What Happens In Cornwall.... T Williams A
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To make matters worse, a cold breeze was getting up and waves were beginning to slap against the side of the hull. She fought her fear and peered into the murk around her, unable to see more than a few metres. Then, she heard something. She stopped paddling and cocked her head to one side, concentrating hard. There was no doubt about it, she could hear waves breaking against the shore. Could it be she had got herself back to the beach? She dug her paddle in again with renewed energy, aiming the kayak towards the noise. Gradually, it grew louder and, as it grew, so did her hopes.
Then, abruptly, the mist before her thinned and she saw something, but what she saw was terrifying. She was heading straight for a rocky reef, around which the white waves hissed and sighed. She spun the kayak around and just managed to squeeze past the rocks without crashing into them. Looming high behind the reef was the dark outline of sheer cliffs. A wave of terror threatened to engulf her and she had to struggle hard to stop herself from crying out in panic. She was completely alone and totally lost. She gritted her teeth and took a few deep breaths. At least she now found herself away from the grip of the vicious current, so she allowed herself a few minutes’ rest, just dipping the paddle into the water from time to time to keep her out of reach of the rocks. However, within a very short time she began to feel very, very cold and this, more than anything else, spurred her into action once more.
She started off again, doing her best to run parallel to the cliffs, loath to lose sight of land, but dreading the prospect of another reef in her way. She paddled on and on, becoming ever more desperate, and then, just as she was beginning to feel very, very tired, she sensed a lightening in the backdrop and she let the waves take her. Another rocky outcrop swept past her, close enough to touch and then, amazingly, she bumped up against a vertical wall and a flight of weed-encrusted stone steps; man-made wall and man-made steps.
She could have wept with relief. She reached out with her hands and grabbed at a metal ring set in the wall, as the kayak scraped against generations of barnacles. Never had the sight of a stone wall been so welcome.
She clung to the rusty iron with both hands and rested her head on her arms. She felt tears coursing down her cheeks; tears of sheer relief that she had reached land. Suddenly, all her worries about her sporting career, her studies, her mother’s mental health and, above all, her relationship with Neil, faded into insignificance. She was alive and that was all that mattered. That, and the minor problem of hauling herself out of the kayak and onto dry land.
It took her a long time to get out of the boat and up the steps. She felt as if she were a hundred years old; slow, doddery and so, so tired. She slipped into the water twice and was soaked to the skin by the time she reached the top, the kayak somehow tied to the iron ring below her. She crouched on all fours for several minutes, breathing deeply and shivering with cold before she managed to summon the energy to raise her head and look around.
She was on a small jetty, set within a tiny bay. The jetty ended abruptly only a few paces in front of her and another stone stairway led up a sheer cliff face into the mist. Above her, a host of seagulls were calling and screaming, but the fog shrouded them from sight. But, amazingly, just to one side of her was something totally unexpected. She hauled herself to her feet, wrapping her arms around herself in a vain attempt to conserve some residual heat in her body, and squelched her way across the flagstones. When she reached the cliff, she stopped and stared. Set into the sheer rock face was a shiny, modern stainless steel door. She didn’t need to read the sign that said Adler Elevators to know it was a lift. Beside it was a very modern-looking keypad.
She reached over and pressed the biggest button, but nothing happened. She tried the other, smaller numbered keys, without success, but even through her befuddled haze she realised the lift wouldn’t operate unless she knew the code. Without it, she was stuck out here in the cold. She tried again and again and then, finally, resorted to beating her fists against the steel doors, hearing her blows echo around the little bay. She was on the point of collapse when, wonderfully, she heard a humming sound. The lift was in operation. Seconds later, the doors slid open and she found herself face to face with a serious-looking man with grey hair that was just beginning to go white at the temples. He was wearing a dark suit, with a collar and tie, like a very classy maître d’hôtel. He looked about sixty, but slim and fit with it. His eyes flicked across her suspiciously.
‘What are you doing here?’ His voice was far from welcoming.
‘I… I was out in a kayak.’ Samantha’s words came out very slowly and her voice sounded to her like it belonged to somebody else. She did her best to summon what residual energy remained in her exhausted body and attempt an explanation. ‘It was the mist. I couldn’t see. I’m afraid I got lost. I was being washed out to sea…’ Her voice tailed off.
‘You look cold.’ His expression changed from suspicion to something else. Maybe relief. He hesitated for a moment before coming to a decision. ‘You’d better come in. Come along now.’ He stepped to one side and waved her into the lift.
‘Thank you. Thank you.’ Samantha could hardly recognise her own voice. She was trembling so violently by now that she bit her lip as she spoke and tasted blood in her mouth. She staggered forward into the lift and the man followed her in. She watched as the doors closed and the sound of the waves and the gulls was suddenly extinguished. A sign on the wall indicated that the lift had only been installed a few months earlier. Indeed, it was so smooth that they could barely get any sense of movement as it climbed. After only a few seconds the doors hissed open and she gazed wearily out. She caught the man’s eye.
‘Where are we, please? What is this place?’
‘This is the Abbey of Saint Bernard on Rock Island. Where have you come from? Tregossick?’ She nodded mutely, wiping blood from her lip with the back of her hand. Her fingers felt so cold against her face, they could have belonged to somebody else. The man stepped out and led her to a bench against the wall. His expression had softened and, while not yet friendly, was at least more welcoming. ‘I’ll have to ask you to wait here for a moment, while I go and speak to the owner. Here,’ He pulled a bulky jacket off a hook by the lift door and handed it to her. ‘Put this on. You look frozen stiff.’
He walked across to another lift, this time a futuristic glass bubble in one corner of the huge entrance hall in which Sam now found herself. As he stepped in and the lift doors closed, Samantha covered her shoulders with the jacket, slumped down on the bench and looked around. It was an awesome place and very, very ancient. The hall was huge, dark and hung with flags and tapestries. The ceiling was immensely high and she found herself looking up at the underside of the lift way up above her. It was like being inside an empty tower. The floor was made of flagstones, polished and worn by the passage of countless feet over the centuries. It was truly spectacular.
For a moment she had a vision of Dracula’s castle from an old horror film and it suddenly occurred to her that here she was, a girl on her own, in bizarre surroundings. And, she realised, as a wave of fear threatened to overwhelm her again, nobody knew she was here. In spite of her exhausted state, she was wondering whether to head back down and take her chances in the sea when the glass lift began its downward journey. As it reached the floor, she breathed a sigh of relief. There was a woman in it.
The doors opened and a dark-haired woman came out, accompanied by a young black Labrador. While the dog rushed over to make a fuss of the visitor, the woman stopped and took a good look at Sam’s bedraggled state. ‘Hello. It certainly looks like you could do with some help.’ She sounded very concerned for Sam’s wellbeing, and all Sam could do was nod forlornly. She looked up and caught the other woman’s eye. She read sympathy and the same air of relief she had read on the man’s face. It was as if they had been expecting an unwelcome guest and were pleased to find that their visitor was nothing more than a shipwrecked sailor.
Even through her weariness, Sam couldn’t help noticing what perfect teeth and skin she had, even though most of her was hidden behind a pair of thick-rimmed sunglasses and a mass of hair. ‘Here, come up with me and we’ll sort you out.’ The woman extended her hand and Sam followed her into the lift, the excited dog licking her fingers as he pushed in alongside them.
The lift rose silently to the gallery that circled round at high level.