Twist Of Fate

Thirty Nine

CHLOE

To say the atmosphere is uncomfortable would be like saying it gets a little bit chilly at the North Pole, or that Donald Trump has some unconventional political views, or that Mount Everest is a bit of a steep hill. 

Seeing as Harry hasn't given any preference of destination yet again, and seeing as how I do not feel ready to move out of the area of my childhood just yet, I lead us a mile or so round the coast to a pretty little beach called Joss Bay, where I spent a lot of summer days before my parents died. We make the journey on foot, and in tense silence, the only sound our feet slapping the tarmac and the occasional grunt at the heat from the sun and the weight on our backs. The tents, although not particularly heavy, are cumbersome and require frequent adjustments to avoid blisters on our shoulders, and therefore the journey to Joss Bay, which should only take an hour at most on foot, takes us until lunchtime. 

The beach is busy and full of holidaymakers, and as I lead Harry slowly down the ramp and onto the soft sand, I close my eyes and imagine for a couple of seconds that I am ten years old again, and coming here for an afternoon of sandcastle building and sea swimming with my dad. There is something comforting in the familiarity of the place: the sound of the seagulls screeching overhead, the smell of chips and Mr Whippy icecream from the cafe, the crashing of the waves against the shore, the laughter of the children and their parents running up and down in the waves, and the wonderful mixed aroma of salt, sea, sand and suncream.  I haven't been back here for so long, but fundamentally nothing about the place has really changed. If I came back again in another forty years, I would bet it would still be the same, and evoke the same memories just from the sounds and the smells. 

I kick my sandals off and smile at the feel of the warm sand between my toes as I begin the awkward walk along the beach, keeping close to the cliffs but looking out across the sea into oblivion. On the horizon I can see a couple of ships, seemingly not moving but of course too far away to note their immediate speed or direction of travel. I don't even look to see if Harry is still behind me until I am far enough away from the majority of the crowds to stop and sink to the ground, digging my hands beneath the surface to where the grains are cool and damp, and then turning my palms skyward and letting thousands of years' of crushed rock and shell sift slowly through my fingers. I hear the thud of Harry's rucksack as he drops it down next to me followed by his holdall, and then a soft grunt as he lowers himself into a sitting position. He says nothing, and for once I don't care that he is a miserable bastard. I open my bag and pull out my tatty towel, stretch it out on the sand beneath me and lie down upon it, closing my eyes and hitching my hemline up a little to allow the sun to warm my legs. For all the noise he makes, it is easy to pretend I am alone on this beautiful summer's day with only my thoughts for company. Now I no longer have to concentrate on getting us here, I am able to allow to my mind wander freely, exploring the darkest corners and memories that I have until now pushed far away. Like wondering what the hell actually happened last night, where did it all come from and what the hell changed while we were sleeping to revoke this surly, bitter monster I was so sure we had left behind.

Yesterday was probably one of the most emotional days of my entire life. Never have I felt so vulnerable or exposed, allowing the biggest outpouring of grief in front of the one person from whom I would never have expected any support. But the support was there, which is why I am having such a hard time understanding how he can switch on and off in such a way. He showed me a side to him I never would have believed existed - he held me, he took care of me, he took the lead for the first time since we were thrown together, just when I needed him to step up. He thawed enough to suggest going for dinner somewhere nice, and up until I started questioning him about his girlfriend, he was actually fun to be around, and I honestly felt we were making some serious progress. And then it all went horribly wrong. He stormed out of the restaurant, flirted with the girl on reception in front of my face and all but laughed at me while he did it. Then he returned to the room, screamed at me, threatened me, and then made love to me.