The Beach House(Laura Munro) It was so quiet. So peaceful. She had imagined this moment for the last eight weeks. Her holiday request was confirmed and she knew it was time. Her holiday started as soon as she closed her front door and headed for the train station. She’d been lucky; ending up in a near empty carriage with a table to herself. She was able to gaze out of the window and enjoy the scenery as she headed north, without having to partake of banal conversations or the incessant thud thud thud of another passenger’s ear phones.

Choosing the destination had been simple; the only place she wanted to go. She had spent years remembering and, once it was booked, spent weeks looking at the photos on the webpage; it was still as beautiful as ever. Those images kept her sane through the bustle of the city and the monotony of the office. She loved her job, but this year had been hard work and now she was getting the rest she so desperately needed.

That was why she was here- at this house by the sea. Even with the shouting and screaming that made up most of her childhood memories… here it was different. Here, her parents made an effort. For two weeks every year they were the perfect family. They went walking, fishing, splashing in the sea. They made huge meals together that were at least three times the size of normal ‘at home’ portions. And in the evenings there were card games, board games, no television. It was bliss. Her parents laughed and smiled together; as if, away from the normality of life they were able to relax and be happy. If only they were able to carry that feeling home; rather than finally divorce when she was fifteen and have her father move to Germany. Her teenage years were the hardest; she rebelled, she cried, she ran away… she made her mother’s life hell. But, if her parents could find peace here then, so could she…
She knew the price she’d paid for a week at the house could’ve bought her a fortnight abroad, somewhere hot… but she didn’t care. Here was where she wanted to be.

She’d packed her walking boots, binoculars and as many books as she could carry. When had she stopped reading for pleasure? She couldn’t remember. She recalled how the books had allowed her to escape from the madness. Escape the shouting, arguing and fighting. The characters in her stories took her away from all that; into their own world of adventures… books were her solace when she was a child and it upset her that, due to the constraints of adulthood, they had been forgotten. She’d brought her favourite classics; a couple of books she’d enjoyed as a child and the one that had lain, unopened, beside her bed since Christmas.

The silence was wonderful. She made herself a cup of tea and wandered around the house. She’d chosen to sleep in the master bedroom, with its en-suite bathroom and power shower. As a child, this had always been her parent’s room. The views from the windows were amazing: mountains on one side and the beach on the other.

And she knew there was a farm about half a mile away. It used to sell eggs. She and her sister had made the trek a few times on their holidays to get eggs for breakfast. It seemed strange to think that her parents allowed them such freedom; to wander off alone. It was single track road and the only things they ever passed were sheep.

She dug out her walking boots, drained her tea and set off for the farm. There was a slight breeze as she walked. She breathed as deeply as she could, trying to take in as much fresh air as possible. Her Relaxation CDs stressed the importance of breathing- aside from the obvious advantage of keeping you alive- and here, it felt good. She could see the farm up ahead and she hoped that the eggs were still for sale. As she got closer, she spotted a man in the field by the road. He waved, and she waved back and smiled hello. He came over to the fence and she explained her business. It turned out that they hadn’t sold eggs for over ten years but yes, for her, they would gladly fill a box of six.

The man looked about mid 30s. She had vague recollections of a small boy being at the farm 20 years ago… she wondered if this was him, all grown up. She didn’t ask of course. What would be the point? The fact she’d come looking for the eggs had established her past and he hadn’t made any remarks… and what if he did? She knew that the conversation would only last about 5 minutes while they picked the bones of ‘yes I vaguely remember you’ clean.

Not that it was important. She was here because of the memory but not for a trip down memory lane. Seeing people was not part of the plan: escaping was… As she walked away with her clutch of eggs, she realized how easy that had been; approaching a complete stranger. It was something she would never have thought of doing back home… up here it felt like the most natural thing on earth…

Back at the house she settled herself down to read a few chapters of the night stand book. She read the blurb on the back to refresh herself, and then began to read…
When she put the finished book down, she was surprised to see it was getting dark outside. The time had flown… her stomach rumbled as if just waking up. Through in the kitchen she threw an omelette together and buttered some bread. She ate, looking out across the sea before retiring to bed; falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow…

The next morning after breakfast, she packed a picnic and set off for a walk. Direction was never her strongest point but she knew if she kept the water on her left side going out and on her right side coming home, she’d be close enough.

Her sturdy boots trudged up the hill as she took in the breathtaking views. She smiled to herself as she thought of her friends back home; with their manicured nails and designer lives. They hadn’t understood her need to get away. They had suggested a spa weekend or a trip to London to take in a show. The Highlands were too remote for their taste; too desolate; too internet-free. She smiled again. Her phone had lost signal half an hour before she had reached the house. There was a landline but she had no idea of the number. No news; no gossip; no work. Just her alone, in this beautiful countryside…

After about an hour, she sat on a mound of heather and ate her lunch. Through her binoculars, she watched a herd of deer grazing on the mountain up to her right. She was quietly content and allowed her mind to wander… to Jake. It always wandered to Jake. The calling off of their engagement was something she had seen coming. When his job required him to move three hundred miles away, it hadn’t been easy, especially when she had secured a promotion that meant she was busier than ever. The ‘meeting every weekend’ promise just wasn’t practical: they both had new lives, new commitments, new everything… it was a mutual decision to call everything off but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

And that was what this holiday was for- to stop the hurt. She had hurt for years: since the days of her parents fighting… it had never seemed to ease since. She could never find happiness in any pursuit. Her sister was off and married with three wonderful children but she… well… she never felt comfortable enough to settle in anything.

It wasn’t fair on Jake to take on the healing process. She suddenly realized now, sitting on the hillock, why he’d so readily taken the job offer. He was already saying goodbye. How pathetic she was: to still be so needy at the age of twenty seven!

She had felt so tightly wound for so long. It was as if her own self was trying to suffocate her, from the inside out. Relaxation techniques or no- she had to learn to breathe; deeply and fully. She needed to fill her lungs with life, and release that painful coiled spring. She realized now, that it wasn’t holding her together- it was slowly but surely tearing her apart.

She stood up, spread her arms wide and breathed. In and out. In and out. She turned her face upwards towards the sun and pictured herself as only lungs. She could feel the tension ease from her feet right up to the top of her head. She felt the release within her, like an internal “ptwang” as the coil finally snapped and she was able to truly breathe… and then the tears came. She was surprised to feel them running down her face. She laughed as great convulsive sobs ripped through her. It was a good job she was alone on the hillside; passing ramblers would probably not know what to make of a crying, laughing woman who was spinning in circles. Arms outstretched as she whooped for joy, for the first time, at the wonder of life…

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