‘No, wait. I can help him.’
He runs towards the ball and kicks it high into the air. It hits the ground and bounces into the road with such force that a cloud of dust rises in the air. He goes to run after it but when he looks up his face contorts. He has seen them.
‘Nidal!’
He is frozen in the road, his thin arms raised above his head. He is terrified and I am here, trapped behind glass.
‘Kate, help me.’
I smash my fists against the window but it won’t break.
‘Help me.’
Eventually the glass yields and I fall with it, down, down, on to soft sand. When I open my eyes, Paul is standing there above me.
‘Come on, sleepy head, time we headed back.’
‘I must have nodded off,’ I say as I get to my feet. ‘What time is it?’
‘Almost four,’ he says, his voice agitated. ‘I fell asleep too. We really should go, tide’s coming in. Mist too.’
I look towards the cliffs and realize I can’t see them. The fog has obscured most of the route back.
My head feels thick and I wonder how long I’ve been asleep.
‘Come on,’ calls Paul as he heads up the beach. ‘Quick, before the water rises.’ He’s soon lost in the fog.
I grab my coat and fling it round my shoulders, then stumble across the rocks in the direction Paul went in. But after a few steps I lose my footing and fall face down into the shingle. My legs are wobbly, the dream still working its effects.
‘Kate!’
I can hear Paul but I can’t see him. I want to call him back but my head hurts and I feel dizzy. I feel drunk. What is wrong with me? I have to stop taking those pills.
Finally I pull myself to standing and start to stumble towards where I think the path was.
Suddenly through a gap in the mist I see him.
‘Get to the rocks,’ yells Paul. He’s on the far side of the beach, gesturing with his arms. In between us a churning sea of water has somehow appeared. ‘Don’t walk this way. I only just managed to get over. You need to head to your left; to the rocks.’
Then he disappears again behind a wall of mist. Seawater laps around my ankles as the beach slowly disappears. I am trapped against the rocks.
‘Climb up!’ yells Paul from somewhere to my left.
The wind whips water into my face as I try to get my foot on to the rocks and I am blinded. Wiping my eyes with the back of my hands serves only to blur my vision even more as my mascara loosens off in thick black clumps. The water is rising and I know I will have to get out of here soon or risk being swept away. I grab hold of a sharp rock that’s jutting out and heave my body on to it. It’s no wider than my foot and won’t hold me, I’m sure of it, but somehow it does and I stay there immobile while inches below me the water thrashes angrily.
A sheer cliff face rises above me, leading to the towers. I need to climb it. But as I look up, panic surges through my exhausted body. There are no ledges, just a smooth surface. There is no way I can get to the top. I think of the tourists up at the towers. Maybe if I call out one of them will hear me.
But my voice is a whisper against the surging sea and I close my eyes and try to summon my strength. Then I hear him again.
‘Kate.’
Paul. I open my eyes and look up to the top of the cliff.
‘Kate.’
He’s far away, but it must be him. It is. I can see him, vaguely, through the mist. He is holding his hand out. I hear him telling me to climb.
‘There are no ledges,’ I cry. ‘I won’t be able to get a grip.’
‘Okay, listen to me,’ he yells above the howling wind. ‘You need to jump down . . . tread through . . . before it gets too high. There’s another way you can get up.’
I look down at the water. Even on this ledge it is almost at my knees.
‘I can’t,’ I cry back.
‘. . . have to, Kate . . . only way.’
‘Tell me what to do,’ I shout. My mouth fills with salty water and I spit it out on to the rocks.
‘Wade through . . .’ he shouts. ‘. . . to your left . . . boulders . . .’
His voice follows me in snatches from above as I wade into the water. It is thick with mud and I have to lift each foot high to avoid sinking into the slime. The mist enfolds me glutinously as I search for the boulders.
‘There,’ he shouts. Paul is running along the top of the cliff, observing my floundering.
Finally I see the boulders and trudge towards them. The water is rising and my legs feel like lead.
‘Climb up . . . there’s a ledge. Go on, Kate, hurry.’
The boulder is covered in saturated seaweed and at first my hand slides down it as I try to climb up. I try again, this time using my elbows too, and finally get a grip. I haul myself up and stand on the top of it, catching my breath and looking back at the rising water.
‘Quick,’ he shouts. ‘It’ll be over your head in less than a minute. Get yourself on to the ledge.’
I look up. It’s so far. How will I make it?