4. STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

An adenture on the beach involving scary quicksand

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

4. The Sinking Sands

“If we walk along the beech that way,” pointed Daisy to the children, “it looks as if there might be something worth seeing, and after all we are here to see things we might not see at home in Brumpton!”

Isabel stared at where her mother was pointing and couldn’t see what she meant. There was some kind of building set back from the sands and then just endless stretches of beach leading to the invisible distance.

“What, mum?” she asked.

“Well, there’s that strange tall building…” pointed out Daisy, “I think it’s left over from the war…”

“Old people are always talking about the war,” protested Isabel, “as if it was a really nasty time.” sha added.

“It was,” confirmed Daisy, “there was rationing when nobody could get what they wanted from the shops, and you were both born during it. Admittedly, Brian was born right at the end of it, but you saw quite a couple of years when whole countries were fighting each other. An enemy bomb fell on a house near where I lived in those days, but thankfully it didn’t explode. The good thing was, we won!”

“So the Germans lost?” asked Isabel.

“They did, though you’ve just got to feel sorry for those who gave their lives on both sides. The fight wasn’t theirs, you know. They were just handsome young men who powerful leaders sent into battle instead of going themselves. Leaders vdo that, you know, make a fight with someone else but they don’t go to fight themselves I’d love to have seen a fight between just Hitler and Mr. Churchill. It would have been a darned sight more kind than sending the young blokes who had no interest in fighting anyone so that they could get killed..

“Anyway, that tower was what look-out men spent hours in, looking out to sea for enemy boats just in case a few spies armed with weapons tried to slip into the country unseen.”

“It sounds horrible,” sighed Isabel, “I mean, what’s wrong with people being nice to each other? Surely men don’t have to agree with each other all the time? I donlt always agree with Brian and sometimes he actually hates me!”

“You’re right of course, darling,” smiled Daisy, “come on, let’s walk near the sea, but be careful where you tread. Lots of ships were blown up not that many years ago, and there could still be sharp pieces of metal ready to cut your toes off if you’re not careful where you tread!”

“So it’s not over?” queried the girl, “if there are things about that might hurt or kill us then the war’s not over!”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” sighed Daisy, “I do wish there were nicer things for us to talk about.”

“Like crabs?” asked Brian, “we liked some yesterday when we looked into a little pond and they liked us!”

“Look mummy!” interrupted Isabel, and she pointed at a man with a young girl, and they seemed to be dancing. Then they heard, quite clearly, as the girl shouted “help” at the top of her voice and the man’s legs seemed to be getting shorter.

“Quick sand!” whispered Daisy, “look I’m nearer to them than jsuy about everyone. I’ll run and help if I can. There shouldn’t be much in the way of quick sand on this beach!”

“Your boyfriend’s going to get there first!” exclaimed Isabel, and she pointed at a man who was racing faster than Daisy was likely to, what with her skirt flapping against her knees and her white underskirt threatening to tie itself in knots.

“What do you mean, my boyfriend?” asked Daisy when it was clear that the running man would easily beat her to rescue the two who were shoring for help because they were trapped by what must have been quick sand.

Isabel pointed. “The cigarette man,” she said, smiling.

“Oh,” responded Daisy.

“Is he your boyfriend, mum?” asked Brian, grinning impishly at his big sister.

“Don’t talk like that! Of course he isn’t!”

“But you even smoked one of his cigarettes, and I’ve never seen you smoke anything before,” insisted Isabel.

“He offered it to me in kindness,” replied Dasiy sharply, “and I thought it might seem rude if I refused.”

“But there was daddy…” persisted her daughter. “He wouldn’t have liked to see you with a cigarette now, would he?”

“He smoked hundreds of cigarettes all of his adult life and I wished he hadn’t!” snapped Daisy, “now be quiet and give me some peace.”

By the time they reached the man and child who seemed to be floundering in sinking sands Bramwell had reached them and was lifting the girl out and depositing her gently onto firm sand. The child was still weeping because from her perspective even sinking a few inches into the sandy beach had been a frightening thing.

Eventually the two who had been shouting for help were safely on solid land and he was thanking the man they knew was Bramwell.

“Here, mate,” Bramwell was saying, producing a packet from his pocket, “have one of my f**s. It’ll calm your nerves.”

“That’s kind of you,” replied the man, who was still shaking with the fear that had grabbed him when he had feared the worst as his legs seems to be sucked down into the bowels of the Earth, “but I won’t if you don’t mind. Smoking doesn’t agree with me… Anyway, thanks greatly.”

And he took the girl by one hand and slowly led her up the beach. “Time for a treat, Jenny” he told her, “and maybe some fish and chips later!”

The child looked up at him, smiling at last after a truly scary experience. “He was nice, that man who helped us,” she said.

Meanwhile, a third man, this time in uniform, arrived and asked them if they were all right. It seemed that he was some kind of beach caretaker and probably afraid that someone might accuse him of neglecting his duties.

“There was a sign,” he said, pointing to a piece of wood with words painted on it, lying where the sea had dropped it as it slowly retreated with the tide, “nothing stays put these days! But it was supposed to warn you about that patch of sand!”

“Not much good where is is, though,” replied the man who was still shaking from his experience.

“Come on,” urged Daisy, “let’s get back to your crab pools where we might be safe enough, and then we’ll find somewhere to have lunch.”

“Yummy!” shouted Brian, who was already feeling hungry.

Bramwell watched them as they slowly walked up the beach, and shook his head.

© Peter Rogerson 26.02.23

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