SEA, SWALLOW ME, remus lupin

aon, under the seafoam spell

CHAPTER ONE
under the sea foam spell

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  WATER STRIKES AGAINST THE SAND, edging up the beach and washing over the jagged rock pools that surround the distant caves. The marram grass flails about in a wild dance as the wind picks up, twisting to and fro as the dark storm clouds begin to collect on the horizon. Seashells sweep across the shore as the tide begins to ebb and flow. The cries of gulls carry in the air from the reefs to the cliff tops, hungry for companionship as the year draws on. Sometimes Cove wonders whether or not her life would've been easier as a seabird — an oyster catcher, a shearwater or a gannet, she doesn't mind — but even they're terrified of her. No matter how gentle her soul is, she's just another predator to them.

Cove stares at the ceiling blankly. She listens for the waves as they sing songs to her through the open window, the whistling wind carrying through on a cold breeze. The air tends to tell stories to those that are inclined to open their hearts and simply listen. It nips through her woollen jumper, raising goosebumps atop her freckles and sending a shiver down her spine. Her bones pop satisfyingly when she sits up to get a better look at the seashore.

  Hope bubbles in her chest. The tide is in.

  Cove scrambles to her feet, tripping over herself to get to her wardrobe and begin rummaging around for her sealskin. Without a moment to waste, she pads down the hallway in her fluffy socks, cradling it in the crook of her arm as if it's a newborn. She shoves her feet into her old pair of wellies that she doesn't mind ruining, doubling back to peer into the gaping aquamarine maw that is their little kitchen — messy enough to wind up Mairi but too clean to feel anything apart from surreal.

  Her mother is stood doing the washing up, elbow deep in soapy water. It's eerily quiet, apart from Mairi's shallow breathing and the occasional tick of the grandfather clock. Cove can hear her teeth grinding together, pearly rows of seal canines that sound like nails against a chalkboard whenever they collide. She's desperate to tell her to stop, but that would only make her more stressed.

  "Ma," she calls gently into the kitchen, so as not to startle her. "The tide's in. I'm going out to see Cordelia, but I'll be back for tea."

  Mairi keeps her vacant stare completely fixed on the window, watching from her prison as the waves roll in. A frown creases her stony expression, her eyes sullen. She looks as if she wants to say something, but she only hums in acknowledgment and begins to scrub at a plate with more force than necessary.

  "I'll tell Gran and Grandad that you were asking after them," Cove calls hopefully. It just makes Mairi stiffen as if she's been shot.

  Cove lingers for a minute too long. Just in case she has something more to say to her, like a 'goodbye' or an 'I love you'. Just in case.

She locks the front door behind her, wary of her mother's safety. Not that there are many burglars in the area — but, what would they really have to steal when her lifeline has already been stolen? The stepping stone path that leads to the house is slightly windswept, dusted by granules of sand that wriggle into Cove's tatty boots. Gorse bushes are still flowering, a vibrant yellow splash standing out in the foggy atmosphere.

  Cove spots Cordelia over by a rock pool, tentatively dipping a finger into the icy water to tickle an anemone, and laughing to herself when it wriggles away from her. Her blonde hair cascades down her bare back, still slightly damp from the swim to the shore. She wears her sealskin like a snowy dress, holding it up to her chest as the wind lashes at her exposed arms and shoulders. Her ears perk up comically when her friend draws closer.