Short Story: Siren's Song

Short Story: Siren's Song

It was a shimmering summer day when Francesca saw the mermaid. It was swimming in the sea immediately below her, where she sat on the cliff top obediently guarding the coats and trying not to listen to Jeffrey because he was showing off to the guide. At first glance she thought it was a great fish struggling through a tangle of feathery seaweed. She could see a strong tail threshing white foam in all directions and the iridescence of scales, flashing red-bronze and blue-silver just under the curve of the wave. But then, just as she was wondering what sort of fish it might be, it rolled over and she saw a rounded and very human belly streaming water and two strong, pearl- white, sinuous arms swimming in the trough of the wave. And she realised that the feathery weed was long hair darkened and tangled by water. And she knew that she was watching a mermaid.

She should have been surprised or shocked or even afraid, but she wasn’t. She accepted the knowledge with a curious sense of calm, as if it had been vouchsafed to her, and watched, almost idly, as the creature rolled over again to disclose a compact little face with round golden eyes, a straight, straight nose and a thin mouth, dark- lipped and faintly smiling. And then she saw that clutched between the white buds of its bosom, placid and befurred as a child’s toy, was a baby seal. For a long bewitched second Francesca and the mermaid looked into one another’s eyes. It’s as if she knows what I’m thinking, Francesca mused, as if she’s reading my mind. And the thought made her shiver because nobody had known what she was thinking, not for years, not since Bertie had gone to Australia and she’d moved in with Jeffrey.

She could hear his voice booming back at her across the clear air of the island, that pompous bray of his sounding even more objectionable in the open air than it did in town. ‘The rock formation here is quite exceptional. As I was telling Professor Cairns only the other day...’

I wish he wouldn’t talk like that, she thought, gazing down at the mermaid. But then she checked the thought, because it was disloyal. And she couldn’t change him. Not in any way. She knew that.

The mermaid lay in the wave and allowed it to rock her as though she were in a hammock, looking back at Francesca with her lovely golden eyes. Then she lifted the seal and let it slip between her arms and glide back into the wave. It plunged under the green water, became a sleek grey shadow and was gone. And in the second of its going the mermaid disappeared too, back into the great wide freedom of that blue- green ocean as if she had never been.

On the rocks out in the bay, shags sat like long-necked statues, the gold of their gapes glinting in the sunshine. Two had their wings hung out to dry like bats. Further out to sea, a family of seals lay on yet another rock, basking in the noonday warmth, their 11w dried to the softest palest brown. Occasionally one turned lazily to scratch its ear with its flipper, but apart from that they were still and content.

Wild creatures have such freedom, Francesca thought, admiring them. They mate as they please, breed for a season and then just move on. It’s only human beings who chain themselves. But that was disloyal too. She wasn’t chained to Jeffrey. She stayed with him voluntarily because he was vulnerable and unhappy and because he needed her so much. Even so, she couldn’t help wishing she could change places with the mermaid just for a day and swim off into the Atlantic without a care in the world.

The climbers were returning. She could hear the sound of their voices and the tramp and scuff of their walking boots. Presently they appeared on the brow of the hill, awkward in their shorts and t-shirts, their backpacks like humps, their movements ungainly under a sky full of the graceful white wings of the skims and herring gulls and the busy, bumblebee flight of the puffins.

Jeffrey was leading them. Naturally. ‘All right?’ he asked, as he approached. And he gave her the full charm of his public smile.

She answered him without stopping to think how foolish she would sound. ‘I’ve just seen a mermaid,’ she said. Her cheeks were still flushed with the wonder of it and her short crop of fair hair bushed about her face.

His expression changed at once. ‘Try not to be a fool,’ he said, quietly and angrily. ‘If you must fantasize, keep it to yourself. ‘The others were catching up with him and there was no time to say anything else, so he warned her again with a glare, his eyebrows hardened into a black line between his black hair and the fury of his nearly black eyes.

She winced into herself. It’s almost as if he hates me, she thought. But of course he didn’t. She knew that. He depended on her too much. She was the only one who knew how to support his weaknesses. It was just his rough way. He could be very harsh when he felt threatened. Nevertheless she decided not to walk with him just yet and waked until the group had collected their coats before she stood up and brushed down her skirt and set off to follow them.

‘What did it look like?’ a voice said behind her.

It was the scruffy old lady she’d seen at lunch, the one with the untidy hair and the extraordinary clothes. Miss Potts, wasn’t it? ‘Your mermaid,’ she prompted.

‘It was my imagination,’ Francesca said quickly, ashamed that she’d been overheard being foolish. ‘I probably didn’t see anything.’

Miss Potts had caught her up. She had a trailing length of bramble stuck to her skirt and was carrying a bunch of wild flowers, thrifts and pink sea campions and the little white blossoms of the starry saxifrage. ‘We see what we see,’ she said, ‘and there’s always a reason for it. So tell me, what was it like?’

So, partly because she was still stinging from Jeffrey’s rebuke and partly because Miss Potts was old and friendly and there was something about her that made confidences possible, Francesca told her.

‘Quite delightful!’ Miss Potts said when the tale was told. ‘There will be a reason for it, you mark my words.’

‘Come along!’ Jeffrey called. ‘We don’t want to miss the zodiacs.’

The little bouncy rubber dinghies were waiting for them at the jetty and they all piled aboard, putting on their life jackets and sitting on the rim of the dinghy the way they’d been shown. The cruise ship lay at anchor in the bay, looking very smart in her blue and white trim.

‘I’m going for a swim before dinner,’ Miss Potts said, as the zodiac’s outboard motor buzzed them away from the jetty. ‘Why don’t you join me?’

Francesca had spent the first six evenings of the cruise sitting in the bar listening to Jeffrey as he held forth about rock formations and the various geological surveys he’d undertaken for various prestigious customers. He’d explained to her, earnestly, before they set out, that this would be the most important part of the cruise. ‘You never know who might be listening,’ he’d said. ‘If I play my cards right I could land another commission. That wouldn’t be bad would it? Business and holiday all in one fell swoop.’ Now, remembering the grace of the mermaid’s white arms, she suddenly felt she’d had enough of fell swoops. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’d like that. I haven’t been swimming for ages.’

It was warm in the ship’s pool and the motion of the ship rocked them gently as they swam, in exactly the same way as the swell of the sea had rocked the mermaid. Miss Potts progressed sedately with her head tipped back so as to keep her mouth clear of the chloride. ‘I’m not a good swimmer,’ she said, ‘but I do like being in the water.’

‘So do I,’ Francesca realized. ‘It makes me feel so free.’

‘Like your mermaid,’ Miss Potts said. ‘I wonder if you’ll see her again tomorrow.’

‘I doubt it,’ Francesca laughed. ‘We shall be miles away in Shapinsay. She’d have a job to follow us there, the rate we’ll be traveling.’

But Shapinsay had a surprise for her.

It was another bright day and the sea was blessedly calm, so they managed the trip to shore with barely a bounce. It was a steep climb to the castle but once they were there, the view was spectacular and their tour of the gardens was taken at just the right pace so that they could stop and admire whenever they wished. The young laird, who owned the castle and the village and most of the island, squired them round and answered their questions and finally invited them all in to the castle for coffee and cakes. They followed him to the entrance with happy anticipation.

It turned out to be an impressive gateway with an impressive coat of arms caned into the arch, a shield with four elaborate quarters, flanked on either side by a pair of sea otters, fierce-faced and pert-whiskered, standing on their hind legs with their front paws supporting the shield. Naturally everybody stopped to admire it. Even Jeffery.

‘Do tell me,’ one lady asked. ‘Why do you have sea otters on your coat of arms? Is there some significance?’

‘I’m not sure about significance,’ the laird smiled. ‘There’s a rather charming story about it though. I’ll tell it to you if you like.’

‘Yes,’ they said. ‘Please do. We’d love it.’ What nicer way to spend a summer’s morning than to stand in the sunshine and listen to a story?

‘Well,’ he said, taking up a stance on the cobbles. ‘It seems that when my great-great-great — however many greats — grandfather was considering his first coat of arms, he needed a bit of peace and quiet to get his thoughts in order, so he came up here and stood just where you’re standing now and looked over the bay, where your ship is anchored. And you can believe this or not as you wish, but apparently, just as he was giving up hope of ever finding anything suitable, a mermaid appeared with a sea otter in her arms and held it out to him. He took it as a sign.’ He laughed. ‘As one would. Commissioned a local stonemason that very afternoon to do the work. The otters have been here ever since, as you see.’

Francesca could feel the hair rising on the nape of her neck and turning she saw that Miss Potts was grinning at her in a really devilish way.

‘Amazing!’ the old lady said, as they all trooped into the castle. ‘Exactly like your mermaid. Didn’t I tell you there would be a reason for it?’

‘It’s a coincidence,’ Francesca said quickly. ‘That’s all.’ It had to be, didn’t it? ‘Something in the air up here. A trick of light. It makes you see things.’

Miss Potts gave her another grin. ‘Or see things in a different way,’ she said.

It was certainly doing that, Francesca thought wryly. It wasn’t showing Jeffrey in a good light at all. As the days passed she was noticing more and more things about him that she didn’t like; how he bullied his partners at bridge, analysing their game after every hand and explaining how they ought to have played; how he dominated the talk at the dinner table, showing off about his wonderful relationship with Professor Cairns, when she knew they’d only worked together for six weeks and had parted acrimoniously.

She took to spending more and more time with old Miss Polls. They swam together every evening while he was playing bridge, explored islands and gardens every day while he was discussing rock formations, even met at breakfast while he was finishing his sleep.

By the twelfth evening they felt like old friends. Francesca had discovered that Miss Potts’ Christian name was Agnes, ‘although for God’s sake don’t let anyone else know!’ They’d told one another about their jobs — ‘Very boring office work.’ ‘Me too!’ — and their families — ‘Aren’t they complicated!’ ‘Aren’t they just!’ - so it was no surprise to either of them that they began to talk about love and marriage.

‘Why did you marry your Jeffrey?’ Agnes asked, as they swam together one evening.

‘We’re not actually married,’ Francesca confessed.

‘Well why are you living with him then?’

‘He’s a good man,’ Francesca said, feeling defensive.

‘I’m sure. But that doesn’t answer my question.’

‘I think it’s because he was so unhappy,’ Frances said. ‘His wife had left him, you see, and his daughters — he’s got two daughters, teenagers — well they were being horrible to him. They said they never wanted to see him again, and he wasn’t very well, and he’d just lost his job. Well not exactly lost his job. He was between jobs.’ Actually he had lost that job. He’d been fired. He’d shown her the letter. She’d forgotten all about it until now.

‘So you were sorry for him,’ Agnes said.

It was true. But she couldn’t admit it. It would have made him sound like a wimp. ‘He needed me,’ she temporised. That was true. ‘He still does actually. He may seem strong but he’s really quite vulnerable.’

‘The trouble with making decisions,’ Agnes said, ‘is that you have to live with the consequences for such a longtime. I made the wrong decision when I was young.’

Francesca looked a question at her.

‘I turned down the man I should have married because my mother was ill, or said she was ill, and I thought it was my duty to look after her. He told me I had to choose between them and I chose her. I thought she needed me. We’re so stupid when we’re young. She didn’t of course. A nurse would have done. Or anyone who would listen to her. She wasn’t ill. She was just a nasty selfish old woman. The trouble was I didn’t see it at the time.’

‘Oh Agnes! I am sorry.’

‘Serves me right,’ the old lady said brusquely. ‘I should have had more sense, paid more attention to my own needs instead of kow-towing to her all the time.’

‘Yes,’ Francesca agreed. ‘I think you should.’

‘So,’ Agnes said. ‘What do you need, my dear?’

Francesca suddenly remembered the mermaid, turning languidly into the wave and smiling at her with those great golden eyes. Freedom, she thought, and almost said so. But she didn’t of course because that would have been disloyal. ‘I need to go and get ready or I shall be late for dinner,’ she said.

So they ate their penultimate dinner aboard and woke to their last day ashore. And Jefitey announced that there’d been a change of plan.

‘We’re not going to the gardens this afternoon,’ he said, when she returned to the cabin after breakfast. ‘I need to visit the Gladstone Museum. There are some geological specimens there that are quite first rate, apparently. Henderson was telling me about them last night. Said I shouldn’t miss them. Actually made a point of it. So I thought to myself, there could be a commission in this. He knows I’m in the market, so to speak, and he’s very influential. You don’t mind do you?’ She did mind. She minded very much. But she didn’t say so because that wouldn’t have been kind when he was so eager.

So when the rest of the party set off in their coaches for the final garden of the tour, she and Jeffrey headed off for the museum. It was excruciatingly boring, just case after case of rock samples in a great empty hail with windows so high she couldn’t see out of them and nothing else to look at except the floor and the ceiling. The air smelt of dust and furniture polish, the silence hissed, every footfall was as loud as an express train. And Jeffrey didn’t talk to her because he was too busy making notes.

By the time he’d seen all he wanted to, her mouth was dry with boredom.

‘Have we time for a quick cup of tea?’ she hoped.

He looked at his watch. ‘Not if we’re going to catch the zodiacs.’

‘It’s not far,’ she urged. ‘Only down to the jetty.’

‘The jetty?’ he mocked. ‘That potty little place! Don’t be stupid woman. They’ll pick us up at the harbour.’

For once in her life, Francesca stood up to him. ‘No,’ she said. ‘They told us they’d pick us up at the jetty. The coaches are going to park alongside. There was a space marked for them.’

‘But we’re not in a coach, are we.’ He said heavily. ‘We’re on our own. They’ll pick up at the harbour. Trust me.’

So that’s where she followed him, although she knew he was wrong.

They waited. And waited. It had obviously been a glorious afternoon, so Francesca sat on the grass hillock beside the harbour wall and enjoyed what was left of it. The sea glittered with sunlight, the sky was richly blue and heaped with bright white rolling clouds, shadowed in the same smoke-blue as the distant hills. But the expected dinghy didn’t arrive, no matter how many cigarettes Jeffrey smoked nor how loudly he complained. After half an hour, she stood up and strolled to the edge of the hillock to look out into the bay and see if there was any sign of it.

There was a line of zodiacs bouncing back to the ship from the jetty, full of cheerful holidaymakers, but not a single one heading in the direction of the harbour.

Feeling justified and angry, she went straight back to tell Jeffrey.

He was very cross. ‘But what’s the matter with them? Have they forgotten us, the fools?’

‘We’re in the wrong place,’ she said. ‘I did tell you’. He was agitated now and beginning to shout. ‘Oh for God’s sake! What are we going to do? They can’t leave us behind. They’ve got our passports. What are we going to do?’

‘I don’t know about you,’ she said, ‘but I’m going to find the harbour master and get him to send a message, shore to ship.’

Which she did. And was surprised by how quick and efficient he was. The call was made within five minutes and with a lot of sympathy. Unfortunately the zodiac took half an hour to make the journey from ship to harbour and considerably more to struggle back again, for by then they were travelling against the tide and there was a heavy swell running. Dinner was nearly over by the time they arrived on board and everybody in the dining hall had heard of their adventure. They were teased and given mocking cheers all the way to their seats.

‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ Mrs Henderson laughed as they settled at the table. ‘What happened to you then?’

‘In the wrong place,’ Jeffrey admitted, smiling his public smile. ‘All my Franny’s fault. She would have it we were to wait at the harbour. I told her she was wrong but you know how women are.’

The injustice of it was so crushing that Francesca could feel the heat rising into her cheeks. But she didn’t correct him. She never corrected him. She just gave him her self-deprecating smile and let him run on.

‘Women are all the same,’ he was saying to Mr Henderson. ‘Bless ‘em. Illogical. That’s about the size if it. But, like I always say, what would we do without ‘em, eh.’

The scales were falling from Francesca’s eyes, tumbling into the periphery of her vision, red-bronze and blue-silver, dazzling and revealing. How dare he do this to me? she thought. How dare he? It’s disloyal. And that discovery brought another even more powerful. I don’t love him, she thought, watching that public smile. I don’t even like him. It was a terrible thing to have to admit but it was true.

‘One more evening,’ Mrs Henderson said to her, smiling across the table, ‘and then I suppose we shall have to pack. Or do you think we shall be too illogical to manage it.

‘Oh no,’ Francesca said. ‘I think I shall pack very logically.’

So the last morning dawned, cool and quiet with a white mist rising from the sea.

Francesca woke at first light and got up at once, leaving Jeffrey in his usual sleep. She

was washed, dressed, packed and breakfasted and had even swapped addresses with

Agnes Potts, before he stirred.

‘Right,’ she said, as he opened his eyes and scrabbled for his travelling clock, ‘I’m off.’

He was puzzled and looked it. ‘What do you mean off? What are you talking about?’

‘I’m going. We disembark at seven thirty.’

He looked round the untidy cabin, scowling with displeasure. ‘But we can’t go yet. You haven’t packed.’

‘Yes I have,’ she said, picking up her case. ‘You’re the one who hasn’t packed. You’ve got twenty-five minutes to do it. Like I told you, I’m off.’

He couldn’t believe his ears. ‘You’re not going without me.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m going without you. I’m not coming back to London. I’m going off on my own.’

‘Oh come on Franny,’ he said, switching on the charm. ‘This isn’t funny. You make it sound as if you’re leaving me.’

‘That’s right,’ she said, surprised by how cool she was being. ‘I’m leaving you.'

Now he was horrified. ‘You can’t.’

She wanted to laugh. ‘I can. I am.’

‘But you can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘I need you.’

‘Do you?’ she wondered.

‘Of course I do,’ he said, the old impatience returning to his face. ‘I’m the sort of man who needs a wife.’

‘But I’m not your wife, in case you’ve forgotten.’

He dismissed that. ‘Wife, lover, it’s the same thing. I need a woman to love me. Some don’t. But I do. You know that. We’ve always said so.’

‘No Jeffrey,’ she said. ‘You’ve always said so. You. Not me. I never said anything. And actually you don’t need a lover or a wife, you need an echo chamber.

And someone to pack your things and tidy up after you and take the blame when you make mistakes.’

‘Look,’ he tried, ‘you’re tired. You’ll see things differently once we’re back home. You don’t really mean this. I mean, think of all I’ve done for you. Think of the car and the new kitchen.'

She opened the cabin door and pushed her case through. ‘Goodbye,’ she said.

He sat up in the bunk, tried to smooth his hair, smiled and then thought better of it, struggled with disbelief, began to despair. ‘I don’t understand you, Francesca,’ he said. ‘You’re hurting me and you never hurt me. Why are you doing this?’

In the wonderful clear vision of her new-washed sight, Francesca could see the mermaid, swimming luxuriously in blue-green water, her tangle of hair dark as seaweed fronds about the pearl-white of her long lithe body. ‘For fun,’ she said.