A gull stood on the gutter above, cocking its head as it surveyed the potential menu options. There were plenty as most visitors were unused to safeguarding their food. On the neighbouring table a ruddy-faced couple sat eating, while beside them sat an untouched burger and chips, its young owner too busy doing figures of eights around the tables. He gambolled past almost tripping over a terrier snoring by my feet. Joined by a giggling friend, the boy headed back for a second circuit, so I shifted round and stretched out my leg to protect the dog, forcing the children into a larger course. Unaware, the dog’s owners continued to saw their way through steaks buried beneath a mound of chips.
Decision made, the gull swooped down to snatch the boy’s unsupervised meal. To yells of surprise, it sailed off with half a bun in its beak, having dropped the burger on the floor and scattered half a dozen chips over the table.
Jason plonked a cider in front of me and placed Josie’s white wine on her side of the table. Mike followed holding two dripping pints. The bench creaked as they sat down.
“How’s it going with the car?” Jason asked Mike.
The boy’s parents had settled him in front of what was left of his lunch, the ruined burger and chips piled on the other side of the table. I gave it five minutes before the gull returned with its friends.
“You should come with us,” Josie said.
Attempting to work out what she meant, I reeled the conversation back, but failed. As I started to apologise, a group of lads in wetsuits stripped to the waist jeered as one of their friends necked his lager. Her attention diverted, Josie swung round, tutting.
When the lads quietened, she said, “Katie was just saying she’d like to see the dolphins. She should come on this sea-life watch we’re doing tomorrow.”
Puzzled, Jason looked at me but, getting no reaction either way, he shrugged. No doubt he expected me to turn her down, but I’d loved the seal Shona and I had seen the other day and wild dolphins would be incredible. Not that I had any idea what a sea-life watch involved. Sitting and chatting while we waited would be fine, but if it meant standing in silence for hours on end like birdwatchers, I’d rather pass.
“Check your diary for tomorrow afternoon.” Josie handed Jason his phone, as mine was safely tucked in my pocket out of her reach. “Are you massively busy then?”
Jason didn’t bother to unlock his mobile. “If Katie wants to go, I’m sure I can do the check-ins. As long as I can get into the computer.”
Josie grinned. “Great.”
I returned her smile, until she added, “So that’s settled then. A stake-out at Marsham Beach.”
Marsham Beach? I closed my mouth, aware I might be impersonating a goldfish. How on earth had I co-opted myself onto a trip to a secluded beach only reached by a five-mile hike along the coastal path? If that wasn’t bad enough, guests who had undertaken the walk had all told me the same thing: going down was hard work but the climb back from Marsham Beach was twenty minutes of leg-burning, thigh-killing torture just to get to the top of the hill, followed by three-and-a-half miles of rolling countryside. Never had ‘rolling’ sounded so fearsome.
♦
Josie’s friends seemed a friendly bunch. As we strolled along the South West Coast Path towards Marsham Beach, Josie and I walked beside Laura and her border collie, Bessie, who kept a steady pace, while the rest of the group drifted behind. Up to Shadwell Point we were on familiar ground but once we stepped over an old stone stile and onto an unmettled footpath, I let Josie and Laura take the lead or – more accurately – Bessie, who padded ahead, not reacting to gulls screeching above or even a yapping dog.
“She’s very good.” I pointed to a copse a few feet from the path, where a dog stood on its two hind legs straining to reach Bessie, its owner clinging tightly to the harness.
“She’s deaf,” Laura said.
“She does doggie sign language,” Josie added.
The determined dog forged ahead, unable to hear the birds and the sound of the sea crashing against the rocks below, not even stopping to sniff a rabbit hole. Maybe, like me, she just wanted to get the walk over and done with, especially the hill climb back.
“Has she been this way before?”
“Loads of times.” Josie grunted as she lifted a post beside a stile, which Bessie slipped beneath. “But she prefers it when we go on our other walk through fields, as I’ll let her off the lead there. She’ll come to no harm in an enclosed field, especially as she can’t hear me calling her back. But here.” I followed her gaze to the grassy cliff edge dotted with swaying yellow and pink wildflowers. “It’s treacherous in places. And she does have a tendency to wander off.”
The coast path hugged Silver Bay, where the waves lapped over the grey shingle beach below and the expanse of sea glinted in the sunlight. We moved inland and into woodland, glad to be in the shadows and away from the warm sun, but soon we were back in the open and dropping down to Seacombe Cove, where we stopped to catch our breath. A few of the group took off their shoes and socks, gasping as they stepped into the clear but freezing water.
Half way up the hill that took us away from Seacombe Cove, one of our group shouted and pointed back to the cove, where a naked man stood by the waters’ edge. He must have been tucked behind one of the rocks when we were on the beach.
“Surely, he must know we can see him?” I said to Josie, who laughed.
“You can’t see much from this distance.”
Half an hour later we started the long descent to Marsham Beach. I’d brought four bottles of water in a rucksack, but I regretted the one I’d already finished as my bladder twinged with every step. I didn’t know these people well enough to dive behind a bramble bush but, even if I did, someone could be nearby. We’d already passed several groups of hikers heading towards Torringham. I didn’t want to feature in their coastal path memories along with that naked man.
Below us lay a strip of beach bordered by a small lake the colour of spring leaves on one side and a glittering Mediterranean-blue sea on the other. White-tipped waves rolled onto the beach, but in the centre there was a strip so clear I fancied even from this distance I could see individual pebbles shimmering beneath the water.
The steep incline meant we all but raced down the hill. A stumbling Laura made it to the beach first, having been dragged by Bessie who dashed to lap from a little stream that ran from the pond. The trickle was like Chinese water torture to a woman with a full bladder, especially with the waves rushing over the pebbles. I scanned the area, hoping to find a large rock I could hide behind but no such luck. A forest of reeds surrounded the algae-filled pond water, enclosed at the rear by a wire fence which marked the boundaries of a field set within the valley bowl. My only option was to ask everyone to turn around and set myself beside the rock face or climb back up and find a copse.
While the rest of the group littered the shingle with rucksacks, upturned shoes and scattered socks, I headed over to Josie and Laura who stood with Bessie.
“So much for a nature watch. They’ll frighten everything away with that noise.” Josie shook her head as her bare-footed friends tiptoed, yelping and laughing, over the pebbles.
Laura smiled. “I could do with a cool off too. Poor Bessie’s wilting.”
Bessie’s steam engine puffs rose above the excited squeals and drool ran from her lolling tongue.
“First I need a pee.” Laura crossed her legs as if to emphasise her point.
“Me too.”
“Me three,” I said, grateful they’d beaten me to it.
Laura took Bessie over to a pointed rock where she hooked her lead. She patted Bessie’s head and held out her hand. Stay. “Won’t be a mo, then we can paddle,” she said, even though Bessie couldn’t hear her.
We hurried away to a corner of the beach where we would be in full view of hikers heading towards Torringham but hidden from anyone going the other way. Hobson’s choice, as no matter where we positioned ourselves we’d be on view. Laura and I stood side-by-sid
e acting as a barrier from prying eyes as Josie relieved herself. The noise made me ever more desperate and I begged to be next.
When it came to Laura’s turn, she groaned. “Why, oh why, did I think dungaree shorts were a good idea? How I’m going to do this, I don’t know.”
I chuckled. Facing away, I couldn’t see what she was up to, but I could hear the chink of shingle and grunting and guessed she’d decided to take her dungarees off rather than risk splashing them. Josie rolled her eyes and we giggled silently at each other. It felt like forever before I heard Laura peeing and even longer until her knees cracked and she announced she was done.
“Finally!” Josie said. “I thought you’d settled in for the duration.”
Just two hardy women remained calf-deep in the water, chatting. The rest had decamped to the beach, where they unloaded cameras and food from their rucksacks.
“Bessie?” Laura said.
I looked over to where we’d left Bessie, but she wasn’t there.
This time Laura shouted louder, panic clear in her voice. “Bessie! Has anyone seen Bessie?”
She rushed over to where she’d left her dog and stood frantically scouring the beach. Josie and I hurried over. I couldn’t see Bessie racing up the hills on either side, nor was she near the lake. I couldn’t imagine she’d gone through the reeds, not with all that algae. Which left…
“She’s in the sea!” One of the paddling women pointed to a black and white head about thirty feet from shore.
“Bessie, Bessie!” The women chorused but, of course, the dog kept heading out to sea with the same determined air she’d shown when walking here.
Laura sprinted to the water’s edge and threw off her shoes. Ignoring calls to wait, she hurdled the surf until it reached her waist when she dived in. Her head bobbed up and her arm curled into the water, then the other. Thankfully she didn’t have to battle the waves as she swam through a calm channel. Strangely, Bessie’s pace seemed to match Laura’s. About forty yards out, Laura turned and waved to us. Except she wasn’t waving, she was calling for help. And, although she’d stopped swimming, she appeared to be moving further away.
Oh no! Was this the riptide I’d heard about? I pulled my mobile from my rucksack, dismayed to see no signal. Josie did the same, as did a few of the other women. Their worried looks told me all I needed to know. Without thinking, I shot up the hill, pausing a quarter of the way up, my breath rasping, my heart pounding. Still no signal. This couldn’t be happening. If I didn’t get a signal soon they’d be in serious trouble. My legs shook as I belted onwards, while someone pounded behind me. Below, Bessie had become a speck in the sea and Laura a larger, pale dot. I pulled up again and checked my phone. One bar. I dialled 999.
Wheezing and gulping for breath, I shouted, “We need the coastguard. There’s a woman out at sea. And her dog.”
Dust in my throat made me cough. One of the women from the group had reached me. Panting, she grasped my shoulder – whether to support me or hold herself up, I didn’t know – as I answered the emergency operator’s questions.
“Marsham Beach. Just the one woman, Laura, and her dog, Bessie.”
Eyes watering, I couldn’t speak for coughing, so the woman took my phone from me to answer the final questions. As she ended the call, we both stared out at the vast expanse of sea.
“We’ve got to stay here,” she said. “In case they need to call us back.”
It seemed hopeless. Bessie had disappeared from sight and Laura had become the speck Bessie had once been. How would they last until the lifeboat arrived? Especially if it had to come all the way from Torringham.
The minutes ticked by. Each time we saw a fleck on the horizon, we’d pat each other and point, only to fall back into silence when it turned into a yacht or a trawler.
“I’ve left my binoculars on the beach,” the woman said. “I could really do with them right now.”
I didn’t answer. It seemed impossible that Laura could survive this long. If it had been me out there, I would have been a goner. While I used to be able to manage a length of the pool – at a push two – that was the limit of my capabilities. I vowed to start swimming again, just in case.
A vessel came into view, the shape of the local lifeboat. It couldn’t be, could it? That was quick. We hugged each other but drew away. It wasn’t over yet. As the boat slowed to a halt, we shielded our eyes from the glare of the sparkling water, hoping to see a miracle: Laura and Bessie hauled on deck. But we were too far away. My teeth nipped the edges of my lip as we gazed out to sea, hoping, praying. The sun beat down but I found myself trembling with fear and cold. Overwhelmed by impotence, I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Again, I checked the time on my mobile. The lifeboat had arrived fifteen minutes ago at least. What on earth was happening?
Moments later, we spotted Josie struggling up the hillside, with a pair of binoculars. Red-faced, she arrived beside us, gasping for air. She clutched her heaving chest until able to speak.
“They’ve got Laura,” she panted. “I don’t know if she’s okay, but they haven’t gone back so they must be out looking for Bessie.”
She handed me the binoculars, but I couldn’t see more than the navy and orange lifeboat and a few figures on board. I passed them to my – still nameless – companion.
“I hope they find her,” Josie said.
All I could mutter was, “That poor dog. Poor Laura too.”
“Look!” The woman shook Josie’s arm. “That looks like a dog!”
Taking a lens each and huddling close, Josie and I squinted into the binoculars. Sure enough, what looked like a black and white dog was being hauled on board an orange rib. Yellow-clad figures huddled round, obscuring her from our view. The rib joined the lifeboat but on the other side to us, so we couldn’t see anything. Minutes later, the lifeboat turned away towards Torringham, I sighed. We’d have to wait to find out their fate.
As the lifeboat ploughed through the waves, I slumped onto a grassy knoll and sent a little prayer for the determined dog and her lovely owner. Lost within my thoughts, I didn’t notice the other women leaving the beach to clamber up the hillside. When they reached us, I smiled gratefully as one of them handed me my rucksack.
“We’re heading back,” a short woman said.
Subdued we continued to climb the rest of the hill. As we rounded the brow of the hill, my lungs bursting, my legs aching, I took a final glance at Marsham Beach. I couldn’t imagine coming back here again, especially if anything terrible had happened to Laura and Bessie. Below the sea glittered and waves rolled onto the beach, while a yacht glided past, its sails bowed by the wind. The seductive beauty of the sea.
I followed the rest of the group along the track. Once again, the grass hanging from the hillocks brushed my legs and the same delicate blue flowers I’d admired earlier nestled by the dusty path. Incredible that when we’d passed this way not more than an hour ago, I’d looked forward to being at this point homeward bound, as it meant the long hill climb would be over. Now I’d give anything to go back and change things.
An hour or so later, as we rounded Silver Bay, Josie’s phone rang. When she stuck her thumb up in the air, excited whispers ran through the group and we crowded round her. She put her phone down and grinned.
“Laura’s okay. And Bessie too.”
Chapter 13
Three days later I sat in Jetsam Cottage with Kim, who’d taken out her laptop to show me the photographs of Laura and Bessie’s safe return. One showed a bedraggled Laura being helped from the lifeboat, while a crew member carried Bessie ashore. Although Josie had phoned me with an update and to pass on Laura’s thanks for calling the emergency services, I hadn’t spotted these pictures posted on the Torringham Coastguard page.
“It says that the lifeboat was near Silver Bay at the time of the call. That explains why it arrived so quickly.”
“Lucky for them!” Kim broke into a coughing fit. She wiped her streaming eyes. “This cough is so a
nnoying.”
“You poor thing.” I waited until she’d composed herself and then clicked to another image which showed a lifeboat crew member’s arms at full stretch as Bessie strained at her lead. “Bessie’s off again.”
“A bit like Shona. She’s got a one-track mind when it comes to going out.”
Had they argued again? I didn’t dare ask, so I turned back to Facebook.
“It says that a woman called for help. That was you, wasn’t it?” Kim said.
“Me and this other woman,” I said. “I have no idea what her name was. We were too busy worrying about Laura to think about introductions.”
The next photo showed Bessie being offered a dog treat.
“Definitely like Shona. She only thinks about food too,” Kim said.
I didn’t like talking about Shona – or Kim – behind their backs, so I deflected the barbed comment by pointing at the screen. “Amazing how dogs seem to recover so quickly.”
Kim sank back into the sofa and sighed loudly. “We haven’t got any money and Shona keeps wanting to go out to eat as she says we deserve it. But we won’t make it through winter if we fritter it all away.”
I closed the laptop screen. Kim needed to get this off her chest.
“Where is she?”
“Apparently, she’s too tired to cook or wash up here so she’s dining alone at Caspian’s.” She broke into a second bout of coughing, choking up a globule of phlegm which she spat into her hanky. It didn’t bother me. I’d seen worse in my previous job. A glass of water sat on the coffee table, so I handed it to her along with a clean wad of tissue.
I couldn’t imagine Shona choosing to dine in a restaurant alone, even if she wanted to prove a point to Kim. No doubt she’d called one of her other friends en route or, more likely, she was sitting with the regulars at the Fisherman’s Friend with a pint of lager and a plate of chips. After all, six o’clock was happy hour.
“I must remember to buy more cream.” Frowning, Kim stretched out her manicured hands. “I think we’re both shattered. The cleaning, the breakfasts, not a single day off for months. It can’t be good for us. At this rate I’ll end up a wrinkled old hag and we haven’t hit August yet.”
Bedlam & Breakfast at a Devon Seaside Guesthouse Page 10
