Reflections in a Pool
Blue skies reflect in the little rock pools below me and from where I sit on this warm smooth rock I can survey the narrow stretch of silvery sand that stretches towards the village two or three miles away. Further down the road there is a town where a castle, set firmly on rocks, towers high above the cold expanse of the North Sea. My house stands close to the castle walls.
I’m alone here, no other person walks on the beach, but from the golf course behind the dunes there are voices that remind me that other people are here even if I can’t see them. The lap-lapping of the waves as they break gently on the shore comforts me. Out there in the sparkling water a school of porpoises leap and play together in the sun.
They entertain me and themselves, as if this was a special day for them too.
To mark the day I’ve brought a bottle of red wine and have laid a napkin in a shallow hollow in the rock to hold my bread and cheese. Warm days are quite rare in this part of Scotland so I must make the most of it.
A year has passed since I last visited this place and then I was not alone. Jenny was with me scrambling over the rocks with pale bare feet, scanning the pools for starfish and crabs. I remember her calling out to those others who watched from the water’s edge as their dogs raced in and out of the sea. I could hear their laughter as the dogs shook their wet coats splashing sea water everywhere.
‘I love this place,’ Jenny said. ‘I could spend the rest of my life here.’
Today is to be a watershed for me, a letting go, moving on, relinquishing. Only I can’t help wishing for a glimpse of Jenny before I go. She can’t have forgotten the day and I’m hoping she hasn’t given up on me entirely. Of course, I know she’s not a woman who gives up easily and I’m sure she’ll understand why I’ve had to delay this reunion for so long. I have to tell her that my love for her, a love that reaches into the depths of my soul, remains unchanged no matter what has gone before. But now, I must stay cool, not let impatience spoil the day.
It does seem strange that on this lovely day there are no other people on the beach. I’ve known summer days when the sound of children’s play has echoed along the shore. I’ve seen them paddling at the water’s edge, screaming and laughing as the cold water foamed around their feet and legs. It still seems inconceivable to me that the beach can be bathed in sunshine while the sea remains so cold. But on this stretch of coast, even on the warmest of days, the hardiest of swimmers might hesitate before committing their bodies to such unforgiving coldness.
There’s a part of me that’s glad the place is deserted. Nothing obstructs my view as I scan the shore for a sight of Jenny. I shall see her the moment she arrives and set off across the sand to meet her. I imagine she’ll come over the golf course where a gravel path gives right of way for those who want to get to the beach. I can picture her slim figure as she hurries towards me, imagine the breeze ruffling her fair Nordic hair, whipping those shining strands across her gentle features, veiling her lovely blue eyes. I recall the softness of her skin and the scent of it when she curled beside me in my bed, our legs entwined.
I won’t open the bottle of wine until she comes.
I know these waters well, have sailed them as a boy with my father. He was brought up here but settled in England after marrying my mother. It was always easy to see how he yearned for the place of his birth and each summer my mother and I would accompany him on the long drive north to spend our holidays here. When they retired my parents came to live here. They bought that small house near the castle and lived there until they died. Now the house is mine.
I first met Jenny in Oxfordshire where I lived and worked. She lived in London and worked at one of the hospitals there as a member of the transplant team. Sometimes she came to the Radcliffe Hospital in the city of Oxford and on one of those occasions we were introduced. I was attracted to her at once. Not particularly because of her appearance, although she was blessed with a beauty that was the envy of many, but to a certain mannerism that set her apart from the rest. If I asked her a question she might not answer at once but would lower her eyes for a moment as if to give it her utmost consideration, then raising her head to look directly at me, her face would light up with a smile that could make man’s heart miss a beat. Her answer, always concise and thoughtful, bestowed upon me a sense of worth. Jenny made me feel valued.
At that time I was employed by one of the big publishing houses in Oxford; a job that involved worldwide travel. The same company had, a couple of years earlier, published a set of A Level science text books that I had written and developed while teaching at a public school in Banbury. The first edition sold quickly to educational establishments in England and the publisher, interested in a further series, offered me a place on their editorial team. The salary was higher than anything I could have earned as a teacher so I accepted the job and later was invited to represent the company abroad to promote, not only my own series of books but a wide variety of educational textbooks and resources.
Although a deep loving relationship soon developed between Jenny and me, our respective careers, Jenny’s of such vital importance, made marriage seem out of the question. Whenever I was in England I’d stay in London with Jenny, but sometimes she was in Oxford when I was in China, or I was in Oxford when she was in Australia.
The times we were able to spend together became as precious as gold and whenever we could manage it we’d come here to Scotland where we could revel in each other without interference from outside. My small house beside the castle offered the peace and tranquility we both longed for. We could walk on the beach, climb the hills, play golf to our hearts’ content. I bought a sailing boat and together we sailed those Northern waters just as my ancestors had for generations past. Once, after celebrating Christmas together at my house we joined some of the townspeople on New Years Eve for a Hogmanay ceilidh at the castle. I’d never been so happy and I guessed that Jenny felt the same.
‘This place is a haven for us, darling,’ she said. ‘I feel as if this is our real home. A place to come when our work is done.’
She smiled up at me and I would have died for her.
It’s early evening now and the skies are grey. The porpoises have gone and the breeze has turned cold. A mist, known locally as the haar, is forming on the distant horizon.
Jenny is still not here.
My food lies untouched in its rocky basin and the wine bottle is half empty. I think there is no point in waiting longer. I get to my feet and stretch, turning to listen for sounds from the golf course. Only the eerie call of the gulls echoing over the dunes reaches my ears as the birds wheel in the sky.
I scatter my food for the gulls and drink what’s left of the wine before taking a last look along the beach. It is still deserted and the haar now covers the sea so that only the edge, where the waves break and foam, is visible. It is time to go.
Stepping down to make my way to the beach I see a flash of blue in one of the rock pools below. It can’t be the sky; perhaps it’s a fish. I go closer and bend to look down into the pool. The reflection of my own face wavers in the water—but there is more. Jenny’s eyes, shining blue like two iridescent fish look up at me.
‘I thought you’d never come. I’ve waited so long.’
Is it her voice I hear, or just my own thoughts?
I turn my head quickly to look at her in the flesh but there is no one at my side.
‘Where are you, darling?’ I say. ‘Jenny dear, please don’t tease me.’
‘As if I would.’ Her voice is full of laughter.
I look again into the pool and she’s there. ‘I have to go,’ I say. ‘I came to say goodbye.’
‘Oh no, darling, don’t say goodbye,’ she whispers. ‘I’ve waited so long for you. You can’t leave me now.’
‘I can’t stay Jenny. I have no choice—you must try to understand.’
‘I do understand and I won’t let you go,’ she says emphatically. ‘Don’t you remember, my darling, when the boat capsized. We were together in the water. We tried hard to get back to the boat but the water was too cold. It paralysed our limbs, we couldn’t swim.’
While she speaks the haar reaches out to touch us with icy fingers and although Jenny’s reflection is obscured I still feel her presence. She comes into my arms and we hold each other close while the haar wraps us in it’s gossamer wings and lifts us together to soar like gulls over the dunes, along the strath and home to my little house beside the castle walls.