“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.