Out of My Depth

by Gwenyth Clare Lynes

  “How long are you home for this time?”

  “Oh, just a few days.”

  “You look as though you could do with some fresh sea air to put colour back into your cheeks. Let’s hope the break will achieve that!”

  Jansy laughter peeled out. “That’s enough of your sauce, Adam Catton,” Jansy chided but she knew him well enough, their friendship went back a long way.

  “Anyway, Benji and I are on our way to do just that” she said.

  “Well, take care and do call in to the house, anytime, Laura will be so pleased to see you.”

  “I’ll do that,” she called and waved in farewell as she continued along the path by the side of The Green till it reached the top of the steps. Jansy stood still for a moment and looked across to Kezia’s Wood. She was amazed at the transformation that had taken place on the site. “Wow! They have been busy.” Benji pulled impatiently on his lead. “OK, OK, I’m coming.” Together they bounded down the flight of steps to the lower lane.

  Jansy was drawn towards the clearance site intrigued by the spaciousness that seemed to be emerging.

  However, before she could take another step to satisfy her curiosity her arm was grabbed and held from behind. Gingerly she turned to face her assailant.

  “Oh, Mrs Jenner, you did make me jump.”

  The old lady stood directly in front of Jansy in order to impede her progress and ensure she listened to what she had to say.

  “So, it is yew Jansy Cooper! Thought I recognized yew. Now, yew just tell that father o’ yourn…” Oh dear, give me patience, pleaded Jansy silently, as Mrs Jenner proceeded on her catalogue of complaints. “…that hoity, toity Miss he has answeren’ the phone said I muss…” Jansy, all at once, felt sorry for her long-suffering father, “…might be dead. Then what would I dew? My legs be that bad I can’t…”

  “Hi, Jansy! Coffee’s on.”

  A voice from across the lane interrupted the flow of Mrs Jenner’s tirade. Jansy looked up to see the smiling face of her old school friend, Emma Kemp, now married to her eldest brother, Roger.

  “Oh, Em!” she sighed with relief. Jansy carefully disengaged herself from Mrs Jenner, spoke to her kindly and wished her well, before crossing to join Emma, standing by her front door.

  “It’s good to have you home,” Emma greeted her warmly.

  “Thanks for rescuing me, that woman does go on so. I’d love a coffee.” Emma looked at her friend quizzically. It was out of character for Jansy to be impatient with anyone, yet, she did seem jaded and lacking her natural vivacity.

  The friends spent some while in general chit-chat, catching up on inconsequential news, till Jansy glanced at the clock and exclaimed, “We really mustn’t keep you any longer, Em, especially on your day off. Benji’s itching to have a run along the beach. Perhaps we could have an evening together before I go back.”

  “Lovely,” replied Emma, “just give me a ring. I’m sure Roger would love to spend some time with you.” She hadn’t sussed out Jansy’s problem and guessed her friend needed more time to gather herself together before sharing what was bothering her. She hadn’t even shown any interest in the renovations that had been done in the cottage since Emma and Roger had taken it over. In the past, Jansy’s natural curiosity would have demanded a conducted tour.

  Jansy waved goodbye and as she stepped through the gateway looked again across the lane towards Kezia’s Wood. What a difference since she had strolled down here with Stephen in the late afternoon on Emma and Roger’s wedding day last October.

  At first glance the lane seemed much wider, the trees and bushes that had abutted the lane were mostly all gone and in their place stood a row of derelict but interesting old buildings. Intrigued she crossed over to the other side. Edging the lane now and stretching the entire length, in front of the properties, was an uneven cobbled pathway. Stephen will be so thrilled at this find. There seems to be a row of five or more distinct dwellings along this stretch not just one as Dad thought at first. She couldn’t satisfy her curiosity any further because barriers prevented pedestrians getting too close to the unstable structures so she hurried along to the property at the far end of the row which had so obviously been lovingly and sympathetically restored and was a great advertisement for the potential restoration of the remainder. What a contrast to the dereliction and neglect of the other properties.

  Jansy was truly amazed at the transformation of the site. Stephen had worked wonders in the preceding months. She could see that adjacent to the roofless smithy her brother had shown to her with such enthusiasm last autumn an extensive property had been unearthed which stretched alongside the cobbled lane right up to Main Street.

  She smiled at the hand-painted sign above the bowed window to the left of the front door, ‘KEZIA’S BOOK SHOP proprietor – S.D. Cooper.’ She opened the door and walked in, her entrance announced by the jangling bell above the door. The smell of wood and linseed and musty old books assailed her nostrils but the old wooden shelves and cubbyholes reaching from floor to ceiling stacked with books bearing spines the colours of the rainbow enveloped her with an intriguing sense of warmth and cosiness. The central portion of the shop floor was taken up with an ancient shop counter on which were displayed some of Stephen’s more priceless volumes in domed glass presentation cases.

  “Hi, Sis, like what you see?” Stephen came through a doorway opposite the front door having heard the bell in his workshop.

  “It is amazing, Bro. Who’d have thought all this was hiding in the wood.”

  “Quite a brainwave of Dad’s, wasn’t it?”

  “I bet even he didn’t realise the extent of what was concealed by the undergrowth.”

  “He was absolutely gobsmacked. We’ve called a halt to the clearance at the back of the other properties firstly, in view of the fact that no one has time to tend long gardens anymore and secondly, because we think some woodland ought to be retained for the benefit of wildlife and the environment and finally, there simply isn’t the cash to continue and the PC feels priority should now be given to restoring the buildings that the clearance has exposed.”

  “A lot of work still ahead, then?”

  “Yes, but a tremendous amount of interest has been shown by the villagers and loads of people have offered to help. I think many have this feeling of self-discovery. This is their history. Some of their ancestors lived or worked in these cottages. They have a sense of pride and achievement in helping to return them, not necessarily to their former glory because some of the amenities were pretty archaic, but to a usable state.

  “Ben and his team carried out the surveys on the properties to ascertain whether they were structurally safe and sound. Some seem to be more so than others. Temporarily, he had his workmen shore up the existing walls. He then assessed what was required to restore and upgrade the buildings. Durrant’s were asked to carry out initial work but as so many residents have offered their services Ben has organized teams of volunteers to carry out certain projects. That’s helping to keep down the cost. I am anxious and thankfully, so too, are the PC and housing committee to retain the character and history of the row.”

  “What a lot I’ve missed by being away from the village. You must be so excited to have uncovered such an interesting remnant of village history.”

  “This isn’t all we’ve found.”

  “Oh?”

  “From ledgers we discovered in cupboards in the room at the back of this property it would seem that this building was in fact the home of Granny Bemment and the site of the original village stores which she started.

  “Wow, what a find.”

  “We think her granddaughter, Kezia, took over the running of the shop and when she married John Durrant, she and her husband subsequently bought the property which is the current Post Office. Then, at some later date they acquired the corner property which became the current Village Stores. I think there are bundles of receipts and exercise books itemising the shopping transactions of many village families goi
ng back over a hundred years which need sorting out and transcribing.”

  “What an unbelievable record of village history! Kezia must have been a meticulous book keeper.”

  “Yes, it has been so exciting but also a little bit unnerving to discover facts about our ancestor’s day to day lives and to actually handle documents and ledgers that they handled in the past is rather awesome.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “From documents that Adam has already deciphered it seems as if Granny Bemment had a finger in many pies. She was village midwife and layer-out-of-bodies, seamstress and laundress and she brought up her three granddaughters when her daughter died giving birth to her last child, Kezia.

  “It appears Kezia was the one who established the shop into a thriving business. She must have done very well because we think although she inherited this cottage she possibly bought others in the row as well as those opposite. Adam is still sifting through the paperwork we found but as you can imagine some pages are faded, a number badly watermarked and yet others torn.”

  “How thrilling…”

  “Come through the back. Let me show you all I’ve done.”

  “I really ought to be going. Mum expects me back for lunch at one o’clock and Benji is pulling on his leash anxious to be off.”

  “Oh!” Stephen’s face looked so crestfallen Jansy promptly said, “I’ll come for coffee in the morning and you can give me a tour, OK?”

  “I’ll be in Church in the morning and I’m at Mum and Dad’s for Sunday lunch…”

  “Let’s come after lunch, then, before I return to the hospital.”

  “That’s a date. See you Sis, enjoy your walk.”

  Benji, delighted to be off again, dashed to the bottom of the lane and on to the beach. The tide was out and Jansy was amazed at the amount of shingle that had built up on the usually sandy beach, and then remembered her mother had said there had been a number of stormy, high tides during the winter. Benji enjoyed his freedom, tearing down to the water’s edge and back, as Jansy threw pieces of driftwood for him to fetch that the waves had discharged on to the beach.

  Jansy looked out at the rolling sea. It never ceased to fascinate her. She watched as squawking gulls hovered round a longshore boat making its way to harbour. He must have a catch of some sort Jansy thought. As it moved closer she recognized the boat as Dave Ransome’s ‘Sunburst’ and hoped it was true. She knew how hard hit local fishermen were by government quotas.

  Once, she and Dave had been close but, her need to prove her independence, and his to prove he could make fishing pay, had driven a wedge between them. As she thought of Dave’s perseverance she remembered the many who had left the industry, or diversified, in order to keep soul and body together. Families, whose livelihood had been fishing for generations, were suffering greatly. Some she had grown up with had had to uproot and move to alien environments where they had difficulty adjusting to a new way of life. Honest people doing an honest day’s work, not like Hollis and Stead, dishonest scoundrels to the core that they were.

  Jansy had learnt to her cost that the anonymity of city life was vastly different to that of a close knit fishing village community. She wondered how much longer she could stick it out. She loved her work and had laboured so hard to achieve her specialist nursing skills but she also missed the gentle rhythm of the familiarity of village life.

  How she valued these infrequent refreshing breaks at home with her parents. What could she do if she lived here? She certainly didn’t relish travelling into the city each day. How she had fought with Dave over that very issue. Back to back late or early shifts would leave her exhausted, getting to bed after midnight and up again at 5.30am wouldn’t be good for her or her patients. Her mind lingered for a moment on the occasion when her father had offered her the position of practice nurse but at the time she was at loggerheads with Dave, so, stubbornly refused to even consider the option of work near to home, wanting to be as far from the village as possible. What a missed opportunity! If only Dave and I…She sighed and shook her head whimsically.

  An exceptionally loud splash followed by an anguished bark alerted Jansy from her daydreaming. She frantically looked around for the dog.

  “Benji! Benji!”

  She set off across the beach but the more she hurried, the more the shingle hindered her progress.

  “Benji! Benji!” she shouted.

  There was no sign of him. A sense of urgency pushed her on till she put her left leg out, but there was nowhere to put it down; no beach, no shingle. Her eyes stopped searching around her. She looked down, her whole body rapidly following. Then she saw him. Benji was in the water of the harbour thrashing about and frightened. Jansy let out a strangled cry as within seconds, her arms flaying around windmill fashion, she joined him. The shingle ridge had completely obliterated the harbour edge.

  As she surfaced Jansy caught her breath. The water was bitterly cold and the current swift. She rapidly scanned the surface of the water. When she spotted Benji she tried to swim towards him but her clothing dragged her down. When he heard her voice the frenzied splashing ceased and, even though her strokes became more laborious, she gently coaxed him to swim with her nearer to the harbour wall. It took all of Jansy’s concentration to achieve any sustainable movement.

  She reached out a hand to the wall but there was nothing to hold on to. She searched frantically for something to grab, a life-belt, a foot hold, anything. There was only a solid twenty foot wall, covered in green slime, towering above her. Her heart sank. She felt sick.

  “I mustn’t panic. I must stay calm. I must keep moving. Good boy, Benji, come with me,” languidly she uttered the last words out loud.

  Slowly, Jansy followed the line of the wall anticipating that at some point she would find a way out of the water, a mooring rope or a ladder. However, cold and fatigue were beginning to take their toll. Surely, there must be a buoy! Where are the boats? Where’s Dave’s boat? I can’t even ask you to help me God because I’ve ignored you and left you out of my life too long. Another consequence of my stubbornness! She was finding it difficult to stay afloat and drifted towards the centre of the river.

  “Help! Help!” she yelled as loudly as she could. With great effort she thrashed her arms on the surface of the water to create as much disturbance as possible. Benji caught on and valiantly barked and splashed. Jansy stopped, kept her head above water, and then, commenced the procedure over again hoping to gain someone’s attention. She lost count of the number of times she repeated this routine. She was getting drowsy and comatose, unable to concentrate and think coherently. Oh, God, I do need you!

  Vaguely aware of noise and voices she could fight the oblivion that engulfed her no longer and sank into the dark abyss.

  With horror Dave witnessed the incident as he steered the ‘Sunburst’ through the harbour mouth, so he called the coastguard for assistance, and then gently eased his boat along the channel searching for dog and girl. By the time the lifeboat arrived he had located the pair. His heart lurched when he recognized them as Jansy Cooper and Benji!

  With expertise born of experience the lifeboat crew rescued them both. Benji was taken to the Animal Rescue Centre where vets were on hand to monitor his condition. Jansy was airlifted to the Norfolk and Norwich Hospital where her condition caused considerable concern as she was barely conscious and suffering from hypothermia and the possible threat of pneumonia.

  Her journey from the unconscious state to the conscious was bewildering and frustrating. She became aware of someone calling her name, holding her hand, a familiar smell. Work! Jansy shivered. She was cold, so cold. She tried to talk, to open her eyes, to ask for something to keep her warm but the words wouldn’t come. Unbidden, scenes with Jeremy Stead and Steve Hollis flickered through the pictures of her mind, interspersed with the gentle voice of her father. Little Mrs Jenner floated in and out, still chattering about her ailments. Then she smelt fish and heard Dave’s deep voice, followed by that of her mother
, gently stroking her brow and talking softly of everyday things. She saw a vague silhouette of Laura Catton, then dear Emma with a paintbrush in her hand, by the side of the harbour.

  Jansy tried to pull herself away from the muddled darkness that seemed to be holding on to her. It was such an effort dragging herself towards the light, the warmth, the familiar. The more she attempted to reach out, the more she was held back. Her eyes wouldn’t open. Words would not come to be spoken.

  “Sister Janice, Sister Janice,” a firm voice called out.

  “No..o, no..o,” Jansy mumbled. “Janss..s, J..ansy.”

  “Dear Jansy,” said a voice sitting beside her and a hand gently squeezed hers. “She’s coming back to us.”

  Gradually she opened her eyes and focussed on the familiar face looking down at her with love and tenderness.

  “The Lord be praised!”

  “Oh, Dad,” she whispered.

  It was many days later that Jansy was allowed home, weak but alive. Her mother fussed round her like a broody hen, her father guarded her protectively and Dave became a frequent visitor. He was as devoted as ever. It was as though the rift between them had never happened. At times Jansy found their cosseting rather claustrophobic.

  She had explained numerous times about Benji disappearing into the water, the build up of shingle and the unprotected sea wall that contributed to her falling in after him.

  “Something needs to be done about that,” said Trixie in her determined voice that signalled action. “It can’t be left so open. It’s so hazardous and dangerous. Next time might be fatal for someone.”

  “Oh, Mum, don’t say that,” said Jansy.

  “She’s right, my dear,” said Doctor Cooper thoughtfully. “I’ll bring it up at the next Parish Council meeting. See what we can do.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Whilst Trixie campaigned for warning signs and more accessible life belts and all the trappings of safety she felt necessary, Jansy renewed her strength strolling through the village in the late spring sunshine, accompanied by Benji, keeping well clear of the harbour edge.