‘Sorry.’
She was ashamed to use Louise like that but it worked. Brendan frowned and moved away from her desk.
‘OK, take it easy,’ he said, shoulders slumped.
Surtsey scrolled down on the screen, moved the cursor over the link to Tom’s department page, but didn’t click.
*
She picked at a stale panini in the KB Café and gazed at the concrete and metal clutter out the window as Halima prattled on, something about Iona that Surtsey probably should be listening to. She looked around, couldn’t see Brendan anywhere. Maybe he went to the union for a burger. She felt sick at the thought of eating, stared at her tuna melt in disgust.
‘Anyway, we’d better get our shit together,’ Halima said, standing up and lifting her empty plate.
‘What for?’
‘Sample trip,’ Halima said. ‘Not like you to forget.’
Oh shit. Fucking shit. They were due to collect rock samples from the Inch and Surtsey had blanked it from her mind. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t.
‘I can’t go,’ she said.
‘Don’t be stupid, you love it on that rock, come on.’
Surtsey shook her head. ‘I forgot, I have something on.’
‘No you don’t, what’s up?’
Surtsey thought for a moment. ‘I don’t feel well.’
Halima shook her head. ‘You’re just hungover, a bit of sea air will sort you out. The minibus is going in ten minutes.’
‘Seriously, Hal, I can’t.’
Halima frowned. ‘You’re coming, missus, if I have to drag you myself.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Look.’ Halima’s voice was serious all of a sudden. ‘I need your help out there. You know Rachel has been riding me for better data. I need as many samples as I can get and this is the last scheduled trip for a fortnight. I can’t wait that long. And you’re the best there is with a rock hammer.’
Surtsey sighed and got up, leaving her sandwich where it was. It would look worse if she didn’t go, and maybe this was what she deserved. It had been coming ever since she left the Inch, left him, last night.
9
Her lifejacket was too tight under the arms, the fabric biting her skin. The spray in her face reminded her of last night, and she turned to look back at Portobello beach as it receded. The symmetry of the groynes breaking up the sand, the scattered blocks of tenements and houses, the Beach House, the Espy, then the amusements and an ice cream stand. All of it busy, people getting on with their lives, a handful of tourists taking selfies with the view. She’d lived her whole life on this piece of coast but she’d never felt more disconnected from it than right now.
The sea was choppy today, the colour of sludge, as they powered to the island. She stared at the wash spreading back to shore, disappearing amongst the expanse of water. They were skimming the surface of this territory, interlopers, only passing time until the water decided to take everything back.
This boat was much bigger than her one, a twelve-seat rigid hull with decent horsepower. It had the Edinburgh Uni logo on the prow, and they kept it at the Portobello Yacht Club lock-up next to the Beach House. Rachel – Dr Worthington – was steering, swinging the rudder and turning the prow to point at the Inch. There were six PhDs in the boat, Surtsey, Halima and Brendan, along with three first years for whom this was an exciting new adventure.
Surtsey took in gulps of air and turned to look at the Inch. It was much more dramatic than the other islands in the Forth which were worn by millions of years of weather and erosion, covered in thick grass and derelict war defences. In comparison the black cliffs on the eastern side of the Inch were monolithic and ominous, and the spreads of volcanic rock and lava were a moonscape. The peaks were hollowed out cones, the promise of smoke and flames lingering, although they hadn’t erupted in five years. In geological time, of course, the Inch wasn’t even the blink of an eye, not even a tick on the clock. Which was one of the reasons scientists came here, to study how new land adapted after being born and to find out how life colonised the space, birds, seaborne plants and the rest.
She was relieved that the roar of the engine along with the wind and spray made it impossible to speak, she couldn’t handle conversation. Brendan caught her eye, a look that said he was worried, and Halima too, maybe thinking Surtsey might puke over the side because of last night.
Surtsey held on to the side of the boat as it bumped over waves. Rachel angled them towards the northern point of the teardrop, the short jetty. They slowed on approach, turned alongside the jetty and cut the engine.
Surtsey looked at the beach where her footprints had been, wiped away by the last high tide. She wondered about the nearby cove. Did she leave any trace above the tide line? She tried to think. All she could picture was the matted hair at the top of Tom’s skull, the spread of black on the sand, the sound of birds squabbling.
Halima tied up the boat and they trooped off carrying sample kits and tools in branded backpacks. They headed southeast away from the cove to the site next to the cliffs. The idea was to examine different marked-out areas, compare soil types, rock formations, the effects of erosion already, and also any plant or animal life. The last wasn’t in their remit but they notified the biology department about it.
They spread out and began working. The sun was high and Surtsey built up a sweat in T-shirt and jeans as she scraped at the soil, shovelling samples into ziplock bags, marking coordinates, date and time, all the mundane stuff of science that never made it onto TV shows. Hundreds of days like today, students doing grunt work so that professors could present findings and come to conclusions, be awarded prizes and
