Time & Tides

July, 1923

The sea was churning and so was Mabel’s thoughts. Maybe the sun would set and the tides would change and everything would go on as it always had but she couldn’t yet see how she could go along with it. 

There was something else, a feeling, like she had to go somewhere. Had to get out. Had to run.

The coffee she’d made this morning had been bitter and still lingered on the top of her mouth. She toed the edge of the cliff, kicked a few stones into the rolling waves. Let the silver locket dangle a little further from her hand and closer to the sea.

Aunt Clara would wonder when she’d be back. 

Walk out the back door to the edge of the world, she’d said.

Mabel did.

The vast ocean showed her how small she was, how little impact she had on a planet of fire and sea and land… but her heart still hurt. And she felt like melting into the ground with the shame of it all.

The sun winked on the horizon, the beams sliding on her skin making the past six months in London feel like a hazy dream. How could cold alleys drenched in rain and cigarette smoke exist at the same time? Jazz music would sound so wrong here. The green lights that brought young hopefuls to their next foolish mistake hung heavy in her memories. 

She’d dwelled too long. Visions of Lily invaded her mind. Their little apartment with paneled walls and squeaky small beds. The one window that would never quite close. Lily applying lipstick and powder and rouge at her vanity. The parties, the champagne, the dancing. 

“We must be the best friends in the whole wide world, Mabel dear, and everyone is jealous,” her voice was still present in Mabel’s thoughts. Her smirk at the thought, a half burnt cigarette in her mouth. They’d often sat on their fire escape after a night out, smoking away the hangover, to watch the sunrise. 

Mabel missed that most of all.

“Miss Brooks?” A voice called. One she knew from years ago.

She turned, pocketed the necklace. Along the ocean path was a young man who looked mostly confused and somewhat worried. Mabel didn’t hold it against him. She was rather close to the edge and just realized she’d been crying.

“Arthur Gwinnel. You’re still in Newquay?” Mabel asked, pulling her light shawl closer against the wind.

“You’re back? I thought you went to London—”

“I’m back,” she said. 

He was taller than he was even two years ago. A shadow of stubble on his chin that surely wasn’t there before. His dark hair a bit longer, in general he seemed a bit more unkept. In a good way, like he was finally living. Arthur must’ve gotten away from his father’s strict orders since she’d moved.

Good. Her heart quickened at his smile. He looked happier.

“I-uh, it’s great to see you… back here, I mean. The cliffs were empty without your morning walks.” Arthur hiked a bit closer and his grin was replaced with familiar concern. “Say, Miss Brooks, are you okay?”

“Oh, Artie, call me Mabel for goodness sakes. We’ve known each other forever.”

The smile was back. “Alright, I wasn’t sure, now that you’re a London girl.”

Mabel quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not. Not really. Lily was—” She looked back over the ocean.

“Your friend? I remember your letter, a long time ago, when you first left.”

She laughed, swiped a hand under her eyes. “I wasn’t very good a staying in touch, was I?”

“Busy, I thought.”

She had been, but doing what, she couldn’t say. Shopping and breakfasts and holidays with strangers. It had been a whirlwind, but not much had changed since she’d stepped out of it, she just felt dizzy.

“You have plans for the day?” 

She shook her head. “I’m not busy anymore.”

“Great,” Arthur took her hand and they headed back towards town. “You’ve got something on your mind and I think it’s high time for an adventure.”

At this point, Mabel didn’t much care how she spent the day, so she traipsed down the hill without much reservation. It was like no time had passed since those summer holidays spent racing across Fistral Beach and climbing to the Headlands. Artie was every past memory that drew her back to this town. The laughs, the late night bonfires, early morning swims.

But how could she fall gratefully back into those memories after what happened in London?

“I don’t know—”

He turned. “Your Aunt sent a message.” 

Mabel almost pulled away but the look in his eyes made her stay.

“She didn’t tell me what happened, only that you needed a friend. You don’t have to talk about it or tell me anything, but please, let me be here. When I saw you just now on that cliff edge—”

“I wasn’t going to—”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I know. But I don’t know what happened. I imagined the worst, and I—”

“You mentioned an adventure?” Mabel asked, folding her hands gently around his. 

He met her eyes. “You aren’t mad?”

Mabel shook her head and he smiled a bit, she could tell he was rolling something over in his mind. He was taking a little too long to decide so she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, grinning when he turned red. “Let’s go. I could use a coffee.”

“Well,” Arthur said with a laugh. “That hasn’t changed.”

“Oh, Artie. So much has.”

***

London was brighter at night. Mabel sat at the windowsill, a hot toddy warming her hands, as she waited for Lily to apply the final touches to her eyes. She could see from there the small amber bottle on Lily’s vanity and a pang went through her stomach.

Lily was her dearest friend. She couldn’t stand to see this go on much longer. The dance halls were as dangerous as any battlefield. 

“Kitty is going to that new place with Dot and Jane. Why don’t we just go with them?” Mabel asked. It was more of a restaurant than anything. 

Lily had become less cooperative and increasingly self destructive in the past few months. Mabel had matched her with wariness. There was only so much glamour could do to hide misery.

“He’ll be there tonight, I know it.”

Mabel stood and went to Lily’s side. Their conversations used to be easy. “I don’t think Jacque is good for you.” 

“He’s French, of course he isn’t,” Lily said with a smile and a warning in her eyes.

Mabel looked into the mirror surrounded by photographs and clippings of famous actresses. The women had perfect outfits, bodies, faces. By comparison, the two company girls checking their lipstick weren’t much to look at. Mabel’s nose was far too pointy and she had a crease in her chin. Lily’s eyes were a bit small and close together, and the eyeliner really didn’t fix it.

It seemed that every weekend, when they went to The Carousel Club or Periwinkle Hall, the new girls from all over London all looked like the celebrity photos. And of course the opposite sex only had eyes for knockoff Mary Pickfords. 

So Lily tried harder. Wanted to be fresh when all the other flappers were getting tired and hanging around the tables sloshing back water or better yet— gin. She met Jacque, and he wasn’t supposed to be addictive at first.

Now Mabel hardly recognized her friend.

But nothing Mabel carefully tried had stopped her. And she was afraid if she tried something drastic, she’d lose Lily.

If she didn’t try something soon, though, she would anyways. 

***

Arthur had commandeered two bicycles and they sped down the street towards the main cobbled road, a couple canvas bags between them full of cheese, bread, and wine. Aunt Clara had packed them a picnic, given Artie a great big hug when they’d walked in. And Mabel laughed, for the first time since London.

Mabel peddled faster to climb a hill and head straight into the rough grassy terrain, kept the sea to her left, until they made it to the overlook. Waves grew larger as the day went on, and the town was alive with families and young people going about their day. Some on holiday with ice creams, most working in the shops or cafes.

“Shall we go down to the coast? I’ve got a towel we can sit on,” Mabel suggested as Artie stopped next to her, leaned closer as he steadied his footing to keep the bike upright.

“Like old times. That’s the last place we went— isn’t it? Before you left.”

Mabel glanced at him. Tried to focus on the crashing ocean or laughter from the beach. She’d been wondering when they’d get to this.

“You run your father’s shop now, yes?” She asked.

He nodded, seeming to note the change in subject but not challenge it.

“And do you still like to make hats?” 

Mabel raised her brows. She hadn’t touched a needle since before London. Her job in the city had mostly involved ink stains on her fingers and typing quicker than the next girl.

“I suppose I do.”

“We could use a hatter, my mother isn’t up for it much anymore, and she knows you have an eye for it. I bet you wouldn’t even have to interview.” Arthur shifted the bag on his shoulder and looked over, a different question in his gaze.

“You’re offering me a job?”

“Well,” he said, and kicked off the pavement, “you didn’t accept my last proposal, did you?”

***

The hall was pulsing with music and people and a roar of laughter so loud Mabel could hardly think. She’d lost track of Lily and Jacque ten minutes ago and was really beginning to panic.

They should’ve gone to the country when Lily learned about her mother’s passing, not doubled down on the nights out. 

Mabel should’ve been more stern in her insistence to not be here, right now, elbowing her way through suits and beads to find her only friend in the world— there. By the back door. This time a needle.

“Lily!” Mabel called, but her shouts were caught up in the void of frivolity. 

Someone took Mabel’s wrist and pulled her close, a warm whiskey-soaked breath making her gag. “What’s the problem, doll? Why don’t you have a drink on me?”

Mabel, quite unceremoniously, jabbed her heel into the drunk’s foot as hard as possible and ducked to avoid the searching hands once she elbowed him in the stomach for good measure.

Her skin was shining like the crystals of chandeliers in sweat. If anything happened to Lily, who would she call? Her father was more comfortable around books than people, how could he know how to pull a daughter back from the edge? 

Finally she found her draped over a velvet chair, her legs dangling over Jacque as he laughed heartily over one of his fine companions’ jokes. Mabel shoved him over too. Time for drastic.

“Lily, we’re leaving.”

The laughter stopped and the group looked at Mabel like she’d suggested they all go have tea with the coppers. 

Lily laughed her off. “Whatever are you talking about, dear, the night is young.”

“I feel sick,” Mabel said, without an ounce of mistruth. 

Lily glanced at her compatriots, a knowing look in her eye. “Have a glass of water, darling. You must learn to pace yourself.” 

Mabel stared at her as her ‘friends’ laughed at the eloquent Lily’s faultless humor. She was dripping in finery and jewels but there was a lifelessness in her eyes. A haze. Like the corpse of a queen. 

“Lily, please. It’s not too late.”

She was torn for a moment, Mabel could tell. It would be easy. They’d take hands and go home and throw away that vial and Mabel would cook them breakfast in the morning. Life would go on.

But Lily took Jacques’ arm. “Don’t you know your limits, Mabs?” 

Mabel took a step back. Rammed into a couple girls who didn’t hesitate to let her know it.

“Yes. I think I do.”

And Mabel took a cab home, packed her case, and left London that very night. 

***

Mabel leaned forward and started to pick at her thumbnail as Artie took in her story. She picked up the last hunk of cheese and nibbled. Thought about another glass of wine.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Mabel mumbled.

Luckily, she could look out at the sea and keep up the ruse that she wasn’t screaming inside. The shame of it all was almost too much to bear. She’d moved away from this small town to be somebody, but instead felt like she lost any track of who she really was.

“I’m sorry you went through that,” Arthur said, and Mabel was shocked.

She’d expected him to ask her why she abandoned a friend, how could she be so cold, exclaim how horrible she’d become… but not that.

“Yeah,” she said, carefully. “I just hope she’s still alive.”

“That stuff is a dangerous thing. I had a cousin who… well, anyways.”

Mabel sat back again. “It is. And I think Lily knew it. The whole time. Until she wasn’t Lily anymore. To me, the friend I crossed half the country for, she’s gone.”

“You’re grieving. It’s okay, don’t blame yourself,” he said.

Mabel met his eyes, tried to keep her heart from reacting. “It’s strange, knowing there’s a ghost out there who looks just like her but only wakes up for new dresses and chasing highs. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, you know.”

“Be what?”

Mabel wiggled her fingers in the sky. “Being a flapper. A city girl. It’s supposed to be fun and exciting and loads of laughs but nobody tells you how tired you’ll be. How small you feel when a man looks at you over a glass and knows your worth in a second flat. How you can somehow go to the wrong parties even though they’re all the same. Rumors spreading like fire and truths are kept secret to pad reputations. Friends dropping friends for a doped up lark…”

Mabel curled her knees up and hid her tears in her arms, but Arthur wrapped an arm around her and smoothed back her hair until she looked up again. “It’s not your fault,” he said.

Mabel took the silver heart locket from her pocket and finally found the courage to throw it, hard as she could, into the waves. Lily didn’t need her anymore. And she had to let that go. That’s the only way her life could keep going.

Mabel took a breath and looked at Artie, who scanned the shore and looked back to her. “I’m sorry for how I treated you the day I left. I can’t lose anyone else.”

He shook his head, smiled. “I shouldn’t have given you an ultimatum like that. Hell, I would’ve run, too.” Arthur pulled at a string around his neck to reveal a small gold band at the end. “But I won’t say I gave up hope.”

Mabel grinned. “You know, it was a lot to put on a girl who had no idea what she was doing.”

“Do you know now?”

She leaned her head over on his shoulder. “Not really, but I think I’d like to make hats.” 

“Well,” he fiddled with the ring for a bit before placing it firmly in Mabel’s hand and holding it. “If you need someone here for life, I’m not busy.”