Beach Walker: Chapter 8
Fears and Desires
Leonard watched in silence as I poured our coffees and set them down on the kitchen table. It was mid-August now, damp and cold. Rain scoured the window and I was selfishly glad we were at my cosy little house, so that I didn’t have to go anywhere in this.
‘If you don’t mind my sayin’ …’ he began, then broke off. It was one of his more irritating habits.
‘Yes?’
‘You seem scared of a lot of things, Grace.’
We’d just been talking about the extraordinary fact that I’d been living in Ocean Grove for ten months now and hadn’t been for a swim in the sea — not a proper swim, just the occasional splash around in the surf. Yet I was a fair swimmer. I could easily manage twenty laps in an Olympic-sized pool, alternating freestyle and breast-stroke. I loved being in the water and I loved the beach. So what was up?
In the wide open sea, as soon as I was out of my depth, fear constricted my lungs and threatened to cramp my limbs. I imagined a terrifying death in the jaws of a marine predator, or sinking exhausted beneath the waves as I fought for a last gulp of air …
‘I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?’
‘I could get swept out to sea by a rip, eaten by a shark, stung by a stingray. I could get a cramp…
