The Children

Deep South v.3 n.2 (Winter 1997)

Janice surveyed the beach with pleasure. There had been a severe storm in the night and the breakers were still thundering in but the clouds of the morning had practically gone and the wind had died down to almost nothing. She was surprised to see the beach deserted on such a pleasant afternoon and it took her her warm yellow slacks and a thick red woollen jumper over her shirt.

About half a mile down the beach she found a hollow in the dunes where the air was quite still and she spread out her big towel. She felt good today but she didn't want to do anything except bask in the sun. And wait...

She had been waiting for a long time but she had woken this morning with a strong feeling that the waiting was nearly over -- that she would emerge from her grief quite suddenly like a diver breaking the surface -- one moment under the water and the next breathing fresh air again. But the simile had been a bad one and the tears had rushed to her eyes. David had felt the shaking and put an arm round her to comfort her. She had managed to control the sobbing and told him not to worry -- it would soon be all right -- she felt sure of it. He said of course it would and he'd kissed her eyes dry and told her once again not force herself. He alone understood what she had been through. The shock had been almost as bad for him but he was stronger. Others had told her it was time to get a grip on herself and forget the past and look to the future.

And she had tried but it was hopeless. Almost anything -- children going past their house on their way to school -- coming across an old toy or picture -- children on tv or in the paper -- had sent the tears streaming down. She had withdrawn into herself and shut herself away from the world as much as she could.

But today she felt different in a way she couldn't explain. About two o'clock she felt an irrepressible urge to get out of the house. She wrote a note to David telling him where she was going in case he came home before she got back and drove down to the beach. Even that was something to be proud of. It was six months since she'd trusted herself to drive.

But though she had been a little nervous at first she was soon driving as though she had been driving all her life. And now she was sitting comfortably on her towel in a sheltered hollow half a mile down the beach. For a few minutes she did nothing -- just sat and watched the breakers expending themselves on the sand. It was utterly utterly peaceful. Then she steeled herself for the test.

Her heart began to race. Peter, she whispered, Peter? And then louder and louder, Peter, Peter, Peter. There was no reply -- not even an echo -- and no tears either. Sandy, she called, Sandy darling, Sandy, Sandy, Sandy. There, she had said their names out loud and had not wept.

She sat cross legged like an Indian tailor, relaxed and still and let thoughts of her children bubble up from the depths of her mind. Gradually the thoughts faded and for a little while she sat oblivious of her surroundings while her sorrow drained away and she was filled with a deep inner peace.

Then her legs began to ache and she stretched them out and leaned back, resting on the sandbank behind her, her head cushioned on her beach bag. She felt sleep overtaking her but she didn't want to sleep. She wanted to test herself to the utmost. She looked down the beach and consciously imagined Sandy and Peter building a sandcastle. Well, Sandy was building it and Peter was crawling over it. She introduced two more characters in to the scene -- Betty's two, Shawn and Carla. A very probable picture. And she even imagined Betty sitting next to her, knitting a jacket for her next one. She enjoyed the imaginary scene for a while - sometimes the children played nicely and sometimes they threw sand at each other. Now she was coming to the hard part. She would take Peter and Sandy away and see if she could endure it. She looked across to where Betty was sitting. If only she would stop knitting! She shifted her gaze to the children who were picking up shells. When she glanced to the side again, Betty had gone. Wake up, she said to herself, you're going to sleep. That's not the idea. She turned to watch the children again and woke up with a start.

There were still four children on the beach but they were not the four she had been imagining. Not Peter or Sandy or Carla and Shawn. They were quite a long way away but they were coming towards her in the erratic manner of youngsters -- racing gaily along only to stop suddenly, on some impulse, to build a sand castle. Then dawdling about, picking up shells and tossing them into the sea after a brief examination.

At first Janice's reaction was one of surprise that she could watch them with no emotion other than pure pleasure. Then she began to wonder where they had come from, for there was no adult in sight. Very odd, not to mention dangerous. As they got nearer she saw they were all dressed the same - little green and white striped tops and blue boxer shorts, though two of them were girls and two were boys. They were all about the same age - between four and five, she guessed. It occurred to her that they might be from some institution -- perhaps they had slipped away unnoticed from a big picnic in the next cove and at any minute a frantic nurse would come tearing along the beach. As they got still closer she felt sure that this must be right - there seemed to be something peculiar about them. She couldn't think what it was that made them different. They weren't mongoloids they had bright little childish faces, quite pretty. And then it struck her -- all along the beach they had played happily together without uttering a sound. They must be mutes, poor dears. She hadn't noticed any sign language, but then they were scarcely five -- more like four. One thing was clear, they must be very used to each other for they seemed to have no need to communicate.

When they were opposite her they turned, as if at a signal, came up the beach and sat in a row smiling.

"Hello," said Janice.

the two boys and the two girls smiled, just a little shyly, and began to scratch up sand into little mounds between their chubby legs.

"My name's Janice -- what are yours?

The children looked up from their work and smiled.

"I had a little boy once," Janice said. The children stopped patting the sand and smiled encouragingly at her. I do believe they understand, she thought. "he was nearly two. We were having a meeting in my house, about a kindy school. There were seven mothers and lots of little children." The children continued their encouraging smiles.

"I went into the kitchen to make coffee. When I came back Peter was missing. The other Mums thought he was with me. Somebody had left a door open. There was a hole in the fence. My neighbors had a swimming pool. It was fenced off but the gate wasn't latched properly. I got there too late." It seemed to Janice that the smiles on the childrens' faces faded. They looked down and began patting their little mounds of sand again.

She herself felt elated. She had done it. She had told the story and she'd been able to do it in a calm unemotional way -- no lump in the throat -- no flood of tears -- not even a catch in her voice. There was still one more test. If she could pass that she'd be free.

"I had a little girl too," she said.

The children stopped playing with the sand and smiled, their little faces up-tilted.

"She was four years old, her name was Sandra. I called her Sandy and I loved her dearly. Everybody loved her. After I lost Peter she became even more special. She went to the kindy we had been discussing the day Peter was drowned. I walked home with her, clutching her little hand tightly to keep her from harm. A car screamed into our road, out of control. It mounted the kerb and crashed into a power pole. Sandy was wrenched from my grasp.I wasn't touched but I broke into a hundred pieces." The four little upturned faces were grave. "The boy who drove the car was killed too. He was only fourteen. He had wagged school and stolen a car for a joy ride -- he didn't really know how to drive. It must have been worse for his mother than it was for me. You know, I hadn't thought of that before. I was so deep in my own misery that her tragedy didn't enter my mind. Poor thing - it must have been really terrible for her."

Janice knew she had passed the test. A feeling of great

lightness came over her. She felt as if she could walk on water. The children smiled and clapped their little hands and she smiled in return, feeling no surprise at their reaction.

She reached for her beach bag and produced a packet of biscuits. One of the little girls took one and examined it with interest. Janice took one and ate it. The little girl put her biscuit in her mouth, grimaced and passed it ot her neighbour, who did the same. The last child tasted it then gravely handed it back to Janice, who broke the well licked biscuit into pieces and threw it to a seagull. Immediately several gulls appeared. The children were delighted and held out their hands for more biscuits. They fed the gulls with great enjoyment and it was while they were throwing the scraps high into the air for the gulls to catch that Janice discovered that they did communicate with each other, using a sort of whistle pitched so high that it was only occasionally that she caught a faint shrill note. Like bats. Or dolphins.

How strange, she thought, they aren't human children at all. There would be no frantic nanny running down the beach searching for them. It would be up to her to look after them. For a moment she felt afraid. She couldn't explain them. A dream? The whole thing had been like a dream but without the vagueness of a dream. She looked down and patted the little mounds of sand for reassurance and put the crumpled biscuit packet back in her bag. Was she hallucinating? The result of a mind overstrained by grief? That seemed possible. Soon they would simply fade away and she would go home and tell David all about it.

The biscuits were finished now and the gulls gone. The children started to play again, running about and chasing each other, playing some game whose rules she couldn't fathom. They played so prettily with none of the natural clumsiness of four year olds and were so light on their feet they left no marks on the damp sand.

She watched them fascinated, completely captivated by their innocence She couldn't bear the thought that they would go. She determimed to gather them up and take them home with her. She knew they would always be happy together and she would not be afraid because in spite of their muteness they had an enduring quality about them and she would never lose them. They would never be snatched away from her.

They stopped playing and came walking towards her. She knew what she had to do. She stood up and held her hands out at her sides. The little boys each took one and the little girls held hands with the little boys and together they walked slowly across the sand to where the sea had laid a calm srtip between the breakers. Inviting them to swim.

She moved very slowly. The children tugging at her hands seemed almost weightless. When they were a few yards from the water she stopped. It seemed to her now there was something unreal about the scene. The sea beckoned and the children tugged at her hands. She thought that they wanted to paddle and had been trained not to go near the sea without a grown up to look after them. But could she manage four of them? What if a wave came and swept them off their feet? What if one of the little girls lost her grip on the boy's hand? No, it was too dangerous. She planted her feet squarely and tried to explain to them. But they didn't understand and their smiles faded and bad temper began to show. They stamped their feet in annoyance. She took a step further and was met by an incoming wave that washed round her feet and came up to the little ones' waists. They jumped up and down with delight and it seemed that now they were in the water they were able to pull her along with some force. She staggered forward for two or three steps before she could gain a grip on the bottom. The water was up to her waist now and over the childrens' heads but they continued to pull relentlessly. Stop it! she cried, I can't come with you -- I'll drown. I'll be dead.. I won't be able to look after you, play with you. They didn't understand. She managed to break their grip on her hands and in a flash they were gone, like four green white and blue fish, leaving her floundering in the back wash. She struggled to get to the shore but she stepped in a hole and found herself out of her depth,the strong backwash carrying her rapidly out to sea.

David had left for work that morning feeling excited. He felt that at long last his wife was going to shake off her grief and he would come home to find her back to her cheerful old self again. About two o'clock though, he began to feel anxious. She had been through hell he well knew and recovering so suddenly was a big thing. He should have stayed with her, helped and encouraged her. He was worried -- he didn't know exactly why but he felt anxious. He excused himself from the office and drove home. He found her note and nearly panicked when he saw where she intended to go -- the beach in her state of unbalance!

It took twenty minutes to find her car and run to a point where he could see into the next cove. There was nobody in sight on the beach and then he saw her. She must have been nearly half a mile away but he could see her standing there with her arms at her sides exactly as if she had a child on each hand and was leading them to paddle in the waves. And then he saw the smooth water directly in front of her and he yelled.

A boy and girl of eighteen or so were walking hand in hand along the verge. They heard the shouts and ran to see what the touble was.

"Thank God you're here," David said, "see that woman way over there? She's walking straight into the rip. Do you know how to get help -- to get the surf rescue boat out?"

"Sure do -- I'm one of the life savers."

"As quick as you can then. I'll go in after her and keep her afloat. She's a fair swimmer but she's been ill. She's my wife. We'll be all right as long as the cold doesn't get us. So be as quick as you can." All three were already running towards David's car and the Surf Life Saving Club H.Q.

David sprang into his car and drove frantically to a point that he thought would be opposite Janice. He jumped out slammed the door and tore over the sand dunes to the beach. He was about 50 yards short of his mark and ran along shedding his jacket as he went, paused just long enough to kick off his shoes and he was into the sea. God, it was cold but no time to worry about that. Jan, he called, Jan, I'm coming. How strong the tow was but at least it was in the direction he was going. He settled into a steady stroke and tried to regain his breath.

Panic struck Janice as she realised her position and she began to swim frantically for the shore. I must get out of this rip, I must. But her clothes hampered her and the backwash was too strong. Her strength was fading and she choked on a mouthfull of salt water. I'm going to drown, she thought, and those children, those pretty children, those strange creations of my tortured mind, will gloat over my dead body,

She must stop struggling, she knew that. She must just try to keep afloat and hope. Hope for what? For somebody to see her and rescue her. But there was nobody on the beach. No frantic nurse was going to rush in from the next cove.

Her mind was beginning to play tricks again. She could hear a voice. Jan, it was saying, Jan dear, just keep floating, I'm coming my darling.

She was almost beyond caring but she obeyed the voice. She just trod water enough to keep he face in the air. If only it wasn't so cold. The voice kept coming nearer and then David was beside her.

"My poor old darling," he said, "what a pickle you've got into. Never mind, we'll soon have you out of it. Remember, the water is cold but not cold enough to kill us for a long while yet. Our clothes will act as wet-suits and help to keep us warm and the boat will soon be here. In the meantime I'm going to put my arms round you like this and you cling to me and that will help to keep us warm. We'll pretend we're dancing - use one arm to keep us together and the other and our feet to keep us afloat and we'll be careful that we don't choke on a wave. Just take it gently to conserve our strength while we wait for the boat."

He knew it would come, he just hoped it would come soon before he lost her. But he knew the boy would have to find a phone, find people - it would all take precious time. He spent it keeping them both afloat and did his best to keep her spirits up by talking to her. Keeping cheerful with no recriminations. Telling her he loved her and how much he needed her, now more than ever. She tried to tell him about the children on the beach. How she thought that they wanted to help her but couldn't understand that she couldn't live in the sea with them.

It was impossible for David to fathom what she was talking about so he just accepted everything she said as he counted the minutes away. The waves were just big smooth up and down waves not wind torn storm waves so it wasn't difficult for two good swimmers to keep from drowning. The cold was the enemy. A lull came in the talking and he heard the boat. Keep breathing, he told her, the boat's nearly here. At the top of each wave he flung up an arm. He was fearful of losing his grip on her but the sooner they were spotted the better.

And then they were being hauled aboard the rubber boat. Janice was unconscious and David was getting near the end of his endurance. "Well done," he said, "you made it just in time. She has passed out from cold and fatigue but she hasn't drowned. Look after her. I'm all right."

"Like hell you are," said the boy as David collapsed on to the bottom of the boat. "Mind you, he did well for an old guy. The water's freezing -- even the hardened surfies with wet suits haven't gone in today and the waves were specially good."

"You did well too," said his companion, "if you had waited for help to come we would probably have lost them. I wouldn't have thought of breaking in and taking the boat."

"Yeah -- I've never done that before. Gee, didn't the alarm make a racket. There'll be plenty of help on the beach when we get back. Meantime there's not much we can do except get back as quickly as possible. we'll be there in five minutes. I'll go straight in and try not to upset the boat. And while we are in complimentary mode, you did very well too. I couldnt have even got the boat out without your help and muscle. And I like what you're doing now. Keep rubbing her to help keep her circulation going."

Janice soon recovered from her ordeal. She had quite recovered from the loss of her two children and was thinking of trying for another. David was so delighted to have her back that he listened patiently to her story of the strange sea-children. It was clear to him that she had been dreaming or hallucinating. It didn't seem too fanciful that her overstressed mind having released Peter and Sandy, sought something to take their place. Janice hoped that he was right and that she would soon forget them. There was just one thing that worried her and she kept it to herself. Kind people had gone along the beach and picked up David's jacket and shoes and her things and had brought them to the hospital. It wasn't until the second day after she got home that she emptied her beach bag and found a crumpled biscuit packet. Of course she could have fed the biscuits to the gulls herself. But would she?