Copyright Oggbashan January 2021
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
My phone rang at nine-thirty am on Saturday.
"Mike? There are two women cut off by the tide at West Beach. One of them has an injured ankle."
"OK, Joyce. I'm on my way."
"The others will be there about ten minutes after you. Be careful!"
"I will be, Joyce."
"I know you, Mike. You take too many risks."
"But I know what I'm doing. Bye."
I looked at the tide table on the notice board by my phone. High tide would be in about an hour and a half from now. It wouldn't be the highest so there should still be some of West Beach uncovered by the tide, but that would be underneath a cliff overhang and difficult for a rescue. It couldn't be done from the sea. There were too many offshore rocks, so it would have to be up the cliff.
I went out to my car. Everything I needed was already in it. I drove towards West Beach, about five minutes away.
Joyce is the coordinator of our cliff rescue team. She is disabled, wheelchair bound, but is always by the telephone, day or night. She would have rung the main unit with their Land Rover but they need a few minutes to assemble. I can go alone and get there fast to assess the situation before the others arrive with the equipment.
At the cliff top I parked my car parallel to the cliff, about thirty feet away. I attached my rope to an eye set into the car's chassis. A dog walker came up to me.
I called the Coastguard," he said. "The two women had written 'Help' on the sand, but that's covered by the tide now. One of them has an injured ankle."
"OK, thank you. I will go down to them and see what's up."
"You're not the Coastguard?" He seemed worried.
"No. I'm a first responder from the cliff rescue team. My colleagues will be here in minutes, at least half an hour before the Coastguard could get here."
"And you're going down alone?"
"I am. That's what I do."
The dog walker watched, incredulous, as I wrapped a bare rope around me and jumped off the cliff. I abseiled down and in ten seconds I was on the small area of beach. Two women were at the back of the beach under the cliff overhang.
The one who was standing rushed across to me and hurled herself into my arms.
"Mike? I am very pleased to see you," she said.
"Hello, Linda. What's happened?"
"I was walking along the beach with my sister Diane when she slipped on some rocks. She couldn't walk so I pulled her up the beach..."
I could see the marks on the sand where Linda had dragged Diane. They were being covered by the tide.
"I hoped someone else would come by, but no one did and the tide was rising. I wrote 'help' on the sand and someone called down from the cliff top. But I was afraid we would be more than cut off, we might be submerged."
"You wouldn't, Linda. There's the high tide mark. You would still have had ten feet of beach left but It could have been difficult to rescue you from there."
"But the tide is still rising, Mike."
"It is, Linda, but it has over an hour to go. We'll have you two off the beach long before then. How is Diane?"
I went across to Diane. She had her eyes shut until I spoke to her. I examined her ankle as she winced with pain.
"OK, Diane," I said. "Your ankle isn't broken. It is badly strained. We'll get you up the cliffs and then to hospital. You should be able to walk with crutches in a couple of days and by next weekend you should be well on the mend."
Diane pulled me down into a kiss.
"You'll look after Linda, please. Mike?" she whispered. "She's hurting."
"Linda is?" I whispered back. "She doesn't seem to be."
"Not physically, Mike. She dumped her boyfriend last night. We came for this walk so she could talk about it, and then I slipped, stupid me."
"OK, Diane. We'll get you off this beach and to hospital. When Linda is up the cliff as well I'll take her to see you and I will not let her be alone. OK?"
"Thanks, Mike. You're a good bloke."
Linda, Diane and I work in different rooms in an office. We knew of each other as colleagues but not much more. I was hurting because my long-term girlfriend, Joanne, had dumped me two weeks earlier. I had intended to propose soon and had been amassing a deposit for a home for us both. The reason seemed stupid to me. I am large-built, sometimes described as being built like a brick shithouse, and I can't dance. I do, but even my friends fall about the floor laughing at my performances.
But Joanne liked dancing and was good at it. Before we met she had competed in some regional competitions but I was a useless partner. I hadn't objected when Joanne wanted to continue competing but recently she had acquired a new dance partner, a Royal Marine, who was of her standard. Now she had dumped me for him...
Or she hadn't dumped me, although it felt like it. We had sat down over a coffee and discussed things like adults before agreeing to part.
"We're both scared of heights, Mike," Diane said.
"Don't worry, Diane. You can shut your eyes all the way up. So can Linda. I'll look after you."
"Mike?"
It was a shout from the top of the cliff.
"Yes, John," I shouted back.
"We're ready. What do you want first?"
"A shell stretcher first. We have a badly sprained ankle. Then a double harness, please."
"OK, Mike. Stretcher on the way down."
I could see the A-frame they had erected at the edge of the cliff. The stretcher frame banged its way down the cliff. I carried Diane to it and strapped her into it firmly.
I had to stand up to my hips in the sea to ensure that the stretcher didn't hit the cliffs as it was raised.
"Mike! You'll get wet!" Linda protested.