The Wave

But this is not an ordinary evening. Now I am alone, I am hit with the full force of that. Nothing is typical tonight. My chest tightens and my breathing quickens. I try to focus on the sound of the waves, the rhythm of the water moving in and out. But it only serves to remind me of the wave that is to come. Breathe deep, I tell myself, breathe deep, but all I do is gulp the air so fast I cannot breathe. My vision blurs. I gasp and I gasp and I gasp – I am drowning in my fear. I cannot make it stop. The sickness builds up inside me until, all of a sudden, I cannot hold it in. I turn around in time to throw up in the bin behind me.

Throwing up helps. I breathe a little deeper, and then deeper still. Presently, I find I am able to stand up. My legs are shaking, but they are strong enough to take me to the clubhouse toilets where I wash my face and rinse my mouth. I gaze at myself in the mirror. I don’t look too bad, considering … I don’t let myself finish the sentence. I need to compose myself before I go back to the others. I don’t want them to see me reduced like this. I invited them so I wouldn’t be alone tonight, but now they are here I find myself wanting to be the person who holds it all together. I am not quite sure why. Perhaps I want to be seen as strong, because generally I am not. Or perhaps I am just seeking redemption. My reflection stares back at me, as it reasserts the deceptive mask of calm, the face that says all is well. It’s been a while since I’ve had to use this trick; I’m a little unsettled by how easy the habit re-establishes itself. I check myself in the mirror again. I look fine. It is time to go back.

At the top of the slope, I slip off my shoes. The path still retains the heat of the day. But when I cross to the sand, though the surface is warm, the granules are cool underneath. It’s a pleasant feeling, and one I won’t experience for much longer, so I take my time, making the most of it. The smell of smoke and sausages draws me back to the campfire where Yan has been busy in my absence.

‘Grub up,’ he calls and we obediently form a queue for food. I take a plate and plonk myself down by Nikki. Yan sits down next to me. We seem to have got through one bottle of wine already, so James opens another one, passing it round the group. I pour myself a glass and swill a mouthful of Rioja in my mouth, glad I brought the good wine with me. For a while, everyone is too busy eating and drinking to speak much, which gives me the chance to observe them discreetly. I’ve decided already that Yan is all right. More than all right. He’s mucked in, cooked and worked hard to make everyone feel welcome. It’s just a shame that I wasn’t imagining his interest earlier; he keeps giving me sideways glances when he thinks I’m not looking. It’s just as well it’s not just the two of us; it should make it easier, to avoid any moment that might signal intimacy, but it’s a nuisance. Why does life have to be so complicated even now?

Our most recent arrivals, Shelley and Harry, are sitting slightly apart from the main body of the group. I’m taking that in the way I’m sure Harry intends. He has made no bones about the fact he thinks we’re stupid to be sitting here, not trying to escape. I get the sense that she might be thinking otherwise, but she seems content to let him do all the talking, which makes me respect her less. Why are some women so content to walk in a man’s shadow? I’ve never understood that. Still, it doesn’t endear her to me. I move on.

Margaret. Now Margaret is a different sort of woman completely. Though she was flustered on arrival, after a cup of tea and a chat, she soon settled in. Now, as she sits with food on her lap, a plastic mug in her hand, she retains the authoritative air of the former civil servant, the person you can trust in a crisis. As if to confirm my thoughts, here she is offering to get some more tents from home later. She smiles at me and I immediately feel a rush of warmth towards her.

James and Nikki complete the circle. They are sitting quite close to each other. He is whispering something in her ear and she is grinning. They’ve only known each other a few hours, but there seems to be something between them. Do people really fall for each other that quickly? Or is it just the situation we find ourselves in? Whatever the reason, it makes me feel happy, right at this moment, that I’ve been the means of bringing them together. Of bringing us all together. I have a momentary rise of panic when I think what that means. I push it firmly back in its box. I am determined I will not let fear ruin this evening.

‘Fuck,’ says Yan, interrupting my thoughts.

‘What?’

‘The BBC is saying that a few years ago the government cancelled the National Disaster Early Warning Unit. They’re saying that it could have saved us…’

Fuck indeed.

‘That’s assuming it would have worked,’ says Margaret.

‘Of course it would have worked,’ says Harry sharply. He glowers at Margaret who blushes for some reason. Time to change the subject.

‘Let’s play a get-to-know-you game,’ I say with my best hostess voice. ‘How about we share our favourite memory?’

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