The Wave. Virginia Moffatt
has been obsessed with finding a boat. It’s a good thing, of course it’s a good thing, if it ensures our survival, but I can’t help feeling that he has set himself an impossible task. I don’t want to think what that might mean, and I haven’t expressed the thought out loud, but what are the chances, really? Was it any surprise that all the boats in Penzance had gone? That the person on the internet sold the boat to someone else? Hasn’t Harry been saying for years it’s a dog-eat-dog world? Why would it be any different for him? I understand his fury at being let down, but it’s astonishing that he didn’t see it coming, really. So, when a bird shat on him, I couldn’t help laughing out loud. I suppose it wasn’t kind of me, but, honestly, it’s the only funny thing to have happened today. Because when I let the thought in, that Harry might be wrong, that there might not be a boat to find, I am left with the inescapable conclusion that I’m about to die because my boyfriend was too mean to take me to New York. It isn’t fair. I am way too young. I haven’t even begun to live.
We’ve been trailing through the bays ever since that lost boat of Penzance. The treacherous thought that Harry is wrong has grown with every failure to discover an alternative. And the unfairness of it, the absolute bitter unfairness of it, keeps sweeping over me. I am twenty years old. All I have done with my life is meet Harry and work as a nanny for two years. I will never go to America, never go to Paris where I always fantasized that Harry might propose, never work out what my life could be about. I’ll die without having amounted to anything very much.
All this is running through my head, and Harry still hasn’t asked me, hasn’t even stopped to wonder why I am veering from tears to anger so quickly. Apart from a snarky query as to whether I’ve got women’s problems, he is oblivious to my feelings. He is too focussed on his personal mission, fulfilling his own personal myth that he will be the hero to save the day. I want to believe in him, but I’ve been teetering on the brink of disbelief since Penzance, and if there’s nothing at the next cove, I really don’t think I can go on any more. If he would only stop for a moment, talk to me, give me a hug, tell me that it will be all right, that he’s with me and he’ll take care of me right to the very end. Perhaps, if he did that, I might be prepared to stick with it. But he seems incapable of doing anything other than drive to the next bay and the next.
So here we are, parking the car at the top of another beach. To my surprise, we are not the only ones there. An old Ford Fiesta, a hatchback and a mini that has seen better days are already here.
‘Aye, aye,’ says Harry, ‘We might be on to something – others might have had the same idea.’ I’d like to think he is right, but before we are halfway down the path, I can see there is no hope here. The beach is too shallow for a jetty and there’s no sign of any boats. What I do see, however, is a small group of people gathered by two tent, and a campfire. When Harry spots them, he stops, probably thinking there’s no point continuing. But I am curious, so I walk on. I wonder who they are and what they are doing here, looking so relaxed and carefree, considering the circumstances. It crosses my mind that they don’t realize what is happening, that we should warn them.
‘Where are you going?’ asks Harry.
‘To check if they are OK.’
‘We need to keep moving.’
‘I’m tired. I want to rest for a bit. And they might have food.’ I think at first that he’s going to leave, but after a moment he follows behind. Perhaps he’s curious, too. Or hungry, more like.
My stilettos are useless in the soft sand, so I discard them at the top of the beach and swing them in my hand. The sand between my toes is warm, reminding me of childhood holidays, happier days. It’s a long time since I’ve walked barefoot in the sand. I’d forgotten how I always enjoyed this sensation. I reach the group – a couple of men and women in their twenties and thirties and an older woman in her sixties. She shouldn’t fit in, but she looks relaxed, sitting in a chair, swigging coke from a bottle, her feet spread out in the sand. Perhaps she’s someone’s mother.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask as I reach them.
The man with curly hair says, ‘We’ve worked out we can’t get away. So we’ve decided to sit it out. Enjoy the time we have left.’
‘Join us,’ says the young black woman. ‘We’ve plenty of food and wine.’ Harry rolls his eyes, I can see him thinking bunch of hippies, but I’m intrigued.
‘We can stay, can’t we, Harry?’ He looks like he’s about to walk off, but he nods. ‘For a while.’
I sit down on the blanket, introduce myself and take the offered glass of wine. For the first time in eight hours I breathe deeply. I sip the wine and look at the sea. Tomorrow, if we don’t make it out, it will consume us, but at this moment the beach, in the pink and blue light at the end of the day, seems to be the most beautiful place in the world.
Facebook Messenger
To: Seren Lovelace
6.30 p.m.
Have you seen this Facebook page everyone’s talking about? People gathered on Dowetha Beach. The hair’s different but that’s Penny, isn’t it? Andy.
To: Andy Jones
God. I think you’re right. S.
BBC Breaking News 6.45 p.m.
… Downing Street confirms that the Natural Disaster Early Warning Unit, cancelled due to government funding cuts could have identified the problem sooner. Senior volcanologist claims lives will be lost because of it. More to follow …
Dowetha Live
30 August 6.50 p.m.
Image: Group selfie, four women, three men, sitting round a campfire.
Welcome to Dowetha Live.
We’re down in Cornwall and we don’t think we can get out in time. So we’re staying here, to enjoy the time we have left.
It’s beautiful on this beach. We’re going to share photos and thoughts as the night goes on. But we know it won’t be easy. We could do with some help, so please leave encouraging thoughts below.
Word of warning. Trolls not welcome. Your comments will be deleted and you will be blocked.
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Sue Hastings. I can’t even … Wow. You’re amazingly brave. Sending love and thoughts.
Alec Howes. Hope you find friendship and comfort tonight. Solidarity.
2 mins
Salaam Mosque. The community of the Salaam Mosque will be praying for you throughout our daily prayers. We are with you in your sadness and fear. Inshallah you shall find hope and generosity in these last hours. Love and Peace. x
10 mins
Poppy Armstrong
30 August 7.00 p.m.
It is six hours since I last posted. Six hours! I am overwhelmed by the warmth of your messages, and for your concern for me. Thank you. I’m afraid I cannot answer everyone so please accept this general post instead. The most important thing to tell you is that I am no longer alone. There are several of us now. Some came by chance, looking for sea air. Some in response to my message. Some because they have run out of places to go. And despite what is to come, Dowetha has served up its best for us today. Strong winds, and bright sunshine, made for a perfect surf this afternoon, followed by an invigorating swim. The air has stilled since and now the water is calm. The sun is setting, sending us red beams across the water, a final reminder of the beauty of our days, before the onset of darkness. Pale blue lingers in the sky