At the bottom of Bath Street, Bastian and the New Thule protestors had been having a combined party and wake since the eruption started. At first they were joyful that their god or whoever was speaking to them, then when it became apparent the Inch was sinking they were distraught. But then they turned it around in their minds like a resurrection thing, a new Inch would come soon.
But Surtsey’s island was gone.
‘Shall we do this?’ she said.
She turned to Hal then Iona, who both nodded.
They stood up, brushing sand from their clothes. Surtsey felt the grass make her head spin, but she didn’t mind.
The three of them walked to the water’s edge, hesitated for a moment, looking at each other. Surtsey reached out a hand to Iona who took it. She had her mum tucked under her other arm.
They walked into the water, the cold making Surtsey shiver. They kept going, up to their knees, over their thighs until it was at their waists.
Surtsey waited a moment, letting her body acclimatise to the cold, then dropped Iona’s hand and held the casket in both hands.
‘Do you want to?’ she said to Iona.
Iona shook her head. ‘You do it.’
Surtsey felt Halima’s hand on her back.
She opened the lid. Just a pile of grey dust, small clumps amongst finer stuff, the same colour as the sand on the Inch, or the ash that rained down in the middle of it all. That’s all we were in the end, just dust.
She lowered the box to the water, stuck her hand in and scooped the remains into the sea. She dug down, feeling it under her fingernails, scraping at the unvarnished wood. She looked at Iona and Hal who were watching her.
Eventually she’d scooped out all she could, so she submerged the box under the water, ran her thumb and fingers around the inside. She lifted the box out and upturned it, the last few drops of grainy water dripping into the sea.
The ashes disappeared in a stream past Iona, gone in a few seconds, then they were just standing in the sea in their clothes with an empty box.
‘Let’s go,’ Surtsey said.
They turned and waded out of the water, arms around each other, heading for home.
Acknowledgements
Immense thanks to Karen Sullivan for taking a chance on me, and to everyone else at Orenda Books for their passion and encouragement. Thanks to my agent, Phil Patterson, for his huge enthusiasm and support. And the biggest thanks to Tricia, Aidan and Amber, as always.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Doug Johnstone is an author, journalist and musician based in Edinburgh. He’s had eight novels published, most recently Crash Land. His previous novel, The Jump, was a finalist for the McIlvanney Prize for Scottish Crime Novel of the Year. Several of his other novels have been award winners and bestsellers, and he’s had short stories published in numerous anthologies and literary magazines. His work has been praised by the likes of Ian Rankin, Val McDermid and Irvine Welsh. Several of his novels have been optioned for film and television.
Doug is also a Royal Literary Fund Consultant Fellow. He’s worked as an RLF Fellow at Queen Margaret University, taught creative writing at Strathclyde University and been Writer in Residence at both Strathclyde University and William Purves Funeral Directors. He mentors and assesses manuscripts for The Literary Consultancy and regularly tutors at Moniack Mhor writing retreat. Doug has released seven albums in various bands, reviews books for The Big Issue magazine, is player-manager for Scotland Writers Football Club and has a PhD in nuclear physics.
Follow him on Twitter @doug_johnstone and visit his website: dougjohnstone.com.
Copyright
Orenda Books
16 Carson Road
West Dulwich
London SE21 8HU
www.orendabooks.co.uk
First published in the United Kingdom by Orenda Books, 2018
Copyright © Doug Johnstone 2017
Doug Johnstone has asserted his moral right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publishers.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–1–912374–15–1
eISBN 978–1–912374–16–8
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
