Chapter 40
It was a lovely sunny day for the seaside, but heavy going, this walk through the sand dunes. They wanted to show Elisavet the biggest sand dune in Wales, the Big Dipper.
There were Megan’s knees to take into consideration but Gladdie and Cora agreed it would be wrong to deprive Elisavet from seeing it just because they weren’t as fit as they used to be, and it would be well worth the effort.
But now they were hot and sweating, with aching legs, breath rasping and ankle-deep in sand, they felt differently. Elisavet wouldn’t really have missed much.
‘I forgot it was just sand and grass,’ Megan groaned, shielding her eyes from the sun.
‘But it’s the biggest sand dune in Wales!’ Gladdie said, gripping her trembling thighs.
‘First thing I’m going to do is run into the waves and cool off,’ Cora said, her heart racing with effort.
‘If I live that long.’ The three of them stopped where they were, sinking into the warm sand, trying to catch their breath before they carried on.
Not Elisavet, though. She strode ahead effortlessly and stood waiting for them on top of the Big Dipper, as cool and patient as ever, her dark hair blowing, her eyes distant.
‘Like Florence of Arabia,’ Cora said admiringly.
‘She’s young,’ Megan said, ‘and we’re not. I don’t know what’s the matter with us lately, acting as if we’re in our youth again.’
‘Talking about the past, it is,’ Cora said. ‘I feel exactly the same, and then I look in the mirror and it’s a shock to me, to be honest.’
‘See, that’s where we’re different. I never look in the mirror myself,’ Megan told her. ‘There’s no point.’
‘Yes,’ Gladdie said, ‘we can tell that.’
Megan continued, as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘Because I’ve got a rough idea what I look like after all these years, and that’ll do me. Oh, look, she’s coming back.’
Elisavet was bounding down the sand dunes towards them, her bag bouncing between her shoulders, and sank to a halt in front of them. ‘You want me to help you?’
Cora wiped the sweat from her forehead. ‘No, we’re fine,’ she said, pink-faced from exertion, ‘we’re just having a breather.’
‘I’m not, you can help me,’ Megan said quickly, holding out her hand.
Elisavet grasped it firmly and Megan took a lot of frantic little steps to save her arm from being pulled out of its socket and a few minutes later she was at the top, looking pleased with herself.
‘Come on, slowcoaches!’
When they reached the top of the dunes, they saw the sea stretch out in front of them, blue and sparkling, lace-edged with foam. They stumbled down towards this oasis, going down was much easier, and found a spot to leave their things before going for a paddle to refresh themselves.
‘Beautiful country,’ Elisavet said, standing in the waves. The water splashed and darkened the edge of her skirt as she looked towards the horizon.
‘Yes. And it’s your country, now,’ Gladdie said proudly, getting her feet wet in the shivery cold sea.
‘No.’ Elisavet turned to face her, her hair veiling her face. ‘I belong nowhere,’ she said. ‘I have no home. I have no language. I am nobody.’
Gladdie was horrified. ‘Don’t say that!’
‘Why not? It’s true.’
‘You’re somebody to us,’ Cora said firmly, shying away from the waves. ‘And it’s early days yet. You’ll make friends,’ she said, thinking of Gwyn. ‘And one day you might go back to Kosovo. Do you think you will?’
‘I think about it. But I can’t forgive, nor forget.
’ Elisavet chewed the inside of her cheek, frowning.
‘Driving out of town, we were stopped by soldiers with guns. They pulled me out of the driver’s seat and dragged me into a truck with a lot of other women.
I could see the frightened faces of my family watching, my grandparents, my mother, my cousins, all of them together in this little car. ’
‘And then what happened?’ Gladdie asked.
Elisavet shrugged. ‘To them? I don’t know.’
The tide hushed and swished, hushed and swished.
Elisavet turned her back to them, and taking the hint, Cora and Megan waded back to shore.
Gladdie stayed behind with Elisavet, her arms folded, knee deep in waves, as if she had to stay there until she came up with an answer.
Cora and Megan sat down heavily by the little island of their bags. Cora had tea in a flask and she poured it into four plastic cups. ‘Do we ever leave trauma behind, do you think?’
Megan considered it. ‘We’re still going back to it years later, if we’re anything to go by.’
‘Trying to make sense of it, I suppose.’ Cora sighed and looked at Elisavet standing firm and straight-backed against the tide. Her heart went out to her. ‘I wish we could help.’
‘She’s talking about it. That’s a start,’ Megan said. ‘We’d better get the paints out, Gladdie’s rubbing her hands together,’ she added over the surge of the sea.
The tide was coming in, the lace-frilled waves gliding over the damp sand. They hurriedly moved their bags further up the beach and got out their travel paint sets and sketchbooks. It really was a beautiful day.
Sometime later, Cora held her painting out at arm’s length.
It looked very amateurish and nothing at all like the vast blue sky and the sparkling sea.
She leant sideways to look at Elisavet’s effort and almost overbalanced but righting herself, she cheered up considerably because Elisavet’s looked nothing like anything at all, just a series of circular black blobs in a square.
She had a feeling that they represented something important to Elisavet, though.
Gladdie came over to give her opinion with her hands clasped behind her back in her new, headmistressy manner. She stood behind Elisavet making indeterminate noises. Then she stood behind Cora and hummed as if she had something on her mind.
‘It’s not finished yet,’ Cora said quickly, trying to stave off criticism.
‘No, I can see that.’
And not a word, Cora noticed, about Elisavet’s black blobs.
‘You need a focal point,’ Gladdie said. ‘Like a boat or something.’
‘You told us to only paint what we can see.’
‘Artistic licence.’
‘Make your mind up,’ Cora said, and she decided to paint a seagull, abstract like, two huge curves for wings, a curved yellow bill, orange legs, beady eyes. No wonder Gladdie was fixated on birds. They were easier to paint than you’d think.
When she’d finished, Cora got up and emptied her dirty paint water into the foam. She thought about the way Elisavet drew everything monochrome, as if the sun was eclipsed and her sadness had washed the colour from the sea and the drying sand.