“Watch out for snakes!”
He was partly joking, partly serious. Probably no snakes here on this dry bit of cliff, but you can’t tell, can you?
“Ruthie! Not so fast! Wait for us.”
The path led sharply down and then to the left around an outcrop of pale rock, and there the little girl stopped, turning to face them. Good girl. She seemed reckless, but she wasn’t.
God, what a place. You couldn’t make it up. Even the word ‘cliff’ wasn’t right – the mountains just marched straight into the sea, impossibly stupendous. The word ‘bluff’ came to mind; he’d look it up, later. For now, just sheer bloody wonder. English eyes could hardly take it in.
“You okay?”
Linda had stopped to take off her sandals. “Yup. She okay?”
Ruthie had taken off again; she was still in sight, now Hamish himself had rounded the outcrop. Between the mountains he saw the little scoop of bay, dazzling ocean breakers, and his daughter – the first child in a newly-minted world – running down a ribbon of path, hair flying. He whipped out his phone. Gotcha.
“She’s fine. She’ll stop at the bottom.”
They passed several wooden huts, each a way back from the path and joined by narrower paths, mostly overgrown. One of these must be the Gorman’s beach hut.
Hamish didn’t know which. They’d offered it for tonight, but no. Generous of them, but no. Too much bother, bedding and all that. Food. Washing stuff. And with Ruthie, easier to be back at the hotel for the bedtime routine; she was only four.
Plus, something else. Dark out here at night, and it was the off season. The other huts all seemed deserted. Hamish was glad – a wise decision, for sure.
*******
At the foot of the path they dumped their bags on stones and drank some water.
“Ruthie! Water! Yes, yes – you know what I said. This is Africa. Keep hydrated.”
“Can I go in?” She was pulling off her clothes.
“Well, soon. We’ve got all day.”
“D’you think?” Lin was frowning. “It’ll be hot, later. I mean, too hot. There’s no shade.”
“Well. We’ve got all morning, anyway.”
The waves weren’t big, but they looked like dumpers; best to check them out before going in. Could be an undertow. Never rush, if you don’t know the coast. Is the tide going in or out? That sort of thing.
“Where’s the Whizz-ball? Let’s play Whizz-ball first, okay?”
Ruthie had it out of the bag already – she always knew where everything was – while Lin stripped down to her bikini. There they were, throwing a ball between them, down by the water where the sand was firm. A family on holiday. Lin looked great; she was laughing. He thought: maybe things will work out, after all, after this.
Ruthie couldn’t throw far enough yet, but that’s how you learn, right? No one was much good at catching. Just as Hamish straightened his back, a movement on the cliff caught his eye. A guy, way up, on one of the paths from a beach hut, heading down. The same instant he saw a second man to the left, then a third, pincer-like, from the right.
There’d been nobody, just now. Not a sound.
“What?” Lin sounded impatient.
“Keep throwing.”
“What?”
*******
“Keep throwing. Don’t look up. Just play. I said, don’t look up.”
She threw the ball towards him. Ruthie was dabbling her toes in the waves and skipping away from them. Hamish threw the ball to Lin, moving closer to her.
“Some guys are coming down. Don’t look. You haven’t seen them. Throw back to me. C’mon.”
“Why? Why shouldn’t they come?”
“Doesn’t feel right. Keep throwing.”
His body was tense, all the way down. Fool. Had these guys seen the hire car at the top, and come down on the off chance? Or waited behind the beach hut – did they hang out there? Turning for the ball, he took a quick look. The three hadn’t quite converged, were still about two hundred yards away. If he went back to their bags, then what?
His voice came out very calm and definite.
“We’re going to swim.” He pointed. “To that rock.”
“What? You’re mad. She can’t swim that far.”
“She can. Ruthie! See that rock? C’mon. I’ll take you.”
A quick look. The men were on the sand, heading for the bags. He took Lin’s hand.
“Just yell and squeal like the water’s cold. We’re having fun. We’re going for a swim. We haven’t seen them. I’ve got her.”
He lifted Ruthie over the waves. It was real enough for her – she squealed; she hadn’t seen them.
Her little legs kicked something hard in the pocket of his shorts. The car keys. He secured the pocket’s button with one hand as a wave smashed over them, and Ruthie spluttered, slippery as an eel. He made himself laugh.
“Okay, sweetie? Right, let’s see this swimming. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”
He was out of his depth, doing a kind of side-stroke, one hand under her tummy.
“Let go!” she said. “I can! Look!” She kicked out, taking a mouthful of ocean, eyes popping.
“I’ve got you. It’s okay. Not much further.”
*******
It was further than he thought. Lin was already there and trying to heave herself up. No obvious ledges, and, as he now saw, sharp barnacles crusted every surface, the sea lurching over them. She swam to his side.
“Okay, darling?” This was to Ruth. Then to him, “We can’t get up there. Have to go back.”
“No. Must try. Too soon. She needs to rest.”
His wife’s lips said: fuck. Then she swam as near as she could to the rock face, waited for the swell to lift her and clawed her way up. What a woman. Now, Ruthie.
“Better here.” Lin was standing up, shouting over the waves, pointing to the left.
“Baby, I’m going to lift you up, and momma will catch you …”
“No!”
“Yes. Brave girl! Well done!”
They were all up, above the water line.
“Christ.”
Thin streaks of blood streamed from Lin’s legs, her arms, and from Ruthie. Looking down, his own legs too, the scratches pouring red. Ruthie was crying, big, juddering sobs.
Lin hunkered down at her side.
“Did you see how far you just swam! That’s the best yet! Tara will be so pleased with you!”
Tara was her swimming teacher.
“She’d definitely give you a star.”
“A gold one?”
“Definitely, definitely.”
“Did you take a picture?”
“I haven’t got my phone, darling.” She looked at Hamish. “Can we look at them yet?”
Was she being sarcastic? He couldn’t tell. “Let’s not. Just look in the sea like we’re watching fish.”
He thought: she’ll be thinking what I’m thinking. Great white sharks out there, and we’re bleeding like pigs.
*******
“Take a look, then. But don’t make it obvious. Just tell me.”
“They’re going. Looks like … they’ve taken all our stuff. They’re talking. No, they’re going.”
“They past the huts yet?”
“No.”
“Shit.”
“Don’t. Ruthie.”
The scratches stung, and his bare scalp burned.
“We can’t stay here.”
“Of course not.”
“I mean, any longer.”
“No.”
“You ready?”
“How?”
“I’ll jump in. I’ll catch her.”
“Christ.”
“Got a better idea?”
It was like this: They burned to death on a rock. They were swept out to sea. They were knifed on a beach, or halfway up a mountain. The hire car would be found empty and his own mother would never know if things had got too much for him, or if he’d just screwed up. She’d warned him – Africa, she said, is not your place. You look like a rich tourist and it’s
asking for trouble. That’s an awful thing to say, he replied. Racist. Those days are gone. Perhaps not, she said, for those who still have nothing.
“What you doing?”
Lin had taken off the top of her bikini and was tying one end to Ruthie’s wrist.
“See now, darling. Daddy’ll go first, then I’ll jump in with you – deep breath, ploosh! – and we’ll all swim back, okay? And I’ve got the other end. I won’t let you go.”
A big roller dumped them on the shingle, and Ruthie was sick. Exhaustion hit him, but his wife was staggering up the sand, Ruthie slumped in her arms.
*******
“I’ll take her.”
Nothing left of their possessions but an empty carton: Ruthie’s apple juice. There was no shade. They died of heatstroke on a beach. They started up the path.
“Pity’s sake,” he said. Lin was taking off the bottom half of her bikini now.
“It’s for her head. There’s nothing else. She’s burning.”
“Pity’s sake. Put it back on. She’ll be okay. Ten minutes, we’re there. I got the car keys.”
The sand scorched his feet. No breath to speak. If the men now watched them go, he couldn’t be bothered to look left or right. There had been no sound of a car leaving, just little birds pipping in the bush. He thought: if they hot-wired the car, we’re done. If they slashed the tyres, we’re done.
Past the rocky outcrop, he looked up. The car was there, the tyres untouched. He laid Ruthie in the shade of it, fumbling with the button of his short’s pocket with shaking fingers. Unlocked the doors.
Lin found spare shirts in the back.
“I’ll drive,” she said.
Yes, she would drive. Always. He slid obediently into the passenger seat. It was so hot against his bare legs, tears ran from his eyes.
*******
Image: benoit-beaumatin unsplash