He’d heard her calling him last night, calling his name, in that lighthearted way she used to. Tom, Tom …. Then she was gone. No face, just her voice. And now this morning her presence lingered in the early morning air. It’s no use dreaming, he thought, she’s gone.

He threw back the thin covers, slid his pyjama clad legs over the side of the bed and sat up, surveying the dimmed room. Silence enveloped him like a soft silken scarf, like her scarf, the one he’d given her for her last birthday. He felt an unfamiliar calm, wondering what was different. Then he sighed, recognizing the stillness in the air. The wretched storm, that had raged and battled the coast for the last few days, had passed, moving on to new playgrounds. The wind no longer roared along the beach, tangling with the trees and attacking his house. Nature no longer held him in captivity, he could venture out for the first time in days.

Old Tom shuffled to the window and drew back the faded curtains. The gentle blue sky looked innocently down on the beach, as if the last few days hadn’t happened. Driftwood and other unrecognizable treasures thrown up by the sea littered the deserted beach. The sea no longer crashed angrily onto the unsuspecting sand, but gentle breakers rolled in, rushing and stretching out to retrieve some of the deposited debris. Sensing the sea’s restlessness, a contrary moodiness almost, he knew it wasn’t yet ready to be stilled. Tom, Tom, the sea beckoned him, just like she had last night. It was a day just like this, he thought, then instantly shut his mind and heart to the memory.

No longer imprisoned by the storm, Tom decided to go for a walk to shake off his uninvited memories. He dressed quickly and with damp marram grass swishing around his ankles he ambled down the sandy path from his cottage, onto the outstretched beach. To his surprise two sets of small footprints had already disturbed the rippled sand. The sun’s welcome rays warmed the chill morning air. Tom smiled, closed his eyes and breathed in the morning freshness.  This was the kind of morning he liked best.

He picked up a long, twisted stick, weathered smooth by the sea over time, and walked close to the sea’s edge. The sand was damp and hardened, the water not quite reaching his sandalled feet. The waves rippled daringly towards him, like a playful kitten finding out how brave it could be. The fury of the last few days had vanished.

Tom unbuckled his sandals so as to feel the sand between his toes. With one sandal in each hand as headed down the beach, drawn like a magnet towards the grey house – still grey after all these years. Two small girls played on the beach ahead, squealing and laughing excitedly as the wind carried their voices away to be drowned by the gentle dumping of the waves. Squawking gulls circled overhead, competing for attention. So I’m not the first to escape, he thought. The girls have beaten me to it.

Running backwards and forwards, the girls shrieked loudly as the sea stretched out its fingers and chased them back onto the higher sand. Jodie and Kate Palmer were staying with their parents in the house next door, enjoying the last week of the school holidays. Sometimes they waved shyly over the fence, or called to him on their way back from the beach.

He’d never know the blessing of grandchildren. He and his wife, Margurite, once had a child. But now there was only Tom. He ached with loneliness not yet lifted, thinking of Margurite, gone two winters now – Margurite, who’d called to him through the passing storm last night, with the same lightheartedness as the girls on the beach.

The bustling family’s arrival next door took him by surprise last week. Most of the holiday makers had packed their belongings into their flash city cars and returned to their high-pressured jobs and magazine-like homes. He welcomed the peace and quiet, the chance to be alone again, but had not yet adjusted to having the beach to himself again. The Palmer’s arrival had delayed the feeling of isolation for just a little longer.

 He’d learned Kate’s name first. Kate, the youngest, impulsive one, left Tom breathless as she rushed from place to place, always on the go, never stopping.  Not quite as wild as the recent stormy weather he thought, more like a turbulent spring breeze. Jodie, her slightly older and more serious sister, always with a ready smile, reminded him of the gentle transition into autumn. No surprise then, Tom thought, that steady reliable Jodie failed to keep up with her energetic younger sister as they skipped along in front of him.

Tom’s heart lifted at the sound of their laughter and he chuckled at the relief their parents must feel now the girls could finally escape outside. Oh, it was good to be on the beach again.

A deceptive light breeze tugged at his white, silvery hair, whipping a few grains of sand into his face. He shuddered as grey threatening clouds crept across the sun, casting a shadowy blanket over the beach. He sensed the sea’s mood changing too, as it splashed more heavily, more urgently onto the sand. Jodie turned, looking back up at her house, waving when she caught sight of Old Tom.

“Hullo there, Jodie,” he called into the wind, but the dumping waves drowned his voice.

A sudden strong gust of wind surprised them all, buffeting against them without any warning. Kate’s sunhat flew from her head, whirling and twirling out of reach above her. Tom watched her chase along the water’s edge like a playful puppy. Nearby the grey house stood sentinel, gazing down on the beach just as it had for years. Tom shuddered. He usually avoided this part of the beach, why had he come this far today? Another gust stole the hat, lifting it higher and higher.

“Kate, stop! Leave it,” Jodie called, but Kate dashed into the water after the flying hat.

“Kate, come back!” Jodie screamed, louder this time. “Kate …..” But the wind carried her voice away.

An icy sword of helplessness stabbed through Tom’s heart. This couldn’t be happening. Everything seemed to lapse into slow motion as he watched in horror. He willed his aging legs to move more quickly, wishing he had the strength and courage of his youth. Kate, small unsuspecting Kate, bounced through the little waves close to shore, heading straight out into deeper water.

“Watch out ….. the wave!” he called.

Too late! The next wave rose up, paused, and then crashed fiercely down, knocking Kate off her feet. Jodie’s scream pierced through the air, a wrenching scream he’d heard before. For a moment Margurite was there with him, screaming hysterically.

“Tom, Tom, do something!” he heard her calling through the years.

Buried images rose to the surface from the deep, dark blackness of his mind, images too long shut away, now trying to escape. The little knots in his stomach twisted and turned into paralysing knots, bigger than his very being. The chill of the sea took his breath away and called him back to the present. He stormed through first tiny waves and the water soon swished against his thighs. He bit his lip. Where was Kate?

“Jodie, Tom, help!”

Kate thrashed around, her feet barely touching the sandy bottom. Her head disappeared as the next wave hit, taking her further from his reach. His heart pounded loudly, trying to break out of its restricting cage. His breath came in short gasps, his brain screamed save her, save her!

“Kate, hang on, I’m coming,” he called. “Jodie, get back! Stay on the beach! I’ll get her.”

He had no choice but to keep going, ignoring his cold, numb body and legs heavy like concrete. Please don’t let there be another one, he thought. Not another innocent victim. The sea’s salt spray merged with the salty tears streaming down his face. Dear God, please don’t take Kate from us.

Then, like an answer to his prayer, as quickly as it arrived the wind died away to a gentle breeze. A forgotten strength surged through Tom’s fragile body, giving him renewed energy. He lunged towards Kate with outstretched arms.

“I’m here,” he shouted to her, not sure if she could hear him over the rushing sea.  “Don’t be scared. Old Tom has you.”

The next gentle wave tossed Kate forward, bouncing her into Tom’s arms. He staggered a few steps backwards, struggling to stay upright from the force, and gripped the small forlorn bundle with all his might.

“Put your arms around my neck, Kate. I’ll carry you.”

Whimpering, Kate gripped his neck, almost choking the last breath from him. Her small, thin body vibrated with sobs as he protectively held her close.

“You’re okay now, lassie, just keep still. You’ll drown us both if you keep wriggling.”

The knots in Tom’s stomach loosened their grip a little, allowing him to breathe more freely. Step by step, pushed forward by the gentle swell, the old man staggered forward. Nothing else existed but the bedraggled girl in his arms. Each step took them closer to safety.

Mr Palmer raced breathlessly into the water and relieved Old Tom of his dripping load. No longer burdened by the girl’s weight, Tom staggered onto the beach and collapsed. Mrs Palmer gently lifted him and steered him across to the rest of her family, now safely huddled together.

“Thank you doesn’t seem enough.” Mr Palmer spoke first. “You risked your own life for our Kate.”

Tom closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears trickling down his lined face. But the taps had opened, the memories had demanded to be released, nothing could stop this flow of delayed grief. At last the story could be told.

“We lost our own lad here,” he said, “almost fifty years ago – James.” His voice quivered as he tried holding back the sobs. “He was five years old. It was right there, below the grey house, right before our very eyes. There was no way I was going to let the sea claim another.”

Above, the grey clouds parted. A gentle breeze flitted around the small group on the beach. The waves tumbled onto the sand, stretching forward in a comforting way. A lone gull flew down to investigate, then squawked loudly before flying out across the water.

Mrs Palmer squeezed Tom’s cold hands in hers.

“You were very brave, just now,” she whispered. “Very brave.”

Five pairs of arms encircled each other, five silent survivors amongst the debris on a lonely beach. Tom wept. The wretched storm that had raged and battled within him for nearly fifty years was finally over. Tom, Tom, she called to him as he closed his eyes and crumpled lifelessly onto the sand.