Never Lonely By Tracey-Anne Plater
Barbara will not submit to the status of ‘lonely’. Her husband passed away six months ago, and her son doesn’t bring the grandchildren to visit half as much as she’d like. But that does not make her lonely. She just happens to be alone.
The plan was to retire by the sea, with the sound of the waves forever in the background and doughnuts on tap. They didn’t plan on the sea eroding half of the beach, leaving seafront homes sliding down dunes and businesses relocating.
If you visited Brunsley thirty years ago, you would find the same shops and cafes as you would today, only there would be more of them, and smiles were infectious back then. Families flocked there from spring until autumn. Crazy golf, dodgems, penny pushers, and bingo, all belting out repetitive noises, filled the two little roads that made up this seaside town. Missing all this doesn’t make her lonely. She just misses it, that’s all.
Families would buy inflatables, only to have them blown down the beach while they tried to embrace the freezing water. Pale legs would turn blotchy red as they were determined to immerse themselves in this icy undulating mass. Children would dig holes while parents scanned the sand for glass and dog mess. It was all part of the holiday experience that kept them returning season after season.
Now the remaining residents can hardly muster a smile as their investments slowly give way to the sea. Barbara often wonders what it would be like if her bungalow were to fall victim to the sea like those that fell off the dunes. Merely being alone does not automatically make you lonely.
Today, Barbara visits the charity shop in the next village. It’s crammed with clothes and ornaments of dogs. On the rack against the window hangs a coat. Nostalgia takes hold; it’s just like the one she wore on her honeymoon – Black and white fake fur with hook-eye fastening. A photo on her mantelpiece serves as a frequent reminder of their Cornwall honeymoon, spent walking, dancing, and exploring.
‘Would you like to try it on?’
The sales assistant appears beside her, scouting for conversation. Barbara wonders how long she had been reminiscing.
‘Yes please. I had a coat just like this. I lost it on my honeymoon. Today is our golden anniversary.’
She often catches herself talking on behalf of the two of them. Her mind still hasn’t adapted to being half of the unit.
Barbara tries the coat on and studies herself in the mirror. She has lost weight since Pete died. All that cooking seems a waste just for one. She looks for the 22-year-old version of herself, smiling back.
‘We danced on the beach. He held my hips as if his life depended on it. Our faces were whipped by sand, and my hair became matted as the sea threw tiny whirlwinds at us, but we kept dancing.’
She pays for the coat without taking it off.
Walking back through the deserted roads, she hears the waves asserting their power. The boarded up arcades hold rows of unplugged kiddie rides. The café signs creak in the wind; they won’t be opening next season. Sometimes it feels like it is just her and the seagulls here. But she would never say she is lonely. It would just be nice if she weren’t alone, that’s all.
She slips her hand into her coat pocket. Her fingers trace the seam and find a hole. Her feet stop moving as the rain gathers in pools around her. She remembers, fifty years ago:
The train was leaving Cornwall at 10am. Pete vanished, leaving her on the platform with their luggage. The train arrives, her coat and bags were in a heap on the platform; she tried to gather them whilst scanning for her husband. He appeared at the last moment with a bunch of flowers and a grin that melted her heart. They jumped on the train as it started to pull away, leaving her coat behind.
Barbara frantically pushes her fingers through the coat seam and wraps them around a small item - a coat pin that Pete had bought her from the shop near their Cornwall caravan. Fuelled with utter love and excitement, she pelts towards the sea. Throwing her shoes across the damp sand, she starts dancing. The mini whirlwinds and lashes of rain fuel her movement. She will never be lonely. She just happens to be alone.
Judges Comments
Lovely, vibrant Barbara, sustained in her widowhood by memories of a long, happy marriage, is the focus of Tracey-Anne Plater's poignantly uplifting Never Lonely, the runner-up in WM's 750-Word Short Story Competition.
It's a carefully constucted tale where every detail tells the reader something significant. The seaside town where the story's set is run-down, its glory days behind it. But Barbara doesn't conform to stereotype, or match her surroundings, as the bereft, widow living on faded memories. Right at the start we're told she won't submit. She has the inner resources, and the deep wellbank of a lifelong love, to draw upon, that mean she's alone, but not lonely - an idea which Tracey-Anne uses as a motif, planting it throughout the text.
The well-timed turn in this short, sweet story comes with the serendipitous discovery of the coat - not just a coat like the one she wore on her honeymoon, but the same one. This stroke of everyday magic gives the story the lift of euphoria that takes it from everyday to extraordinary. Tracey-Anne has given her loyal, loving, bright-side-seeking heroine a joyful ending, dancing in the sand, that she deserves - one that ties into what we know about her and demonstates why, with her rich bank of memories and her optimistic spirit, she need never be lonely, even through she's on her own.