by Jessica Ryn
‘I thought it was starting at ten.’
‘No – nine.’
The nurse gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. ‘Damn it. I told the radio station it was ten.’
‘Radio station?’
‘Yes. Didn’t you hear it? I called them yesterday to ask if they’d plug it this morning. When I told them what was happening with your hostel they said they’d come and interview you before you get in the water – hope you don’t mind, Dawn love.’
‘Not one bit,’ Dawn says slowly.
‘And they’ve already announced it several times today. Everyone in Kent has probably heard it by now, not just Dover. I reckon the place will be swarming.’
‘Then we’d better hurry,’ Dawn squeaks.
Dawn’s mind lights up on the way back to the beach. She links her hand through her dad’s arm and imagines people crying in their living rooms when they listen to what Dawn has to say. It will ‘go viral’ as Cara always says, and eventually, Colin Firth will get wind of it all. ‘Who is this Dawn the people speak of?’ he might ask. Then he’ll Uber it down to Dover, sprinkle millions of pounds over the hostel and then take Dawn out to dinner. He’s quite likely to fall in love with her, so she’d better check he’s not married first…
‘Who are all these people?’ Grace is saying. Dawn hadn’t realised she’d reached the beach yet.
‘Eh?’
‘All the people you brought back with you – they’re all stripping down to their swimming costumes. A lot of them look very… old.’ She mouths the last word.
‘I’m Nurse Carter.’ A huge hand moves past Dawn’s peripheral vision and pumps Grace’s fist up and down with the strength of a shot-put competitor. ‘I work with Dawn’s dad at Oaklands Residential Home. The others are nurses or fellow residents of his. He was very keen to do this – or at least he was at breakfast. He appears to have forgotten since.’
Dawn’s dad is speaking to a passing dog walker and absentmindedly stroking the head of a Great Dane.
‘How did you risk-assess this?’ breathes Grace, clearly in awe. ‘How did you get your managers to agree to it?’
‘Same way I got the radio on board to appeal to the people for support,’ she says cheerfully. ‘Research.’
Dawn watches Grace’s face as she tries to work out what the hell is happening. A car carrying blaring music comes crunching along the road behind the promenade. It screeches to a halt. Four loud door slams echo towards the beach. Four bodies walk towards them. Two cameras and two microphones.
‘We’re here for the nurse and for a Dawn Brightside,’ the man with the red hair calls out.
Dawn’s chest constricts. Her throat squeezes and her heart thuds. The sudden flash of red she always sees in her mind. Don’t you ever tell. I will find you and kill you. She clenches her fists, closes her eyes and digs deep, remembering what her therapist had taught her. You are safe, Dawn. He’s in prison and he can’t get to you anymore. You can stay where you are. It’s just red hair, the same colour as Nurse Carter’s.
‘Right here,’ she calls back in her loudest, clearest voice.
‘Umm… could I please ask what’s going on? I’m the manager at St Jude’s,’ Grace says in her bossy voice.
‘We’re here about the fundraising – the swim in the sea? We’ve been telling people about it all morning.’
A swarm of people appear at once on the beach and a din of feet on pebbles reverberates around Dawn.
‘Have a listen,’ the man says to Grace as he fiddles with his phone.
An advert for a local double-glazing firm blasts out, followed by the familiar jingle of the radio station.
‘I don’t really get what…’
The man puts a finger over his lips and points towards his phone. Dawn cocks her ear closer to listen to the smooth voice of the radio presenter.
Ten minutes to go, folks, until the charity swimathon gets underway on Dover beach. The event is to raise money for St Jude’s, a local homeless hostel that is facing closure due to funding cuts. Over three hundred and thirty thousand people were recorded as homeless in the UK last year, and numbers continue to rise. Recent changes in the benefit system and to government funding have put an unprecedented pressure on local services, bringing places like St Jude’s to its knees.
So, what can local people do to help? a second voice asks.
You can start by getting yourselves down to Dover beach. Several supporters will be doing a sponsored swim. There’ll be donation buckets at the location or people can give online on the St Jude’s Facebook giving page. Why not take a dip yourself?
It does appear to be raining. Do you think this might put people off?
Well, according to local nurse, Petunia Carter, there is solid medical research that suggests a quick swim or submersion into cold water can be beneficial to our mental wellbeing. In fact, she is encouraging her own patients who suffer from dementia and Alzheimer’s to give it a go.
You heard it here folks! Come and support your local homeless hostel and have a crack at improving your mental health. See you all in the sea!
Chapter 39
Dawn
DAWN LISTENS TO THE chatter around her on the beach as the radio announcement fades into a song from the charts. Spirits are rising and the worry lines have disappeared from Grace’s face.
‘This is fantastic.’ Grace’s eyes are glowing. ‘And look at all these people!’
Peter is standing between Hazel and Nurse Carter in front of the ice cream stand. People are actually queuing to put their money in the bucket he’s holding.
‘You going in like that?’ Cara asks, looking at Dawn’s favourite Dover T-shirt. ‘The salt will ruin the lettering if you wear that in the sea.’
‘Course not.’ Dawn pulls it over her head and wriggles out of her trousers, standing proud in her brand new costume, purchased especially for the occasion.
‘Very nice,’ whistles Cara.
‘£10.99 from Sports Direct,’ Dawn says with a grin. ‘Fifty per cent off.’
A large microphone appears in front of Dawn’s face. ‘Could we get a quick interview before you rush into the sea?’
A flash goes off, making Dawn screw up her eyes. A second microphone now, held by a woman wearing a Kent News badge.
‘It’s not just the radio,’ Cara murmurs, rubbing her hands together. ‘Local newspaper and TV stations are here. We’ll be all over the internet by this afternoon.’
Dawn thinks fast. This is their chance. All of them. It’s not just her story to tell.
‘I just need one minute,’ she says to the crew before pulling Cara towards the waves. ‘We need to round everybody up.’
Frantic looks over shoulders and baseball caps. Trying to find her tribe amongst the masses makes Dawn’s head spin. With Cara’s help, the residents and staff of St Jude’s Hostel for the Homeless get themselves in one big huddle, rugby-style. Dawn tells them her plan before looking into the faces of each person present. Collective nods and choruses of let’s do this echo around the circle.
‘We’re here to tell you a story,’ Dawn says when they reach the cameras. ‘Each one of us has one, and we’re not going anywhere until you’ve heard them all.’
‘I’ll go first.’ Jack takes a small step forward. ‘Before I arrived at St Jude’s, I was a little shit, all alone in the world. I got kicked backwards and forwards more often than a ball in play at London stadium.’
‘Hey!’ shouts a woman in a West Ham scarf.
‘Sorry,’ says Jack with a grin. ‘But it’s true. In and out of foster homes, YOT centres, prison. Now I’m at work on the building site every day, I’m not nicking cars, and I can cook a mean roast dinner.’
‘I was sleeping in the park, about a hundred steps from here. Before that, I was in a squat, getting the shit kicked out of me for refusing to give visitors what they came for,’ Cara says, staring ahead at the counter.
Dawn’s stomach twists. However awful people’s pasts were known to
be, there was always more lurking inside them, hiding in the corners.
‘St Jude’s handed me back my dignity and reminded me I matter. I found people who look out for me. I’ve not had that in years,’ Dawn carries on. ‘We all have something to offer the world, we just need a chance.’
Teardrop Terry and the others rattle through their speeches. The woman holding the microphone out asks her colleague to take it whilst she removes her glasses and cleans them with the bottom of her cardigan. She looks up as Teardrop Terry talks about his sixth birthday; the day he found his mum unconscious in a bath filled with red water. ‘Everything went to shit after that day. Until I got a room at St Jude’s and a key worker who gave one about what happened to me.’
‘Okay,’ the interviewer whispers. ‘I’ve heard enough.’ She clears her throat and places the microphone under her mouth. ‘If anyone listening has been at all affected by these stories, please get yourself down here or consider donating online.’
Thunder grumbles in the distance and Dawn looks up at the ever-darkening sky. The rain becomes heavier and instead of running for shelter, people everywhere are peeling off their clothes and moving towards the sea. Loud cheering can be heard to the right and Dawn realises that several others have waded in fully clothed. Close in front of her is her lovely dad, slowly making his way forward over the stones next to Nurse Carter.
‘Good luck, Dad.’ Dawn gives his arm a squeeze as she walks past. ‘I’m going to run right in as fast as I can.’
Dawn looks back when she feels a gentle grip around her hand.
‘You go get ‘em. My little Dawn-light used to love going swimming.’ Her dad’s eyes light up with pride.
Dawn kisses him on his soft cheek. ‘Thank you.’
The pebbles are sharp and Dawn cries out as she hops across them, the smallest ones sticking between her toes. Goosebumps prick her from top to bottom as soon as her feet find the freezing water. A retreating wave sucks her toes underneath layers of shingle and she heaves them out, striding forward with determination.
‘There you are.’ Grace reaches for Dawn’s fingertips. ‘Want to take the plunge together? Ouch, that water’s cold on the lady-parts,’ she yelps.
Dawn laughs and keeps laughing as the two of them hurl their shoulders under the water and haphazardly flail around. At least, that’s what Dawn thought they were doing; Grace is now gliding across the waves with an elegant breaststroke.
Dawn closes her eyes and takes herself back to Urmston Leisure Centre; the shallow pool. Her dad puffing up her bright orange swim bands and the squeak of plastic against skin as they inched up over her arms. I don’t want to take my feet off the bottom. What if I sink?
‘I won’t let you drown,’ her dad had smiled and pointed to her arms. ‘You have those on. You just have to relax and trust you will be held up.’ His eyes stayed on hers as she’d kicked and scrabbled her way through the water with wrinkled fingertips and hair slick with chlorine. The pride she’d felt when she managed a width. Afterwards, the scorching hot chocolate in a paper cup bought by her dad from the machine to celebrate.
She narrows her eyes and looks around at the hordes of people splashing about around her. Her dad is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he’d decided to stick to a paddle with Nurse Carter. Teardrop Terry grins at her as he crashes past and she takes a deep breath in. She may not have armbands on, but the ground is under her feet and she has good people all around her. Dawn springs up and dives under. Cold water gurgles in her ears and carries her weightless body in a wave to her left. Her head breaks through to the surface and she coughs as water hits the back of her throat, filling her mouth with salt. A bubble of joy rises up from somewhere deep inside. Dawn lets out a cheer of pure exhilaration, ignoring her frozen limbs and the seaweed caught around her ankles. She pushes herself back below the waves and focusses on her arms and her legs, moving them the way her dad had told her to, all those years ago. Within a few seconds, she realises that she’s gliding effortlessly through the water.
The sky is beginning to clear and the raindrops are fewer and further between. Dawn looks ahead at the majesty of the castle, the green of the hills. She turns towards the shore and sees the crowds waving.
It may have taken forty-two years, but she’s finally found a town to call home.
Dawn swims until she can no longer feel her own arms and then wades herself slowly back to the beach. Her eyes sting with salty tears when they glimpse what is happening ashore. The beach and the promenade are covered with people standing shoulder to shoulder. Some of them are holding up makeshift Save St Jude’s banners. Others say We Say No to Funding Cuts for the Homeless.
A fluffy towel is flung around Dawn’s shivering shoulders. ‘Come and have some hot chocolate,’ the stranger says. ‘One of the cafés in town has brought down vats of the stuff for all of you.’
Dawn sips the rich, milky drink gratefully from the recycled cardboard cup. Her body feels warmer with each mouthful and the sun is breaking through the clouds. People keep stopping to speak to her and ask her about her interview, but she can’t focus on their faces. She’s searching for her dad’s. Her six-year-old self needs to find him and ask him, Did you see me, Daddy? Did you see me? I swam. All by myself.
Teardrop Terry is walking around carrying Cara on his back and Grace and Jack are paddling in the shallow waves. Peter and Hazel are deep in conversation by the ice cream van, but she still can’t see her dad.
Nurse Carter has her shoes back on and she’s pacing up and down, wringing her hands. Her face pales further when she sees Dawn. ‘Oh, Dawn. I thought he must be with you. He isn’t, though is he?’
Dawn’s stomach whirls and her vision trembles.
‘I asked one of the other nurses to stay with him whilst I went to the loo. Now she’s saying he wandered off ages ago and she thought he was with me… oh, Dawn.’ She gulps and rushes towards the media huddle. Dawn follows on wobbly legs and listens in disbelief to a tannoy announcement. Missing man. Mr Brightside. Tall. Grey jacket. Confused.
A hush falls over the crowd and within seconds people are putting on shoes and looking around. Dawn moves her head in every direction. The sea is now empty of people, but one thing catches her eye and dread fills her vessels. Floating on the surface of a wave is a cap. A flat cap with a gingham pattern.
Her dad’s hat.
The lifeboats and the coastguard are out to sea in record time. People are combing the beach, the promenade and heading towards town.
Dawn’s throat is hoarse from yelling her dad’s name and her legs keep trying to take her in several directions at once.
‘Let’s check the hotels along the front, I’m sure he’s just gone for a stroll.’ Cara throws an arm around Dawn. ‘We’ll find him. I know we will.’
Faces pass in a blur and Dawn squelches through puddles as she moves along the pavement. All she can see is that hat. Too many voices. Her mum’s voice, echoing back through the decades. He’s gone, Dawn. He’s never coming back. You will never see him again.
Dawn holds onto Cara like a grab-rail as they walk into the smart beach-front hotel, their wet hair dripping onto the floor of the dining area. She hears her friend describe her dad to the waiter, but her eyes are drawn to the mirror on the left-hand side of the back wall. The reflection of two men. Both tucking into poached eggs. One in his thirties, the other wearing a gingham cap.
‘Dawn-light!’ her dad says.
There are so many words in this world. So many. Just none that feel like popping into Dawn’s head right now.
‘The whole town is looking for you,’ Cara says, eyeing up his bacon. ‘Dawn’s been going off her head.’
‘Ah.’ He puts his fork down. ‘Swimming.’ He slaps the table in front of him. ‘That was it… we were on the beach. I was looking for somewhere that might sell decent coffee. Then, I walked past this lovely restaurant and couldn’t resist the smell of bacon. This young man joined me as all the other tables were taken.’ He gestures towards his
table companion. ‘This is… um…’
‘Blake Brown,’ the man finishes. ‘Lovely to meet you both. Sorry for keeping your dad from you.’
‘Blake is down on business from London,’ Dawn’s dad says as if he’s proud of remembering. ‘He’s a property developer.’
Dawn nods politely at Blake, trying to disguise her impatience.
‘Blake and I were listening to you all on the radio. He wanted to know a bit more about your hostel, but I could only remember a couple of things, like the café and something about a writing group. Now you’re here, maybe you can tell him the rest and give my old voice a break.’
‘But how did you know anything about St Jude’s, Dad?’ Dawn’s voice cracks in the middle.
‘You told me all about it, love. Last time you came to visit. I do listen, you know.’ He chuckles and rolls his eyes at Blake.
Dawn and Cara slip into the seats next to Blake and fill him in on the many ventures of St Jude’s.
‘So you also have art sessions, a band and you put wakes on for families who can’t arrange it for themselves?’ Blake is shaking his head. ‘I must say, you all sound rather extraordinary.’
Blake offers Cara his last piece of toast and bids Dawn, her dad and Cara goodbye as they leave the hotel and make their way along the seafront.
Dawn’s dad looks overwhelmed at the amount of people who mob them when they arrive back at the beach. Nurse Carter is all puffed up, covered in sweat and is as red as a stop sign. She apologises over and over to Dawn and anyone else who will listen.
‘It’s fine. He’s been found and that’s all that matters.’
Nurse Carter puts her arm through Dawn’s and whispers in her ear. ‘You should know that your dad’s been like a different person since you started visiting. He sings and he whistles, and he laughs. It’s down to you, I know it.’
The door to number six is trickier to open than usual when Dawn arrives back from her eventful day on the beach. She looks down at the small pile of post that Grace or Peter must have slipped under her door, making it stick.