Rain on the Cobblestones

Rain on the Cobblestones

We ran hand in hand down the hill, the cobblestones hurting our feet
through our cheap trainers. Being the biggest, I was in the lead,
pulling you onwards. We ran and ran. Past the tacky gift shops, the
ice-cream parlours, the bakeries on every corner selling pasties with
every filling imaginable. On and on we ran. Dodging the holiday-makers
milling aimlessly through the street, licking ice-creams, chomping on
pasties, wearing shorts despite the sharp wind and threat of rain. Some
tutted at our rudeness. You stuck your tongue out at them, but then,
you were only five.

You stumbled and fell onto your knees and the cobbles shaved the skin
off them, exposing your flesh. Blood spattered onto the stones and
stayed there. Your little face registered pain, your mouth opened as
though you might scream but no sound came out.

"Get up, get up," I tugged at you, much to the disapproval of
passers-by. Bravely you did. Blood trickling down your little stick
legs and staining your socks. You wiped your eyes with the back of your
hand.

"I'm hungry Ann," you said as I yanked you onwards, "and my legs are
hurting. I'm tired. I want to go home now."

"We've run away Dan" I reminded you and was saddened by the frightened
look on your face.

We shared fish and chips on a little bench overlooking the harbour,
sea-gulls watching us greedily. Little lights danced and flickered on
the ocean. You liked watching the fishing boats bobbing on the waves as
the tide came in.

"I'm cold" you said, licking salt and grease from your fingers.

We walked back up the hill, the cobblestones slippery because of the
rain. I was pulling you upwards, you could barely put one foot in front
of the other you were so tired.

As we turned the corner, we both stopped for a second to look at the
cottage that was our home. A strip of light shone out brightly from
beneath the ill-fitting curtains.

We shivered.

It was cold outside but even colder in.