My Summer of Magic Moments: Uplifting and romantic - the perfect, feel good holiday read!. Caroline Roberts
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before her much as the beach did far ahead. She’d been wandering for a while. Exactly how far from her cottage was the village? She knew the towering castle set on the dunes marked the village area, but now she’d turned into the next crescent-shaped bay she still couldn’t see it. It must be bloody miles away.
But she was here to relax, so strolling along the beach on a mild June morning was fine. She was in no hurry. To slip routine, work, the wearing rituals of chemotherapy, radiotherapy – was bliss. She’d made it through – she was a survivor. And she knew full well there were those who hadn’t; she felt a tight knot in her throat just thinking about them, those lovely ladies she’d sat next to for their hour-long chemical shots in the bank of chemo chairs as if they were at some kind of weird hairdressers where they stole your hair instead of tended it. She didn’t want to waste another day, though she didn’t know yet what it was she really wanted. A rest and a bit of time out had been the only things she’d realized she’d needed for now.
One day at a time, Claire. Feel the sun on your skin. Daylight, fresh air. The warmth of a cosy bed, be it a rickety one. Sip a cup of fragrant tea, a glass of chilled white wine or warming Merlot whilst looking out to sea. Hah, or even better, looking at a toned male torso. The memories of this morning’s vision rose in her mind, making her smile.
A man’s body. She hadn’t felt a man’s touch for a long time. Things had started to go wrong between her and her husband even before the cancer. And then afterwards, once she’d been given the ‘all clear’, she’d learnt how very wrong. Nothing like being kicked when you’re down. But no, she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on that this morning. Today was about new starts, fresh hope and enjoying being alive. She’d think about the hunky swimming guy instead.
She picked her way over a cluster of rocks, the lime-green seaweed slimy under her bare feet. The stones, seemingly slick-black in colour, were, under closer inspection, riddled with navy and iron red. She remembered rock-pooling with her gran, dipping in those cane-stemmed fishing nets, trying to catch a shrimp or tiny silvery fish – they were fast, those ones, wriggly little numbers, nigh on impossible. It kept her and her big sister, Sally, entertained for hours. Gran sat watching them from her blanket on the dunes, a book in hand and a huge picnic of goodies stowed in the cool box. They’d stayed, the four of them, Gran, Mum, Sally and her, crammed into a caravan down the coast – five of them once Dad turned up after work. Fish and chips with lashings of salt and vinegar eaten from the newspaper wrapper as they sat on the harbour wall at Seahouses. She could almost smell them now – maybe it was just the salt in the sea air. Yes, she’d have to make a trip there. Happy days! When life was so simple.
The rhythm of her steps took over. Sometimes the sand was grainy, rough between her toes, then it was smooth, moulding to her feet. There were other footsteps in the sand too: shoe prints, paw prints, the tiny slats of a sea bird’s feet, and a mild breeze rippled through the spiky dune grass. Claire sighed, stood for a moment and breathed in the fresh sea air. This was why she was here. It felt good to breathe, to walk, to be.
She turned another corner and there at last was Bamburgh Castle towering in the distance. It was a bit of a relief, to be honest: though she was enjoying the walk, she was beginning to tire. Her energy levels weren’t yet back to normal ‘AC’ – after the chemo. Her cancer nurse had warned her that it could take up to a year to feel back to her old self, and it had only been five months so far.
The castle dominated the skyline, powerful and stunning, perched on its rock base in the dunes. She wondered how long it had been there, what it had been built for? She’d heard something about the Northumbrian kings centuries ago. She’d have to brush up on her history, find out more and do the castle tour one day. The stone of the castle walls was an unusual salmon-pink colour, unlike the cottage she was staying in and the others nearby, which were more honey-coloured with tones of flinty grey.
This part of the beach below the castle was busier, being nearer the village and the car park; there were families on a day out, children building sandcastles and splashing at the shoreline, a couple of young lads kicking a football about. She spotted a teenage girl tracing her initials in the sand with a stick, then adding a ‘4’ and another set of initials with a big bold love heart around them. She smiled. Ah, the easy love and hope of youth. If only life and love were that simple. Claire knew only too well how the waves would come in and wash it all away soon enough.
A track led into the dunes from the beach. Claire decided to follow it, hoping to find a way through to the village. She’d need to buy some provisions to keep her going. Having come on the train in the end, she’d only brought some tea bags, coffee, a couple of apples and a pack of Jaffa cakes. She wound up and through the dunes, following the sandy pathway, spiky marram grass pricking at her bare legs. She sat to put her deck shoes back on, dusting her feet off, but she could still feel itchy grains of sand between her toes as she set off again – a hazard of beach life, she supposed. There was an opening, and she found herself coming out onto a cricket pitch at the far side of the castle. Pretty stone cottages lined the hill, clustering the quaint village green.
She was on a bit of a budget till next week’s pay day now that much of her spending money had disappeared on a train and taxi fare, so she decided to head for the village stores and buy some vegetables to make a big pot of soup. As she was strolling up the hill, she spotted a small delicatessen, squeezed into a cottage front room by the looks of it, halfway up. Artisan loaves were looking enticingly at her from the window display. Maybe she could stretch to a gorgeous freshly baked loaf too. She went in, her mouth watering over a stone-baked rosemary and sea salt and a wholemeal with honey and pumpkin seeds. Decisions, decisions.
‘Hello, pet. How can I help you?’
A short, middle-aged lady with grey-tinged auburn hair smiled from behind the counter.
Claire plumped for the wholemeal and asked for a pack of local butter to go with it.
The lady handed over her change. ‘On your holidays?’
‘Yes, got here last night.’
‘Staying in the village?’
‘Well, just along the road a bit, the cottages down by the beach. Farne View.’
‘Oh, I see.’ The woman’s face seemed to drop, as though she knew of it. But then she smiled encouragingly, adding, ‘Well, I hope you have a lovely time.’
‘Thanks. Do you know where I can get any vegetables? I fancy making some soup to go with your lovely bread.’
The lady told her that there was a greengrocer which stocked everything and more at the top of the village. She was to head for the gap in a red-brick wall. Claire set off, passing a butcher’s. An aroma of freshly baked pies drew her in, as well as the window stacked with goodies and a counter laden with an array of fresh meats. She popped in, unable to resist a homemade steak pie which she decided she’d have for her lunch – the soup would take a while to make so that would do for supper. She also bought some rashers of bacon and a half-dozen eggs for another day. Then she headed for the long brick wall on the top side of the village green, following it until the gap and a sign appeared.
Whoa, this was very different to the Asda down the road from her semi-detached house in Gosforth. It looked more like a walled garden than a shop, yet was filled with all sorts of provisions: fresh herbs, fruit, vegetables. She filled a basket with carrots, a swede, parsnips, leeks and onions, a packet of stock cubes and some milk.
The carrier bag was laden, and, she realized too late, heavy. She’d have to walk all the way back with it. Why hadn’t she thought to bring the rucksack she had at the cottage? She must remember she didn’t have the same energy levels as she used to. Her body was still trying to find its way back to normality. She sometimes wondered if it ever would … Maybe it just needed time to find a new normal.
Jelly shoes, sunscreen, floppy hats and sandy sandwiches
It