| Bodregan
Bay
by Marjorie Jackson
I feel a little overdressed today as I step out onto the warm sand of
Bodregan Bay, but no one seems to notice. A group of children are engrossed
in practising their construction skills with buckets and spades, and protective
parents smother their toddlers in sun cream before settling down to catch
the sun’s rays or read the latest summer romance. I walk along the
edge of the rocks which curve their way around the bay jutting into the
sea like protective arms at each side of the sandy cove.
It is such a lovely hot day and I am glad that I decided to take my daily
walk in the warmth of the afternoon rather than early morning or the cold
light of the evening as I usually do. A welcoming rock jutting out into
the beach catches my eye and I rest for a while, watching the antics of
the children. Two small boys are fighting over a beach ball, much to the
annoyance of their parents whose sunbathing has been interrupted. A pretty
young girl walks to the water’s edge leading a small boy by the
hand and they squeal excitedly as they unearth a treasure trove of pretty
sea shells waiting to be discovered and cherished. Such a happy scene.
I like to follow the same route each day. I’m not sure why. Just
habit I suppose. Today is such a beautiful day though, and I allow myself
the indulgence of lingering a little to take in the sights and sounds
of the pretty, tranquil bay, so alive and vibrant with the sun glistening
on the turquoise sea and the echo of children’s laughter.
My skirt rustles gently and looking down I see a small dog sniffing underneath
the rock where I am sitting. Such a delightful little thing with white
curly fur and a cute little face. I bend down to stroke him but he startles
and runs to a young, freckly boy with red hair, who looks relieved to
see him.
‘Rusty, where have you been?’ says the young boy, taking hold
of the dog’s collar and leading him to where the rest of his family
are waiting. I smile and wave but they are too busy fussing over their
runaway pet to notice.
The sun disappears behind a cloud and I look up to see that the blue sky
is beginning to turn a steely grey. I continue my walk, heading for the
headland and the footpath which takes me back to my tiny cottage overlooking
the bay. As the rain starts to fall, the beach becomes almost deserted
as people pack up their things and head for home.
I cover my head thankful that I had worn a shawl over my shoulders, as
a strong wind begins to bite. My feet are starting to get wet as pools
form amongst the rocks and as I take off my sandals, I look up. To my
horror I realise that the tide is coming in very quickly. I need to get
around the headland before the angry sea reaches the rocks. Looking up
towards our cottage I can see a light at the window and smoke blowing
gently from the chimney and I smile, comforted by the thought that my
son, Jack has arrived home safely.
My step quickens and I reach the rocky headland. Almost there. The tip
of the headland is marked by a small archway, carved out over the centuries
by the swirling sea, gushing into a tiny cave and hitting the rocks as
it leaves. The archway, normally such a picturesque feature of Bodregan
Bay, looks so fearsome now framed by a grey, menacing sky and the troublesome
sea lapping at its feet How strong the wind is now and the cold sea is
only a few feet away. I steady myself against the bracing wind by holding
on to the rocks, feeling my way to the archway, moving as quickly as my
tired feet will allow. The jagged rocks begin to scape and claw at my
legs and feet but I feel nothing but the harsh wind, and the fear that
the sea will reach the footpath before I do.
The spray from the sea is beginning to cloud my vision, but I have made
this journey so many times before that this does not impede my progress
much. My hands feel their way along the rough, black rocks, now slimy
with seaweed thrown out by the sea in a violent temper.
I look up again to gain comfort from the hazy sight of the cottage in
the distance. The warm, welcoming light is still glowing - a strange contrast
to the bitterly cold darkness of the bay. My hands are so cold now that
I car barely feel the rocks. Suddenly the rocks give way to the gaping
mouth of the cave and for a moment, my hands flail around feeling for
the rocks which are no longer there. My heart leaps at the realisation
that I have reached the cave, knowing that the footpath is at the other
side of the entrance. I strain my eyes to see where the rocks resume their
course, and steel myself to cross the mouth of the cave without the aid
of my familiar rocky support. I stop for a moment to catch my breath before
making a dash for the jutting rocks at the other side of the cave.
The sound of the sea is so loud now and seems to carry with it the cries
of the many souls lost to its anger over the centuries, a sudden reminder
that I have no time to lose to make this last leap to safety. The cries
ring in my ears and give me back the determination which deserted me a
few moments ago. Turning my head to the blackness of the cave my senses
become a little confused and I imagine that I can hear cries coming from
the dark cavernous void. I shake my head to clear my senses and take one
step towards the waiting rocks. Feeling very vulnerable in the wide open
space of the cave entrance with nothing to protect me from the powerful
wind, I drop to my knees and start to crawl the rest of the way. Feeling
a little more secure I turn again towards the cave. I can still hear the
cries. I tell myself that it is nothing more than an echo of the approaching
sea and take another faltering step.
Suddenly I hear the faint sound of a barking dog and realise with a start
that this is no echo. Straining my eyes, I see a faint white shape coming
towards me which I eventually recognise as the dog I bent to stroke earlier.
Remembering that his name is Rusty I call him over grabbing him quickly
with one hand, tucking him safely under my arm and continue my short but
tortuous journey. The next few minutes seem like eternity, but eventually
I brush against the rocks and find myself at the other side of the cave
and see the bottom of the footpath which will take me home.
Relaxing my grip on Rusty, he starts to struggle and bark, turning back
to the cave. I plead with him to stop but something in the cave is distressing
him. I can hear another faint cry and to my horror I realise that the
dog’s young owner is still in there. The footpath stretches out
before me and I place one foot on the cool stone. Thoughts whirl around
my head and my need to go home to Jack is so strong. I look down at Rusty
and his distress leaves me in no doubt what I should do. I place Rusty
safely on the footpath and run back blindly into the cave.
I can see nothing but blackness, but I can still hear the faint cries.
I follow the direction of the sounds and run faster as the sound becomes
louder. At last I see him, crouched, alone and afraid. The water is becoming
deeper and my feet struggle to carry me forward. As I approach the boy,
there is no time to do anything but grab him by the arm and lead him out
of the cave. The water has reached my waist now and the current is strong.
The boy starts to struggle. He must be afraid; poor soul. I reach the
mouth of the cave, but my strength is beginning to fail me. A sudden terrifying
wave disturbs my balance and the cold water crashes over my head. Still
holding the boy’s arm, I try to swim, but I am too weak to fight
the current. Gathering together the feeble remains of my energy I push
the boy safely onto the footpath. The sea, angry that it has lost this
battle, is determined to seek revenge and pulls me away from the rocks.
I resign myself to my fate. My poor Jack. Who will look after him now?
I take one last look up to my little cottage, but I can no longer see
its welcoming glow. The chimney is still. A sign offering Cream Teas for
tourists is blowing in the wind. Then I remember. For years I have walked
along the beach every day, relentlessly searching for Jack. I can’t
save Jack, but at least I’ve stopped the sea from taking another
life. I finally give up struggling and allow the sea to carry me to my
final watery resting place.
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