Chapter 1
As I drew open the dusty, ancient curtains, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was back, where I should be. The lock on the tattered old door was rusty from the sea salt. My hair stroked my back gently, as the fresh air made my spine tingle. All kinds of sins can be forgotten when at the seaside. That’s exactly what I needed. The soft, warm sand danced around my feet, making me reminisce back to my childhood. I could clearly remember playing on this beach, with my many siblings, without a care in the world. Our lips tasted salty and our skin felt kissed from the sun. A bucket in one hand, a net in another, we prepared to catch some crabs for our dinner. Now, I was letting the sun pour into the battered beach hut all by myself. I had to keep reminding myself that this was for the best. I needed to freshen up. My friends and family were expecting a whole new person by the time I came home.
The sea felt cold and refreshing on my feet. As I walked further and further into the sea, my nerve systems were going crazy. I could feel my body rebooting itself as the water rose above my hips. 3, 2, 1....plunge. A rush of excitement rushed through me and made even my bones tingle. The adrenaline was pumping through my blood, like morphine. It was powering me to swim, swim, and swim. I start to get my stiff, rejected body moving and after a few minutes I’m swimming like a fish.
Later that evening I felt relaxed as I watched young children enjoying their youth. I could smell BBQ’s grilling chicken, but my musty beach hut was slightly overpowering the food smell. There was a gentle, warm breeze that made my dress flap against my skin slightly. The hut doors were wide open to let it air. I was running through what I would do tomorrow, when I heard a familiar voice.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I know you, don’t I?” I couldn’t believe it! The old man stood there with his walking stick pointed towards me. He pushed his glasses further up his huge nose and stared at me with wide eyes. He looked like an old owl, with his tweed waistcoat. I was puzzled and obviously showed it in my expression.
“No, I’m sure of it... your Sophia, aren’t you?’ He said determined to prove himself right. That’s strange, I recognised something. He smelt of peanuts and tobacco.
‘Peanuts and tobacco.’ I said in thought, then my eyes widened and a rush of realisation ran through me. Of course I knew this old man! How could I ever forget? He stood there looking incredibly confused; he started to edge backwards, obviously uncomfortable. ‘No wait!’ I shouted, a little too loud, ‘I do remember you! Don’t you live in the hut down the beach? I used to borrow all of your teabags didn’t I?’ He smiled. What was his name? Terrance! That was it! He nodded, as if he could tell what I was thinking. He staggered off and returned into his hut. A yawn tickled my throat, as the final glimmer of the sun disappeared into the sea. Stretching my happy legs out, I decided to give it a day.
The next morning, I had a more structured plan. My alarm went off at 6 am and I went for another sharp swim in the sea. Next on my list of to do’s was daily yoga. I laid out my lilac towel and stretched out in front of the sea. There were some sleepy looking people emerging from their huts and as time passed by kids were sitting on the sand with a bacon sandwich in their hands. Next up, I got dressed, showered and decided to venture out into town. I brought with me a shopping list that I created before I even left. For some reason when I left the familiar beach, I felt sad and regretful. I shook that off and walked to the bus stop. The buses in Hope Cove are different to the ones back in busy London. In London the back seats are always covered by graffiti. There are usually strange people on the buses who just stare and ride. But here, there are lovely old ladies having a gossip about their knitting club, little children exited to go to the aquarium and a friendly bus driver who greets you with a warm smile. When I finally arrived into Rose Bay, I remembered how little shops there are here. In total there are about seven shops. There is a little antique cafe, called ‘The Blue Teapot’. I decided to go in and have a warm drink.
As I entered a little chime rang and an old lady with a knitted hat looked up from her thick, ancient book and smiled.
‘Hello there, would you like to see a menu?’ She asked in an instantly warming voice.
‘Yes please.’ I said, feeling happy I entered this cafe. She passed me a rose coloured menu. I ordered and sat back feeling relaxed. When she brought me my coffee, she pulled up a chair and smiled once again.
‘I haven’t seen you round here before.’ She said, trying to make me reply, ‘Are you a local?’
‘No, I’m not, I’m just staying for a short...break.’ I finally replied. I had to force the words out as I felt a twang of sorrow, thinking of home. I took a sip from my coffee and tasted something sweet inside it. It trickled down my throat, making my tonsils glow with pleasure.
‘Are you on your own?’ She asked. I looked up from my cup and nodded. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how come?’ I sighed and placed my cup on the table.
‘It’s complicated, trust me.’
‘Relationship problems?’ She asked. I shook my head.
‘Family problems.’ She nodded, stroked my arm then left me alone. I don’t know whether she left me feeling the same or worse. I paid and left, ready for some retail therapy. Shame there aren’t any shops round here. After an hour of walking round mostly charity shops, I caught the bus back to the hut. Sat on the bed, staring at the wall, I had never felt more bored in my life. I rolled over and thought about how I’d got here in the first place. Work. Work had most definitely ruined my life. It had driven my family apart, caused me to have a stressful breakdown and made my chances of a happy life zero. It was time for some more yoga.
Lying on the towel I stared up at the starry sky. Most people were either inside, talking about what they did today, or outside tidying up from their BBQ’s. I lit some candles and placed then on top of some books on the sand. First of all I cleared my mind of everything. I sat starring at a candle trying to capture inner peace. If I’d have done this before, when I was back home, I would never have got myself into all that mess. Just fifteen minutes a day of calm – no work, no phone, no worries. I once read in this article that the sea banishes stress. How true. I finally felt like a human being, with a human life. The flickering candles faced me, as if they were portraying my emotions. Next I stretched my arm over my leg and opened up my joints. The very same joints that were usually used to balance papers, a laptop and a phone. Then I felt someone watching me. Turning my head I watched Terrance stroll towards me, his old, used hands trembling slightly. His wrinkled face lit up and managed a bleak smile.
‘Hello there, bit late for you isn’t it?’ He asked, kindly. It’s the kind of thing he used to say to me and my siblings. Sometimes he would have come round to babysit us. He would tell us stories about his son, Simon, working in Africa. He told us that Simon had always dreamed of making a change to the world. Apparently it did come true. Simon went out to Africa in his leap year and fell in love. He came back though and raised enough money to move out there 3 years later. He brought up and built a primary school, to hold five hundred children. He even got a OBE for his achievements out in Africa.
‘Wind down time.’ I smiled and started to clear my things away. ‘Speak tomorrow maybe?’ he nodded and I went into the hut.
As soon as my head hit the soft pillow, I instantly fell asleep.
I never really was a kid. Instead of eating ketchup and drinking milkshakes, I’d have olives and pomegramite juice. My parents were always baffled with my maturity. I could speak properly at the age of three and I could read and write well by five. I spent all my time cooped up in my room, hiding myself from the outside world. I never paid much attention to the rest of my family. I just let them live their own lives and they let me live mine, whatever kind of life that’s supposed to be. I don’t recommend it. The past years of my life haven’t been good. In fact all of the years in my life have been wasted mistakes. My teenage years were hell. They included drugs, pain, hair die and tears. But no-one will ever understand. Well they never have, so I doubt they ever will. I sighed and reached out to my suitcase. Inside there was nothing but plain clothes and a couple of girly books. No answers in here then. My parents have always tried to engage with me, but my door has been locked for a while. I feel like maybe now, on the beach, its back open. Maybe I should ring them...
As I drew open the dusty, ancient curtains, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was back, where I should be. The lock on the tattered old door was rusty from the sea salt. My hair stroked my back gently, as the fresh air made my spine tingle. All kinds of sins can be forgotten when at the seaside. That’s exactly what I needed. The soft, warm sand danced around my feet, making me reminisce back to my childhood. I could clearly remember playing on this beach, with my many siblings, without a care in the world. Our lips tasted salty and our skin felt kissed from the sun. A bucket in one hand, a net in another, we prepared to catch some crabs for our dinner. Now, I was letting the sun pour into the battered beach hut all by myself. I had to keep reminding myself that this was for the best. I needed to freshen up. My friends and family were expecting a whole new person by the time I came home.
The sea felt cold and refreshing on my feet. As I walked further and further into the sea, my nerve systems were going crazy. I could feel my body rebooting itself as the water rose above my hips. 3, 2, 1....plunge. A rush of excitement rushed through me and made even my bones tingle. The adrenaline was pumping through my blood, like morphine. It was powering me to swim, swim, and swim. I start to get my stiff, rejected body moving and after a few minutes I’m swimming like a fish.
Later that evening I felt relaxed as I watched young children enjoying their youth. I could smell BBQ’s grilling chicken, but my musty beach hut was slightly overpowering the food smell. There was a gentle, warm breeze that made my dress flap against my skin slightly. The hut doors were wide open to let it air. I was running through what I would do tomorrow, when I heard a familiar voice.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I know you, don’t I?” I couldn’t believe it! The old man stood there with his walking stick pointed towards me. He pushed his glasses further up his huge nose and stared at me with wide eyes. He looked like an old owl, with his tweed waistcoat. I was puzzled and obviously showed it in my expression.
“No, I’m sure of it... your Sophia, aren’t you?’ He said determined to prove himself right. That’s strange, I recognised something. He smelt of peanuts and tobacco.
‘Peanuts and tobacco.’ I said in thought, then my eyes widened and a rush of realisation ran through me. Of course I knew this old man! How could I ever forget? He stood there looking incredibly confused; he started to edge backwards, obviously uncomfortable. ‘No wait!’ I shouted, a little too loud, ‘I do remember you! Don’t you live in the hut down the beach? I used to borrow all of your teabags didn’t I?’ He smiled. What was his name? Terrance! That was it! He nodded, as if he could tell what I was thinking. He staggered off and returned into his hut. A yawn tickled my throat, as the final glimmer of the sun disappeared into the sea. Stretching my happy legs out, I decided to give it a day.
The next morning, I had a more structured plan. My alarm went off at 6 am and I went for another sharp swim in the sea. Next on my list of to do’s was daily yoga. I laid out my lilac towel and stretched out in front of the sea. There were some sleepy looking people emerging from their huts and as time passed by kids were sitting on the sand with a bacon sandwich in their hands. Next up, I got dressed, showered and decided to venture out into town. I brought with me a shopping list that I created before I even left. For some reason when I left the familiar beach, I felt sad and regretful. I shook that off and walked to the bus stop. The buses in Hope Cove are different to the ones back in busy London. In London the back seats are always covered by graffiti. There are usually strange people on the buses who just stare and ride. But here, there are lovely old ladies having a gossip about their knitting club, little children exited to go to the aquarium and a friendly bus driver who greets you with a warm smile. When I finally arrived into Rose Bay, I remembered how little shops there are here. In total there are about seven shops. There is a little antique cafe, called ‘The Blue Teapot’. I decided to go in and have a warm drink.
As I entered a little chime rang and an old lady with a knitted hat looked up from her thick, ancient book and smiled.
‘Hello there, would you like to see a menu?’ She asked in an instantly warming voice.
‘Yes please.’ I said, feeling happy I entered this cafe. She passed me a rose coloured menu. I ordered and sat back feeling relaxed. When she brought me my coffee, she pulled up a chair and smiled once again.
‘I haven’t seen you round here before.’ She said, trying to make me reply, ‘Are you a local?’
‘No, I’m not, I’m just staying for a short...break.’ I finally replied. I had to force the words out as I felt a twang of sorrow, thinking of home. I took a sip from my coffee and tasted something sweet inside it. It trickled down my throat, making my tonsils glow with pleasure.
‘Are you on your own?’ She asked. I looked up from my cup and nodded. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how come?’ I sighed and placed my cup on the table.
‘It’s complicated, trust me.’
‘Relationship problems?’ She asked. I shook my head.
‘Family problems.’ She nodded, stroked my arm then left me alone. I don’t know whether she left me feeling the same or worse. I paid and left, ready for some retail therapy. Shame there aren’t any shops round here. After an hour of walking round mostly charity shops, I caught the bus back to the hut. Sat on the bed, staring at the wall, I had never felt more bored in my life. I rolled over and thought about how I’d got here in the first place. Work. Work had most definitely ruined my life. It had driven my family apart, caused me to have a stressful breakdown and made my chances of a happy life zero. It was time for some more yoga.
Lying on the towel I stared up at the starry sky. Most people were either inside, talking about what they did today, or outside tidying up from their BBQ’s. I lit some candles and placed then on top of some books on the sand. First of all I cleared my mind of everything. I sat starring at a candle trying to capture inner peace. If I’d have done this before, when I was back home, I would never have got myself into all that mess. Just fifteen minutes a day of calm – no work, no phone, no worries. I once read in this article that the sea banishes stress. How true. I finally felt like a human being, with a human life. The flickering candles faced me, as if they were portraying my emotions. Next I stretched my arm over my leg and opened up my joints. The very same joints that were usually used to balance papers, a laptop and a phone. Then I felt someone watching me. Turning my head I watched Terrance stroll towards me, his old, used hands trembling slightly. His wrinkled face lit up and managed a bleak smile.
‘Hello there, bit late for you isn’t it?’ He asked, kindly. It’s the kind of thing he used to say to me and my siblings. Sometimes he would have come round to babysit us. He would tell us stories about his son, Simon, working in Africa. He told us that Simon had always dreamed of making a change to the world. Apparently it did come true. Simon went out to Africa in his leap year and fell in love. He came back though and raised enough money to move out there 3 years later. He brought up and built a primary school, to hold five hundred children. He even got a OBE for his achievements out in Africa.
‘Wind down time.’ I smiled and started to clear my things away. ‘Speak tomorrow maybe?’ he nodded and I went into the hut.
As soon as my head hit the soft pillow, I instantly fell asleep.
I never really was a kid. Instead of eating ketchup and drinking milkshakes, I’d have olives and pomegramite juice. My parents were always baffled with my maturity. I could speak properly at the age of three and I could read and write well by five. I spent all my time cooped up in my room, hiding myself from the outside world. I never paid much attention to the rest of my family. I just let them live their own lives and they let me live mine, whatever kind of life that’s supposed to be. I don’t recommend it. The past years of my life haven’t been good. In fact all of the years in my life have been wasted mistakes. My teenage years were hell. They included drugs, pain, hair die and tears. But no-one will ever understand. Well they never have, so I doubt they ever will. I sighed and reached out to my suitcase. Inside there was nothing but plain clothes and a couple of girly books. No answers in here then. My parents have always tried to engage with me, but my door has been locked for a while. I feel like maybe now, on the beach, its back open. Maybe I should ring them...
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