Chapter 15
T he watery winter sun kept hiding behind the clouds and then emerging again, causing a constant changing rhythm of shade and light in Alfie’s flat. All on the first floor, set above the tiny village Post Office, it was a moderately sized place: one main living area which housed a squishy, corduroy corner sofa, coffee table, a large spotlight lamp and a farmhouse style dining table, complete with benches. The main feature was the huge picture window, providing a glorious, unspoilt view across the bay. A small kitchen dog-legged off, containing everything one could need but not much free worktop space after that. The only other room was the bedroom, which amazingly also sat on the scenic side of the building, so he could wake up in his bed and literally see the sea stretched out in front of him. His small en-suite completed the apartment. He knew how lucky he was to have this place; he could remember looking at it every time they used to visit in the summer and thinking how fun it would be to live there. It felt like fate. Whilst it was hugely tainted by the fact he’d had to lose his mum in order to live here, he knew in other ways he was extremely fortunate: there were clear benefits to having no mortgage and no rent; it meant he had the freedom to follow his passions for art and creating rather than scraping through in a job he hated. He’d swap it all in a heartbeat, though, if it meant having mum back.
He’d been shocked to learn about Millie’s mum at the party – his dad had never mentioned anything but then I guess he’d never had a cause to. She’d said something about their relationship ‘not being rosy’ and he wondered what that meant. He couldn’t fathom ever having a big fall-out with his mum – aside from the usual gripes and bickers during his teenage years, they’d never argued. He couldn’t imagine saying a harsh word to her, ever.
He pondered on this whilst trying to work on a commission. However pretty, the changing light in the living room was giving him some issues with his artwork this morning. The shade caused his colours to dim, appearing dull and lifeless and yet when the sun decided to make an appearance, he found the shadows cast made it impossible to focus on shape and line. He sighed, placing his paintbrush into the water pot and conceding defeat. He had really wanted to finish this by tomorrow when Millie would be coming round. For some reason, he felt incredibly apprehensive about her looking at his work, even though he had invited her himself. Why had he done that? He wasn’t entirely sure; it was something about being in close proximity to her, acting the hero by cleaning her stained carpets, seeing her eyes up close for what felt like the first time. The deep green with honey flecks...
Jeez. This felt strange. She was just some girl from London who had moved here on a whim and who he suddenly discovered liked art. He hadn’t warmed to her when she first moved here – he suspected it was something to do with the fact he was staying in mum’s cottage. Well, not her cottage but the once which held so many memories of her. It felt deeply personal, even though that hadn’t been Millie’s fault. Yet the fact he knew very little about her intrigued him. Plus, there were very few people around here who shared his passion for art and that had piqued his curiosity.
He hadn’t mentioned it to Dana. To be honest, he hadn’t spoken to her much at all lately. There was little to say: she had been away for a few weeks up in Manchester. He had seen a few social media posts, mainly selfies of her with a perfectly made-up face and signature pose (which he knew would have taken about twenty attempts until she was satisfied to post). There were some of her friends and others he didn’t recognise in a trendy looking wine bar; several of them were young men but Alfie didn’t feel too jealous – he almost hoped she was with one of them so there was a solid reason to break it off with her for good, which spoke volumes really. Their connection had never been one to rival that of Jack and Rose. In fact, the more he reflected on it, the more he just felt like a convenience to her when she decided to come back. But still, it remained that it would be simpler to keep quiet about his plans with Millie – she was only coming over to look at some art, after all…
The light had waned considerably, despite it only just turning three in the afternoon. This was winter starting to show itself and he conceded defeat for the day, packing his art things over to the side of the room and settling down instead with a book, on his sofa overlooking the beach. The art would have to remain unfinished.
* * *
No matter how many times she had taken this walk down the lane towards the village square, it never once grew tiresome. Even now, in rapidly fading light and with fat drops of rain beginning to fall; it held a wholesome and homely feeling which Millie had never felt in her London neighbourhood. She’d spent months on end, hours on Pinterest and what probably ended up an inexcusable amount of money revamping the rented flat she and Sam had shared together, desperately trying to make it feel like home. And yet, with only two mere months and a small injection of cash, Rosemary Cottage felt more like home than ever. She hadn’t dared to think about whether she would stay, or if this would just be another chapter in her dramatically changing story. I guess it depended on whether she ended up having something to stay for. Or, she pondered, as Alfie’s flat came into view in the distance, if there was some one worth staying for. It wasn’t something that had even been remotely on her radar, but the last few days had got her thinking…
Her stomach was churning as she edged closer, quickening her pace now that the rain had started coming down sideways. A wind whipped up through the lane like a mini hurricane, blasting her hood back down and she cursed. What a waste of time doing her hair had been. One swift flare of wind off the beach and the gentle waves she had teased into it were blown out and starting to frizz. No doubt the minimal make up she’d put on would also be worse for wear. She grumbled to herself. At least her carefully chosen outfit of bottle green jumper dress and thick, cosy tights would be safe underneath her enormous coat. She hadn’t wanted to look like she’d tried too hard. She was only going to look at some paintings, for God’s sake. Yet, she didn’t want to look a total mess either. It had been so long since she’d done this whole dating thing, she had no idea what she was doing. Especially when it hadn’t even been confirmed whether this was actually a date or not?
Another two hundred metres or so and she’d be there. The watery glow of the streetlights in the square were becoming more visible but, through the rain, it was difficult to see anything at all. That was, except, for a moving figure further in the distance, right down on the beach. Millie narrowed her eyes; there was definitely something there, just discernible through the gap which sloped down to the sand. Surely no-one would be foolish enough to be on the beach now, in high tide and such stormy conditions! There was barely any daylight left either. A faint yet urgent sound caused Millie’s feet to automatically pick up speed. Something didn’t seem right. As she grew closer, it became apparent something was, in fact, very wrong. Around five metres into the choppy, dull grey water was a child. Millie couldn’t make out exactly how old but at a vague guess she’d think about ten. Once she’d reached the slope, she could clearly see the child was bobbing frantically in the water, her screams being carried on the wind.
“Please help me!” her guttural cries came and the petrified look on her face caused Millie to find herself unzipping her boots and throwing off her coat before another thought could enter her head.
“Just keep trying to stay afloat, I’m coming in!” she yelled back, entering the water already.
The severe cold was a shock, but Millie kept ploughing onwards. She hadn’t yet swum here properly herself, but she knew from conversations with locals that the sand shelved down dangerously at high tide, with only around a metre of level ground before your feet would give way beneath you, succumbing to the depth of the water. The water lashed and thrashed around her, smacking her in the face and causing her eyes to brutally sting. The noise was deafening and for a brief moment, she felt at the mercy of this powerful machine. But the sight of the child’s ashen, terrified face ahead caused her to keep cutting through the water. She was quite a proficient swimmer, having gone to the local pool three evenings a week after work back in London. But the Cornish waters presented a whole different challenge, especially as she was fully clothed, and the shock of the cold was beginning to seep through her.
She reached the child who immediately flung their arms around her neck, gripping on for dear life. The sudden weight dragged Millie under but then she found a wave shoot her back up to the surface and she gasped in the air. It felt like they were in a washing machine, being thrown around.
“Try…not…to…. push down…on…me,” Millie tried to communicate with the girl between gulps of air, but the girl wasn’t listening, pure panic etched on her face and her nails digging into Millie’s neck. Millie tried frantically to look for the shore but to her horror, it seemed further than it had before. Just kick your legs Millie she thought. You can do this…
* * *
Gosh, the weather was really lashing down out there, Alfie thought to himself, hearing it violently pepper the picture window looking down onto the beach. It had come on so quickly too. He cranked the thermostat up a notch, to ensure it was super cosy. He couldn’t help but notice that Millie was ten minutes late – was she not coming? He wouldn’t really blame her if she wasn’t, to be honest – he realised he hadn’t exactly been the friendliest of people since she had moved here. Maybe she’d decided to keep a wide berth. But the last time they’d talked, in the cottage, things had seemed lighter, friendlier. He’d even sensed a little spark of something…
He pondered over his thoughts as he sipped one of the two glasses of wine he had poured in anticipation of her arrival. There would be no jokes about wine tonight, he’d vowed, although once a bottle or two had gone down, who knew what they may be saying to each other. He took another large glug and stood in-front of the picture window, hoping to maybe catch sight of her heading down the lane to his right.
Instead, movement in the sea to the left caught his eye. The light was all but gone now, yet a small shaft of light from the lamppost closest to the beach cast a ray across. He squinted. It looked like a buoy. Yet the buoy looked like it was in two parts? Two parts which were moving. He focused even harder and to his sheer horror, he realised it was two people, there in the sea. Without hesitation, he placed the wine down and raced down the stairs, not even pausing to close his front door. The storminess of the night hit him immediately, the deafening roar of the waves echoing through his brain. The tide was so high and so ferocious that water was starting to spill out up onto the pavement at the top of the slope and spraying over the wall. He gulped, looking around as he ran. There was no-one else around but him.
Reaching the top of the slope he could see these two figures now – they couldn’t have been more than five metres from land, but the violent waves and the depth of the water was stopping them from coming in.
“Help!” he heard a voice call and something in him dropped. Grabbing his phone out his pocket and switching on the powerful torch, he shone the light onto the water and his stomach twisted when he spotted a young, terrified looking girl clinging onto an equally terrified looking Millie.
Before crashing into the water himself, he hollered “HELP NEEDED ON THE BEACH, PEOPLE IN THE WATER!” at the top of his voice in the direction of the pub, which was only metres from his home and within seconds found himself in the water. His body shrunk at the shock of the cold. He felt himself dip involuntarily under the water. When his head bobbed back up, he was a metre or two from shore and out of his depth, but he was also face to face with Millie.
“Come and hold onto me!” Alfie called to the young girl who tentatively released her grip from an exhausted looking Millie and flung herself onto Alfie. With all his strength, he swam backstroke towards shore, finding his feet and carrying the girl up the slope and onto the safety of the pavement, where a crowd from the pub had now gathered. As soon as he could see the girl was being tended to by several people his head snapped straight back to the water where, to his utter relief, he saw Millie exiting the water at the bottom of the slope, crawling forwards. He raced down and hooked his hand under her arm, aiding her to the top and away from the dangerous waves.
He didn’t speak to her, allowing her to catch her breath. She was clearly drained, and her entire body was shivering, hair plastered to her face and mascara trailing down from her eyes. After a few moments, he helped her slowly stand and with one look at her, she collapsed, the full weight of her exhausted body leaning onto his and sobbing into his shoulder. He held her head firmly and assured her everything was OK now. She was safe.