The Tide Pools – Part 1: Low Tide

The tide went out at five-forty, and Freya was already crouched on the black rocks of Fortescue Bay with a clipboard, a headtorch and numb fingers.

"You're not supposed to be here," said a voice behind her.

She looked up. A woman in a green ranger's jacket stood on the path, arms folded, a thermos in one hand. She was thirty, with cropped dark hair, freckled brown skin and an expression that said she had said this sentence many times.

"I have a permit."

"The track's closed. Rockfall."

"I came by boat."

Noor looked at the little blue dinghy bumping on the shingle and sighed. "Of course you did."

Freya held up the permit. Noor read it, twice. "Dr Freya Lindqvist. Marine surveys." She raised an eyebrow. "Anemones?"

"Mostly. Sea stars. Anything that's still alive."

"Then I suppose you'd better show me."

They crouched together over the first pool. It was a small glass world: orange sponge, pink coral weed, a sea star the colour of a plum. Noor's breath caught. "I've walked past these for six years," she said softly. "I never looked."

"Most people don't. You have to be patient."

"I'm very patient. I just wasn't looking."

She unscrewed the thermos and poured sweet black tea into the lid, offering it. The steam rose between them in the cold.

"Can I ask you something?" said Freya.

"Yes."

"Do you always give trespassers tea?"

"Only the ones who care about the sea stars."

Their fingers brushed round the cup. Neither of them pulled away.

"Green?" said Freya, and felt ridiculous.

"Green," said Noor, smiling for the first time. "Very green. Come on. The tide's turning in an hour. I'll show you the good pool."

Continue the story: Part 2 – The Good Pool.