sleep did not come.
*****
The children’s first morning in Cornwall was a bright and sunny one. Before breakfast they had gone out to play in the lane that ran past the cottage and down towards the bay. They had caught glimpses of the sea through gaps in the hedgerows. Now they were impatiently doing the washing and wiping up while Dad made the packed lunch and Mum finished getting ready upstairs.
“Finished,” shouted Neil upending the bowl so that all the dirty water splashed its way down the drain. He ran out of the kitchen, picking his way through the chaos of half emptied boxes and abandoned unpacking that had resulted from yesterday’s move, and up the stairs into the bedroom he would be sharing for the foreseeable future with his sister.
Neil was an active, and often impulsive, eleven-year-old. Football was his main passion, alongside Nintendo and creepy crawlies, which he often retrieved from their overgrown back garden and then tried to place somewhere on his sister when she was not looking. This could result in some spectacular fireworks which only encouraged him further. He was tall for his age and athletically built. Freckles and olive green eyes gave him an attractive face topped with unruly dark hair that, no matter what he did to it, had a mind of its own, sitting as a mass of short curling waves on his head.
Squeezing past piles of bedding still wrapped in black sacks, Neil grabbed his rucksack, throwing in his towel and swimming trunks which he had unpacked last night. Their dad had promised that, no matter what, they would go to the beach on their first day in the cottage, and he was itching to go already. Pulling the drawstring tight he picked up the rucksack and went downstairs. His sister Vicky, two years his junior, passed him on her own way to the bedroom.
“Beat you,” he said, grinning derisively. She stuck her tongue out at him without stopping as she climbed up the stairs.
Vicky had the same green eyes as her brother and was thinner, being a full two inches shorter than him, a fact he often liked to remind her of. She was delicate looking with light brown shoulder length hair which she sometimes wore tied in braids. Where Neil was loud Vicky was quiet, a shyness that she had not grown out of since she was a toddler. She was most happy sitting on her own in her room reading, or simply sitting by the large sash window watching the clouds and the birds, mainly starlings and wood pigeons, which trespassed in the sky above her.
Vicky sighed as she walked into the bedroom, a sudden anxiety washing over her. Their parents had been so enthusiastic about the move and the few times she had said she didn’t want to come they had glossed over her fears. Now she was here and everything was turned on its head, and all she felt was a knot in her stomach. Reluctantly she packed her bag and then went back downstairs.
Neil was already standing outside, arms outstretched as he soaked up the bright morning sunlight. The air was fresh and cool and the sky a deep blue. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the fact that there were no traffic fumes, no dreary concrete streets full of angry cars speeding around. Already his best friend had promised to come and stay in a couple of weeks and he was looking forward to showing him around. There was also the fact of starting at a new school in six weeks when the holidays were over. Neil wondered what the local kids were going to be like, if it would be easy to make friends. He was sure if he joined the local football club it would not take long to get to know some new people. Overall it was pretty exciting. Seeing nothing immediately interesting Neil turned around and went back inside.
“Are we going yet?” he called to no one in particular.
“Yes, soon,” came a voice from upstairs.
He sat down in a chair and waited impatiently. The beach they were going to was only a mile or so away, known mainly to the locals, and due to the fact they had holidayed here for so many years, to Neil’s family as well. It consisted of a long sweep of sand with headlands on both sides, providing plenty of opportunities for exploring.
A clumping on the landing interrupted his beach reverie and he saw his mum’s legs appearing