the next week. The local councillor Hope had been in touch with hadn’t been able to make the inaugural clean, but she had pledged to post the photographs Hope had taken on the council website and social media accounts to raise awareness, as well as promising everything would be correctly disposed of. She had also said she would come along to the next event and bring a local journalist with her.
‘Not bad for one day’s work,’ said Hope, standing back to look at the unsavoury array of what had been gathered. ‘I’m hoping it won’t take anywhere near as long next time.’
‘And I’m hoping there won’t be anywhere near as much stuff,’ Sophie tutted.
I looked back along the beach towards the rockpools.
‘Oh damn,’ I said.
‘What?’ Sam asked.
‘No one got that barrel out, did they?’
It was the biggest piece of litter I’d seen anywhere along the stretch of beach, and because I knew I couldn’t deal with it on my own, I’d completely forgotten about it.
‘Too late now,’ said Hope, looking at her watch. ‘Maybe we could have a go at it tomorrow.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘it’s probably going to need digging out.’
‘Oh, come on,’ said Sam, rallying himself as well as us. ‘Let’s give it a go now. There’s still time if we hurry.’
Hope drove us back along the seawall as far as the groyne where the barrel was wedged and then carried on to the pub to say Sam would be back soon to take over from the lad who had been holding the fort. Sam had tried to call, but there wasn’t a strong enough mobile signal so he opted to let Hope rush back so he could stay and help me.
‘I really don’t think we’ll be able to do anything if it’s just the two of us,’ I told him.
‘Oh, ye of little faith,’ he muttered, walking down to where we could see the barrel sticking out of the sand. ‘We might as well at least give it a try.’
But as loath as he was to admit it, within a minute, it was obvious that I had been right. Even with our hands encased in thick gloves, we couldn’t get enough purchase on it to move it even an inch and I could see the sea was making a rather rapid approach.
‘We’ll have to come back tomorrow after all, won’t we?’ he said, sounding frustrated.
‘Or perhaps not,’ I said pointing to where I could see the beach tractor used by the fisherman to haul the little boats in and out heading in our direction. ‘Looks like reinforcements are on the way.’
I could hardly believe my eyes when Joe jumped off the back and ran over to join us.
‘We passed Hope up the road,’ he said, his face flushing, ‘and Charlie said he’d come and lend a hand.’
I watched the driver climb off the tractor and amble over. He was taller than Joe, thick set and after decades spent bearing the brunt of the brutal coastal winds, decidedly weather-beaten. Close to, he looked like the beefed-up hardcore version of his brother and not really someone you’d want to pick an argument with. Not that I intended to, of course.
‘This is Charlie, your brother,’ I said to Joe. ‘I’ve seen the tractor about, but I had no idea who was driving it.’
‘Yeah,’ said Joe, quickly glancing at Sam, who hadn’t said a word, ‘he’s been helping out a mate who’s had a stroke. Charlie’s more farmer than fisherman, but when a friend is in trouble . . .’
His words trailed off and Charlie stepped forward.
‘Good to meet you, Tess,’ he said, the surprisingly soft lilt of his voice not quite matching his powerful physique, ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
Thankfully there wasn’t time to wonder what it was that he’d heard.
‘Come on then,’ he said, quickly cutting through the silence between Joe and Sam and striding over to the so far immovable barrel, ‘let’s have a go at getting this bloody thing shifted.’
Within minutes we’d secured a chain from the back of the tractor around the barrel and Charlie had revved the engine, slowly moved off and heaved it out. The hefty machine made it look easy, but it had evidently been stuck fast and would have been impossible to dig out by hand, no matter how many of us had committed to the cause.
‘That’s been there a while,’ said Charlie, shaking his head as he secured it to the back of the tractor to take away. ‘It’s falling apart,