Sara MacDonald - In a Kingdom by the Sea

Down to the bay where the sun is still warm and the tide is leaving dappled pools on the sand and the sky is reflected in the water like rippled marble.

Our secret hiding place is in the rocks at the far end of the beach at Nearly Cave. I curl with Dominique’s pillow between the sea-smoothed granite and turn on my side and sob. I am ten and not brave enough to run away properly …

Dom, if I close my eyes you won’t be gone. If I close my eyes I won’t see Maman’s face any more. If I close my eyes I can pretend we are surfing in through small fast waves. Or sitting at the beach café eating ice cream together after school. If I keep my eyes closed you will still be here. You will still be here.

I am soothed by waves that slide in and out with a swoosh, rising and falling, rising and falling against the rocks in time to my breathing …

I am asleep when Papa finds me in the dark. He gives a little cry as he lifts me up. I cling to him. There are little dots of light all over the beach and the night air is full of my name. As Papa carries me home, up the hill, I can feel his tears falling into my hair.

London, 2009

It all begins with an unexpected phone call. It is early evening at the beginning of June and London is as warm as midsummer. It is Mike’s birthday and we are just about to have a party. The French windows are open onto the garden. Mike is outside placing night-lights on the small tables we have dotted about the lawn. He is humming to himself, out of tune, as I check the salads, artisan bread and the wine.

I smile as I watch him through the kitchen window. He has only been back from Dubai for a couple of weeks and I am revelling in him being home again.

‘What do you think?’ he calls, switching on the white fairy lights that he has threaded through the magnolia tree.

‘Fantastic!’ I call back. The lights make the overgrown and neglected garden spring alive in the soft, pink haze of early evening.

Mike is wearing an expensive shirt and shorts. His arms and legs are tanned and muscular. A sprinkling of dark hairs covers his forearms and wrists. Wrists that still give me a little frisson of desire, after all this time.

My husband has that sleek, well-groomed look of a man who works abroad, uses the gym regularly and looks after himself. There is, as yet, no hint of middle-aged spread. Paunch is a forbidden word. He has taken a rare, long leave to decide what to do next and I wonder, as I watch him, how long it will be before he gets bored.

Will and Matteo had scoffed when I mooted the question of a family holiday this summer. ‘Yeah, yeah, Mum, nice thought, but Dad will be off before you’ve booked the tickets …’

I push two trays of garlic bread into the oven. When the boys were younger Mike would organize wonderful, adventurous holidays in far-flung places. Now, he spends his life flying off somewhere at a moment’s notice and my sons are almost grown up and busy with their own lives. It is much harder to get together as a family and I miss those times.

Mike’s mobile phone rings suddenly into the silence, making us both jump. He fishes it out of his back pocket and turns in small circles on the grass as he listens. Excitement begins to radiate from him in waves.

I go and lean against the French windows. ‘Yes, I am interested,’ Mike says. ‘It is short notice, but I can make myself available to fly out … No, my contract in Dubai finished last month. I’m on leave … in London …’

He looks up suddenly and makes an astonished face at me.

‘Yes, that figure sounds … reasonable … Okay, thank you. I’ll wait to hear from you …’

Mike gives a whoop, throws his phone on the table and whirls me round. ‘How extraordinary. That was a headhunter. A job has just come up. They’re looking for someone with experience of working for airlines in the Middle East. She wanted to know if I was free for an interview. The salary they are offering is huge, Gabby.’

‘Where?’ I ask, my heart sinking.

‘It may not come to anything, but if it does, honestly, darling … this could be an amazing opportunity …’

‘Stop stalling, Mike, and tell me where it is?’

Mike reluctantly meets my eyes. ‘It’s a small airline called Pakistan Atlantic Airlines. They are recruiting from their head office in Canada, but I would be working out of … Karachi.’

I stare at him. ‘You are joking? With all that’s going on in Afghanistan at the moment? For God’s sake, Mike.’

Mike holds his hands up. ‘I know. I know. There would be safety issues but I wouldn’t think of taking the job unless I was satisfied about my security out there.’ He hesitates. ‘Gabby, I know I promised to spend most of the summer with you and the boys, but opportunities like this don’t come up often, I’d be mad not to explore it …’

I start to move away but Mike catches hold of me. ‘Come on, darling, at the moment it’s just a phone call. Let’s see what happens …’

‘It’s not just the summer, Mike. You told me that you were going to look for jobs nearer to London. You said you wanted to see more of the boys before they left home for good …’

‘I do, but I work for airlines and most of the interesting jobs are abroad. You know that, Gabby, you’re used to me working away from home. It’s not perfect, but it’s worked for both of us over the years. It’s enabled us to travel, take the boys to great places and both do jobs we love …’

The doorbell rings. People are arriving.

‘I’ve had enough of living apart, Mike. Neither of us is young any more. I really believed you were going to start to wind down.’

Mike shoots me a look. He hates being reminded of his age.

‘That’s why, if I was offered this job, I would jump at it, Gabby. This will, undoubtedly, be my last big, prestigious job with an airline. My swansong, if you like. I’d really like my career to end on a high note. Is that so selfish?’

Of course not, this is Mike’s career, his life.

‘Sorry. I’m the one being selfish. Pakistan is a shock, but of course you have to consider it.’

Mike hugs me. ‘Thank you.’

The doorbell rings again and someone shouts irritably through the letterbox, ‘Is there supposed to be a bloody party in there or not?’

I laugh. ‘Go on, Birthday Boy, let people in …’

Mike grins and makes for the door. ‘I’m not going to mention this to anyone, until I know more …’

Mike has asked too many people and they all seem to arrive at once, filling the hall and spilling through the sitting room and out through the French windows into the garden. They are mostly Mike’s friends and colleagues but I have asked two friends from my publishing world, to balance the airline banter.

Emily and Kate arrive together. Emily started as my intern. She now runs foreign rights in the small translation company I set up fifteen years ago. Kate has a literary agency with her husband, Hugh. We all go back a long way and work closely together.

I am hoping Dominique will come. My sister is on a flying visit from Paris and she promised she would try to pop in.

Mike is in his element, catching up with people he hasn’t seen for a while, revelling in airline gossip. It makes me realize how restless he has been the last few days. What was I thinking? Age is never going to dull his ambition, Mike can only relax when he knows what his next job is going to be. Will and Matteo are right; their father is not equipped for downtime at home.

I miss my sons with an abrupt little pang. I wish they could have been here for Mike’s birthday but they are both at uni in Scotland and in the middle of exams. They are secretly proud of their father but they are protective of me and not uncritical of Mike’s long absences. For most of their growing up it has been just the three of us, here in London. Mike working away from home is part of our normal, everyday life.