It makes for a strange atmosphere, this friction between the sisters, and as they come down from the cliffs back to the long, bleak labyrinth of the sand dunes, Charlotte finds herself thinking thoughts she never imagined would occur to her. That it hardly seems possible for something so wonderful to leave her so quickly feeling this low. That she wishes the next few hours could quickly be over. That she almost wishes they had never had this day together at all.
#
They throw their bags down and collapse into the sand to rest for a while.
“This did not feel like such hard work this morning,” John laughs. He pulls a bottle from his bag and takes a long drink before handing around to the others.
They are sitting in a hollow dip amongst the sand dunes. Above them the long sea grass leaves blow gently in the breeze that’s just occasionally beginning to move around them. The low sun, still warm even this late in the day, casts everything around them, the grass, the sand, their faces, their hair, in a soft, golden shimmer. For a long time none of them say anything. They are all tired now, their legs aching, their heads throbbing from so much sun.
John gives out a great, extended sigh and falls back into the sand, his arms stretched out at either side of him. His smile is wide and satisfied. “What a wonderful place,” he says. “Couldn’t you just live here forever? Why would we ever want to go home? We could just build a house right here and live in it, all three of us. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
Sissy sighs back. “It would be wonderful, wouldn’t it? What do you think Lottie?”
“Yes, it would be so nice,” Charlotte says quietly, although her tone suggests something very different.
Sissy gives a smirk of derision and turns back to John. They begin to chatter again about what their house would be like, how many rooms it would have, how big it would be, what colour the walls would be.
“And we could have a special tower built with a secret room right up at the top so that mad Charlotte can be locked up in it,” says Sissy, giving out another loud squeal of laughter.
John gasps. “Sissy,” he says. “Where did that come from? Lottie, don’t listen to her.”
“Oh, she knows I’m only teasing. You know I don’t mean anything by it, don’t you?”
Charlotte stands up, gathers her bag and begins to climb up and out of the hollow.
“I’m sure I would, if I ever gave you a moment’s thought.”
“Oh, don’t go! Lottie, where are you going?” John’s voice rises in pitch as he cries out after her.
“I’ve lost my sunglasses,” Charlotte says. “I must have dropped them on the path somewhere. I’ll be back in a moment.”
As she goes, she can hear the voices of the other two carry on behind her.
“Oh, dear. I rather think I’ve upset her.”
“Don’t you think we should go with her?”
“Heaven’s no! She just needs to cool off for a while. She does this sort of thing all the time. She’s so sensitive, you’ve no idea!”
Charlotte walks by herself for a few minutes, then slumps down to sit on the sandy path. Her arms wrapped tight around her knees, she rocks slowly back and forth, heavy tears welling in her eyes, dripping their weight down her cheeks. She’s furious, more at herself than with anyone. She’s let herself get carried away. She should know better.
She breathes deeply and whispers quietly to herself over and over until the tears dry up and the anger passes out of her. She’s calm now and wipes her eyes clean, smoothes her dress down and raises her head to look around her. It’s so silent here. But for the slow rise and fall of the waves far off in the background, there is not a sound to be heard. Without Sissy and John and their constant gossiping, she’s suddenly aware of empty this place is, how desolate and lonely. She’s a girl who is used to spending time by herself, though, and she likes that feeling. For a long time she sits quietly, feeling the warm sun on her neck, listening to the rolling sea behind her. As she sits, her mind wanders. She’s thinking over all the events of the day. Out here in the silence by herself, where there’s no-one else around to intrude or to interrupt, it’s safe to do so. With her eyes closed, she can feel John’s breath on her cheeks, can smell the salt sea water on his skin as he held her down in the sand. She smiles to herself and opens her eyes again. As she does so, she sees a figure standing in the sand dunes in front of her. “It’s John,” she thinks. “He’s come to find me,” and stands up quickly, her hand reaching out to wave to him. In that same moment of standing, though, she looks again and realises there is no-one there. She frowns and gives a short laugh of confusion. “Foolish,” she says out loud. “How very foolish.” She reaches down for her bag and pulls out the dark glasses, which were safe in her pocket all along. She puts the glasses on, pushing them high up her forehead and begins a slow walk back to find the others.
The walk back to the hollow takes longer than she expects it to. She must, she supposes, have been running away much more quickly and for much longer than she realised. For a moment she worries that she’s come the wrong way or somehow passed them by without noticing, but just then she sees ahead of her the path they came along, recognises the way it curves up to a crest before dipping down suddenly into the low depression they rested in.
As she sees it, she is struck by a strange anxiety. The feeling that something is wrong comes over her in a shiver. She cannot say yet what it is, but even without looking she knows that something about the hollow in front of her is wrong, out of place. She stops in her tracks and stares straight ahead of her. She realises slowly that she should expect to hear the chatter and talk of the other two grow more loudly as she approaches, but she does not. Instead, there is another sound, something that rises from the hollow to make her mouth run dry and send a sickening tremor through her stomach. Standing and listening to this sound, all the colour bleaches from the landscape around her, every bright green, every golden ray of the sun turning grey and cold. Somehow, without her willing it, her feet begin to move and she steps forward to the edge of the hollow. Down on the sand below her, she sees John and Sissy lying together in an embrace. His hand rests on her breast, her leg wraps around his, her dress pulled up almost to her waist. Charlotte only looks for a second, then steps back again. She cannot bear to see anymore. The sound of their lips locked together, the rustle of their clothes, the quiet moan her sister gives as she moves underneath him. Charlotte claps her hand over her mouth to suppress a cry, then turns and runs.
Once she is far enough away that the others will not hear her, she lets out the cry. A low moan of rage and pain comes out of her and keeps coming. Over and over she moans, a hoarse, pitiful noise that empties her lungs and leaves her retching into the sand. Still running away, her face is wet with tears, her cheeks red, her eyes bulging and wide like a mad woman. For a long moment she loses her mind completely. Stumbling along the sandy path, not knowing which direction even she is running in, she sees nothing anymore, thinks nothing.
At last her knees give out beneath her and she falls to the ground. Too tired to cry anymore, she sits in the position she falls in, not moving an inch, staring, unseeing directly ahead of her. The moments pass by and slowly she becomes aware of herself again. First she hears the shallow rhythm of her breath, then she feels the sting of sand on her skin. She wipes her eyes, brushes her hair from her face and begins to look, uncertainly at first, around her.
She is in a place they passed through earlier in the day. Right in front of her, in fact, lies the small bundle of wrapped twigs that had so unnerved her this morning. She recognises it and examines it coolly, for a moment, casting her eyes over it, trying to remember what it was about the bundle that she’d found so unsettling. Whatever it was, she does not feel it now. If anything now, when she looks at it, she feels not revulsion, not anxiety, but rather feels oddly drawn towards the object. She reaches her hand out slowly, a strange calm coming o
ver her now, wraps her fingers tightly around the bundle and lifts it from it’s grassy resting place.
Sitting there in the sand with the bundle of twigs held in her lap, two things happen to Charlotte. Later on, she will not remember anything of this moment; she will never be able properly to explain everything that happens on this strange summer’s evening out on the sand dunes. A confidence comes to her. In a manner completely unlike her usual self, she knows exactly what she wants to happen. She can see her future mapped out before her, a clear path to follow by which she can have everything she wants without anyone else making decisions for her or imposing their expectations upon her. She sees the path and she chooses it without difficulty. At the same time, she realises in a rush that she is no longer alone. She has the strongest feeling that she is being watched, that someone is looking over her. She turns quickly. Standing on top of the next rise in the sand dunes, as if she has just that moment risen up out of the earth, is the figure of an old woman. Dressed all in black, tattered rags, she wears a dark veil over her head that obscures her features. The woman faces towards Charlotte, not moving, not saying a word. Charlotte is not startled to see her, nor is she scared or at all fearful. Rather, she rises to her feet, the bundle of twigs held firm in her hands, and faces back at the woman. They say nothing, neither one of them moves or makes any gesture, and yet there is a strange sense of information being exchanged. In some way, a bargain is being made, an agreement undertaken.
Charlotte is first to break the stare. She nods quietly to herself and turns to head back in the direction of her sister and John As she walks, she stops occasionally to glance over her shoulder. Every time she does this, the old woman is there, always standing still, always the same distance behind, her turned down, the dark veil hanging over her face.
#
“Where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere!” Sissy runs over and puts her arms around her sister, a sigh of relief breaking from her. “Honestly, Charlotte, you’ve been gone ages. John is worried sick.”
Charlotte raises her eyebrows and pulls herself gently out from the embrace. “Really? And where is he now?”
“He’s off looking for you, of course. We both are. It’s getting so late, haven’t you noticed? We were worried something terrible might have happened. He went off back towards the bay and I came in this direction. Didn’t you hear us calling you?”
Charlotte hears her sister’s voice, but she is paying attention. She’s looking around for any sign of John. When she doesn’t see him, she glances back behind herself again. The old woman is still there. She has been all along, even though Sissy does not seem to have noticed her at all. In some strange way her presence gives Charlotte some reassurance. She turns back to look at her sister. She sits down and motions for Sissy to do the same.
“I need to talk to you, Sissy,” she says.
“Lottie, there isn’t time. We need to find John and get back before it’s too dark.”
“I need to talk to you first. It’s important. It’s about John.”
“What about John?” Sissy’s tone is uncertain. There’s something about Charlotte’s manner that unnerves her, some change in her sister’s voice that she cannot quite put her finger on, but which leaves her uneasy.
“You were right. Earlier. Back on the beach. You were right about me. I just didn’t want to admit it right there. We are in love. We’re in love and we’re going to be married.”
“Really? John didn’t…John never mentioned anything about that.”
“We don’t want to tell anyone yet. We don’t want Father to know.”
“I…I don’t know what to say. Oh, Lottie, that’s wonderful for you. It’s so quick, I…”
“Sissy, listen to me. This is important. I have to tell you now because its important, so important, that we don’t have any secrets between us anymore. Not you and I, not John and I. D you understand?”
“I…I’m not sure that I do.”
“I saw you together. You and John.”
“What? Lottie! What are you talking about?”
“I saw you, and it’s alright. I can forgive you and I can forgive him, but only if you admit it to me. You do see that, don’t you? I just need you to admit it to me.”
“Lottie, will you stop this!” Sissy stands to her feet in indignation. “You’re scaring me. I don’t know what you think you saw, but you’re wrong. Come on, whatever it is that’s upset you, can we just talk about it later? We need to go now. Can we please just go?”
Charlotte sighs and lowers her eyes. She can feel the presence of the old woman behind her. She can feel her cold stare on her back and she knows what she must do. She wipes her palms carefully on her lap. “I’m sorry, Sissy,” she says. With one hand she reaches out to grip her sister by the wrist, fingers and thumbs digging firmly into Sissy’s young flesh. With the other hand, Charlotte reaches into her bag and takes hold of the bundle of twigs.
“Ow! Lottie, that hurts!” Sissy cries, then falls suddenly silent. An expression of profound confusion passes her face. She frowns and at that moment it is as though a shadow moves across her, although the sun is still shining and there are no clouds in the sky. Her free hand reaches to her stomach and she leans forward. Her knees wobble and for a moment it looks as though she is about to faint. She retches slightly and her face turns pale. “Oh,” she says. “I don’t feel so well.”
“I know,” says Charlotte. She takes the bundle of twigs from her bag and places it in her sister’s hand, though Sissy barely seems to notice. “I think we’d better be going now, don’ you?”
“Yes,” says Sissy, and turns around unsteadily.
“You go first,” says Charlotte. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you up.”
Sissy nods and begins to walk off. Charlotte turns towards the old woman. She is no longer standing still. Rather, she is moving towards Sissy, following the young girl as she walks, stumbling uncertainly across the sand dunes.
Charlotte watches them go. They head not in the direction of the bay nor along the coastal path back to town, but instead they go inland, over the sand dunes that rise and dip, rise and dip seemingly without end. She watches them for a long time, Sissy walking slowly onwards as though in a trance, not knowing where she goes but carrying on nonetheless, the old woman patiently holding her place just a few paces behind. Eventually they reach the crest of a high hillock off in the distance. Sissy’s dress blows slightly in the breeze, her copper tinted hair shining vivid in the evening sun. Just for a moment Charlotte sees her there, a bold silhouette against the sky, then the path takes them over the crest down into another dip and out of her sight forever.
#
When John finally finds Charlotte, the sun has gone down and it is almost dark. She has not moved at all since her sister left her. He is frantic with worry and almost in tears. His eyes are red and he can barely control himself enough to speak. Charlotte puts her arms around him and they try to comfort one another. She tells him that she lost her way, that she doesn’t know what happened. She tells him that, no, she has not seen Sissy. This makes him even more worried and they both break into tears. For the next hour they walk up and down the path shouting her name out, but she does not reply. Eventually they are forced to give up. It’s so dark that they can barely see the next step in front of them. Hand in hand, they slowly make their way back along the beach, back home to raise the alarm.
Over the next weeks there are several search parties sent out to look for Sissy. There packs of dogs, a great mobilisation of local volunteers all scouring the ground over every inch of the old sand dunes, but no sign of the girl is ever found. The town buzzes with stories and speculation about what might have happened to her. At one point, an old man remembers being told of an abandoned cottage, hidden out at the far edge of the dunes and for a moment it is thought that she may have sought refuge there. Another search part
y is sent out, but when the place is found and searched there is no evidence that anybody has been there for a very long time.
Charlotte’s parents come to town to join the search. They are both distraught and for several days can barely talk to their one remaining daughter without angry words being exchanged. Amidst all this chaos and anguish, Charlotte and John turn to one another for comfort and as the days pass they grow slowly closer. It is as though the pain of Sissy’s disappearance has forged a bond between them, one so tight that neither feels capable of breaking it. At the end of the summer, they are married. It is a small ceremony, quiet and without fuss. Charlotte’s family are not in attendance and she has no bridesmaid.
#
Ten years later, Charlotte and John still live in the same little town by the shore. They have a house together in one of the new estates built up at the north end of the town, out where there used to be wheat fields and, in the autumn, haystacks. John’s old family hardware store is long gone now, as is his father and his mother, and, along with half the rest of the population of this place, he commutes for work in the city every day. It’s a long journey that sends him out of the house early every day and does not bring him home until late on every night. Some days he does not come home at all, finding it more convenient, or easier to stay with friends in the city. This does not bother Charlotte, particularly. She is used to it by now and has always been most comfortable in her own company anyway. She knows that John is not faithful to her, but she does not make an issue of it. Every now and then some word, some piece of gossip will come to her about who he is seeing, what he is up to – they say he likes young girls, they say he likes girls with red hair – but she does not seek out such information. They live separate lives, mostly. Whatever spell they had over one another wore off many years ago now. One day she expects John will come to her to ask for a divorce. When he does she will not offer any argument.