Away In Ingo

Chapter Two

I wake at midday to the sound of rain pelting at my window. At first, I think I'm still back in the dark, prison-box of my room at university. As I peer bleary eyed around the room, the disorientation wears off, and I remember that I am home. There is a thick sheet of fog pressed against the window, obscuring the garden below. At least the weather doesn't change around here.

My mouth feels like glue as I peel myself out of bed. Yawning, I make my over to my wardrobe, rummaging around for some clothes. I find an old cream jumper and a pair of baggy jeans, which both hang loose over my spindly arms and legs.

I hurry downstairs. Everyone's at work, so I'm alone with Sadie. She thumps her tail against the kitchen tiles when she sees me. I let her out into the garden, and she goes about sniffing every bush, tail wagging. I leave her to do her business, and head into the kitchen. Opening cupboards, I search about through the various packets of porridge, muesli and granola, all sounding extremely unappetising. I settle on a mug of tea before setting to work on the list of chores Mum has left me. There's plenty to be done, washing up, hoovering, laundry to put on and hung out to dry.

This is how we used to spend our summers, Conor and I. The morning was for chores, and the afternoon was for what ever we pleased.

By mid afternoon the rain has stopped, providing the perfect moment to hang the laundry out. Outside in the garden, it is humid, the clouds are a metallic grey hanging heavy in the sky. Rosebuds drip with rainwater. Sadie follows me out, tipping her head and whining at me. She paws at my ankles as I hang out the sheets.

"Not now Sadie, I'm busy," I say to her. Sadie huffs and sits at my side patiently. When we get back inside, she sits underneath the hook where her lead hangs, wagging her tail.

"You want a walk?" I ask. She barks in response.

"Come on then, let's go," I tell her, tugging on my wellington boots. Sadie bounds to the front gate, twitching with excitement. I open the gate and we head out together. Without thinking, I find my self wandering along the path to our cove. Sadie stops to sniff every patch of grass with great attentiveness, her tail wagging the entire time.

I stop abruptly when we come to the tangle of nettles and brambles, with sudden realisation of where my feet were taking me. Hairs prickle at the back of my neck and a shiver runs down my spine. The trees bend their boughs heavy over the path, twisting and creaking as the wind moves through their branches. Sadie whines, pressing herself against my legs. I shake myself awake.

"Come on girl," I say to her, feigning enthusiasm, for my own sake more than her's. 

 "Let's go somewhere else." Sadie cheerfully pads along beside me, back in the opposite direction, towards the downs. She'll find heather to jump around in and rabbits to chase there. And I won't hear the rush of the waves as they crash onto the shore.

***

The next few days go the same, merging into a blur. I wake at midday to find a list of housework to be completed before Mum and Roger are back from work. I finish the chores by late afternoon, so I take Sadie for a walk to the downs. When we're back, we head into the garden. Sadie flops down onto the cool grass for a snooze, whilst I tend to Dad's old tangled over vegetable patch. It has rained every single day, and I'm getting sick of the colour grey.

Today I wake expecting to find the usual scene: a muddy, waterlogged garden. Instead, sun beams are dancing through my window and birds are twittering in every tree. The sigh of the waves swells, sweeping through the silence of the cottage. I dress quickly, eager to get outside into the sunshine. I leave Sadie inside as I head out into the garden, worried the heat will be too much for her.

The sun has burnt all the clouds out of the sky, leaving behind a crystal blue bubble. The grass is bursting green after the rainfall. I can hear the whirr of lawnmowers through the village, and in our neighbour's garden, chickens clucking. These are the summer days I remember from my childhood, warm and golden. I wonder how beautiful the cove would look on a day like this.

I kneel beside the gooseberry bushes with a colander, plucking at the glut of bursting, fat green berries. The sun beats down on my back and beads of sweat trickle down my forehead. Bees hum around me and butterflies dance under the blazing sun.

The sigh of the sea cuts through the melodious calm of the garden. It's soft and smooth like silk. The waves rush in and out, a glorious melody to my ears. My fingers tremble as I find it harder to concentrate on what I'm doing. The waves fill my head, dizzying. In my head, I can see the deep blue of the waves lapping over sparkling sand, I can hear the cry of gulls and taste the salt. My heart pangs, and in that moment I decide.

I leave the colander underneath the bush, spilling berries across the grass. I head out the gate, paying no heed to Sadie's volley of barks. I follow the rippling echo of the clear blue sea, putting haste to my hurrying steps down the track. The ocean's song is like a glass of ice-cold water on a burning hot day. Finally, I'm back where the brambles and foxgloves grow, and this time, I clamber right over the cliff's lip, scrambling down the rocks. I squeeze through the boulders guarding the cove, just as I've done so many times before, finding flat white sand stretching out before me.

***

This is why I never dared came back, in all the time I was away. Barring brief visits for Christmas, I knew I needed to stay precisely where I was, far from the sea. Because if I came back, it would only be a matter of time before the call of Ingo lured me back to our cove again.

The tide's coming in, lapping up frothing foam onto the shore. The sea is like wrinkled silk, ribboned with emeralds and brilliant turquoise blues. The sand sparkles under the sun and my feet sink deep into it. I walk to the water's edge, winding along the tideline's path. I'm the only person here. The only sound is the sloshing of water and an occasional mew of a gull. I weave my way over the rock pools where my brother and I would spend our long summer days. Back then, the pools were bursting with swaying seaweed and strawberry anemones that would curl up tight when your shadow passed over them. Tiny silver fish darted in and out, velvet crabs scuttled over the rocks, and shells shimmered iridescent under the water's surface.

It is as if my former self is locked within these pools, just below the water, where I cannot reach her. The bond Conor and I once shared rings around these rocks. We spent so much time here growing up, it's as if our ghosts still remain. I can almost hear our chatter, our laughter, caught upon the wind.

That time is gone now, trapped in the past where I no longer reach it. Everything was so much simpler back then, when our family was whole. The cove no longer holds the same appeal as it once did over me. The shore is so empty, a boundless bare canvas stretching out to the horizon. The sun is too bright, too blinding, so much I must shield my eyes. Suddenly, I don't want to be here, reliving a past that I can never get back again. I turn, heading back towards the cliffs.

I'm taken hold with a feeling. A feeling I haven't experienced in many years, but is as familiar to me as my own name.

I whip around, squinting against the blazing white sun, scanning the foaming waves. I feel a stab in my heart and the world falls away from me. There, among the waves, I catch sight of a shadowy head bobbing up out of the water. It's gone as soon as it appears. The sigh of the waves ceases, the song of the gulls is silenced. I stare, frozen, my surroundings irrelevant, watching the spot among the waves. I'm willing the shadow to appear again, I daren't leave in case I miss it.

I brush my fingertips gently against the bracelet I've kept on my wrist these ten years. My heart constricts. It was him; I know it was. I could never mistake that feeling.

I stare out to sea until the waves become a watery blur and my eyes sting. Perhaps I bled all my heart and soul into leaving Ingo firmly in the past, but I thought of him every single day. I had tried my upmost to cast him from my mind, yet it could not be helped, he was in everything I did. And now, the echo of him is ringing in my head again, swarming my thoughts, pounding and heavy.