A Summer to Remember - Sue Moorcroft

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to the right, between a hedge and a fence, with a sign saying To Zig-zag Path. Following it, Clancy soon arrived on the scrubby, undulating grassland of the clifftop. The footpath became a vague line where the soil showed through the grass, leading to where a white handrail was poised at the cliff edge and gulls wheeled and called mournfully above.

      Exhilarated, hair thrashing more wildly than ever, Clancy strode to the handrail that marked the beginning of Zig-zag Path, pausing to drink in the full glory of the view. Sea, sea, sea, right to the curved horizon. Catching the sun’s rays and tossing them into a million dancing lights, the waves ran constantly, restlessly inshore. To catch sight of the swaying reed beds and winding creeks of the salt marsh between Nelson’s Bar and Brancaster she had to swivel to her right and look almost behind her. The Nelson’s Bar headland seemed to have erupted through the gentle, flat scenery all around it, right out into the sea.

      At Clancy’s feet the handrail zigged and zagged steeply down, out of sight after the first few sharp bends. She gave in to its lure, her feet slapping the ground as she followed it down, the sea closer with every step, the hiss and crash of the waves louder.

      At last she reached Zig-zag Beach, a triangle of pale sand gritty with countless broken seashells. For several minutes she watched as the waves chased each other up the beach almost to the high tide mark of tossed seaweed, then fell back with a disappointed tshhhhhh into the giant blue and white canvas of the sea. The gulls called to her like lost souls, riding the wind on their perfect wings, then they moved off as if realising she had no food to share.

      It didn’t take her long to explore the beach, turning pungent heaps of kelp with her toe, shells crunching beneath the soles of her trainers, but as she breathed in the briny air she was filled with a oneness with the place, almost a feeling of belonging. Or just longing?

      Finally, she began back up the path.

      She’d toiled to the halfway point, the muscles of her calves pulling, when she was surprised by sounds from behind her and two panting teenaged lads in dripping board shorts jogged up to overtake her.

      ‘Hello. ’Scuse,’ said the lead boy, sprinkling chilly seawater as he passed. His dark curls were a bit like Aaron’s. The second boy’s hair was slicked back against his head. He grinned, and puffed past her too.

      ‘Hello,’ she said to their departing backs. Where the hell had they appeared from? Intrigued, she followed as their bare feet picked a way through grit and stones until, at the top of the path, they swung right. Clancy was just able to keep them in sight as they ran a hundred yards to where there was a dip in the clifftop, pausing to confer as they backed away from the edge.

      Then, with Tarzan yells, they sprinted right off the top of the cliff, arms windmilling for balance as they plummeted from view.

      Shocked into action, Clancy broke into a run, hardly feeling her feet touch ground until she reached the spot where the boys had vanished. Cautiously, she peered over the cliff edge, almost dizzy with relief – or at the way the sea swirled below – to see two heads bobbing in the waves.

      ‘Are you OK?’ she yelled, only half-believing anyone could jump that far and not be crippled by the force of hitting the water. Faces turned up towards her and an arm waved. Reassured that they’d survived their mad leap, she waved back as they turned to swim through the frothing sea and out of sight around a fold in the cliff.

      She hovered restlessly, assuming they’d be swimming to Zig-zag Beach but, unable to be certain, poised to get help if they never appeared.

      It must have been a good ten minutes before she could smile and relax as they puffed into sight, doing their tiptoe jog over the inhospitable ground. ‘You scared the life out of me,’ she called, pulling what she hoped was a comical face. They were about eighteen, she judged, old enough to resent reproof.

      The dark, curly-haired one wore a big grin. ‘We’re all right. We’re cliff jumping.’

      Clancy glanced at their launching point. ‘Isn’t it dangerous?’

      ‘We’re all right,’ he repeated. ‘This is The Leap. The tide doesn’t go out far enough here to be a problem. Wanna try it?’ His grin widened.

      ‘Erm, I didn’t bring my swim things.’ Clancy pulled a petrified face, making both lads laugh. ‘I’m Clancy, by the way. I’ve moved into the Roundhouse.’

      ‘Oh, yeah? I’m Harry,’ said the dark one.

      ‘Rory,’ added the other, speaking for the first time.

      Harry beckoned Clancy closer to the cliff edge. ‘The Leap’s quite easy. You need to avoid those rocks there. That’s why we take a run at it, so we jump over them.’

      She stared at the sea breaking over the dark jagged rocks then sucking restlessly away. It seemed a long way down. ‘Doesn’t it hurt?’

      Rory was beginning to shiver. ‘Depends. You don’t want to belly-flop.’

      ‘No, I don’t,’ Clancy admitted frankly. Then she stood back to spectate while they retreated twenty or thirty yards from the cliff edge before beginning a new charge to the accompaniment of blood-curdling yells. They hurtled confidently into thin air, their trajectory arcing well out past the rocks. They hit the water in explosions of spray, bobbing back to the surface a few seconds later. Then they struck out towards the fold in the cliffs, once again vanishing from view.

      This time, Clancy whiled away their absence by studying her surroundings. She was at the furthest point of the headland now so the sea surrounded her on three sides and the salt marshes were out of view. Out to sea, a couple of white-sailed yachts leaned over in the wind and she watched them skipping atop the waves. Inland, the edge of the village was only a hundred yards away. A few tables stood outside a comparatively large building of brown stone, though the parasols stuck through the tables were furled against the wind. The B&B, she realised. It must have a fantastic sea view. She glanced back to check the progress of the two white yachts. It was a shame the Roundhouse was on the landward side of the village. She could look at a view like this all day.

      Then some kind of inner alarm went off and she swung around sharply, her gaze flying to the top of Zig-zag Path. Where were Harry and Rory? They’d had more than enough time to climb back up. She cast around for any sign of them. What she presumed were their clothes were heaped beneath a nearby tree so they hadn’t got past her while she’d been daydreaming.

      She hurried to the cliff edge. Nothing. Almost running now, she went back as far as Zig-zag Path and craned over the handrail, hoping to catch a glimpse of wet teenagers jogging back up.

      Nothing.

      Breath heaving in her chest, she ran back to The Leap, harbouring dubious thoughts about jumping in after them. She was a strong swimmer but throwing herself fully clothed into an unknown sea in the hope of rescuing two lads bigger than she was seemed foolhardy. Panic bubbled in her chest. Should she ring the coastguard? Instinct made her pat her pockets before she remembered abandoning her phone at home as it was so useless in the village. She could sprint to the B&B. They’d have a landline and it must be staffed by locals, people who’d know what to do.

      Then, finally, faintly, she heard youthful laughter and turned to see them running up the clifftop towards her, grinning and nudging one another in, she imagined, glee. Relief coursed through her. The little ratbags had been trying to wind her up, probably hanging on to a rock somewhere, hoping she’d still be waiting around for their reappearance and laughing up their sleeves – if they’d been wearing any.

      She determined not to give them the pleasure of detecting her erstwhile panic. They were teenagers. Winding up adults was what they did. So, ‘Going in again?’ was all she said, gaining a little satisfaction at their evident disappointment that she wasn’t going to shout at them.

      They looked at each other and shrugged and nodded. They ran at the clifftop again, Clancy taking up her vantage point to watch their screaming, euphoric flight down to the dancing waves so far below. Once she’d seen them safely bob to the surface she waved goodbye and made her way across the

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