I remember…

I remember running down the long length of sands at Ogmore-by-Sea, the wind whipping my hair into my eyes and the blown sand already sticking to my skin. I ran badly; my sisters, though younger, ran well. To avoid being last in any race I stopped to observe the grey horizon and the patch of brightness behind the rolling clouds that showed somewhere the sun was shining.

The sea came in flatly over the sand. It looked sluggish and oily and the foam was more like scum. Here and there semi-solid masses bobbed in the water, sewage disgorged through the pipe that extended out into the sea but never quite far enough from the shore and sometimes, when the tide was particularly low, was completely exposed.

My sisters were already ploughing out into the water, splashing and shrieking in competition with the wheeling gulls. The water reached the backs of my knees and I shuddered. I would have tried to turn back but they were holding hands and dancing round in circles and then ducking down to catch the grey waves and shrieking again. I wanted to go and I wanted to stay.

I looked back up the beach where a very long way away my mother was sitting on a rock, a headscarf around her hair and a basket by her side. I knew what was in that basket. I could already feel the rough, dry towel on my skin and her hands rubbing my arms and back to stop my teeth chattering. And best of all, beyond any sensation before or since, the solid chunk of Cadbury’s Milk chocolate broken off a big family bar and so hard it had to be sucked not chewed. The rich warmth of it would seep into me and the towel would warm my skin and my sense of well-being and of being loved was wrapped up in that moment.

I knew everything was shared though and I wouldn’t get any before my sisters and I wanted to be part of the game, not left out on the edge, so I ran towards them tripping and splashing until I was as wet as they were.