Chapter Text
"Rhona, love," her mother calls. "Supper’s ready." Through the open window comes the delicious scent of fried dulse.
From the balcony of their council flat Rhona watches oil tankers on their silent path to and from the rigs beyond the horizon. Joe Kelly had left them for oil, so her mother said. Rhona does not remember him.
It was the oil or the ocean, her mother says. The oil or the ocean. Joe Kelly chose the oil.
Why the oil or the ocean? Rhona sometimes asks.
Because we have the ocean in our bones, my little fish, Marina Kelly replies.