ELEMENTS: Acquiesce

  Copyright © 2020 Kathryn Andrews

  ISBN: 978-1-9163804-1-7 (paperback)

  ISBN: 978-1-9163804-0-0 (ebook)

  First published in 2020 by Kathryn Andrews Books Limited www.kandrewsbooks.com

  Kathryn Andrews asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Condition of Sale

  This book is sold subject to the condition that is shall not, by way of trade or otherwise be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated nor shall any part of this publication be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the author’s prior written consent, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

  You must not circulate this book in any binding or cover other than which it is published and you must impose this same condition on any subsequent purchaser or aquirer.

  All rights reserved.

  Disclaimer

  All characters, events and businesses in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  For Mum and Dad, with love.

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1 The Storm

  Chapter 2 Flynn

  Chapter 3 Acquiesce

  Chapter 4 A New Beginning

  Chapter 5 The Duggerna Reef

  Chapter 6 Encounters

  Chapter 7 First Kiss

  Chapter 8 Breck

  Chapter 9 The Kellys

  Chapter 10 Nixie’s Warning

  Chapter 11 The Perils of Slate Island

  Chapter 12 Revelations

  Chapter 13 Answers

  Chapter 14 Small Mercies

  Chapter 15 Family

  Chapter 16 Celebrations

  Chapter 17 Bitter Sweet Sixteen

  Chapter 18 Pooka

  Chapter 19 White Horses

  Chapter 20 Adjustment

  Chapter 21 Diving Championships

  Chapter 22 Meren

  About The Author

  Also Available in Print

  PROLOGUE

  The wild, isolated west coast of Ireland was once thought to be the edge of the world and the ocean that lay beyond this desolate place was a complete mystery to many. Although this great wilderness was bleak for much of the year, it was not lifeless. Nestled along its rugged coast between the Atlantic Ocean and the Shannon Estuary lies the Loop Head Peninsula and a small town called Kilkee, formerly known as Kilfearagh. You could say its wild, unspoiled beauty was perfect – if you have your wits about you, for there’s an unwritten rule that such breathtaking beauty must be balanced with danger, and danger awaits at every turn.

  ONE

  THE STORM

  “A re you warm enough?” asked Flynn, rubbing his arms.

  Cordelia nodded. She was reading Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte and hadn’t lifted her eyes from the pages for at least an hour.

  “I hope I’m not coming down with something,” said Flynn, pulling on an extra jumper.

  Flynn stepped outside the cabin and surveyed his surroundings. All seemed quiet, the sea was calmer than usual but the air was cold; bitterly cold. Flynn couldn’t shake it from his mind that something wasn’t right.

  “It’s freezing out there,” he said, rubbing his hands.

  Cordelia was still engrossed in her book.

  “Can you put the book down for five minutes while we eat?” asked Flynn.

  Cordelia folded the corner of the page and joined Flynn for supper.

  “How’s the book?”

  “Good,” nodded Cordelia, finishing a bite of food. “I think I’m like Jane, in a way. She’s an orphan too, although she gets sent away to school. You wouldn’t send me away, would you?”

  “No chance. There’s no schools around here for girls.”

  “I still don’t understand why you won’t take me to the islands. I’m not a child.”

  “You’re not an adult either. I’ve told you, it’s too dangerous.”

  Cordelia felt her chest tighten and she began to breathe uneasy as blood simmered beneath her fair skin.

  When they’d finished eating, Cordelia washed the dishes in silence and returned to her book. Flynn kept watch on the weather, walking in and out with his hurricane lamp.

  “You won’t warm up if you keep going outside,” said Cordelia, breaking the silence.

  Eventually, Flynn decided to settle in for the night. “Will you make an old man happy and join me for a card game?”

  Cordelia huffed. “Can I choose the game?”

  “Deal.”

  Flynn and Cordelia spent the next few hours playing Old Maid, laughing and joking together.

  “I knew you wouldn’t stay grumpy for long,” said Flynn.

  “This doesn’t change anything. I still want to go.”

  “I said no.”

  “I’ve a right to know where I’m from.”

  “And I’ve told you. I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

  “You’re not my father. You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “I’ve raised you as my own.”

  The cold, winter wind began to howl.

  “Did you hear that?” asked Flynn, standing to look outside.

  Cordelia nodded as the boat gently rocked.

  “Looks like we’re in for a bumpy night,” said Flynn.

  He checked his pocket watch, it was eight thirty. By nine o’clock rain had started to lash against the windows.

  “It’s probably time you went to bed,” said Flynn, “we’ve an early start tomorrow.”

  Cordelia changed into her nightgown under the bed covers while Flynn stayed up to keep an eye on the storm. With every passing hour the wind blew stronger and fork lightening illuminated the darkness. Flynn realised this was no ordinary storm and he tried with all his might to get the boat to shore but the power of the ocean was too strong. Unable to sleep, Cordelia stumbled out of bed and staggered unsteadily to join Flynn.

  “Let me help you,” she shouted over the crashing waves.

  “It’s no use,” said Flynn, “the storm’s too strong!”

  They watched with great anguish as rocks were torn from the cliffs and the roofs of nearby houses were tossed into the sea. The sight of it made the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end. One by one the houses were plunged into darkness. Flynn locked the cabin door, extinguished the gas lamps and held Cordelia tightly as they huddled together on the floor.

  “Are we going to die?” asked Cordelia, her breathing heavy.

  “You’ll be grand,” said Flynn and he held her tighter.

  The anchor kept the boat from striking the Duggerna rocks but the ferocious Atlantic Ocean was cruel and it threw the wooden boat between the waves as far as the chain would allow, until midnight when a wave broke so violently over the boat, it disappeared beneath the waves, rising a short while later only to be battered by another great breaker which shattered the boat into a thousand pieces and buried it in a valley of foam.

  Flynn fought to cling on to Cordelia as they were cast into the freezing water but she was ripped from his grasp, their stretched out fingers torn away from each other. The water was painfully cold and spears of ice seared through Flynn’s body. As he tried to reach the surface, larger waves continued to roll in above him, putting his next breath at a greater distance. No matter how hard he kicked, it seemed he was never coming up for air. Terrified, Flynn closed his eyes and tumbled head over heels beneath the waves. Cordelia sank further, far down to the bottom of the ocean. Still as a statue, her cold, delicate body nestled amongst the black rocks which stretched across the seabed at the mouth of the bay; the town’s
saving grace from total destruction. There she rested, suspended in the water like an angel floating in the sky. Her silver hair swayed gently with the calm current, a striking contrast to the powerful energy above her. Little did she know that her life was soon to change and everything she thought she knew about the ocean would be turned on its head.

  Cordelia awoke to find herself in an unfamiliar bed, much more comfortable than she had been used to on the boat. Her eyes traced the contours of her surroundings, which glowed in the candlelight. Stalactites clung from the ceiling and drops of water glistened as they trickled down the walls. Cordelia slowly swung her legs round and sat on the edge of the bed. She was wearing a nightgown but it wasn’t hers. Her bare foot touched something cold under the bed. She reached down and pulled out a porcelain chamber pot, then quickly pushed it back again. Cordelia’s eyes continued to survey the room. Her own nightgown and some of her clothes were draped over a wooden chair next to a small fire and beside it was a wooden barrel. Before she’d had a chance to consider what time of day it might be there came a knock at the door. Unsure of who or what to expect, Cordelia stayed on the bed and pulled the covers around her. The knock came again.

  “Cordelia,” said a reassuring voice.

  The door opened ever so slightly and a friendly face emerged.

  “My name’s Mazu. May I come in?”

  Cordelia nodded cautiously.

  “I’ve brought you soda bread and water.”

  Mazu was a water goddess and protector of sailors who, when she wasn’t attending to urgent, top secret matters such as this, preferred to spend her time in the warmer waters of the Indian Ocean where she enjoyed collecting precious gem stones from the sea bed. Coming from such an exotic climate, Mazu’s skin was a perfect golden-brown and she had long dark hair which she normally wore in a fancy up do to match her impeccable dress sense.

  “Where’s Flynn?” asked Cordelia.

  Mazu paused. “I’m sorry, we never found him.”

  Cordelia stared at Mazu, not wanting to believe what she was hearing. “You rescued my clothes but not Flynn?”

  Mazu struggled to respond.

  “Where are we?” asked Cordelia.

  “We’re in the caves beneath the lighthouse.”

  Cordelia knew of the lighthouse but she didn’t know there were caves beneath it, certainly not caves that people lived in.

  “I have to find him,” said Cordelia, fetching her clothes from beside the fire.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Mazu waited outside Cordelia’s chamber while she dressed, then Cordelia opened the door and stepped into a narrow, candle lit tunnel. The walls were wet and the air was damp.

  “Which way?” she asked.

  “Follow me.”

  Mazu led Cordelia through a maze of tunnels below the lighthouse, all the while walking uphill. Cordelia didn’t see anyone else. They came to a door that led to a spiral staircase and climbed part way to another door. Cordelia could see daylight seeping through. Mazu unlocked the door with a large brass key and they stepped outside. Through squinted eyes Cordelia counted twelve beautiful white horses grazing on the grass beside the lighthouse. It felt surreal, like an enchanted scene from a fairytale. Cordelia was confused about the whole thing but she had more important questions.

  “Where did you find me? Flynn must be nearby.”

  “He could be anywhere Cordelia. We’ll head towards the beach and search along the coast as we go.”

  Cordelia studied Mazu with curiosity. “How do you know my name?”

  “It’s understandable that you have a lot of questions,” said Mazu. “Right now we need to find Flynn.”

  Cordelia and Mazu walked briskly to a secluded cove where a small rowing boat sat waiting. They rowed close to the rocks, looking in every crevice, calling his name. There were portions of wreck all over the place but no sign of Flynn. Cordelia could feel a sickening, wrenching feeling in her stomach; she could not imagine life without Flynn.

  “Perhaps he made it to the beach,” said Cordelia. “He’s probably been looking all over for me.”

  As they rowed closer to the bay, they could see the town folk clearing the mess. Cordelia’s eyes glazed over as she recognised pieces of their boat scattered across the beach. Stepping out of the rowing boat, Cordelia noticed someone making off with fishing baskets.

  “Hey!” she shouted. “Stop!”

  There were people everywhere and the culprit ran off before she could stop him.

  “He took our baskets!” exclaimed Cordelia.

  Mazu put her arms around the young girl. “It’s okay. We’ve more important things to worry about.”

  Mazu and Cordelia searched all along the beach, upturning pieces of wood and thatch from the roofs, asking everyone they saw if they’d seen him, looking to see if Flynn was walking the beach in search of Cordelia, but nothing. Then Mazu saw someone she recognised from years before; an odd looking fellow, extremely short in height with a very long, crooked nose, freckles and red hair that poked out from underneath his flat cap. He wore his trousers tucked into a pair of old grey socks and his bicycle, which had clearly seen better days, was propped against the sea wall. He still dressed the same and still smelt of ale, he just had a few more wrinkles now.

  “Mornin’,” he said.

  “Hello Jerry, my good man, you haven’t seen Flynn have you?” asked Mazu.

  With bated breath, Cordelia waited for a response.

  Jerry lowered his head, removed his cap and held it to his chest. “Ah, I’m sorry. I’ve been here since sunrise and there’s been no sign.”

  Jerry had gotten to know Flynn well over the years through their business arrangement. Flynn would catch the fish and Jerry would sell it on the promenade. Expecting the worst and not knowing what else to say, Jerry was relieved when he was called away to help move some debris. Cordelia stood on the sand, her arms by her sides, her face filled with panic. Cordelia’s eyes burned as she tried to fight back the tears but it was no use, the tears flowed from her eyes like a waterfall and she fell to her knees. The pain in her chest was unbearable; like a giant hand was squeezing her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. As she gasped for air, Cordelia’s world felt empty. Mazu knelt on the sand and held Cordelia as she let out a single shriek. As her tears fell, they turned to aquamarine.

  “What’s happening?” asked Cordelia.

  “I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you,” said Mazu, who had long thought about the moment when she would tell Cordelia what she was.

  It was all too much for Cordelia to take in. She felt numb and before Mazu had a chance to explain, Cordelia passed out.

  Six days passed and Cordelia had not spoken to anyone. There’d been no news about Flynn and she wondered how it was that people were carrying on with their lives when he was not there. Didn’t they know he was missing? Didn’t they know he was gone? Mazu left food and water by her door daily but Cordelia only managed the water. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t carry on as normal. She felt guilty at the thought of living her life if Flynn was not living his. He was the only person she’d ever known. He was her world.

  TWO

  FLYNN

  It was 1837, the year Queen Victoria began her reign over Great Britain and Ireland. During this time, Kilfearagh was home to a fisherman named Flynn. He was a solitary man whose heart was broken two years earlier when he lost his wife during childbirth. He sold their home and used the money to buy his own boat upon which he lived. Flynn was rugged and strong with brown, windswept hair and stubble upon his face. He wasn’t like the men in town; they grew hair all over their faces in one way or another; fancy side burns, beards and mustaches. It was said to be highly fashionable but Flynn wasn’t bothered by such trivialities. He loved the ocean and forever-changing seascape and above all, he enjoyed the peace and quiet, only mingling with the town folk when he delivered his latest catch to shore.

  On a fine day in May, Flynn was fishing between two myste
rious islands on the Loop Head Peninsula, known by locals as Bishop’s Island and Slate Island. Bishop’s Island rose majestically out of the ocean, its sheer sides frightfully steep. An ancient church sat silently on its flat, grassy top where ascetic monks once enjoyed the remoteness. This mighty sea stack was impossible for the town folk to reach since it had separated from the mainland a thousand years before; only sea birds could reach it safely now. Slate Island was similar but with a terrifyingly smooth slope to one side and nothing to grapple onto if you slipped. The islands were feared by many because of the vast numbers who had perished in the waters there. More than a year had passed since the Intrinsic, a ship from Liverpool bound for New Orleans was battered in a storm near Bishop’s Island and sank along with her crew, but still, the fishermen stayed away. The water had become too deep and dangerous for their little currachs. Some claimed they’d seen sea monsters there but Flynn refused to believe in such myths. He knew the sea could become treacherous around the islands without warning but being a skilled sailor, as his father before him and owning a sturdier boat, Flynn decided to take his chances for he knew this is where he’d find the best catch.

  The water was reassuringly calm as Flynn cast his net into the sea. He lay on his back gazing at the cloudless sky, waiting for his net to fill. For a man who had once been so broken, it was now moments like this that he lived for; the warm sun upon his face, the gentle breeze in his hair and the peacefulness. He closed his eyes and reminisced of times gone by. As a boy he’d lived with his parents in one of the thatched cottages overlooking the bay. He used to swim in the ocean and play hide and seek in the sand dunes that separated the small, quiet town from the sea, but now things were different. The paddle steamer service was bringing much tourism from Limerick and the aristocrats fell in love with the place, which resulted in a building boom. This, partly, is what led Flynn to sell his home; a salt lodge by the sea made the perfect holiday home for an upper class family from Limerick and since everyone he’d ever loved were no longer with him, he decided it was time to move on. Flynn had watched the town change from a distance; the population had almost trebled since he was a young lad and the sand dunes that he used to run so freely amongst were being replaced with a stone wall and promenade.