“It was far too dangerous for him to be at the beach at this hour. The night was his cover and the incoming tide his mistress, bidding him to empty the boats while she was the closest to the jagged rocks and the hidden caves. She would nigh on be at her lowest ebb now, no threat nor help to anyone standing on the shoreline. The mud cake floors mocked her steps, the cold stone walls suffocated her. Claustrophobia forcing her into the yard where she gulped at the brisk fresh air, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, long woolen skirts billowing in the wind that whipped around her. She found herself walking along the path he would have taken this morning calling to the children to ‘Go and see Hilda!’ if they needed anything. She wouldn’t be long. She had to make sure he didn’t see her, he’d be so angry if he did. If he knew that she was out looking for him when he’d said he would be back. He was probably just putting the boat away. She just glanced over the cliff edge to see if he was still there.”
Waiting can be found published in the Cornwall Writers collection of short stories Cornwall: Misfits, Curiosities and Legends.