Matilda swung her legs out of bed and tiptoed down the hall in her swimmers and beach towel. There was a shower running in Jack’s en suite bathroom, an indication that she wasn’t the first one awake this morning. The floorboards were cold beneath her feet and her warmth cast strange foggy patterns on the stained wood, reminding her of childhood days spent in her aunt’s old and creaky wooden house.
The aged stairwell creaked under her feet quietly as she descended to the first level. David was already in the kitchen, preparing what looked to be a big breakfast. The comforting aroma of frying bacon and crisping fruit toast came to her attention.
“Morning,” Matilda smiled, suddenly aware of how frizzy her hair must be. She smoothed it down hurriedly.
“Good morning Matilda. Breakfast is ready. It’s just going to keep warm in the oven and you can all serve yourselves. I’m going into town.”
“Thanks. I’m just going down to the beach for a few minutes. I’ll be back in a bit.” After a moment of hesitation Matilda grabbed a piece of fruit toast off the counter on her way out the door.
--
The beach fire from the night before was a blackened and soggy ruin, surrounded by stray pieces of driftwood from the night time high tide. It looked like a little village that had been plundered, perhaps by Vikings. Matilda smiled at the thought of minute axe-wielding men running over the sand as she ate her slice of warm, sugary toast.
She walked a little way down the beach and unrolled her towel onto the damp sand. It had also rained during the night, and the combination of this and the high tide had totally erased any traces of footsteps from the night before. The only interruptions of the flat layer of sand was the webbed spattering of gull feet and now Matilda’s own small and shallow footsteps. She felt oddly ashamed that her footsteps would be the ones to ruin the perfect canvas of the shore.
Despite the high tide of the night, the sea was glassy and flat. The morning sun was already quite warm; warm enough to brave the tide. She ran lightly from her towel to the edge of the water. Refreshing coolness ran over her toes and splashed up her legs as Matilda entered the gentle waves surging up the sand. She gasped at the cold shock and her stomach muscles contracted reflexively but she kept running until the water became deep enough to finally dive forwards. Matilda closed her eyes and let the ocean swallow her.
--
“Where’d you go, Mattie?” Seth chugged down a glass of orange juice, swallowing and smacking his lips with an ‘aaaah’.
Matilda brushed a lock of wet hair behind her ear and slung her towel over the balcony rail to dry in the sun.
“Hanging down at the beach. I’m starved.” She sat down at the table. The wood instantly became wet from her damp swimmers, something that by the look of the varnish was a very common occurrence. She chose a plate and reached for the bowl of mushrooms.
The clumping noises of two feet descending the stairwell announced the arrival of Skylar and Jack. Skylar was holding a hash brown between her fingertips that she nibbled occasionally and Jack carried a stack of dirty plates. By the looks of it they had already eaten; or at least Jack had. They both seemed rather happy. Matilda made cautious eye contact with Kyle and went back to serving herself some breakfast as the couple sat at the table. Scraping forks dominated the uncomfortable silence.
YOU ARE READING
Jack's Last Summer
Teen Fiction"I guess that's the thing about time. It might not heal wounds; but it does smooth them over." When Jack Summers is diagnosed with terminal cancer, he chooses quality over quantity and refuses therapy. He instead decides to invite four of his best f...
