The Beachcomber. Josephine Cox
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his back against the rocks, a man alone with his troubles, his eyes raised to the heavens, and his heart breaking.
After a while, as always these days, his heart was calmed, his mind quieter. He began his way back, to the widest part of the beach, where he sat listening to the rush of breaking waves and the many comforting sounds of night: nesting seagulls ruffling their feathers; creatures of the water shuffling a path through the sand.
In the dark, where no one could see, the world was breathing all around him. It was his now, this part of night when others slept and dreamed. In the semi-darkness, this place, this world, this precious time was his, and he cherished every minute.
Content now, oblivious to the minutes and hours that ticked by, he stayed; satisfied just to look and listen.
After a time, when night began to merge with daylight, he made his way back.
As he wended his way along the clifftop, he thought of his wife again, he thought of Kathy and that quiet conversation while she sat on the wall eating her fish and chips. He heard her laughter in his mind and smiled. ‘She’s like a ray of sunshine,’ he mused.
From what he had heard of her intimate murmurings to her late father, he suspected things had not been easy for her.
In those few brief moments when she laughed at her mistake with the hot chip, then again when she was sitting on the house wall, he had seen a woman who had that rare talent of being able to laugh at herself, a woman of compassion and heart. A woman who had the ability to take the world by the horns and shake it into submission.
He wished her well.
Then he shut her out of his mind, for there were other things he must consider. Things of the past; things of the future.
The present was less important.
KATHY WAS AWAKE bright and early. She washed and dressed, tidied round and, taking her small cache of belongings, made her way down to the reception desk.
The clerk was still half-asleep, yawning and rubbing her hair until it looked as if it belonged to some scarecrow in a field. ‘Was everything all right?’ she asked wearily. For one irritating minute she thought Kathy was there to complain.
Placing the caravan keys on the desk, Kathy smiled. ‘Everything was just fine,’ she said, and it was, because now that she’d had a good night’s sleep she was ready for anything. ‘Where can I get breakfast?’
The clerk groaned with disgust. ‘Oh, however can you eat so early in the morning?’
‘It must be the sea air,’ Kathy answered, ‘it seems to have given me an appetite.’ She laughed. ‘My friend Maggie swears I could eat anyone under the table.’
The young clerk observed Kathy’s slim figure. ‘Don’t you ever get fat?’ she asked enviously.
Kathy shook her head. ‘Not yet, I haven’t. But I’ll probably spread out like a balloon once I hit forty.’ She laughed at the girl’s wide-eyed disbelief. ‘To tell the truth, I seem to be able to eat whatever I like and it makes no difference. Maggie hates me. She has to watch every mouthful she eats, or she piles on the pounds in no time.’
‘I’m the same. Lucky you,’ the clerk grumbled. ‘And you’ll find the dining room is just opening.’ Pointing to a side door, she suggested helpfully, ‘To avoid you going back out and in through the main doors, you can go that way. You’ll see the dining room straight ahead of you.’
Heeding the directions, Kathy followed her nose, the aroma of hot food taking her through the entrance hall and into a small dining room. Observing the military rows of square laminated tables, she marched through to where the food was only now being set out. There was a basket of toast, and several other hot dishes each containing a good helping of porridge, tomatoes and sausages. There was also a box of cereal.
At the end of the table, there was a fat man frying a couple of eggs on the hotplate. ‘Just one, please.’ Taking up a plate, Kathy held it out. ‘Turned over and well done.’
Sour-faced, the man scooped up a juicy egg and dropped it onto her plate; dripping in fat, it almost slid straight off the other side, save for a nifty backstep by Kathy. ‘Sorry, luv.’ He looked wretched, as though he’d been out all night on the tiles.
Reassuring him that no harm was done, Kathy took her plate along the buffet to collect a sausage, a wrinkled tomato and a piece of toast. She poured herself a cup of tea from the urn to finish.
By the time she got back to a table by the window, both toast and tea were cold, but that didn’t bother her too much. It was the fat man at the end of the table that drew her attention. As she ate heartily, Kathy couldn’t keep her eyes off him. Apart from the arm that turned the eggs, he never moved. ‘Like a robot!’ Kathy chuckled. Then suddenly he reached round to collect a clutch of eggs from the basket behind. Just that one, swift, rigid movement and he was back again, still as a statue, one arm hanging by his side, the other turning the eggs. For a while, Kathy was mesmerised.
The sound of children outside made her glance through the window. There was a whole family of them: mum, dad, grandparents and six healthy, boisterous youngsters. ‘Oh, my God!’ Kathy exclaimed. ‘Looks like they’ve got their hands full.’
Suddenly all hell was let loose.
As that particular family burst in through the doors, another followed, and soon the whole place was filled with excited, screeching children running amok among the tables.
One pretty little girl sauntered up to Kathy and stood by her table, big saucer eyes following every forkful of food Kathy put into her mouth. Embarrassed at the way the child was staring at her, Kathy cut off a piece of sausage and offered it to her. ‘Hungry are you, sweetheart?’
With frightening speed, a woman resembling an all-in wrestler swept the child up, with a stern warning for Kathy. ‘Don’t you mess with me!’
Nervously swallowing her food, Kathy watched as the woman carried the kicking child to the buffet, where she set about terrifying the fat man.
Seeing the humour of the situation, Kathy chuckled to herself. ‘I can assure you, lady … I’ve no intention of messing with you!’
A few minutes later, having finished her breakfast and been deafened by the growing uproar in the dining room, she made good her escape.
Excited and a little apprehensive, she made her way to the house. Stopping at the telephone box which was halfway, she took out two coins and, dropping them into the slot, asked the operator to dial Maggie’s number. ‘Be in, Maggie!’ she urged. ‘Come on, pick up the phone.’ She knew it was an extravagance, but she had to talk to her friend.
Another few rings and the voice at the other end of the line sounded grumpy. ‘Who is it?’
Kathy gave a sigh of relief. ‘It’s me, who d’you think it is?’
‘KATHY!’ At once the voice came alive. ‘Why didn’t yer phone me yesterday, you wretch? I waited in as long as I could.’
Kathy explained, ‘It was late when I got here. I rang you as soon as I sorted myself out, but you weren’t home.’ She lowered her voice. ‘You were out with that bloke, weren’t you? The one I told you to be careful about?’
Maggie was on the defensive. ‘So! What if I were?’
Kathy knew it. ‘And …?’
‘And what?’
‘You know … was he just after one thing, like I said?’
‘No. He was not just after one thing.’
‘So, nothing happened then?’
‘I didn’t say that!’