The Quiet of the Sea

I had already walked the length of the shingle beach, the grey misty November morning shrouding the horizon and making sea and sky seem as one entity. Beneath my boots the pebbles slipped and shifted, making walking more a case of balance than of speed, but I wasn't in a hurry. The seafront itself was quiet, most people being at work, or tucked up in one of the cottages that led down to the shore, where wood smoke hung lazily in the damp air, mixing with the ever present scent of the sea.

I had taken to walking the beach months ago when circumstances beyond my control had led me to return to my childhood home. Being close to the sea gave me a sense of freedom, of solitude and the space to think and contemplate my future. It was strange to walk the same streets as I had so many years ago, when I had skipped up and down from school to home to beach and back again. I remember I spent a lot of time on my own then too, jumping from rock to rock on the beach when the tide was out, hunting for fish in the pools left behind. It felt familiar, comforting, being back here and yet it felt alien too, as though the place has moved on without me and it was no longer sure I belonged.

A weak sun attempted to break through the cloud but swiftly gave up, returning the sea to obscurity once again. I reached the end of the beach proper, past the fishing boats hauled up on the shingle, past the ubiquitous car park up, and squeezed between the railings blocking what had been a continuation of the path decades ago. Now it was partially shut off and notices reminding visitors of the risks of falling rocks and dangerous cliffs were posted on the steel uprights. Most tourists stopped at this point and stared at the cliffs beyond before turning and heading back to the safety of the Old Town and it's snug cafés.

I, however, ignored the signs as usual and walked along the remains of the path to where previous rock falls had broken it into fractured lumps of concrete and covered it with sandstone rubble. You could, if you wanted to, climb down over the fallen boulders and make your way along the rock strewn beach below. In fact, if the tide was out, you could walk some miles to the next stretch of open beach but I preferred to sit on a particularly large flat slab and look out to sea, watching the gulls squabbling amongst themselves.

This day I had expected the rocks to be empty of other people, being as it was so cold and damp, but when I got there I realised there was one other person who had braved the mists and claimed my normal seat. I hesitated, uncertain whether to turn back or to approach but after a moment decided to walk on with the intention of finding another rocky perch somewhere further along the beach. As I passed the figure however, a quiet voice greeted me by 'hello' and I looked down to see a thin face framed by light brown hair, mostly hidden by the hood of her coat, looking up at me.

I was caught out by the greeting, intending as I had been to ignore this other human presence among the rocks, and surprise made my reply awkward, 'Oh, er, hello' I mumbled back.

'You can sit here if you want' said the slight form before me 'I was going to leave soon anyway'.

I hesitated for a second or two, then, despite the fact I normally preferred to sit on my own, thought that walking away might be seen as a bit rude. 'All right, thanks!' and I dumped my bag beside the rock to sat down a few feet from the woman. I could see now that she wore a heavy woollen duffle coat with wooden toggles and leather walking boots below worn jeans, the bottoms of which appeared to be wet.

'It's so peaceful here' she said after a moment of neither of us moving. 'The waves just seem to whisper to the shore'.

'I know what you mean' I replied, and I really did too, it was one of my favourite reasons for coming down here. 'This bit of the shore is protected by the harbour arm so the sea is calmer here. Especially on a day like today when there's not much of a breeze anyway'.

There was another pause, then she spoke again 'you can sense so much more as well, the gulls calling out above us, the jackdaws on the cliffs, it's almost as if I could become part of it, just vanish into the sea and the mist and be lost within it. It's Beautiful' All this time she continued staring out beyond the shoreline, over the gentle waves.

I glanced sideways at her; she had an elongated profile, a fine boned face with a slight downturn to her mouth as though contemplating the sea made her sad somehow. I judged her age to be late twenties, at least a decade younger than me. We sat in silence for a while. Overhead I heard a raven call and then a second, and turned around, gazing up for a moment to watch them wheeling and soaring, flying close to the cliff then letting the wind spill out from their wings and falling away.

When I turned back she was still staring out to sea, motionless. After a second she spoke. 'Thanks for sitting with me. Will you do me a favour?'

I was a little taken aback by this but I still answered 'if I can, what is it?'

She turned to look at me now, her damp hair lying against pale skin, blue-grey eyes staring at me intently. 'Will you visit the little church in the harbour, and light a candle for me there? By the window so I can see it from down here?'

Around me the seagulls cried out to one another as I tried to think of reasons not to. After all I never visited churches and I wasn't particularly religious, but there was something in the way she asked, like she already knew my answer would be yes, so that I couldn't refuse. 'Okay' I said 'When, Today?'

She stood then, looking down at me with a faint smile 'yes please, I would like that. Thank you' and at that she turned and walked away, taking a few steps down the beach before lifting her hand in a final wave and being swallowed up by the mist.

I sat for a minute longer, thinking on this strange encounter and wondering why I had agreed to her request. Why a candle? And would the fisherman's church even be open at this time of year? I had no idea. As I sat pondering the strange encounter I realised it was getting colder and I had just decided to head back to the warmth of café and tea, when I saw movement in the water.

There, some distance from the shore, was a dark shape being rolled by the gentle waves. I couldn't make out what it was at first and took a couple of steps nearer to the sea's edge. Still, it wasn't clear and I couldn't make it out well enough until...no wait, it couldn't be.

As I stared blinking into the near distance, a body was being slowly pushed towards the shore by the rising tide. The arms drifting lazily in the water as though trying to balance themselves, the torso rising and falling in the swell. I blinked, unable to believe what I was seeing. Not here, surely, not in front of me? What do I do?

I stood, frozen for a second then looked around in a panic for help but I was alone. I scrambled hurriedly back up the rocks to the pathway desperate to find a phone signal away from the cliffs, at the same time unwilling to look away from the terrible shape in the water in case it somehow disappeared. Once far enough away from the cliff edge, I made the call to the coastguard and the police and then waited, while all about me the seagulls swooped and dove, their cries carrying in the still air, and the dark shape floated ever closer.

I will never forget that day. The local lifeboat crew arrived first in their inflatable inshore boat, closely followed by the police. They pulled the body out of the salty water, bringing it to shore to be lain upon the bare shingle, checking to see if life was still a chance. I knew it wasn't. From the second they had lain the still corpse on the shingle I had known. It was the young woman I had spoken to, not half an hour earlier, except the police were saying she had been dead for several days, floating in the sea, lifeless and cold. She had gone missing the week before apparently, last seen walking the coastal path above the cliffs, but had left a note in the pocket of her bag on the cliff edge. So bloody sad.

I visited the church later that day and lit the candle as promised, so that the light would shine from the small window that overlooked the cliff edge and rocky shore. I stood and silently wished her peace and hoped, maybe, she had found it, sitting on the beach listening to the quiet waves.