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I think throughout the years that if anything stayed fairly constant in my life, it had to be the return visits made, often impromptu visits; to where I had first encountered her. The green carpet, of mixed grass, intertwined with the flowers of the seasons, from snowdrops to daffodils to bluebells, harebells, buttercups and foxgloves tall, lining my route, have often been as memorable as each visit. Though of course, NOT the same, as the first time I encountered her ! They had their moments when I could pass along the path, take time out to reflect in thought, upon all that was my life.
Moments of sweet rapture, when a smile would break across my lips, or soft the thought of how wonderful it was, to return to somewhere, that remained so potent in my mind. That left me craving, such a return like some drug, soaked into my system. The only cure, to sit upon that rock, to feel the sea breeze, across my face and to wonder, as I gazed at where she had been, watching me sleep ? Did I wish, pray that someday SHE would be there?
For many years nothing, yet if to some this might have been crazy. to me it never was. In the back of my mind, the thought prevailed upon me, to never leave me, in any doubts, that one day; she WOULD return ?
The morning of that day, had started the same way as almost all had, for about the last ten years. In my mid twenties I ventured down the path, the swish of overhead branches, their leaves swaying in the breeze, refreshingly cool, considering for June it was unusually hot weather.
The shoreline, as often was the case, was deserted. It is not, by its very nature, a tourist hotspot, nor one that would see anywhere near, the numbers, other beaches in Cornwall, would see throughout the summer months.
The cove that was adjacent, to the main area, could be reached by stepping across the rocks and round the headland, disappearing from view and rarely, even if visitors did descend upon the other beach, known of, nor accessed by others ? Looking down from the top of the cliff, the overhang of the cliff top, hid all directly beneath it.
Thus clambering upon my rock, laying down the towel to lie upon, I laid back to look up at the fluffy whites of the clouds the few that were, decorating the sky. It would be later that day when the tide started to turn and come in, that I woke.
The swirl of white foaming surf around my rock, revealing in all its horror, the realisation that I had foolishly fallen asleep, when the tide was coming in and NOT as I normally did, with the tide going OUT !
In short, I was becoming rapidly cut off from my escape route across the once exposed rocks, now flooded by sea ! Often crossing such rocks covered over can be dangerous, very slippery and easy to go crashing head first to either end up on your front or your back, LIKELY to strike your body if not your head, on the rocks as you fell!
Neither prospect I relished ! I was cursing and not quietly at my stupidity ! Suddenly I stopped, my body still, that sound ?
The sound startled me, in fairness I think it would have startled anyone ! I turned, my eyes now upon, her?!
She was I swear amused by my predicament ! As I went to move, I slipped, fell into the water. Splashing about trying to regain some composure? That sound that I now percieved and would swear, was laughter still ringing in my ears! In fairness the scene must have looked like something out of Abbot and Costello! Finally, FINALLY! I managed to stay upright and was now facing her, albeit dripping wet!
Pulling herself up, onto the adjacent rock, the incoming wave slammed against the rock some short distance from where I was stood. Unknown to me, totally unaware of its force, it threw up a spray of water that now came down all over me ! Not a light spray of surf ! Oh no! A real soaking in one ! More laughter ! I am definitely, to look at, not amused! Yet that same wave had the water running in around the rocks and splashed up against her.
The gleaming scales of her lower body and fins reflecting the light glinting off them, a myriad of colours that, with her beautiful body, her gold flaxen locks of hair, made her nothing less than mesmerising.
Now I cannot say, I am an avid talker, socially I suppose I am extrovert, but I think most will sympathise with me, when I say that starting a conversation and I should add in this instance, if at all possible, with my being as one might say, rather dumbstruck ? Is strikingly different, to engaging one of your own kind, in such conversation ?
“You are back then “ I cursed at how pathetic that sounded ! Apart from my eyes, fixed on her, if my lips were seemingly not in sync, it could well have been because my thoughts were elsewhere! Also the concerns remained about the tide, still moving rapidly in, to the point, it had almost immersed the rock I was on ! Judging by the watermark on the cliff sides, the water had a ways to go, but when it did, I would be cut off!
She didnt’t actually say anything, yet in my mind I sensed words almost as though she had some form of telepathic ability to communicate with me ? ‘I have been back several times but you have not been here’
Ah I thought, the usual ... at odds .. wanting the same, but like ships, passing in the night ? isn’t that the expression ? She beckons me over as she turns splashes into the water ?
It would be some ten minutes, or so I reckoned it to be and some convincing, I can tell you ! On her part, for me to climb into the water as she laid so I could climb upon her back ? Well swim with her, as she swam keeping my head even if most of my body was below water, above the water. Now to some competent swimmers it is a known fact, that being away from the shore can sometimes be safer re undercurrents and similar than being in close to shore.
About half a mile out ? Which is where we were joined by seals ! At least four of them in play and the sound, she did make that was audible, seemed to be some form of conversing with them ? They swam with us Until close to the beach, leaving us, they turned and headed back out to sea. A rocky outreach, several rocks that were not covered by the encroaching sea. A kind of causeway that led up to the beach. Much easier to walk upon back to the beach than where I had been.
Settling upon a small seaweed area, with the water lapping against a rock upon which I was now sat, she laid in the water as we talked ? OK, communicated of sorts. At that moment I reasoned if I had the will to tell anyone, of such or was spotted with her ? I think to the mere mention of her I would have been taken for psychiatric assessment !
She had so many tales to tell! If you think they have no sense of humour ? It transpired a local fisherman, who I had, on occasion spoken to; had some lobster pots. Off the coast there are many fishermen who leave these in situ to capture the lobsters. In this instance his were dropped out beyond the headland, not too distant from where we were. The pots were weighted and with a marker buoy to find them.
In the evening, usually at dusk, he would in his small outboard boat, go out every now and then, to empty them ? She had on one occassion, been witness to his harvesting of these sea creatures. As he emptied his pots, into the bucket in his boat he had turned to replace the lobster pot whereupon she had seized the opportunity to then steal the creatures from his bucket, returning them back into the sea ? The look on his face as he turned to see the empty bucket ?
Late into the night. Luckily for me that it was a warm night! Into the early hours of morning, we remained talking,before she left. I made my way back to shore and to my tent, despite being hungry and thirsty, to collapse within it, not long before I was fast asleep. If, before I fell asleep, I had any thoughts, it was with a yearning, that same wistful desire to always be with her ? Later that day, we met again. Before I left her she had promised to return the next quarter moon, darkness and just us ?
I watched as she swam out, to turn and wave, her hands raised, her lips to blow me a kiss. As she went to swim off, across the water I heard a sound, a soft melodic tone, almost that of a song? Was she singing? Sweet to the ear, soft and bewitching, how it stays with me ... lingers to leave me ?
in love.
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