Питер Мэй - I'll Keep You Safe

I landed with a smack on its still surface, and the cold nearly took my breath away as I went under. It wasn’t deep here, so I was able to scramble quickly to my feet, rising up out of the water like Aphrodite to stand waist-deep, drenched, my hair hanging in a sodden web all over my face. Everyone began singing ‘Happy Birthday’.

It was only as I scrambled up out of the water, to a chorus of laughter and cheers, that I saw Ruairidh standing there for the first time. Grinning. My white T-shirt was virtually see-through when wet. Fortunately I was wearing a bra. But I felt as if I was standing in my underwear, exposed and humiliated.

I ran off into the house, gales of laughter following in my wake.

I didn’t see much of him over the next few days as I settled into the routine of the lodge. They were long, hard days, but sleeping in the afternoon meant that we were all wide awake once dinner had been served, the tables cleared and the dishes done.

The weather was pretty lousy that first week, wet and blustery, which none of the fishermen seemed to mind. But it meant we were stuck in the lodge at night, either the girls in their tiny lounge off the kitchen, or all of us together in the boys’ green shed, talking, smoking, listening to music. Ruairidh had been assigned to train up the new watchers, so he wasn’t often there.

Then suddenly, the following week, summer arrived, and as soon as we were able to escape our duties in the lodge, we would all troop down to a tiny beach hidden beyond the headland, where we were out of sight and hearing of the guests.

We lit fires from driftwood to keep the midges at bay, and sat around in the flickering glow of the flames, talking and laughing, drinking beer and vodka, and sometimes one of the boys would produce a chunk of cannabis resin that we would break up and ‘cook’ in silver paper to smoke with tobacco in rolled-up joints.

It was about halfway through that week that Ruairidh first showed up with his guitar. He was finished training the new boys, and he sat cross-legged with his back to the dunes serenading us with ballads and rock classics, and pop songs that everyone knew and sang along to.

I remember those nights as being special. I didn’t participate much in the singing, or the craic , but sat there with the fire in my eyes watching Ruairidh as he played and sang, and I think perhaps that’s when I realized that I was in love with him. Not some childhood infatuation, or passing fancy, or even gratitude for the moment when he had saved my life all those years before. But with an ache somewhere very deep inside me, and a longing that I could barely contain.

Seonag, by contrast, was the life and soul of the party. Every fancy-dress night and silly escapade was her idea. She joked and flirted with the boys and was the envy of all the other girls. I watched how she eyed up Ruairidh in a sleekit sort of way, green watchful eyes peering out from behind her fringe. But whatever had happened between them that night after the disco, he showed no interest in her whatsoever. Neither, it has to be said, did he demonstrate the least interest in me.

Until the night that Seonag retired early to her bed, suffering from a streaming summer cold. There were only a handful of us down at the beach that evening. Ruairidh and his guitar, another of the ghillies with one of the housemaids who had become an item, and the cook.

I sat with my back to the sea, listening between songs to the sound of its breathing. I remember someone once telling me that the sound of the sea was like the sound we hear pre-birth, of our mother’s blood passing through us. And that’s why we are always drawn to the ocean. Like a return to the womb.

I didn’t even notice the ghillie and his girl drifting off along the shore until the cook stood up and said, ‘Time for bed. An early rise in the morning.’ As if it wasn’t always. And suddenly it was just me and Ruairidh sitting round the fire, looking at each other across the embers. He must have been twenty then. A young man. He had broadened out, and not having shaved for several days had the beginnings of a beard adding definition to a fine-featured face.

He smiled, patting the sand on his right, and said, ‘Come and sit beside me.’

My heart was very nearly in my mouth as I shuffled around the dying fire and squatted cross-legged in the sand beside him. I think it was the first time in our lives that we had ever been alone together.

He had the most enigmatic smile on his face as he turned to look in my eyes. ‘Fancy a smoke?’

‘Sure.’

He laid the guitar aside and delved into a pocket, producing a small silver tin box containing several roll-ups. But they were no ordinary roll-ups. He lifted one out and grinned. ‘Here’s one I made earlier.’

I laughed. We had both watched Blue Peter as kids. Though I doubt if any of the presenters had made anything quite like these earlier. At least, not on screen. He lit it and took a long pull, drawing smoke deep into his lungs and holding it there for several moments before exhaling suddenly and handing me the roll-up. I saw the embers of the fire reflected in blue eyes that seemed so dark on this light night. I drew long and deep before handing it back.

There was the faintest of breezes blowing in with the tide. An almost full moon gave inner light to the slow swell of dark green ocean as it broke white along the sand. I could feel the warmth of his body next to mine, and we sat there without a word, caressed by the half-dark, and smoking his joint until it was done. He threw the dout on the fire. It flared briefly in a fleeting, flickering flame, then vanished. Ruairidh reached then for his guitar and played me the most beautiful song I think I had ever heard. I found out only much later that it was an old Beatles song, ‘Here, There and Everywhere’.

He sang it slow and soft, a voice like velvet, eyes sometimes closed, sometimes gazing dreamily out across the water. When he finished he turned to look at me for the first time. Our faces were very close, and he leaned over on one elbow to kiss me. Had we not been smoking earlier, I might have rushed it, or pulled back too soon. As it was I just closed my eyes and lost myself in it. In the softness of his lips, the warmth of his tongue, the not unpleasant jag of his whiskers. I tasted smoke on his breath, and the sweetness of alcohol. It all seemed like the most natural thing in the world. As if everything in my life up until then had only ever been to prepare me for this moment.

When finally we drew back I saw that his pupils were dilated. He said, ‘I’ve wanted to do that ever since I saw you nearly drown up on the Pentland Moor.’

I gazed at him in disbelief. ‘Liar.’

‘It’s true. I’d never even noticed you at school before then. I don’t know why. I remember lying along the plank and looking into your eyes. Feeling your total dependence on me in that moment. And it was the first time I’d ever felt the desire to kiss a girl.’

I felt indignation rising in my breast. ‘Well, I’d never have guessed it from the way you totally ignored me afterwards.’

He shrugged and turned his eyes away towards the incoming swell. ‘That’s difficult to explain. I suppose I was a bit ashamed of the things I’d felt. Embarrassed. None of the other boys seemed remotely interested in girls. I didn’t want to be any different.’

‘And at the disco that time?’

He turned, frowning. ‘What time?’

‘You don’t even remember, do you? About five years ago. We danced, and I was waiting for you to ask me for the last dance of the night. But you asked Seonag instead, and you both went off together at the end.’ I had carried the hurt and humiliation of it somewhere deep inside for all these years.