be trying to drown her.
The sea at first had seemed icy, but the swim had got her circulation going and now she was aware only of a marvellous, invigorating, salty coolness. She lay on her back and watched the cloudless sky, her mind empty of anything save the physical perfection of now.
I am fifty-eight, she reminded herself, but had long since decided that one of the good things about being fifty-eight was the fact that one took time to appreciate the really marvellous moments that still came one's way. They weren't happiness, exactly. Years ago, happiness had ceased to pounce, unawares, with the reasonless ecstasy of youth. They were something better. Eve had never much liked being pounced on, by happiness or anything else. It had always frightened and disconcerted her to be taken unawares.
Lulled, as though in a cradle, by the movement of the sea, she let herself be gently washed ashore by the incoming tide.
Now, the waves gathered their puny momentum, curved into shallow breakers. Her hands touched sand. Another wave, and she lay, beached, letting the incoming tide flow over her body, and after the depths in which she had been swimming, the water now felt actually warm.
That was it. It was over. There was no time for more. She got to her feet and walked up onto the blistering sand towards the outcrop of rock where she had left her thick white towel robe. She picked up the robe and pulled it on, felt it warm against the cold wetness of her shoulders and arms. She tied the sash, pushed her feet into thong sandals, started the long walk up towards the narrow footpath that led to the clifftop and the car park.
It was nearly six o'clock. The first of the holiday people were starting to pack up, the children, reluctant, protesting, howling with exhaustion and too much sun. Some people were already well tanned, but others, who had perhaps arrived only yesterday or the day before, were boiled pink as lobsters and were in for a couple of days of agony and peeling shoulders before they could safely venture out again. They never learned. It happened every hot summer, and the doctors' surgeries were filled with them, sitting in rows with flaming faces and blistered backs.
The cliff path was steep. At the top, Eve paused for breath, turning back to look at the sea, framed between two bastions of rock. Inshore, over the sand it was green as jade, but farther out lay a ribbon of the most intense indigo blue. The horizon was hazed in lavender, the sky azure.
A young family caught up with her, the father carrying the toddler, the mother dragging the older child by the hand. He was in tears. ‘I don't want to go 'ome termorrer. I want to stay 'ere for another week. I want to stay 'ere forever.'
Eve caught the young mother's eye. She was close to exasperation. Eve could identify with her. She remembered being that age, with Ivan, a stocky little blond boy, clinging to her hand. She could feel his hand, small and dry and rough, in her own. Don't be angry with him, she wanted to say. Don't spoil it. Before you know where you are, he'll be grown up and you'll have lost him forever. Savour every fleeting moment of your child's life, even if he does, from time to time, drive you out of your mind.
'I don't want to go 'ome.' The drone continued. The mother made a resigned face in Eve's direction and Eve smiled back wryly, but her tender heart bled for the lot of them, who tomorrow would have to leave Cornwall and make the long, tedious journey back to London; to crowds, and streets and offices and jobs and buses and the smell of petrol fumes. It seemed grossly unfair that they should have to go and she should stay. She could stay here forever, because this was where she lived.
Walking towards her car, she prayed for the heat wave to continue. Alec and Laura were arriving this evening in time for dinner, which was the reason Eve could not linger on the beach. They were driving down from London, and tomorrow morning, at some ungodly
The sea at first had seemed icy, but the swim had got her circulation going and now she was aware only of a marvellous, invigorating, salty coolness. She lay on her back and watched the cloudless sky, her mind empty of anything save the physical perfection of now.
I am fifty-eight, she reminded herself, but had long since decided that one of the good things about being fifty-eight was the fact that one took time to appreciate the really marvellous moments that still came one's way. They weren't happiness, exactly. Years ago, happiness had ceased to pounce, unawares, with the reasonless ecstasy of youth. They were something better. Eve had never much liked being pounced on, by happiness or anything else. It had always frightened and disconcerted her to be taken unawares.
Lulled, as though in a cradle, by the movement of the sea, she let herself be gently washed ashore by the incoming tide.
Now, the waves gathered their puny momentum, curved into shallow breakers. Her hands touched sand. Another wave, and she lay, beached, letting the incoming tide flow over her body, and after the depths in which she had been swimming, the water now felt actually warm.
That was it. It was over. There was no time for more. She got to her feet and walked up onto the blistering sand towards the outcrop of rock where she had left her thick white towel robe. She picked up the robe and pulled it on, felt it warm against the cold wetness of her shoulders and arms. She tied the sash, pushed her feet into thong sandals, started the long walk up towards the narrow footpath that led to the clifftop and the car park.
It was nearly six o'clock. The first of the holiday people were starting to pack up, the children, reluctant, protesting, howling with exhaustion and too much sun. Some people were already well tanned, but others, who had perhaps arrived only yesterday or the day before, were boiled pink as lobsters and were in for a couple of days of agony and peeling shoulders before they could safely venture out again. They never learned. It happened every hot summer, and the doctors' surgeries were filled with them, sitting in rows with flaming faces and blistered backs.
The cliff path was steep. At the top, Eve paused for breath, turning back to look at the sea, framed between two bastions of rock. Inshore, over the sand it was green as jade, but farther out lay a ribbon of the most intense indigo blue. The horizon was hazed in lavender, the sky azure.
A young family caught up with her, the father carrying the toddler, the mother dragging the older child by the hand. He was in tears. ‘I don't want to go 'ome termorrer. I want to stay 'ere for another week. I want to stay 'ere forever.'
Eve caught the young mother's eye. She was close to exasperation. Eve could identify with her. She remembered being that age, with Ivan, a stocky little blond boy, clinging to her hand. She could feel his hand, small and dry and rough, in her own. Don't be angry with him, she wanted to say. Don't spoil it. Before you know where you are, he'll be grown up and you'll have lost him forever. Savour every fleeting moment of your child's life, even if he does, from time to time, drive you out of your mind.
'I don't want to go 'ome.' The drone continued. The mother made a resigned face in Eve's direction and Eve smiled back wryly, but her tender heart bled for the lot of them, who tomorrow would have to leave Cornwall and make the long, tedious journey back to London; to crowds, and streets and offices and jobs and buses and the smell of petrol fumes. It seemed grossly unfair that they should have to go and she should stay. She could stay here forever, because this was where she lived.
Walking towards her car, she prayed for the heat wave to continue. Alec and Laura were arriving this evening in time for dinner, which was the reason Eve could not linger on the beach. They were driving down from London, and tomorrow morning, at some ungodly
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