Final Article
Denial
As I drift towards the water’s edge, I feel everything wash away from me. It’s like the past year never happened. I resurface for the first time in what feels like eternity, my face tingles at the sensation of sunlight, long forgotten. The chill of the North Sea makes me catch my breath and, for a second, I feel you’re there at the shoreline, telling me I should’ve worn a scarf. But there’s no need for a scarf in my new form: my iridescent tail breaks the surface of the water behind me. From a distance I hear the most beautiful singing. Something inside me shifts and I know I must hear more. Like if I could just get closer, hear it more clearly, I’d feel at peace.
But why would I want things to change again? I feel like you’re everywhere. You’re in this moment, hand tucked gently under my arm like you always did. The sweet smell of your lavender soap and off-brand fabric softener consumes me. This was our place and now you’re here with me, like you never left. Memories of running into the sea and looking back at you as the cresting waves wash over your toes. You’re holding my red bucket and yellow spade. It takes me back to the summer of 1997.
I was not ready to lose this. To lose you.
What if this is the last time I feel this close to you? What if leaving my watery new home means I stop believing that you’re here with me and about to come back to me?
The idea of losing you again fills me with panic. I don’t feel safe in this water anymore. The tide laps at my neck, weighing on me. Far from safety, the water is holding me hostage, dragging me down into this fortress of grief. Maybe getting out of here will bringing you back, maybe you never died. If I can just make it out of the water you could be there waiting for me, with a towel and an ice cream.
I still can’t believe you’re gone. Even a year later, it doesn’t feel real. I still haven’t been able to, as they say, “come to terms with it”. Sheringham is littered with memories, from the water’s edge to the church walls. You’re everywhere. As I float in the abyss, I realise the journey in front of me will be an arduous one, I don’t know how long it will take but I know I must get there. I must get to the church to hear the beautiful singing.
Anger
The sand is coarse on my flesh and scales. I wince as I pull myself further up the beach. Every lurch brings fresh pain as a thousand tiny needles claw at me. Why is this so difficult? If I could go back to my old life, when I had legs, I could just run up this fucking beach like I’ve done my whole life. The frustration brings tears to my eyes. Why do I always do that? I always cry when I’m frustrated and, apparently, transforming into a mermaid didn’t change that. Nanny always said anything I felt came out of my eyeballs. If she knew how angry I was that she wasn’t here with me, helping me up the beach. Holding my hand like she did when I was little.
Why is it always when things are going well something happens to bring it crashing down? Good job in London. Studying for my Masters. Living with the love of my life. Then you left me. It came out of nowhere, I wasn’t ready. I was coming to see you. We were going to have lunch at the Two Lifeboats Hotel. I promised you but you couldn’t stick around long enough to see this plan through. I will forever feel immense guilt because I didn’t get to see you one last time. You don’t have that. You don’t have to feel this heart-crushing anxiety that you let me down because you’re the one who left.
My hands clench cold, damp sand as I haul myself towards town. My tail tracks a channel through the sand like a ship’s rudder. Seagulls circle overhead, sizing me up, but they think better of it or get distracted by something else. My nails start to bleed as sand turns to pebbles, tearing chunks from my skin. My scales are rubbed raw. The tracks of my tears are streams of molten lava against my icy skin.
Sheringham never was known for its weather.
The rage pushes me forward. I don’t know if I’d want to see you again now. Those memories that, back in the water, seemed so comforting make me wonder… If it was up to me, would I ever love anyone this much? What is the point if one day they are just gone forever?
I’m exhausted. I roll over onto my back. I watch the clouds above me shift and change shape. We used to do this. You’d point out animals to me and I’d make the noises. Why? Why make these memories if all that is going to be left one day is a shadow where you should be? I clench my fists and push myself back over. If you hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t be a mermaid crawling up a beach trying to find peace. If you hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t have to make this journey. I don’t know what’s at the end. What if it isn’t peace?
I can’t believe you fucking left me.
Bargaining
I’ve got to keep moving. Just one final push to break free of the sand. One last burst of energy and then it’ll be easier. Just one. Push. The sand beneath my tail yields. I lurch onto the promenade and lay my head down on the cold, rough concrete. I can rest, just for a minute. My anger breaks long enough to laugh at the memory of you chasing a drunk Heidi down the promenade. She’d come into the burger house, hammered. Hadn’t realised you’d taken me there as a treat for getting 100% on a spelling test. You were so angry I thought you’d explode. You chased her down the promenade faster than I thought a 60-year-old could run. God were you ever that young? You never caught her, but she never did it again.
I’d give anything to get back those days. To come to Sheringham on Carnival weekend, when the town was full of colour and life. Without you, it’s grey and empty. My hand grazes concrete and I look back down the beach, at the trails in the sand, and I realise how far I’ve come. Too far. What if I’m leaving those memories at sea? I’ve so much further to go but I’ve given all I have. An impossible road lies ahead. I must get over the sea wall. If you were here, you’d lift me up, like you used to. Though I’m not sure how heavy this tail is.
I want to go back. If I could go back and make sure I see you one more time I’d be happy. Or you could come here now, and we could talk. I promise, if you appear in front of me right now, I will not waste a single second of the time we have left. I think since you went, wasted time is one of my biggest fears. I know there were so many times I could’ve come here, to Sheringham. I didn’t. I should have come; I should have seen you one more time.
I lift my head to assess the sea wall in front of me. Only 3 feet high but, with this tail, insurmountable. I wish you could help me; I’d stay a mermaid for the rest of my life if you’d just come back. I stretch one hand up and grip the top of the sea wall. I’m going to haul myself up in one go. I’m not used to this new body yet. My weight shifts and I slip down the wall, pulling loose rocks with me. Just one more go, I think. If there’s nothing that’ll bring you back, at least I can hear your voice in my head. That’s what you’d tell me: just one more go. With all my strength I reach for the edge and grab it tightly. I feel the tide getting higher. A surge of terror rips through me… What if the sea drags me back? I heave my body up the face of the wall and my few unscathed patches of skin and scale scream in protest. But I’m there. I made it.
When I was young, I’d beg you to lift me up so I could watch the lifeboats come in. You’d say I could see them once, and I’d try to negotiate. If I can’t make a deal to bring you back at least I can look around this seaside town and remember our good times. There were so many. I thought there would be many more.
Depression
I wasn’t prepared for so many lasts with no new beginnings. My body yearns for rest. It’s all I want. I lay there, feeling like the energy has been sapped from my body. The cobbles press into me, every inch of jagged stone. At least I feel something on the outside. Inside, I’m nothing.
I lift my head and spot a familiar sight. Stark white walls, pebble-dashed roof and odd protrusions that suggest the architect bribed physics to look the other way - The Two Lifeboats Hotel. You once described it to me as a higgledy-piggledy maze. This was my Auntie Steph’s pub; she ran it my entire childhood and it was the scene of so many summer memories. Collecting glasses, singing karaoke badly, helping make the carnival float. My favourite time of year. The whole town came together in an explosion of colour and laughter. The floats would leave from the clock tower, all the way across town, and arrive down here. Right here. Where I am laying now, battered and scraped. They'd line up with their bright colours, like toddlers on a nursery trip. That version of Me feels like a different person entirely. This Me is teetering on the edge of a void.
Remembering those happy summers with my whole family no longer brings the joy it once did. Instead it feels like a pit of sorrow. You were the one that made these memories so happy. I used to beg Heidi and Sophie to take me into town. They always said no. I was the baby and they hated the thought of having to look after me. But you never said no. You’d hear the disappointment in my little voice as I sadly bid them goodbye. You’d make up an excuse to go, like you needed a newspaper, pull out a banker’s pouch of two-pence pieces you’d been collecting for me all year and say we might as well use them. I wish these memories could comfort me again. I wish they could make me smile.
But nothing does. Until you passed away, I’d never felt this burning anxiety coursing through my veins, making my heart race. As I grasp at the cobbles and start moving onward, I feel it bubbling inside me, consuming every thought, absorbing what little of myself there was left. I’m unrecognisable now. My scales throb with the pressure of these cobbles. Maybe I should go back to the water. It’s more comfortable there. I could feel you there. Feel at all. My worst fears are coming true, you’re fading from me. What if I forget you? What if over time the details ebb away and you’re not here to make new memories with. Is it you I’m forgetting or is it me? You were always part of me. We’re made of the same stuff, love.
I pull myself further up the street, inch by brutal inch. When will this end? This street is endless. I’ve walked it a thousand times but now with this immense tail weighing down on me, it’s impossible. What if I never get my legs back? What if I never feel peace again?
I look left and see a seagull picking at a stray chip. It looks determined. I wonder how bad giving up would be. I could just lay here on the cobbles waiting for something to happen to me. Or I’d die. Before I dare entertain that thought I start moving again, dragging my weight across the cobbles. That’s not what I want, that’s never what I want. The determination I saw in the seagull starts coursing through my veins and I move faster. Just one more go, I mutter to myself.
I look up to track my course and see Renaldo’s. You’d always take us there after a day at the beach and buy us a Mr Whippy. With a flake, of course. Just when I think I’m getting the hang of this, the wave of sadness hits me again. It’s like a jolt. I keep trying to imagine my life without you and I can’t. I call you every Sunday; I come and visit you in the summer; you call me when mum’s on holiday to make sure I’m okay. Who am I going to do all this with? You’ll never know any children I have. I dreamt of bringing our baby to see you, you always loved babies. But that dream died, the instant you did.
I’m nearing the church. I can’t hear the singing, but I know this town like the back of my hand. I hear the discordant chimes of the town clock signal the hour. I look up to the clock and can’t help but laugh. There’s a massive banner draped there. Captain Sir Tom Moore looks out of it, giving a thumbs up, over his now infamous quote: “Tomorrow will be a good day”. I laugh because of the last real conversation we had. I laugh because you told me how annoyed you were by the constant news coverage of him. This small break in the clouds is the motivation I need. Maybe one day I’ll think back on these memories and feel joy at that conversation again. One day the mere thought of you won’t make me burst into tears.
One day I’ll be okay.
Acceptance
The hard cobbles change to soft grass so gradually it takes me a while to notice. The burning sensation in my tail and heart seems to thaw as dewy leaves brush over me. It’s cool, soothing. I can barely put into words this relief. I managed to fight my way up that cobbled street with strength I didn’t know I had.
It’s funny looking back, Nanny. I felt like you were with me every step of the way. All that time ago, when I started this journey, I said I felt like you were everywhere - like it was a bad thing! But of course, you’re everywhere, you’re in everything I do, everything I say and feel. When I was young, I remember crying because mum had gone out. I just kept repeating, over and over again, “I want mummy, I want mummy”. With all the patience in the world you sat next to me on the bed, tucked me under your arm and said to me “your mum is here, she’s in you and me. We’re all made of the same stuff, love”. That thought feels as comforting to me now as it did back then. When I close my eyes I can feel your arm wrapped around me, the soft cotton of your blouse on my cheek and my head pressed into your shoulder.
I pull myself along the grass, I gradually feel a bit lighter. I don’t know whether that is the change from cobbles to grass or the weight of the world is finally lifting a bit. Whatever it is, I’m grateful. My hand reaches out and finds something in the grass. It’s solid but not hard or rough. I run my hands down the smooth grain and realise it must be the bench. If I can just get up onto that bench I can rest. I might even be lucky enough to hear the beautiful singing.
I grip onto the slats of wood and think to myself, just one more go. I glide up the bench and for a moment felt like someone helped me. I want so desperately for it to be you, but I know you’re gone now. It took this journey, so tough I almost gave up, to make me realise that you didn’t want to leave, no more than I wanted you to go. You had no choice and neither did I. I don’t think I’ll ever get over losing you, but for the first time in a long time I feel like I can think of you and not be overwhelmed by sadness and regret.
Resting for the first time since leaving the sea, I close my eyes and tilt my head back. The sea breeze isn’t so biting from here, maybe it’s the distance or maybe it’s just a bit warmer now. As the sun peeks from behind a cloud, as if checking it’s safe to come out, I hear the singing. The beautiful singing. Something inside me shifts, everything starts to feel more solid. I know after losing you I will never be the same person again, but I’m getting closer. Without looking I know I am back to my original form, the legs I relied on so much reappear and I no longer carry the weight of the tail. You’d have loved this, Nanny. Just me and you sitting on a bench in the sun, with your hand gently tucked under my arm.
Images of Model
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