The Shipping Forecast

Biscay

Cool water washed over his feet and the sand moved underneath, swirling around his toes in the current and sweeping it out from under. He felt his feet sink a little into the sand. Close by, his grand-niece and nephew were playing in the small waves coming ashore, crouching down together as each one approached and jumping over at the last moment, squealing with delight each time. Sunlight poured down upon the golden sands and a warm breeze was blowing in off the sea bringing with it a fresh, briny smell. He had rolled his trousers up past his knees and was carrying his shoes in one hand, his hat in the other. In his head though, he carried guilt, and grief, and sadness.

It had been his sister's idea to come here, to join her and her children and grandchildren on holiday. 'It will be good for you', she had said. 'It's about time you came to terms with what happened.' She had been saying the same thing for the last ten years or so, and each year he had refused, preferring to stay at home. For many years he had convinced himself that if he stayed at home, if he didn't go anywhere near the place it happened, then over time the pain would start to dull, and that he may even begin to forget. He thought that he was safe, staying at home.

The doctors had a name for it of course - Post Traumatic Stress. His body's reaction to an event that it was unable to cope with. Well, he had known that of course. But still, at home, he wouldn't have to face anything like that again. At home, he was safe.

But then he'd discovered he wasn't safe at home after all, and when she asked him to join them again this year he found himself saying yes. He wasn't sure why exactly.

The journey out hadn't been too bad. They flew to an airport near the gite (he had point blank refused to go by ferry) and took a hire car from the airport, so the first time he looked upon the sea was when they had come to the beach, earlier that morning.

It was the third day of the holiday, and the children had wanted to go. He really couldn't think of any more excuses why they should seek to go elsewhere. When he had suggested they leave him at the gite and go without him, they had refused, saying that if he wasn't going, they wouldn't either. He didn't want to disappoint the children, so in the end, he agreed. He knew it was emotional blackmail, and that the whole thing had been staged, but he couldn't find it in himself to be cross about it. They meant well, and he knew deep down they had his best interests at heart. In any case, that was why he had come wasn't it, to face this fear he had been nurturing for so long? He had no choice but to go.

The worst part was getting out of the car. The sound of waves crashing on the beach, seagulls calling to each other as they swept overhead, and above all, the smell of sea air. He almost quailed, but in the event, he found that he didn't after all collapse in fright, nor did he start blubbing like a small child, or run away shrieking, all of which he had imagined himself doing. Instead, he had looked out to sea, and breathed deeply, and after a few moments, he realised he would be alright. Not happy as such, but alright.

He followed his sister and her family down the path towards the beach wondering how long he could continue on for, but before he knew it they were there, on the beach, with miles of clean, golden sand stretching out on either side and clear, sparkling sea reaching out to the horizon. The air was cool and fresh. Above all, it felt peaceful. He hadn't expected that.

A little way ahead, the children had stopped jumping through the waves and were leant over something in the surf. The beach was a wonderful place for the kids, he knew. Everywhere you looked there were strange objects washed up that were a source of fascination to children both young and old; empty razor fish shells, cuttlefish bones, seaweed of every colour and sometimes stranger things. They had seen jellyfish washed up, and the kids had been fascinated by them. His sister had fretted over them being stung. He looked around and saw his sister some distance away walking arm in arm with her new husband. She looked happier than he had seen her in years, and he was glad for it. She deserved to have some happiness after the way Darren had treated her. Carol, her daughter, and her husband Jim were happy too. They were holding hands, smiling and laughing at something shared between them, while keeping a close eye on their children. He supposed they didn't trust him to look after them on his own. Perhaps they were right.