Rosalie Warren

Low Tide, Lunan Bay

The adventures of Abbie, who lets her friends persuade her to look for romance online. I’m quite well-qualified to write this book, since this is how I met my partner, Paul. But, I should add, Paul is nothing like Bill in the novel, and all the episodes and people in the book are the products of my imagination.

 
Lunan Bay is a beautiful beach north of Dundee. I’d strongly recommend a visit. 

 
Dundee is a great city, too. It’s had its problems in the past but has so much going for it now.  I’d especially recommend the Arts Centre  and the Dundee Rep .

 
Read the first chapter of Low Tide, Lunan Bay below. 

Low Tide, Lunan Bay was shortlisted in the Fygleaves Novel Competition, 2007.

Low Tide, Lunan Bay

© Rosalie Warren 2008

Chapter 1

‘So, we finally get to meet Keith Brinnett, creator of the Great Green Wizard. How does it feel, Keith, to be a world-famous author?’

Though Keith’s smile and the hint of a frown that accompanied it were clearly intended to convey modesty, Abbie could see the relish just below.

‘It feels pretty good,’ he said. ‘Though “world-famous” may be a bit of an exaggeration.’

The middle-aged female interviewer gave her characteristic simper. ‘But you are world-famous. Children all over the world are clamouring to know when your next book is coming out. Children as young as five – even ones who can’t read yet.’

Keith leaned forward to catch the eye of his partner, Fiona. ‘That’s why the illustrations play such an important part.’ 

Fiona beamed at him. Abbie had noted from the start the way that her tight emerald green sweater-dress revealed an unflattering bulge in her tummy. Surely not a pregnancy bulge? That was impossible, since Keith had undergone a vasectomy a couple of years after the twins were born. No, Fiona’s bulge was merely a small imperfection in a woman who was otherwise, by all accounts, perfect.

Seated on either side of Keith and Fiona were the twins, Lizzie and Sarah, aged eleven. As the camera swung round to them, Abbie beamed with pride. They were her daughters, no matter what.

She was glad to be watching the interview on her own, since it was possible she would start to cry at some stage – or even throw a vase at the wall.

She had come home from work early to watch it live. Lizzie and Sarah had gone straight from school to a friend’s house, excited at the prospect of seeing themselves on television.

The twins were almost identical in appearance, with Abbie’s fine, straight blonde hair and grey eyes. Lizzie was leaning slightly forward, a smile not far off. Sarah, on the other hand, slouched, biting her lip as she always did when nervous, arms folded across her body.

‘Now let’s move on to your daughters, who, I think you said in your Times article, were the main source of inspiration for your books.’ The presenter smiled at the twins.

They grinned back, Lizzie more broadly than Sarah. Sarah began crossing and uncrossing her legs in the way she always did when bored.

‘Lizzie and Sarah, I understand that your daddy’s books came out of the bedtime stories he used to tell you when you were tiny. Is that right?’

Sarah and Lizzie both flinched at ‘daddy’, and possibly at ‘tiny’ as well.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Lizzie. ‘We used to like stories about animals and magic so Dad made up a wizard who was a crocodile.’

‘How wonderful. So you two were his very first audience? Tell me, Sarah, did either of you ever suggest improvements to the stories? You know, ways to make them better?’

At least she had correctly identified which twin was which.

‘No,’ said Sarah. ‘We always liked the wizard just as he was.’

‘Ah,’ said the interviewer. ‘So you were an appreciative audience right from the start. Did your daddy –?’

Lizzie interrupted. ‘But we told Fiona when she got the drawings wrong. She did the wizard the wrong colour of green to start with. We told her to make him darker. And not so scary in case it frightened the little ones.’

‘Really?’ The interviewer’s face was all smiles now. ‘And what did Fiona think of that?’

Fiona’s voice came out unnaturally high. It gave her an air of girlishness that Abbie found somehow creepy. That had been her impression of Fiona the first time they met – something strange and not quite right about her. She’d mentioned it to Keith but he’d dismissed it as jealousy. Perhaps that was all it was.

 ‘I was only too pleased to take Sarah’s and Lizzie’s opinions into account, given how closely associated they were with the stories right from the start.’ 

Such formal diction – another sign of nerves? 

Keith intervened at this point, perhaps wanting to get back into the limelight. ‘And, of course, Fiona’s suggestions have been invaluable to me as well. My work got a real boost when Fiona first read it and came up with her exciting ideas.’       

What about my suggestions and all the help I gave you with the proof-reading? Abbie wondered whether she would get a mention, too, but knew better than to expect it.

‘So The Great Green Wizard has been very much a family effort, right from the start?’ said the interviewer.

‘Mum helped a lot with Dad’s books,’ said Sarah in a low voice.

At first it seemed that the interviewer had not heard her and was going to sweep on regardless. Then she raised her eyebrows. ‘Mum? Oh, your mother, of course. That would be your first wife, Keith?’

Keith’s chin went up in annoyance and he folded his arms. ‘Yes, my ex-wife.’  The last word had an upward inflection, as though to ask, What about her? What has she to do with any of us? Then his neck and face reddened as Sarah spoke again.

‘Mum used to help Dad type his stories. When he got fed up she used to bring him his favourite bacon and cheese sandwiches.’

Something gave way inside Abbie and she didn’t know whether to smile or cry.

 ‘That was nice,’ said the interviewer, glancing at Fiona, who had folded her own arms across her tummy bulge.

Keith pursed his lips and said nothing. Abbie felt a surge of pleasure and was glad she had remembered to switch on the video recorder.  She would be able to replay Keith’s discomfort again and again, whenever she needed to.

Fiona gave a big false smile which gave Abbie almost as much pleasure as Keith’s blush.

The interviewer paused for a moment and then said, ‘Well, Keith and Fiona, let’s hear about the new book that is coming out on Tuesday. Number three in The Great Green Wizard series?’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Keith, turning to smile at Fiona, perhaps to comfort her after the disconcerting mention of his former wife.

‘And I, for one, will be rushing out to my local bookshop to buy it,’ said the interviewer. ‘Even if I have to queue all night. Keith and Fiona, and, of course, Lizzie and Sarah, thank you very much for joining us today and may I wish you every success.’

When the four of them were gone, the interviewer said, ‘That was the incredible family who created between them The Great Green Wizard.’

Abbie clicked off the TV and pulled herself up from the sofa. Her palms were sore from digging her fingernails in.

It was time to make herself some supper. The girls were staying overnight with their friend, so for once she was on her own.

*****

Where was her eyebrow pencil? Abbie didn’t wear much make-up most days, but after the interview she felt the need to prove something. She smudged navy kohl pencil into the corners of her eyes, as recommended by the magazines to make them look bigger.

Kate, Abbie’s office mate in the Department of Physics, had persuaded her to invite her colleagues and friends for an evening in the pub to celebrate her divorce.

‘A celebration’s the last thing I feel like,’ Abbie replied. ‘I need to put it all behind me and move on. I’m trying to forget about Keith as much as I can and make a new life of my own.’

‘Exactly,’ said Kate. ‘And this is the way to do it – go out with your new friends, enjoy yourself, get pissed and wake up next day ready to go forward.’

‘Going out and getting pissed isn’t my style.’

 Kate was single. Although, at thirty-four, she was only four years younger than Abbie, the difference in their ages often seemed more like a decade.  

‘Time you changed your style, then,’ she said. ‘If you ever want to meet anyone new you’ll have to start getting out a bit. You’re not going to find a queue of men outside the office or knocking at the door of your bungalow.’

‘I don’t want a new man,’ Abbie said. ‘Not now and probably never.’

But she had agreed to a low-key celebration, and was in front of the mirror now, regretting her decision. What was the point, she wondered, of meeting the colleagues she saw at work every day, plus a few neighbours? None of them were potential partners, that was clear. Even if she’d been looking for love, which she wasn’t.

In spite of her efforts with the eyebrow pencil, Abbie’s eyes continued to nestle unassumingly in their sockets. Applying mascara never worked, either, since her lashes were as fine and fair as her hair and almost invisible until she reached the point of overload where the mascara formed sticky lumps.

She’d been a stone or so overweight for several years, but the stress of the marriage break-up had got rid of that. She liked her new figure and the extra energy she’d gained, but expected to put the weight back on again now that the divorce was over – especially if she kept accepting the chocolate bars that Kate stored in her desk drawer.

*****

The celebration was to be held at a pub called the Mouse and Man – something to do with best-laid plans and Robbie Burns, Abbie supposed. The place was shabby and sepia-coloured, reeking of stale beer and rank, mouldy carpets. The lighting had a greenish tinge which was far from flattering. She could only imagine what colour it made her skin.

The pub’s advantage was being close to the Physics Department, which made it a convenient venue for the common round of celebratory and  consolatory events.

Abbie left her middle-aged Fiesta in her workday parking space outside the Physics building, deciding that if she drank more than her customary half- lager she could abandon it overnight and take a taxi home. But she couldn’t see that being necessary. She was quite prepared for no-one other than herself and Kate to turn up.

A surprising number of people did appear, however. Most of Abbie’s departmental colleagues were present, including Professor Fred Steadman, the Head of Department, who greeted her with an enthusiastic whoop and a splashing of his beer over the table. It looked as though he had been there for some time – had perhaps even gone straight from work.

Once Abbie was settled with her drink, he asked, ‘So, my dear, now you are free from marital constraints, what do you plan to do with the rest of your life? Are you brimming over with interesting ideas?’

‘This is what I’m doing with it,’ she said, taking a first sip of the full pint of lager he’d insisted on buying her. ‘I don’t mean drinking …’ (this caused a splutter from Fred and more beer on the table).  ‘I mean working here at Invercarse University. Living on my own – without Keith, that is. Making a home for the twins.’ Abbie felt stupid, as though she had said too much.

‘Laudable,’ said Fred. ‘Self-sufficiency – a very worthy aim. And indeed, why should you have any need of us menfolk at all? We are only good for one thing.’ He smiled, revealing stained yellow teeth, picked up his tankard and downed half his bitter ale in a mouthful.

Abbie gave an uncertain smile. She assumed that Fred was joking but it was sometimes difficult to tell and he had a slight edge to his voice.

Kate, sitting down beside her, butted in. ‘Well said, Professor Steadman.’

They were all on first-name terms in the Physics Department, but Kate liked to use titles when it suited her.

Kate continued, ‘Though I don’t know how long Abbie will be able to keep up her nun-like existence. Men may only be good for one thing but there comes a time when every woman needs a bit of the old one-thing.’

Fred grinned with delight and leaned over to plant a kiss on Kate’s bare shoulder. She pretended to squirm away in disgust, at the same time giving a girlish giggle. Abbie felt her usual rush of awkwardness when Kate flirted with the male staff. It’s only banter, she told herself, a bit of harmless fun. But she never knew how to respond.

 ‘Come on, Abbie, admit it – you must be missing the old one-thing,’ said Kate. ‘No-one can be a nun forever. Or have you got a secret source of pleasure you haven’t told us about?’

Abbie’s cheeks burned. Any minute now, Kate would start to talk about vibrators. Better say something quickly. 

‘Och, I’ve given up on sex.’ She tried to sound casual. ‘I don’t miss it anywhere near as much as I’d have expected.’

Kate gave a laugh that was half-snort and half-sneeze, choking on her drink so that Fred was obliged to thump her on the back. Her pink, low-cut, sparkly top slipped down further, showing a tan-line.

‘Oops.’ Kate rearranged her clothes with rather more of a fuss than necessary, while Fred looked on with interest. ‘I didn’t intend to reveal my assets quite so early in the evening.’

Fred gave an appreciative gurgle. Feeling a sudden rush of stomach acid in her gullet, Abbie found an excuse to move away. The neighbours who had helped her move into her bungalow just after Christmas had arrived, and she needed to welcome them.

*****

Later, Kate was well on the way to being drunk, she left the bar where she’d been chatting to Pam, the departmental secretary, and sat down at Abbie’s table.

The conversation there had fallen into a pleasant, sleepy lull. Steve, one of the computer technicians, renowned for his shyness, had been telling Abbie about his twin brothers. She’d been interested, comparing them with her own twins, and had enjoyed seeing Steve relaxed for the first time. He pulled himself upright, she noticed, when Kate appeared, and his brow crinkled into a furrow.

Kate plunged into the silence. ‘Abbie – it’s time you started looking for a new man. You can’t spend the rest of your life on your own, can you now, let’s face it?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Abbie said, hoping her words were not too slurred. ‘And I’m not on my own, anyway. I’ve got my daughters, and my friends and … ’ she looked at the faces around the table, ‘Nice people to work with and a good job. I’m not looking for anything else. Not yet.’

Kate put her glass down, spilling only a little of the lurid blue liquor that almost matched her eyes. ‘The best way to get over a bad relationship is to start a new one. A better one. The thing is, you need to go into the next one on your own terms. Make it clear from the start what you want. What you’ll stand for and what you won’t. You need clear ground-lines. Ground rules. Guidelines. That sort of thing.’

Had Kate ever had a proper relationship, Abbie wondered, a serious one? She had a boyfriend called Salvador, who flew in every few weeks from some distant part of the world where, he claimed, his job took him. He was an IT consultant, highly paid and much in demand. Abbie worried that most of the feelings were on Kate’s side.

Kate was getting into her stride. Steve and a number of others were listening and she warmed to her audience.

‘If I were single, I think I’d try online dating,’ she said. ‘It’s the best way to go about it these days. Though you have to be careful, of course – you don’t want some of these guys who lurk around in chat-rooms. I think if I were Abbie I’d go on one of those websites where you can display your attributes…’ she giggled, ‘… to anyone who is interested.’

Fred Steadman had just joined the group. He leaned towards Abbie and winked.

‘Perhaps Abbie doesn’t want to display her attributes to all and sundry,’ he said, his voice thick with alcohol and possibly lust. ‘Perhaps she wants to reserve them for a select few.’

‘Now see, you’ve embarrassed the lassie,’ Kate scolded him. ‘Hush with your lewd comments, Fred. She’s blushed as pink as a hydrangea. Abbie, just ignore him. Back to what I was saying – you need to find yourself a good online dating agency. The sort where they vet people first, to make sure they’re not predatory bastards after a good time. You’ll need to get your details registered, get a decent picture taken…’

She surveyed Abbie with a frown, head on one side. ‘Of course, you’ll have to get your hair done. A proper cut. Then ask someone to take a flattering photo. Steve will oblige, I’m sure, with his swishy new camera.’

Steve started to nod then stopped, his cheeks reddening. Abbie gave him a quick smile to show him she hadn’t taken offence – not at him, anyway. Kate was a different matter. How long had she known Kate? Four months. It was far too soon, Abbie thought, for Kate to make such personal comments, especially in company.

Abbie wished she were at home, alone in the double bed that almost filled the bedroom of her bungalow. She’d reflected, after buying it, that a single would have made more sense.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘I’m not about to try online dating. I don’t want a man just now.  Perhaps it’s you who should be having a go at it, Kate.’

To Abbie’s horror, Kate blushed deep pink and her eyes filled up. Could she be going to cry?

‘Now, that’s not a nice thing to say, is it?’ said Steve. ‘We all know that Kate already has her man.’

Then why is she so sensitive? Abbie wanted to ask. But she kept quiet, afraid of making things worse.

Kate mopped her eyes with a tissue and rooted in her handbag for a mirror to inspect her smudged mascara. Abbie noticed that Kate’s silver sequinned bag, which she had admired earlier, was rather cheap and aimed at the teenage market. Then she felt ashamed.

‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered, not sure why she was saying it.

‘It’s okay,’ said Kate. ‘Don’t worry. It’s just that… well – I can’t help it if I don’t see Salvador very often. He’s always so busy with his work.’

‘Of course.’ Abbie was feeling guilty now. ‘I didn’t mean to suggest there was anything wrong with your relationship.’ She had the feeling she was making things worse, but in her semi-inebriated state she seemed to have lost her powers of tact.

‘Good.’ Kate sniffed. ‘Because let me tell you – my Salvador more than makes up for it when I do see him. He’s a wonderful lover.’

‘I’m sure he is.’ Abbie felt silly saying this, especially when Fred Steadman gave a little snigger.

‘Och, well, no-one is perfect,’ said Pam, who had just pulled her stool up to their table.

Abbie was always pleased to see Pam. She was tall and graceful, with flawless skin and a sophisticated haircut that made the most of her fifty-something grey. She gave Abbie hope for her future. If Pam could look as good as that in her fifties, Abbie had plenty of time.

Pam continued. ‘It sounds good to me to have a partner who’ll give you a bit of peace when you want it. I wish Steph would leave me to myself once in a while. She's lovely but she can be very possessive.'

 They lingered over their drinks for some time after that, but no-one offered to buy another round. Since Abbie’s faux pas, if that was what it was, the heart seemed to have gone out of the discussion. Abbie was exhausted and longed, once more, to be home. It would have to be a taxi now, of course. 

‘It’s time I was on my way,’ said Kate after a few more minutes. ‘I need my beauty sleep.’

None of them dared to agree or disagree with that.                          

As they emerged from the pub into the chill of the early May night, Fred whispered. ‘You’re a lovely woman, Abbie. If you ever want a bit of company, just give me a ring.’ He tapped his chunky, old-fashioned mobile phone as though it might be a source of future phallic delight.

‘No, it’s okay,’ Abbie said. ‘I’m quite happy on my own.’

*****

Getting ready for bed, she wondered if she had imagined what Fred had said. Part of her – most of her – hoped so. Having Fred trying to flirt with her would add unnecessary complications at work.

On the other hand, she could not help feeling a little flattered. Flattered – by the attentions of a sixty-two-year-old with yellow teeth and a propensity to chat up young female colleagues? That told her more about her current state than she wished to know.

Perhaps it was time to look for someone new?

No. Peace and stability, the chance to recover, was what she and the twins needed now. Perhaps in two or three years’ time, depending on how things went, she might be ready to move on.

She had her depression to consider, too. Though she was free of it now, the doctor had warned her to be on guard because it might come back. Although she kept reminding herself it was nothing to be ashamed of, she hadn’t been able to talk about it yet, not even to Kate. How could she tell a new boyfriend that she had such a condition, one that might be with her, on and off at least, for the rest of her life?

If only she could get Keith’s smug grin out of her head. He and Fiona, laughing with the twins on the TV show, with Fiona’s dark shiny hair swinging and dancing for the camera. Even Fiona’s tummy bulge had, by now, lost its ability to comfort.

At ten to three Abbie was still awake in her enormous, hard-mattressed, half-empty bed. She would have to be at work in good time tomorrow to compile the staff-hours spreadsheet for Fred. She must try to stop thinking and go to sleep.

But instead she began to muse on Kate’s attitude and behaviour. She had begun to think of Kate as a friend, but tonight she had been almost unbearably pushy about the online dating idea. What was she trying to do – force Abbie into trying something she didn’t have the courage for herself? Salvador appeared to be a far from satisfactory boyfriend, however much Kate sang his praises.

Yet she couldn’t dislike Kate – there was something warm and appealing about her – the suggestion of something deeper and worthy of friendship if one could only get below that superficial glitz. And her advice, in spite of the unfortunate way she presented it, could well be sound. Perhaps looking for a new relationship was not something to be ruled out altogether.

©  Rosalie Warren 2008