On The Shore

ILOVE my house, but when I look at my granddaughter, I know what she’s thinking. She’s wondering what on earth she’s going to do, stuck in this seaside village with just an old woman and the ever-changing sea for company.

“I’m sorry you aren’t happy to be here, Kirsty, but there really wasn’t any choice.”

She sits in the chair beside the window, her long legs, in their ripped jeans, draped over the arm. It used to be Kevin’s chair, but I know that if he were still with us he wouldn’t mind.

He always had a soft spot for Kirsty and used to make a huge fuss of her when she was little. It was a connection I had never felt, finding her altogether too serious a child.

Not that I didn’t love her. I did – it was just that I’d never found the right way to show it.

As I look at her now, I realise how long it is since I last saw her. She’s taller than me by a good few inches and the fine bones of her face are different from the softer, more childish features I remember.

I realise I miss those interceding years. Where did they go?

If only I’d made more effort to see my granddaughter on the weekends when my son, Brandon, had her.

Or maybe Kevin and I shouldn’t have moved away to Caldwell-on-sea when he retired.

Then I look around at my beachside haven and I know that I should never think that.

“Do you think your mother’s enjoying Tenerife with . . .” I rack my brains for his name “. . . Simon?”

The phone call from Kirsty’s mother, asking if her daughter could stay with me for a while, had come as a surprise.

Kirsty doesn’t answer my question, but asks me one herself.

“What do you do here all day?”

Her eyes haven’t left the garden and I see that the lawn is still littered with twigs brought down by the winds that like to whip along this coastline during the winter.

I ought to do something about them.

“I keep myself busy,” I say, picturing the grey sea. “There’s a lot to do, if you give the place a chance.”

Kirsty shrugs and looks at the phone in her hands. I think she’s finished talking to me, but she looks up again.

“Why did you and Grandad move to Caldwellon-sea?”

I’m surprised she’s asked, but then I realise that the things that give pleasure to me might not be the same for a fifteen-year-old.

“Well, the clue is in the name.”

She doesn’t say anything so I allow my mind to wander to a place where the sound of the waves rushing up the pebbles and withdrawing with a hiss never fails to calm my mind.

The beach.

It was the first place I went to after Kevin was taken from me.

“Why couldn’t I have gone with Mum and

My granddaughter has lost her way – and I hope to be the one to help her find it again . . .

Simon?” she asks quietly.

I know the answer but I don’t say.

It seems my ex-daughterin-law and her new husband have gone to Tenerife to try to sort out their marriage. She’s not too good at commitment, I can’t help thinking.

I look at Kirsty and wonder whether they’ve told her about their problems or whether they’ve just spun her some line.

Whatever they’ve said, I can see in her eyes the pain of abandonment. I know what that feels like.

I decide to say nothing. After all, it’s not my place. When my son comes at the weekend, I’ll talk to him about it.

It’s from Brandon that I get most of my news about the family now.

It’s how I first heard that Kirsty had joined the local swimming club and, within months, had made the regional squad. It was also how I heard that she had left last month, giving no reason.

“Why didn’t they take me?” she asks again.

“I’m sure they had their reasons. Besides, it’s nice for you and me to spend some time together, don’t you think?”

She turns her face to the window again.

The garden is long and surrounded by a stone wall. At the far side, breaking up the monotony of its rough grey surface, is a blue gate, on the other side of which is the beach with its colourful beach huts.

We had been here on a weekend break, Kevin and I, and as we’d strolled along the path that ran between the wall of the house and the beach, we’d spotted the blue gate with the name, Beach House, fixed above it.

Later, we’d seen the very same house listed in the estate agent’s window and it was as though it was meant to be.

“Your gate is like the one in the secret garden,” Kirsty says suddenly, pressing her forehead against the cold pane. “I remember you reading that book to me when you used to come to babysit.”

I’m surprised that she remembers that; it seems so long ago now. In my memory, I feel the weight of her small dark head against my arm as I turned the pages of the book.

“I always loved that story.” Kirsty twists a strand of hair around her finger. “I wish I could just go through that gate and disappear,” she adds in a soft voice.

There are tears in her eyes and, for the first time since she arrived the previous evening, I feel sorry for her.

“I know what you mean. After your grandfather died, I felt the same. I wanted to disappear for a while. So that’s what I did. I went out of the blue gate and took myself to the beach.

“It was winter and cold and I had the place to myself. I remember that a mist was rolling in from the sea, merging the water and the sky, and as I walked along the pebbles it was like I really had disappeared. In a strange way, it helped me.”

I don’t tell Kirsty how, before I’d gone out, I’d pulled on my wetsuit and tucked my hair into my white swimming hat.

How I’d waited on the beach for the mist to lift then walked across the stones to the sea, stopping at the water’s edge to let the surf run over my feet before diving under the water.

It was what I had done every morning before Kevin died, pushing back the duvet and leaving him asleep in the warmth of our bed. He’d laugh at me for doing it, but swimming had always been my greatest love. It made me feel alive.

I knew he would have wanted me to continue so, the morning after the funeral, I had swum as I always did, letting my body fall into its natural rhythm, only stopping when I was exhausted.

As the cold spread through my veins, it had dulled the pain in my heart a little.

And when, at last, I turned on my back and watched the gulls swoop above me, it was as if Kevin were up there, watching me and nodding in that way he had.

I would like to hold my granddaughter in my arms and make things better, but I don’t. We don’t know each other well enough for that.

Instead, I fuss with the chair cushions, plumping them into shape.

“Your mum will be back before you know it and, don’t forget, your dad’s going to be here at the weekend. I’m sure you can survive until then.”

“I’m not sure I can,” she mutters.

****

Outside my open bedroom window the sky is streaked with pink. The weather will change later, no doubt, but for now the morning promises to be perfect.

As I rest my elbows on the window frame and look over the garden wall to where the sea lies, ruffled with frills of white, I notice that the air has a softness to it that wasn’t there the previous morning.

My wetsuit hangs across the back of the chair, but I decide not to put it on. Instead, I search for the one-piece I haven’t worn since last summer and put it on, pulling a pair of jogging bottoms and a sweatshirt over the top of it.

Finally, I stuff a towel into my beach bag and go out on to the landing.

I’m surprised to see Kirsty. She’s standing in the open doorway of her bedroom, wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms and an oversized T-shirt.

“Goodness! You startled me. Aren’t teenagers supposed to sleep until midday?” I said.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She rubs her nose with the heel of her hand. “Where are you going?”

“To the beach.”

She frowns. “Why?” “Because it’s what I do every morning. Do you want to come with me?”

There is a slight raise of her shoulders.

“I suppose so. I’ve nothing else to do. What’s in the bag?”

“My towel. I’m going to go for a swim.”

“But it’s only seven o’clock. Won’t it be freezing?”

I smile at her shocked expression.

“That’s the best time – before the beach fills with dog walkers. Usually I have the place to myself. Get dressed quickly and we’ll have breakfast when we come back.

“When we get there, you can cheer me on from the side lines,” I add. “I’ll be waiting for you outside the blue gate.”

Letting myself out, I walk across the dew-covered grass of the back garden to the blue gate in the wall. Opening it, I stand and wait for Kirsty, closing my eyes and listening to the crying of the gulls.

She joins me soon enough, her face partly obscured by the hooded sweatshirt she’s wearing. “Ready?” I ask.

The nod she gives is one of resignation. Clearly she would rather be anywhere than here, in this out-ofthe-way seaside town, with me.

“I can see how it got its name, anyway,” she says, pointing to the sign above the gate. “If the sea was any closer the house would float away!”

She’s right. Sometimes, when thunder rolls and I hear the crashing of the waves on the shore from my bedroom window, I imagine that the garden behind its stone wall is a harbour, and that my house is at anchor in a calm blue sea, safe

As I floated in the sea it was as if Kevin were looking down at me

from the storm.

Closing the gate behind us, I cross the path and step on to the beach.

Kirsty follows and I realise I like hearing the crunch of her feet on the stones behind me. It’s a while since I’ve had company.

I let her catch up. “So, what do you like doing when you’re at home?”

She gives one of her shrugs.

“Not much.”

“I find that hard to believe. I remember you as a very active little girl.”

I choose my words carefully. I already know the answer from my son.

“What about that swimming club of yours?” “I gave it up.” “Really?” I place my bag on the stones and take out my towel. “What made you do that?”

“I wasn’t any good.” “You made the squad, though. Didn’t you like it?”

Kirsty sits down on the stones and rests her chin on her knees.

“It was all about the winning. Who took silver, who took gold. It wasn’t usually me and I hated the pressure.”

It’s the most Kirsty has said to me since she arrived on the train the night before.

I look out across the dark water. It’s very still and I can’t wait to step into it.

“I’m guessing you don’t like losing. I used to be the same.” I keep my voice neutral. “I once attempted to swim the Channel, you know.”

Her jaw drops. “You?”

“There’s no need to look like that. It wasn’t last week – it was when I was young. Not much older than you, in fact.” “Dad never told me.” “That’s because he never knew. In fact, you’re the first one in the family I’ve told.”

“But why?”

My shrug is a bit like my granddaughter’s.

“I suppose, when I didn’t manage it, I felt a failure.”

“But the Channel, Gran! That’s huge!”

I have to laugh at her expression.

“I was very ambitious back then. Almost achieving was never enough. When they pulled me into the boat, I decided that I didn’t want to swim again. I couldn’t see the point.”

I stand and pull off my sweatshirt and jogging bottoms, then take my goggles out of the bag. Kirsty watches me.

“But you’re swimming now. What made you change your mind?”

“Your grandad Kevin. He showed me that by focusing on the prize I’d forgotten something.”

“What was that?”

“My love of swimming, of course.”

Leaving her on the shore, I wade into the water, feeling the thrill as the water laps my skin.

“Isn’t it cold?” Kirsty calls.

“Of course, but you get used to it.”

I wait for a break in the small waves, then put my hands together and push off.

As I swim parallel to the shore, I see Kirsty standing on the waterline.

She watches me and, as I turn on to my back and let the water rock me, I wonder what she’s thinking.

****

The following morning, I am just going out of the blue gate, my bag over my shoulder, when I hear footsteps running after me. “I’m coming, too.”

I smile to myself.

“To watch me again?” “No. To swim.”

We don’t speak as we walk across the beach and we don’t speak as we lay our clothes on the stones. I notice that her swimming costume has her club’s badge on the front. “Ready?” I ask.

She nods.

“It won’t be as warm as the pool, you know.” “I know.”

As she steps into the sea, she wobbles a little and I catch her hand. She doesn’t attempt to pull it away and it gladdens me. Together we walk deeper.

“Turn your back on the waves, Kirsty. It makes it easier.”

A wave breaks against our backs and the sea moves out again. I give her hand a squeeze. “Now!”

Together we push off and I feel the familiar bite of cold. I know my granddaughter will be feeling it, too, and for a fleeting moment I wonder if I’ve done the right thing.

But as she dips her face in the water and starts to swim, her body moving smoothly through the grey-green water, the worry fades away and I swim after her.

As my arms push through the water, I know that on the shore the beach huts, with their colourful doors, will be slipping by and that, if I look back, I’ll see the blue gate with the sign to my house.

I don’t see them, though. I am far away with my thoughts. The sea is where I can be myself. Be free.

Kirsty is on her back now, her eyes staring up at the clouds. I reach her and twist my body so that I’m also floating, sculling my hands and enjoying the movement of the sea.

“Well?” I don’t need to say anything more.

“It’s perfect. It’s like everything that’s worrying me has floated away out here.”

“The sea has that effect on me, too.” I see goosebumps on her arms. “Come on. Let’s swim back and I’ll make us both some cocoa.”

We take our time and, when we’re parallel with the blue gate again, we step out of the sea, running for our bags and rubbing vigorously at our arms with our towels.

“I’m glad I came here, Gran.” She pulls off her swimming hat and her dark hair hangs down her back, like mine used to.

“It’s your birthday soon,” I say. “I want you to do something for me when you get home.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to get yourself a season ticket to your local pool. It will be my present.”

She looks horrified. “But I don’t want to do it any more.”

“Hear me out. I don’t mean join the club again. This way, you’ll be able to swim whenever the fancy takes you. There will be no pressure to perform – just the chance to swim for your own enjoyment. It will help you remember what it was that drew you to the water in the first place.”

She looks at the sea. “I think I’d like that.” Her expression is softer now, and I know there is something more I need to say. I just hope it’s not too soon.

“Remember this, too. I know it’s not an easy time for you at the moment, but I’m here if ever you want to talk. Grandad Kevin always said I was a good listener.”

The dimples that appear in her cheeks when she smiles remind me of my son. Over the years, the tides of life have moved us all away from each other. We didn’t ask for it but it has happened.

I see that it is up to me to draw us back together again if I can.

“When your father comes at the weekend, we might take him swimming with us. What do you think?”

Kirsty looks at me in surprise, then laughs when she realises I’m joking. My son has never shared our interest, but there will be other things we can do when he’s here – I’ll make sure of it.

We walk back across the stones and I hold the blue gate open for Kirsty. She stops before she goes in and rests her hand against the nameplate.

“Beach House,” she says. “It’s a perfect name.”

“It’s a perfect place,” I say. n

Over the years, the tides of life moved us apart