Kerriann Speers is a prize-winning poet and author of the short story collection, The Infinite Universes of Maggie Lavery. With a degree in European Studies and Journalism and Publishing Studies, Kerriann has over twenty years of experience of in creative writing. She has published works in anthologies, North Star: Short Stories and Poems by Female Irish Writers, Forgiveness is the Hardest Thing, and We Are Not Shadows.

When Kerriann isn’t writing for pleasure, she is writing for work as a Digital Marketer and Content Writer. She can be found on all social media outlets as @KerriannWrites or via her website – http://www.kerriannspeerswriter.com. Kerriann lives on the north coast of Ireland with her family.

The Truth Behind The Tale

Molly lay beside her Sunday Best, which drapes across the bed as though someone had spirited out of them leaving only the outline of a person. Granny and Da are arguing again and, even though they had tried to use their inside voices, Molly can hear them. It is about her. It always is. Molly closes her eyes and listens for the sea. The waves sound small and flat today, so that was the way she pictures them in her head. She is just about to get to the part she likes, where Mammy waves at Molly and starts swimming towards her. The daydream is cut short by the slamming of the front.

Granny had the last word, she said Da was too soft. Molly thinks about Da’s big, rough hands but she knows that wasn’t what Granny had meant. There was talk about Molly needing a new mother, but Molly doesn’t understand that either. Her mammy is in the sea and one day she would come back to Molly. That’s what Da tells her. Molly leaps off the bed and opens the door a crack. Da has his back to her at the stove.

            ‘I’m putting on a bit of tea, sausages alright?’

            She nods. ‘Da, why did Granny say you would be a window all your life?’

            ‘A window?’ He winces. ‘Not a window, a widow. That’s not even right, should be widower I think. A widower is a man who has lost his wife.’

            ‘Why did Granny say that then? You haven’t lost Mammy, we know where she is. She’s in the sea.’

            Da doesn’t say anything.

            ‘And one day she’ll swim right back to us. She’ll swim right up to the shore and walk up and knock the cottage door. Will Mammy know me, Da? When she comes back?’

            ‘Of course.’

            ‘How?’ Da puts down the spatula and lays his big rough hands on her head, smoothing her hair down.

            ‘Because looking at you would be better than looking in the mirror at herself.’

            ‘Why?’ Da plants a slobbery kiss on Molly’s head and she wipes it off with her sleeve.

            ‘You are the image of her. You’ve got her eyes, her nose, her wee mouth and her hair. Not the colour, that’s all me. But the curls are hers. So she would just look at you and know.’

            ‘So Mammy’s not red like us?’ A smile appears at the corners of her lips.

            ‘No.’

            ‘What colour is her hair?’ Da returns to the sausages.

            ‘Bright blue!’

            ‘No, it’s not! It’s black! Black like the night sky!’ Molly giggles.

            ‘If you know, why ask? Yes, she had black, black hair like the night.’

            ‘What if she comes back today? What if she’s walking up the strand right now?’

            ‘Don’t be silly Molly.’

            ‘It’s not silly,’ Molly picks up her ragdoll by its soft cloth hands. ‘She’s walking up the strand, over the sand dunes and then up the lane to us. She will knock on the cottage door and I’ll open it. She’ll pick me up and say “oh Molly! I knew it was you. You have my wee mouth.” And she’ll be so happy to see us.’

Molly stares at the door for a while, waiting for the knock, but nothing happens. Da puts down two plates with sausages on them. He points to the seat and they eat their tea in silence, but Molly keeps an eye on the door.

            ‘Why don’t we go down to the sea? I could bring my paints with us and we could do a few pictures.’

            ‘Grand. While we are down there, we can look for Mammy.’

Da packs up the paints and books, then they set off down the road. Molly runs on ahead but waits for him when she gets to the sand dunes. Molly holds her ragdoll over her shoulder and rubs her back like she’d seen mammies do before. Molly says ‘there, there’ before she tosses her in the air.

The sky is clear, apart from two fluffy clouds. The sea is very calm today, just as Molly imagined. She searches the horizon from one side all the way to the other. She doesn’t see Mammy but Da told her that the sea stretches right to Merica which is nearly the other side of the world. So she could still be on her way. Da carries Molly down the dunes to the beach. With each step, he considers this time could be the last time she allows him to carry her. He sets her down on the sand and, before he catches his breath, Molly has her shoes off. Da sits down and sketches the rocks and the sea. Molly has a book for drawings too but she doesn’t always draw what she sees. Da always did. Sometimes Molly drew things from the stories Da tells her. Today it is the swans from Children of Liir. Da read it from his head last night, but instead of white, she draws them all colours.

‘Is this where you found Mammy?’ Molly says after a while.

            ‘Yes, it is. You know it is.’ Da doesn’t look up, too busy mixing his paints.

            ‘Tell me.’

            ‘I’m painting.’

            ‘Tell me while you paint. I can draw it while you tell me the story. Was it a day like this?’

            ‘It wasn’t far off a day like this. But it was windy, there had been storms and rain for days and days. I wasn’t holding out much hope for drawing. I thought the pages would fly off the sketchbook but it had been a while so I went down for a wee sketch. I was minding my own business, walking along the sand when I saw a seal on the rocks.’

            ‘Was it caught in a net?’                    

            ‘Who’s telling this? You or me?’ Molly giggles but Da carries on. ‘So the seal was on the rocks. Those rocks off over there and its tail was tangled in a fisherman’s net. Just a little bit of net but enough to stop it from swimming properly. So I take pity on the critter and get my wee knife out that I used for sharpening pencils.’

            ‘This one?’ Molly holds up Da’s knife. Da stares down at it for a while.

            ‘That’s the one. So I take the knife and cut the netting at the seal’s tail. It screeched and goweled at me for a while but I paid no attention and I set it free. I left it on the rocks and walked down to the other side of the beach. So I plant myself right here and start to sketch. But I felt like someone was watching me. I turned around and the most beautiful woman I ever saw was standing there. She had long black hair like the night sky and eyes like green sea foam. From that moment, I knew that I loved her and would love no other. She was so beautiful that for a moment I didn’t realise that she was completely naked.’

            ‘Silly Da.’

            ‘Silly Da indeed. So I stared at this woman, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen and I realised that she’s in the altogether. With nothing covering her modesty except a small grey blanket that she was handing to me. I took the blanket in my hands and saw it wasn’t a blanket at all. It was the pelt of a seal. I was very confused and tried to cover the woman up with this bit of fur, lacking though it was. But she said to me ‘No, it is yours. You saved my life, so I am giving it to you.’ I was still confused and not wanting to look upon a naked woman, I looked down at her feet. I saw that they were cut and bloody, that was when I realised she was the seal on the rocks that I had set free.’

            ‘She was a selkie!’

‘She was. I couldn’t believe it at first but then she said ‘You saved me and I will be your land wife.’ I was so in love I couldn’t speak to question a word of it. So I wrapped my coat around her and took her home. We were married the next day, I didn’t even know her name was Margaret until the Priest said it in the chapel. I was so far in love that I didn’t even think to ask her name. Now enough stories for today.’

            ‘But I wanted to hear the story of being born.’

            ‘Not today Molly. Maybe tomorrow.’ Da always says maybe tomorrow when he means weeks and months and years away. Molly looks for her mother for the rest of the afternoon. A few times she sees her out of the corner of her eye, but when she turns to wave there is no one there.