Ten Years Later - AMelie

Not much had changed about Lifeboat Day.  Thane still looked grumpy when Fleur tried to tell him how to pose for a photograph, making him lose the fisherman’s jumper that was probably the same one he’d been when Before It All Happened.  His daughters were now old enough to run lose across the sands, knowing more about the tides around here than most sailors.

Roman and I were godparents to them, a role that was perfect.  We got to spoil them sugar them up and then send them back to their parents, who’d decided it would be a wonderful idea to do it all again and have a baby boy – although I wasn’t sure whether it was a decision or too much gin on Fleur’s part.

My hand was in Roman’s as we along the beach at the point where the tide kissed the sand as it came in.  The Lifeboat had already been launched, and the planes had already done their display, the helicopter this year even showcasing a mock rescue off a boat.

“Ten years.”

I knew what he was referring to.  It was ten years to the day that he’d told me he loved me.  Ten years and a day since Amelie’s had been opened.  Ten years since Caleb had walked over to Zoey to just be a friend.

Which had turned out exactly as everyone expected.

“Ten good years.”  Almost all good.

We lost Alfred five years ago.  He fell asleep in his greenhouse one Saturday afternoon and never woke up.  Diane was still very much a part of our family though, moving to Puffin Bay a year later, and we turned Alfred’s buildings into a series of long-term holiday lets for seniors who still enjoyed gardening but didn’t have space for their own gardens.  The sales of the plants – not cannabis, that ended up with one of the Holland brothers – went towards the maintenance.  Diane oversaw it.

Zeus ran along next to us, still as excited as ever to be on the beach, acting every time as if sand was a brand-new discovery.  He was an old dog now, the pack leader to the two Labradors we’d ended up with after another rescue, even though he couldn’t keep up with them anymore.

The labs were with Finn’s wife, sitting next to the Island Gin cart, which would be one the most popular outlets as always on Lifeboat Day.  They loved people, whereas Zeus did not, hence taking a walk away from the crowds.

“I was thinking we could go on holiday,” Roman said, the sunlight catching the few strands of silver that threaded through his hair.  “Maybe Italy.  Sardinia or Sicily, and tag Rome and Florence in with it.”

He often decided on our next trip abroad while we were walking on the beach. We’d been on many beaches in the last decade, and every time we came home, he made the same comment.

I love going away, but nowhere is as good as this.

I didn’t disagree.

“Isn’t Caleb planning a trip to Rome?” I couldn’t help but smirk.  

Caleb had been all over the world, either on a boat doing research into something to do with marine biology, or to visit places of interest. 

His trips had frequently occurred with wherever Zoey was on tour, her voice having scored her a recording contract almost ten years ago.

“Not at the same time as us.  I was thinking the second week in September.”

We could take time off now.  Roman could work from wherever, minimising the amount of in person meetings he needed to do.  The hotel was run by a manager and had its own board.  Roman only got involved to book spa treatments for me and the new stitch, bitch and gin group – Fleur’s name.

“Shouldn’t you be at the Lifeboat Station?”  I still loved teasing Thane.  “Or growling at children for playing on li-lo’s?”

He shot me a look that should’ve turned me to sand.  “Gully’s there.  His turn.  Roe’s next year.  Finn’s after that.  By my reckoning, I’ve got another ten years before I need to give the next thank you speech.”  He bent down to pick up the toddler running towards him.

“We’ll go out in a boat tomorrow.  Not today.”  He looked up to where his daughters were running into the sea, wearing wetsuits but still looking like island mermaids.  “Are you and Roman coming out on the boat with us in a couple of weeks?”

I nodded.  “Wouldn’t miss it.  Mainly because Fleur would never forgive me.”

Thane smiled, looking over at Fleury, who was collecting shells.  “Some days I think it’d be a good idea if she didn’t forgive me for something.  Then I’d get some peace.”

“Totally understand,” Roman said.  “Peace is underrated.”

“So are the women in your lives.”  I dug my elbow in his abs, still firm.  Still-run-your-tongue-over-worthy.  “You’d nothing without us.”

“I’d be richer,” Thane looked dreamily out to sea.  “I’d be less grey.  I’d have less painful feet without all the lego.  I’d have space in the bathroom too, and I’d only need one bathroom.”

“I can hear you.”  Fleur’s voice reared up from behind us.  “You make an interesting point.  You’d also have more money and very quiet evenings.  But think what we’d have if you lot weren’t around.”

“No piles of washing cascading everywhere.  No whiskers in the sink.”  This list was going to be lengthy.

Fleur continued.  “No empty packets of sweets or chocolate out back in the cupboard.  No one waking us up at three in the morning to pee.”

“Does Thane do that too?”  I looked at Fleury, curious.

“Oh, yes.  I’m surprised Roman hasn’t told you.  I overheard them having a really detail conversation about it a couple of weeks ago.”

We both turned to look at them, their faces both sulky.

And then started laughing.

The tide was creeping in, the end of Lifeboat Day for another year.  There would be next year, and the year after, and the year after that.  Small footprints on the sand would grow bigger each year until one day, those fully grown footprints had their own small ones next to them, and we weren’t on the beach anymore.  

We’d be in the Puffin Inn instead, drinking Island Gin, and reminiscing about that time when Thane found a runaway bride in a motor boat that had ran out of fuel.

But that really is for another story.