I'm in a local creative writing group because ... well, I like writing. I have joined this group fairly recently and need to practice. Since my last efforts it has been several years and I have the feeling that I've got quite rusty. As I'm not a native speaker I hover at times between my two languages having just found a great phrase in one language just to realise that I'm in the other and then not being able to find a poignant or fitting translation. Frustrating. Here's a story I wrote a few weeks ago.
The Picnic
Matt and Beth were putting on their walking boots preparing for a hike along the coast path near Zennor. On this fine and bright May day, they wanted to investigate the disused tin mines in the area followed by a picnic.
Equipped with rucksacks they started out along the path. Walking along they enjoyed the sunshine and the rugged landscape. They were chatting amiably about this and that when Beth suddenly said: ‘You know, in a minute we’ll come to a place where we will have a great view down onto the rocks and the beach.
‘How do you know,’ Matt asked. ‘You’ve never been here before.’
‘You’re right,’ she replied. ‘I’ve never been to Cornwall before. But somehow it looks all familiar around here. Already when we passed the farm earlier I had one of those strange déjà vu moments one sometimes gets.’
‘Oh, I know what you mean, you go somewhere you’ve never been but it seems as if you know it anyway,’ Matt said.
They carried on. Beth had been right. Behind the next bend a breathtaking view opened before them down a cut in the cliff onto the rocks. They continued along the path and ever so often Beth would cry out because another familiar piece of landscape emerged in front of them.
By lunchtime they were more than half way on their route and choose a spot near a derelict building for their picnic. On a cloth they had brought they arranged some sandwiches, strawberries, biscuits, a flask of coffee and some orange juice. Matt had even packed some proper cups so they could have their coffee in style.
After their sumptuous meal Beth said: ‘I think I need to spend a penny,’ and clambered over the dry stone wall vanishing behind some thick spiky gorse bushes. In the meantime, Matt laid back on the grass and closed his eyes. He listened to the faint whooshing of the waves, the birds were singing and the sun was warming his tummy.
Suddenly he jolted awake. He must have dozed off in the warmth. Somewhat disorientated he looked around and then at his watch. It was already past 1 o’clock. No Beth in sight. Where was she? She’d only wanted to take a quick wee.
Matt got up looking for her. He still couldn’t see her.
‘Beth,’ he shouted. ‘Where are you?’
But he didn’t receive an answer. He climbed over the wall and followed the little track leading through the gorse. He stopped ever so often, shouting for Beth again and again. The further he got the more worried he became. Where was she? Had anything happened to her?
He went on, calling, waiting and listening. Was it possible? Had he heard a faint voice? He shouted and then listened again. Yes, there was a faint reply from ahead. He rushed past the next clutch of gorse and bramble and the voice though still muffled grew louder. He ran on. After some 30 yards he stopped abruptly. A hole had opened in the ground in front of him.
From there Beth’s hysterical shouts emitted: ‘Matt, Matt, get me out of here.’
Her voice broke and she dissolved into sobs.
Matt lay down on his stomach and peered into the hole. It was quite deep. But he could make out the crying Beth in the gloom.
‘Beth,’ he called. ‘I’m here. I’ll get you out.’
He stretched his arms down but even on tiptoes Beth wasn’t able to reach his hand.
‘Matt, get me out of here. It is awful,’ she sobbed. ‘There are bones down here. Get me out!’
‘I will,’ he answered taking out his mobile. ‘I’m ringing the emergency services right now.’
Matt was in luck because his smart phone picked up a signal immediately and with the GPS he was even able to give their exact location to the emergency services.
Matt tried to calm and sooth Beth with varying degrees of success. He even investigated whether she could climb out of the hole herself but the wall were very steep and smooth and slightly curved inwards towards the top. You could only have scaled them with proper climbing gear or a ladder.
After nearly an hour the rescuers arrived. They had brought a harnesses and ropes and heaved Beth out of the confined space. She was dirty and still overwrought but luckily had not done herself any damage when she fell.
One of the medics checked her over and someone even produced a cup of tea for her.
‘Thanks you, thank you so much,’ she said to everyone. ‘But, one of you must go down and have a look. There are bones there. There’s a skeleton.’
One of the rescuers grabbed a strong torch and looked into the hole. And true enough in the farthest corner lay a heap of bones and what looked like a human skull. Without delay the police were called.
Beth and Matt were urged to stay until the reinforcement arrived but they were both very tired and managed to extract themselves just leaving their contact details. They went back to their rucksacks and then returned to their car on the shortest route possible.
‘What an awful end to such a lovely day,’ Matt said when they were finally ensconced in their vehicle.
‘Just drive, please,’ Beth said. ‘I’m so tired I can hardly speak.’
The following day they were interviewed by police but couldn’t say more than that they’d been on a picnic and Beth had fallen into the hole by accident. Afterwards they decided to cut their holiday short, packed their luggage and went back home to Oxford.
Several weeks later while looking at photos from their ill-fated Cornwall trip Matt asked:
‘Do you think the police have found out anything about the skeleton?’
‘Oh, please don’t,’ Beth said. ‘I don’t want to think about it ever again.’
But Matt’s curiosity was roused and the next day he called St Ives police station.
‘Hello,’ he said to the receptionist. ‘Could I please speak to the person in charge of the investigation into the skeleton found by the coast path a few weeks ago.’
‘And who should I say is calling,’ the receptionist asked.
‘This Matt Taylor, my fiancée found the skeleton.’
He was put through to the officer in charge.
‘Detective Sergeant Banks,’ a female voice answered. ‘Good that you’re ringing. I still have a some questions for you.’
‘I don’t know anything more,’ Matt said. ‘But have you found out anything else about the skeleton?’
‘Let me see,’ she answered. ‘It was a female between 25 and 35 years old and she will have died about 10 to 20 years ago. We have most of her set of teeth and we’ve put calls out to the local dentist. Maybe she had been a patient with one of them.’
‘How do you know she was local?’ Matt wanted to know.
‘We had a lucky break there. We sent some bone material and some hairs to the University for analysis and they were able to narrow down the area she originated from. She was from Cornwall. Something to do with mineral concentrations and drinking water. But I do have some questions for you.’
Fifteen minutes later Matt hung up after having answered a slew of questions regarding their day out, why they had chosen that route, how Beth had managed to find that specific hole and so on and so forth. Matt was able to add any further information apart from saying that strangely enough Beth had found the area very familiar even though to their knowledge she had never been there before.
A further fortnight had passed when since Matt’s call to the St Ives police when his mobile rang. It was Beth.
‘Matt, you have to come,’ she shouted. ‘They’ve arrested my dad!’
‘They’ve arrested your dad?’ he asked disbelievingly. ‘Whatever for?’
‘They say, he murdered my mum.’
‘But you told me your mother ran off with another man when you were little,’ Matt said.
‘Yes, she did,’ Beth answered. ‘She left just before we moved to Oxford.’
‘I hadn’t known you weren’t born here,’ Matt said. ‘When did you move here?’
‘When I was about four,’ Beth answered. ‘But that’s not important now. They’ve arrested Dad and we have to do something.’
‘You know, I’ll come over and then we’ll go to the police station together and find out what happened.’
Eight months later in court the whole story emerged. Right before Beth’s family was supposed to move to Oxford from Zennor Beth’s mother had told Beth’s father that she had fallen in love with someone else and that she wanted a divorce. Beth’s father had tried to reconcile and had pleaded for one last chance. He had then taken his wife and young daughter for a picnic along the coast path trying to demonstrate to Beth’s mother that they were a wonderful little family hoping that this would change her mind. After the meal which they had held in almost the same spot as Beth and Matt some 18 years later little Beth had fallen asleep.
Beth’s parents had started talking and eventually fighting. So as not to wake their daughter they had ventured away from the picnic site. Beth’s mother at some point had stormed ahead and suddenly vanished. When Beth’s father caught up he found she had fallen into a deep hole in the ground. Instead of pulling her out or calling for help in his anger he had turned round, gone back to his daughter, packed up and gone home.
When his wife didn’t return, Beth’s father had convinced himself that she had gone straight to her lover. She must have been furious, he reasoned, that he had refused to help her out of her predicament. A couple days later they had moved to Oxford.
Over the years when she never made contact he had deep down always suspected that something bad must have happened to her. She had loved her little daughter and would have wanted to see her and if not that it was more than likely that she would have asked for a divorce.
And even though over the years Beth’s father had thought less and less about his absent wife it had always troubled him, not knowing what had happened. So when the skeleton was found it had come as something of a relief for Beth’s father. He had confessed immediately.
Beth had not spoken a word to him since his confession and had observed all the court proceedings and the final sentence stone-faced.
At her mother’s funeral a week after the verdict she broke down.
‘I loved her so much,’ she sobbed at Matt’s shoulder. ‘But what I really can’t understand is that my dear sweet natured father was capable of such a hideous act.’
