Between Two Seas by Marie-Louise Jensen

myself from screaming. I wait, breathless, for their hands to find me. Minutes draw out into hours. Sometimes I think I can feel their ghostly hands on me, their rotting breath against my cheek. My whole body is rigid and shaking. Don’t be stupid, think about something else. I can’t say it out loud in case it draws the ghosts to me. I do try, but no other thoughts can keep my fears at bay for long.
    Not until the first grey light of dawn signals the start of a new day, do I begin to relax. This has been one of the longest nights of my life.
    I must have fallen asleep after all. I’m twisted uncomfortably, my head on my bag. As I sit up, I’m stiff and aching all over. Bright sunshine is pouring in through the hole in the hull.
    I crawl out onto the beach and blink in the bright light. The wind has almost gone. The sand is still, and the sky is a clear, clear blue. I’m dazzled for a moment. And then I smile at the beach, beautiful in the morning sunlight. Holding out my arms, I spin around, laughing with joy and relief, and then fall onto the sand, smoothing it with my hands. I’m still alive. I’ve done it. Now I can do the rest as well.
    I’m starving. When did I last eat? I can’t remember. A day ago perhaps.
    I pull my parcel of food out of my bag and fall upon the bitter dark bread, the juicy yellow plums, and even the raw pickled fish. I would normally push it aside and leave it. It’s slimy and tastes of vinegar, but I’m so hungry I don’t care.
    Sand has got into the food; I can feel it crunching between my teeth, gritty and salty. Nonetheless, I eat every last crumb. Now I’m thirsty, but I don’t have a drink. Time to move on.

TEN
     
    M y feet are hurting. I stop and remove my boots and peel my stockings off painfully. I have blisters all over my feet and toes, and they are weeping and bleeding. I hitch up my skirt and step into the shallow waves. The salt water stings. My breathing is ragged as I grit my teeth.
    I walk up and down, swishing my feet in the beautifully clear water. There are a few brown jellyfish floating in the small waves, but I take care to stay away from them. After a while my feet stop hurting and feel better.
    I walk on barefoot. Now I’m leaving footprints and toe prints in the soft sand instead of boot prints. I turn and walk backwards a few paces to see the prints appear.
    When I come to a stream, I walk inland a little, and then lie down on the dune grasses and scoop water into my mouth with my hands. It tastes earthy, but it’s cool and refreshing. I drink and drink until my thirst is quenched.
    I climb onto a tall sand dune to get a view inland. Only rolling dunes as far as the eye can see. I sit down and slide back down the dune, the sand cascading around me. I dig my hands into the pale gold, and trickle the grains through my fingers. It reminds me of when I was little, when mother took a day off work and we walked to the beach. Those are happy memories, and I smile to myself.
    Quite by chance I look behind me. There is movement. I scrunch up my eyes, trying to make out what it is. I can feel my heart beating faster, whether with hope or fear I hardly know. It looks like a horse and cart, but I can’t be sure. I keep looking back as I walk. I feel as if I’ve been alone for months.
    I can see it properly now. Definitely an open cart, like the one I rode in yesterday. It has huge wheels, and I can see the driver sitting straight, holding a long whip. He’s driving it with two wheels in the sea and two on the beach. Why? Oh, of course. The sand is so soft. I’ve discovered for myself it’s easiest to walk right on the water’s edge.
    Hurriedly, I force my sore feet back into my boots, and then walk on, full of hope.
    They’re catching me up now. There are two men, besides the driver, and I can hear them speaking Danish. I slow down, limping more than I need to, hoping for a lift. Surely they will stop?
    The cart draws alongside me and begins to pass me.