2019. Portobello, Edinburgh
Janet stood on the beach, watching the woman in the yellow woolly hat. The woman was standing in the sea, waist deep. She reminded Janet of the Gormley statues along the Water of Leith. Stuck in time. Extraneous. Brooding. Preoccupied. The woman had her back to the shore, and was trailing her fingers in the water. Janet couldn’t see well enough to know whether the woman was wearing gloves. Most of them had gloves, or at least the ones she watched from her kitchen window on weekday mornings. The woman had a pensive, meditative look about her, as if she was contemplating something much larger, more universal, than Janet could understand. She didn’t seem to notice the mocking cold of the wind, or the taunting raw of the sea.
Janet sat down a couple of feet from a pile of things that she thought must belong to the woman. She watched and waited. The sun was sliding down the sky in the west, throwing the flat water into a rich purple hue. A few people were dotted about, taking photos of the sunset with their phones. There was only the woman to break the thin hazy contour of the horizon. Further down the shoreline, and out deeper than the woman, two terns were hunting fish, gliding and spinning and soaring, until they would suddenly plummet down, arrow-sharp, and swoop back up with a flash of silver, or, Janet imagined, a flicker of disappointment.
‘Hi.’ Janet rocked backwards in fright. She hadn’t noticed the woman come out of the water. She stood up and took a few steps back, trying to give the woman some space. ‘You a wild swimmer?’ the woman said to Janet as she wiped sand off her legs and climbed into a lilac garment that seemed half towel, half dressing gown.
‘No,’ Janet replied. ‘Too cold for me.’ She rubbed her hands together and pulled her hat further down over her ears. The woman zipped herself into the garment, took a small towel out of a canvas bag, rubbed at her hair, then pulled the hood of the garment up over her head. ‘I watch, though,’ Janet said, ‘most days.’ She waved an arm towards the red tenement behind the rowing club. ‘ Makes me shiver just looking at you all.’
The woman laughed. ‘It takes a bit of getting used to,’ she said, smiling. ‘You have to start off small. Just a few minutes. And build it up over time.’ She looked at Janet and frowned. She seemed quizzical, expectant. ‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘I need to get going, can’t stand around here all night.’
Janet took a deep breath. Dropped her hands to her sides and released her fingers slowly, one by one. Her heart thrashed at her chest wall. Her throat felt tight, dry. ‘Before you go,’ she said, ‘do you like clouds?’ The woman looked at her in surprise, and turned her head to examine the sky. ‘Of course,’ she replied, ‘it’s one of the reasons I swim. Sea and sky. And the clouds, well, they help with working out when to go in.’ She pushed each foot into a blue croc and started to walk towards the promenade. Janet followed her, a couple of paces behind.
‘The thing is,’ she said, calling out to the woman, ‘someone’s stolen Cyril.’ Janet took another deep breath. ‘I mean my cloud. Someone’s kidnapped my cloud.’ The woman stopped, turned and stared at Janet. ‘Your cloud?’ she said. ‘Are you the woman with the cloud?’ Janet nodded. She looked at the ground. The two were silent for a few moments. Janet shuffled her feet in the sand.
‘I’ve heard of you,’ the woman said. ‘Someone in the wild swimmers said that there was a pet cloud in Porty. I must say I didn’t really believe them.’ Janet nodded too vigorously. She kept her eyes on the sand. ‘Sorry,’ the woman said, holding her hand out to Janet. ‘I should have introduced myself. My name’s Katherine.’ Janet put her hand out and let Katherine take her hand. ‘Janet,’ said. ‘I’m Janet.’ She struggled to hold back her tears. The woman’s grip was cold, damp and firm. But it was also safe. Convincing. A hand that knew what to do. A hand that wouldn’t tremble or shudder or disappear up a sleeve.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ Janet said, looking at Katherine. ‘I need to get him back. Before something happens.’ She took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes hard with a clenched fist. ‘There’s nothing in the manual. In the instructions.’ She wiped her glasses on the hem of her coat. ‘I was wondering,’ she said, pausing, ‘whether you could help me.’
‘Me?’ Katherine said. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything about clouds.’ Janet put her glasses back on, blinked, and looked into Katherine’s eyes.
‘Please,’ Janet said. ‘I don’t know who else to ask.’ Katherine looked up and down the beach. Up at the sky again. Rubbed her chin with her hand. Then she reached out and put her hand on Janet’s arm.
‘I need to get changed,’ Katherine said, ‘at the pool. And then, if you want, we can have a cup of tea and figure out what to do.’
To be continued
SANDERLINGS 