, whether time had felt as though it had slowed and she could taste the salt air breezing past her, hear the call of birds roosting in dark nooks of the cliff face—or whether her last moments were filled with memories of life, fanning out like a deck of cards for her to glimpse. But what she did know was that Mia hadn’t gone to the cliff to end her life, she’d gone there to help someone she loved.

She felt Noah’s fingers firmly encircle her wrist and steer her away from the edge.

Suddenly he stopped.

They heard the sound of footsteps moving across the cliff top and watched as a figure emerged from the shadows. “Finn?” Katie said.

He was breathing hard. Moonlight fell across his face and she saw that his expression was rigid. Perhaps he noticed the tears in her eyes, and then saw Noah holding her by the wrist, as suddenly he was storming towards them.

“Get off her!”

Noah released her.

“Are you okay?” Finn asked. “Has he hurt you?”

“No. No. I’m fine.”

Finn’s gaze flicked to Noah and tension seemed to pull tight across his body. Finn took a step forwards.

Noah didn’t move. His back was to the cliff edge. All Finn would need to do was take a few more steps—Noah would be unbalanced with a single push.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Finn shouted.

“She fell,” Katie told him. “Mia fell.”

“I was with her,” Noah said. He explained that Mia had come to the cliff top to help him. That her death was an accident.

Finn listened closely, his expression unreadable. Afterwards he said, “So you’ve been letting us believe a lie.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re the reason Mia came out here. We were supposed to be going to New Zealand together. We had plans.”

“I never asked her to come.”

Without warning, Finn grabbed Noah by the scruff of his neck, forcing him backwards.

Katie’s hands flew to her mouth. They were only a foot away from the edge. One more step and they’d both go over.

Finn pushed his face up to Noah’s, shouting, “That absolves you?”

There was no fight in Noah as he said, “I’m not looking for absolution.”

“Finn!” she begged. “Let him go!”

But he didn’t seem to hear her. “How could you leave her? You fucked off to Bali. Didn’t even tell her. She’d already been through hell.”

“I know she had. And I didn’t want to hurt her, either. I knew I couldn’t make her happy because I couldn’t even make myself happy. So I left.” He held Finn’s gaze as he said, “But it doesn’t mean I didn’t care about Mia. I loved her.”

For a moment there were no words between the men, only the sound of wind curling over the cliff top.

Katie felt blood pulsing in her throat.

Finn’s hands dropped to his sides and he stepped back. He had
once said that if Noah had loved Mia, it would have been easier to let her go.

Katie let out the breath she’d been holding.

Noah ran a hand slowly over his throat. When he looked up, his eyes met hers. “I wish everything had been different. I’m so sorry.”

She thought of what he’d given her tonight: the truth. More valuable than anything. For that, she said, “It was an accident, Noah.”

He pressed his lips together, nodded. Then he turned and moved towards the path, casting a final glance at the sea before disappearing through the trees. As she watched him leave, she hoped that some horizon out there would one day bring him comfort. Mia would have wanted that.

After a moment, Finn stepped close to her, taking her hand. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“I came back to your room. I wanted to talk to you about what you’d said . . . about us. But you’d left. Ketut told me he’d booked you a taxi to Umanuk. So I came here.”

She looked at him closely and saw the tension melting from his features. She didn’t know what Finn had returned to her room to say, but she knew he’d come up here for her. “Thank you.”