The waves lap quietly
Many years ago, when I was just a young lad, there was an experience with Emily that I’ve never managed to forget. It resurfaces from time to time, no matter how much life has changednow that Im a pensioner, with a wife, children, and even grandchildren. But whenever I hear the old tune Portsmouth Waltz, nostalgia takes hold and pulls me back to those youthful days. First love Life itself is like a beautiful old song.
The first time Emily saw the sea she was eighteen, studying to be a paramedic at nursing college. She went with her friend Alice. The vastness of the ocean captured Emilys heart for a lifetime.
Alice, just look at thatits mesmerising That endless, restless blue, Emily gasped, clutching Alices arm, completely taken by the view.
After settling into their guesthouse, the two of them set off for a walk along the promenade that evening. They wandered past an outdoor dance floor where Portsmouth Waltz was playing and plenty of couples spun around, lost in the music. Before they had even decided where to stand, two young sailorslively and cheerfulapproached and asked them to dance.
The tunes lyrics floated through the air, blending with their carefree mood: Waves glimmer quietly, and the moon shines bright
There they were, by the sea, a warm evening wrapping around them, flowers perfuming the air, music weaving the perfect sense of romance. Emily found herself whirling around the floor in the arms of Jack, instantly introduced.
You two are visitors, arent you? Jack observed with an easy grin.
We are indeedjust arrived today, wanted a little walk to stretch our legs, and stumbled into all this, Emily laughed.
Just happened to pass by, eh? Sometimes those are the best moments. During the summer season, even this small town is teeming with visitorsall drawn to the water.
So, do you live here?
Yes, after finishing nautical college, I stayed on to serve in the Royal Navy, stationed just down the road.
Thats fascinatingIve never even seen the sea before, let alone a ship!
After the music faded, the lads walked Emily and Alice home, promising to meet up the next day. The night deepened: stars sparkled, a vast moon watched from above. Emily and Alice, giddy from their chance meeting with the charming sailors, finally drifted off to sleep.
So began a holiday straight from a storybook, full of every happiness. Emilys first real love swept her up just as the season swept by.
Shed dated a little beforewalks in the park, trips to the cinemabut none of it truly mattered. Here, with Jack, she felt as though she could take flight. Each day, she grew more smitten; by the end there was no doubtshe had fallen in love.
The holiday vanished in a blink, and soon it was time to leave. Emily dreaded saying farewell to Jack. There were declarations of love, solemn promises; tears spilled freely.
Emily, well keep up our romance by letters. Theres nothing for it but to wait, but I promise Ill write, Jack tried to comfort her.
Emily and Alice went home. Alice’s summer romance fell flat, but Emily wept most of the way back. And so began the waitone letter after another. Jack wrote the most beautiful missives, which Emily began to memorise, reading them over and over. She pined, missing him terribly.
Alice, I never thought it was possible to love this muchor that being apart could hurt so much! she confided.
Late that autumn, Emily received another letter. Jack wrote that hed soon be out at sea for months, perhaps half a year. She wept again when she read the words.
Alice, I can hardly bear it. I need to see him, or Ill burst. What should I do? Summers too far away and I miss him dreadfully
Well, Em, youll just have to get yourself signed off sick for a bit, pop over and see himjust dont get caught skiving!
Easier said than done. How can I fall ill on demand?
Right then, she caught sight of the kettlea daft plan popped into her mind.
Ill boil some water and scald my handthen Ill have a reason for sick leave. Silly, but I cant think of anything better!
Alice was worried but couldnt dissuade herEmily was determined. So she did it: hurried to A&E, had her hand treated, and got her sick note. Back at the hostel, she packed her things at lightning speed, with Alice helping.
She bought a plane ticket straight awayflights were easy to come by now the tourists had gone. Reunited with Jack, both of them were over the moon. Their three days flashed by in a heartbeat. Saying goodbye again was even harder. It was just after Bonfire Night; Jack saw Emily off at the train station, as there were no flights back to Oxford.
Their farewell weighed heavily. Emily had a gnawing feeling that it was the last time shed see him. Jack, ever the optimist, held her hands and said,
Youll come again next summer and well get married. Thats a sailors life for youmonths at sea, and wives waiting at home.
The train was slow, frequently stopping. Emily hoped it would speed up. She found herself alone in her compartment, but at the next station was joined by two chaps with their lady friend. Evening fell, countryside blurring past, little stations flickering by, then darkness outside.
They chatted and introduced themselves. Emilys spirits liftedshe learned they were also bound for Oxford. They swapped stories, laughter filled the compartment. Eventually, sleep descended. Emily nodded off late and woke with first light.
Staring from the window, Emilys mind wandered back to Jack. After a while, she left to freshen up, tucking her towel under her arm. The train made a brief stopjust a rural halt. Having washed and brushed her teeth, she headed back to her compartment and stopped short.
Emily stood in the corridor, face damp, toothbrush and toothpaste in one hand, her towel in the other. Something felt amissalmost as though the carriage had lurched and unsettled her.
She peered into the compartment. Empty. On the table sat a teacup in its holder. Her bunkthe lower onewas bare: no carrier bag with toiletries, hairbrush, clips, all the little things.
Her heart shuddered, then pounded in her throat.
Miss, are you all right? asked the passing conductor.
What wherethere were people here. Two lads and a girl. My things… I had a bag
She lifted her seatnothing. Her suitcase gone. Inside it: her documents, passport, a bit of pocket money.
The conductor, a large weary woman, looked at her with sudden understanding.
They got off at the last stop, love. Were in a right rush. It struck me as odd they were leaving so early.
Emily felt her legs give out. She sank onto the bench.
But they took mymy passport, my cash.
Robbed you, looks like. Happens. Young and trusting. They were pros, no doubt. Waited for you to leave, then slipped off. Did you recognise them?
Emily shook her head. Just that the lads wore jeans, the girl had a ponytail and laughed a lot. She didnt even ask their names. Theyd been telling storiesabout the sea, studying, adventures. Shed listened, lost in thought about Jackhis blue eyes and that soft goodbye at the platform. Her heart was still singing from those three perfect days. And nowher song was cut short.
At the next station with a police presence, Emily got off. The conductor, though gruff, helped her:
Everyone travels, but its us staff who deal with the aftermathgot to stay sharp, dear, she complained, but still pointed out the police station and poured her a farewell cup of tea.
Emily never forgot her kindness. There are good people in the world, no matter how grumpy.
Inside, the police station smelt of stale cigarettes. A young, tired constable recorded her statement.
Right Surname, forename, date of birth. Travelling from? Lost your passport? Any other ID?
None with me. I was on holiday my student card was in the bag.
Not good. Describe the missing bag and the suspects please.
She described her bag: denim, new, mum bought it at the market. Her wallet with her last £20. Passport. Toiletries. And Jacks letters, cherished in their envelopestolen too. It felt almost as though Jack himself was gone, not just the memories and sun-warmed sheets of paper.
The constable said hed do his best, but Emily could see hope was thin. He gave her a statement note to help at the ticket office. The train lumbered on, the thieves long gone.
Emily stepped outside. Morning sun had just broken over the tiny station. She stood on the steps, lightweight jacket, toothbrush poking from her pocket, no money or papers, and home hundreds of miles away.
She can still see the sea and the gulls when she closes her eyes
A woman in the station ticket office listened to her tale and tutted sympathetically.
I was young once. Dont worry, love, tell me where youre headed and Ill write you a ticket. Send the money when you canheres my address. My sons a copper, hell confirm youve told the truth. Youll get home, promise.
Emily returned home a changed person. Her mother wept, hugging her tight; her father was silent, eyeing her for a long time before simply saying:
Thats enough tears. Youre safe, well sort your ID and give you the money you need.
A single letter arrived soon after from Jack, sent to her childhood address. Warm and caring, he wrote that he missed her, was sailing soon, and that hed keep writing though his letters might take ages to reach her. Emily replied, pouring out everything: the robbery, the loss, the shame and pain.
No reply ever came. Maybe the letter was lost or Jack just moved onwho knows how many girls wait for sailors in every port? Maybe he didnt want a scatterbrain for a sweetheart.
Emily waiteda year, two. Then she married a good man, had children, built a career as a paramedic. Life went quickly and with much fuss, as days in the NHS gopatching up strangers, rare joys mingled with routine. Her husband died young; the children moved away.
As an old man, sitting in my kitchen with a cuppa, I think of that summer oftenof the blue sea, the white gulls, moonlit dances. Of Jack: his eyes, his hands, his promises. And that wretched train journey. I never did understand why Jack stopped writing. I thought about it for years.
But now I see it wasnt really the thieves or the lost letters. Perhaps Jack simply wasnt meant to be part of my life. Fate had other plans.
Yet sometimes, late at night, I find myself closing my eyes and seeing not my family, not my life as it turned out, not the wards and corridors. But always the seawaves lapping quietly. And Jack.
If theres a lesson here, its that memories fade, but the heart keeps a space for first loveand that whatever life takes away, it always offers something else in return.
