The walrus opened his eye. She was still there. But now she was lying on him. Actually on him as though he were some sort of rock. God, did she have no respect for such an important character as himself?
Obviously she didn’t. There she lay sunning herself and probably, although the walrus couldn’t turn his head round far enough to tell, smiling.
He had no doubt that it was her. Although he couldn’t see her face he could just about catch a glimpse of her hair. And it was definitely her hair. It was as fine as the finest seaweed and equally naturally undisciplined. Although he could tell that she would brush it and brush it and brush it to make it behave, and sometimes it would let her think she’d won, once she started to relax it would reassert itself. When this happened it would put out feelers in every direction, but mostly forwards, and create the most delicious abandoned tangle he’d ever seen.
Although it wasn’t actually green, well not when he’d met her but you never could tell what colour a lady’s hair was going to be from one day to the next: maybe green, then aquamarine and then as red as a sea anemone, there was something very mysterious about it. Early on he had wondered whether it was trying to tell him something. But he knew that was nuts. Nonetheless he thought he’d pay close attention to her crowning glory. For some reason he was sure that it would be that which would let him know which way the currents were flowing.
The beach was a comfortable sort of a beach. It had small, very round pebbles which gave way to a thin band of sand before it disappeared under the water. This was fine. He’d never sleep too far from the water’s edge and he realised that she needed to be close too. He knew that if she got too dry from the basking she’d need to get in quick. So really, in a way they were in a good spot that suited them both.
She stirred a bit in her doze and the walrus felt a little tug on his right flipper. While she’d looked as if she was listening with interest he’d seriously explained to her that he’d had a lot of trouble with mermaids in the past. When he discovered that she had two legs he’d been so relieved that he’d jokingly tied a strand of kelp to one of them.
He told her this was walrus magic to stop her running off back to her own people but he tied it really gently so as not to damage her delicate little ankle fin. Anyone could have broken that leash and set themselves free with less energy than it takes to make a ripple. So he was quite surprised, and not a little nervous, to feel that it was still there.
Actually he was quite enjoying being draped over. This wasn’t a run of the mill experience in the life of your every day walrus. By the fact that it was unusual and not the least bit unpleasant he was quite happy for the draping to continue.
He would like to have seen whether she was smiling or not. Or more accurately which smile she was wearing at that moment. He liked all her smiles of course but there was one which really stood out. This involved her looking down at him as though he was a strange being from another ocean and studying him as if to absorb his difference.
When she smiled that smile her hair went in all directions at once and her eyes grew deep. They became intense like a particularly interesting rock pool the floor of which was just out of sight. Then her lips opened a little more than usual and her teeth shone with a light you could have seen right on the ocean bed where all the weird fish live.
This smile had been a little worrying to start with. Because she brushed them really thoroughly every night her teeth were very strong and healthy. If she had fancied snacking on walrus as he gazed up at her things might have got sticky. She could have got away with a good few mouthfuls of blubber before he escaped. But when he had looked at her lips he knew that the smile was because she liked him. Which wasn’t any less worrying.
He remembered learning how to interpret that smile and was just about to remember the rest of her when she wriggled. Then she yawned, stretched and climbed down off his back. Keeping very close to the water’s edge she set off along the beach.
From then on it was all the walrus could do to lumber after her on his ample tummy. “Christ,” he thought as he negotiated rocks, pebbles and bits of flotsam at top and ungainly speed, “I don’t think she quite understands slow”. Then as his flipper received a playful little tug he thought “and why hasn’t that seaweed broken yet?”
© Patrick Ellis
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