The House On The Cliff

Now - Tina

The sun was breaking in through the curtains, bathing Tina's face in a weak, golden light. Her head ached, though she had been completely sober last night. The whole house, being there, was giving her a monstrous hangover already.

Pulling the threadbare blanket around her bony shoulders, she climbed out of bed and wandered across to the window. The sea air was whistling through a gap in the window where the wooden frames had warped. With some force, she pushed the window open so that the salty wind blew her hair from her face.

In the summer brightness of the morning, the view didn't look so scary. It was hopeful and familiar, and it made her want to pack a picnic and spend all day at the beach. Just like they used to. She shook the thought from her head. She couldn't think about the way that it used to be, not if they were going to get through this.

She stared down at the car in the drive. Harry must have arrived at some point during the night, she realised. So, they were all there. Well, almost all of them.

Pulling on jeans and a jumper, she raked her fingers through her hair and made her way downstairs, craving a cup of coffee. Maybe she would take it to the edge of the cliff and look out over the beach as she drank it.

The cupboards were empty, save for a bag of sugar that had clearly been in there for the last ten years, and so she pulled on her plimsolls, took a key and scribbled a hasty note for the others.

*

The walk down to the village was Tina's favourite thing about going there; it always had been. The path down the side of the cliff was a little steep, and she took it in a strange, crouched position. But once down there, it was a beautiful walk along a dirt road between fields. On one side it was filled with golden stems of wheat, which swayed in the breeze. On the other were rows and rows of purple flowers.

Nothing had really changed. At least not here. In fact, if she let herself, it felt as though she were back there, skipping along the track, fingers wrapped through Beryl's, her other arm hooked through Harry's. The dust flying around their feet, Beryl complaining that her white trainers were being stained a terracotta brown.

Laughing until their sides hurt. Sprinting to the side of the road, the girls screaming because that was what they did back then, whenever a car came flying around the curve ahead of them.

She wished that she could go back to that moment sometimes. The days at the beginning of the holidays, when she had only known them for a couple of weeks, and they were all great friends. Before mistakes had been made and people had been lost forever.

Had she grown up to be the woman that she had always wanted to be, always thought that she would be? Was she doing the job that she always thought that she would do? Did it all really matter when it came down to it?

She stopped, the village in sight, and took a deep breath. She shouldn't be thinking like this. She just needed to keep it together. They would only be there for a few days, and then they could go back to their lives. Back to the people that they had become.

The pub was still there, at the edge of the village, though the exterior had had a lick of paint. It still looked, basically, the same. A black chalk board stood outside with specials written on it in fancy white writing with little illustrations to go with it.

Smiling to herself, she crossed to the post office, which was attached to a small bakery and greengrocers.

The door was open despite it only being eight a.m, and Tina stepped cautiously inside. It was cool in there, and despite the growing heat outside, she felt her skin spring into goosebumps.

She took her time wandering around the shop, pausing by the stationary section and selecting a leather notebook with a crystal glued to the front. Finally locating the coffee, she grabbed a jar, adding milk, bread and bacon to her basket and lugging them over to the till.

"Morning" She leaned over the counter to peer at the hunched figure behind it.

The figure unfurled itself to reveal the same familiar face that had served her all those years ago. The contents of her basket had changed a little since then, though the sudden appearance of Mrs. Bayford made her feel like the shy eighteen-year-old that she had been all those years ago.

The same blue eyes with the glint that had always made them smile narrowed at her, as if trying to decide something, and then a grin broke out, lining her face a little, reminding Tina of just how much time had passed.

"Tina?"

"The one and only!" Tina smiled back as Mrs. Bayford pulled her into a hug, closing her eyes as she leaned into the warmth and comfort.

"Goodness me, how long has it been?"

"Ten years" She murmured quietly, her eyes slipping away from the old womans' gaze. She had been dreading this, the first person to ask. The first person who might make the connection.

The silence stretched between them, until Tina couldn't help but look, and she was surprised to see tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, falling into the faint wrinkles that had settled there.

"Well' Mrs. Bayford patted her hand gently, moving back behind the counter, 'I think it's wonderful that you've come back here. To remember her. She was a lovely young lady. Far too young."

Tina closed her eyes briefly, willing the tears not to fall. She didn't want to cause a scene in the middle of the post office on her first day back. She didn't want anybody else to think that she was here for any other reason than a holiday.

"I'm sorry' she said after a moment, forcing herself to smile again, 'it's all a bit strange being back here."

The walk back to the house seemed to take a lot longer than the walk away from it had, the bags cutting into her wrists, the milk weighing her down. By the time she had reached the bottom of the cliff, Tina was dripping in sweat, a river of it making its' way down between her shoulder blades, and she stopped, leaning against the base of it, placing the bags onto the dusty ground beside her.

The sun was blazing in the sky now, and she could hear the crashing of the waves. From here, she only needed to cross the narrow pathway and follow it down to end up on the beach. They would often visit the pub in the village and then make their way to the beach afterwards, alcohol relaxing them, making Tina more confident than she would ever be sober.

She felt a tug at her heart, and for a moment wished that they were back there again.

*