Page 77 of The Flowers of Bay C
‘Can’t you get the internet?’ Amina says to Kat. ‘I mean, have you any data at all?’
‘Nothing.’
‘What on earth are we supposed to do now?’ Violet says.
I look around me wildly, as if I might find an answer somewhere in the wilds of the ocean or the grit of the sand or the multitude of greys in the sky.
But the sand is silent and the sky is hostile. No one has a phone and there is no one else on this frozen lonely beach that stretches for miles. And the tide is creeping in.
‘I heard a dog, earlier,’ Kat says, shielding her eyes and searching the horizon in every direction. ‘Someone was out here somewhere.’
But there is nothing. No dog owner materialising out of the mist, ready to rescue us with a working phone.
Nobody.
‘Are there any houses, shops nearby?’ I ask Jodie, but she shakes her head.
‘There’s a caravan park over there, see? And there’s a café and shop up there too.’ She points into the distance where a few tired-looking static caravans sit behind a boundary of scraggly nakedtrees. ‘But it’s all closed down for the winter. Besides, none of us are going to be able to get there, are we? Let’s face it.’
None of us can walk more than a few metres, let alone miles to some battened down caravans in the vain hope the owner might be around out of season.
Barbara stares dreamily at the sky. ‘Look. The sun is starting to go down.’
I gaze out at the sea. The sun is low behind the gathering layers of cloud, but there is a break in the grey as rays play and reflect on the water, muted corals and pastel peaches draping the horizon, as if through a gauze curtain of mist. The colours gather and race through the heavens, twisting and whirling like ribbons, a dance of glory as the sky begins its fade into darkness. The clocks went back a couple of weeks ago and the nights draw in early. I shiver and pull my scarf tight around my face.
‘Can we watch it? The sunset?’ Barbara wheedles like a small child, seemingly unaware of our plight. ‘One more sunset. Bill used to take me to the beach at sunset. We’d take this tartan flask, like these ones today, full of hot cocoa, and watch the sun go down beyond the sea. He’d bring these deckchairs, he would, remember them ones with the blue stripes? He’d have them under his arm then he’d set them up and say here, my queen, take your throne, and then he’d pour out the cocoa and we’d just sit and gaze at it, the beauty of it all. We did it when we were young and when we were old too, we did, and those deckchairs, well, they never even got broken. Still got them in the shed, but I don’t go in there now. I don’t want to use them chairs now.’
We stand there and stare at her. What are we supposed to do now?
Jodie sinks down onto the sand and puts her head into her hands.
‘Are you sure there are no houses nearby?’ Kat says. ‘I think I could walk a little distance.’
‘I, too,’ Amina says.
Jodie shakes her head. ‘Don’t think so. There’s a village, further down that main road, but it’s miles away, like literally about three miles I think. We used to go in the little shop there and buy drinks and crisps to bring here. An’ I don’t know about houses, but I don’t think so. Not that I’ve noticed before, anyway. An’ I’ve been coming here since I was small. It’s nice in the summer, honest.’ Her words pour out in a rush and suddenly she wilts, rubs at her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut against tears that spill out regardless and crawl down her cheeks. She looks too pale to me, too worn out. Maybe this was too much for her, after all. Maybe it was too much for all of us. Maybe we’ve done a really, really stupid thing. I look at Barbara and my stomach cramps with anxiety. She looks warm enough, all cocooned in her blankets, but what if it rains? What if no one comes by? What if we can’t find anyone? We could die of exposure out here, all of us, stranded on a freezing beach in the middle of winter. Why did I go along with this stupidity? Why am I Penny who always says yes?
Kat crouches down next to Jodie. ‘Look. It’s no good getting all upset. We’re just going to have to get ourselves up to that road, and flag someone down. There’ll be someone.’
Violet narrows her eyes. ‘Can we all get up there?’
‘It’s not so far,’ I say. ‘Look, we can see the top of the track from here. We can. We have to.’
I know it’s going to just about finish me off, but I also know I will manage it. Whether Violet will I’m not sure, or Amina, who looks grey and shattered, her head bent low as she shivers, arms clasped tightly around herself, or Jodie, who all of a sudden looks as though she should be tucked back in her hospital bed with a warm drink and hot water bottle. I’ve never really understood thatsaying about all the colour draining out of your face, but as I watch Jodie now it happens to her before my eyes. She looks like a ghost, almost translucent with paleness and fragility. She was the strongest of us all, I thought. She has to be the strongest of us all, but now it seems like Kat might be.
Or even, maybe, me.
‘Come on,’ I say. ‘Let’s start walking, before it gets too dark.’ I fold up the frog chair and the picnic blanket and stow them under my arm.
‘But I want to watch the sun go down,’ Barbara says, her mouth quivering into a pout as Kat gets hold of her chair and begins to push it slowly back up the beach. ‘I want to see the sun setting again. Just once more.’
Kat stops and looks at me as if I must suddenly have the answer. Her eyes are wide and scared. My heart is beating too quickly as I kneel down in front of Barbara and place my hand on her knee. She feels skeletal, even under the tightly tucked-in blankets. ‘Barbara, darling. I know you do. But look. Jodie’s a bit poorly, and you’re getting cold. We need to get back.’
Barbara’s mouth is set in a stubborn line. ‘I want to see the sunset.’
Violet tuts and opens her mouth to speak, but Amina turns to her, placing a finger against her mouth and shaking her head, and Violet shrugs and looks away.
I pat Barbara’s knee. ‘I know. But look, we’ve all seen the sea, haven’t we? We’ve all felt the sun on our faces. We’ve all felt the sand between our toes. And now we can see the sun starting to go down, can’t we? See it now, Barbara, look. It’s low in the sky, it’s blazing its last rays of the afternoon just for you.’
