Short Story: Salt And Sea Campion

Short Story: Salt And Sea Campion

Charlie regretted being so stubborn. It was hot, too hot to walk to the castle but to turn back now would be to prove Mike right. His words rang in her head, "You're mad," he'd said. "It's a two mile walk and it's blazing hot. You were complaining yesterday that it wasn't sunny enough, and today when you should be sitting and drinking wine, you want to go for a walk. You are...officially... bonkers." Sod him, she thought. It was a nice day. She wanted to walk to the castle and that's what she was going to do. There would be a breeze on the cliff tops, and the grass would be soft and forgiving. It was as she told Mike, a 'Lou Reed' day. Perfect.

Mike was right. It was too hot and after ten minutes she wished that she'd brought some water with her. She stopped to catch her breath and shading her eyes, looked out across the bay. The sea, sparkling with a million sequins looked so enticing and the air that came from it mixed an intoxicating blend of salt and sweet Sea Campion.

"Beautiful," she said. "So what if it's hot, Mike? So what if the castle will still be there tomorrow? It's beautiful. You should have come." However, Charlie didn't dare rest for long. If she did, she knew that the impetus to walk any further would be lost, and the castle, silhouetted against a summer sky, still looked as far away as it did when she started.

The footsteps of thousands of people had over the years, worn away the grass making visible the sandy soil. Charlie had to concentrate because, in some sections, the path was embedded with shattered rocks and pebbles. Concluding that pink flip-flops were probably not the best footwear for such a surface, Charlie took care over where she placed her feet, and didn't notice the woman until she almost tripped over her. The sudden, unexpected meeting made Charlie jump in surprise.

"Hello," she gasped, "It's a lovely day, isn't it?"

The woman looked at her, but made no attempt to reply. "You're a bit rude," Charlie thought. Then she realised. The woman wasn't being rude, she probably didn't speak English. And that would account for the clothes, a long, stained white cotton dress and some heavy brown sandals. She carried a straw basket, the handle of which was bound with yellow and green ribbon. A piece of white cloth covered the contents. Her clothes were an odd mixture of function and fashion. Just the sort of strange combination of things people wear on holiday. Charlie smiled at her, and nodded a polite goodbye.

She moved to walk around her but as she did, the woman extended her arm and prevented her. Charlie looked closely at her. She was trying to say something, and was having difficulty forming the words.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asked.

In a voice crackling and dusty the woman said, "A little girl..." She was wringing her hands.

"Have you lost your little girl?" Charlie asked. Adrenaline surged as panic jolted her body.

"A little girl picked it up..." the woman said. Charlie looked closely at the woman's eyes. Her pupils were enormous.

The woman turned to look out to sea. The woman lifted an arm and pointed to the horizon, her long white sleeve flapping in the wind. Turning back towards Charlie, she smiled a thin, sad smile, reached into the basket and took out a folded piece of paper. She held it so tightly that Charlie could see the woman's knuckles glowing white under the pressure that was being exerted. Charlie couldn't decide whether to stay or to go. There was something about the woman that, despite the sun, made her feel quite chilled.

"What's that?" Charlie asked, beckoning towards the woman's hand. Slowly, the strange woman opened her fist.

"Fisherman," she stated, quite coldly.

"Who was?" replied Charlie.

"My love...I wait for him...waited so long."

"Look," Charlie suggested, "Why don't we walk back together? You can tell me all about him." She tried to put her arm around the woman, but her promptings were refused.

"He never..." The dark fire in the woman's eyes had subsided but her dusty voice scratched like nails on a blackboard. She tried to thrust the letter into Charlie's hand. It fell to the ground and began to roll away on the breeze. Charlie bent down to pick it up. When she stood, the woman was far from her, almost at the castle.

She shouted after her but to no avail. Tension tightened the muscles in her temple, making her head throb. How could the woman move so quickly? Nausea crashed in waves over her. She shouted again. The woman had disappeared.

Carefully, Charlie opened the ball of paper in her hand. Her whole body was icy cold and her stiff fingers struggled to unwrap it. One side of the paper was blank, the other was covered in an untidy scribble of letters which were almost illegible. Charlie concentrated. If only she could keep her hands from shaking long enough to read it.

"A-tisket a-tasket,

A green and yellow basket.

I wrote a letter to my love,

And on the way I dropped it.

I dropped it, I dropped it,

And on the way I dropped it.

A little girl picked it up,

And put it in her pocket."

The wind calmed. Charlie took a deep breath. A heady aroma of Sea Campion and salt water again filled her nostrils. It was a sweet scent. A scent heavy with the ache of lost love.