The Cornish Dream
Bryce was terrified. He was
terrified to the worn, gentle core of his delirious heart. Fortunately, his
hardened, more realistic but ultimately no more certain mind had made a pact
with the former vital organ, which was that this day would be a wonderful day.
Bryce knew not why, for neither his heart nor his mind had settled on any particular
set of expectations for how the upcoming act of clumsy improvisations that made
up Bryce’s far from ideal but certainly interesting life would play out. So he
sat back in his comfortable seat on the otherwise stuffy coach, immersing
himself in all the hidden riches of the moment as the vehicle prepared to
depart from London to Cornwall. This early in the morning, with a journey set
to last for hours, even with the coach’s ‘superfast’ route, Bryce felt content
with falling asleep to the mellifluous melodies of his favourite movies. In his
relaxed bliss by the window, he had failed to observe that the empty seat
beside him was the last one left, on a tour that had a reputation for always
selling out within hours. The reason for such success was that this particular
tour company truly treated their customers like family, never leaving anyone behind,
especially when it came to their signature adventure, named The Cornish Dream. Just as Bryce was set
to become lost in slumber, an angelic voice, which sounded as soothingly sweet as
the very classical masterpieces that were cradling him in his stillness,
cheerfully called upon him, drawing him back into the frantic city that he was
at once desperate to leave an then resolutely unwilling to let go. None of that
mattered once Bryce turned to face the beautiful young woman stood beside him.
“Hey!” Even in a single word, there
was an unmistakeable eloquence in her charming enthusiasm. “Is this seat taken?”
“Not at all,” Bryce replied. “It’s
yours.”
“Thanks!” She said, while
starting to lift her notably heavy rucksack into the overhead compartment.
“Will
you be okay with that?” Bryce asked, while instinctively rising from his seat
with cautious urgency, for he took great pleasure in observing when chivalry
was needed and acting upon the sudden need as if it were his purpose for
living.
“It’s
okay. Thank you, though. Is that your bottle of water down there?”
“It is,
for sure, the one.” Bryce replied, barely holding off his unnecessary embarrassment.
Yet again, he thought, while she dashed to pick up the withered plastic bottle from
the floor and pass it him, his clumsiness had spoiled his otherwise graceful
efforts to help somebody. Fortunately, his guilt vanished in the wake of the
tender warmth in her eyes that overcame him, as she smiled ever so sweetly, sending a clear
enough sign that she truly appreciated the gesture. Indeed, no matter how
trivial they were, reciprocating his kind intentions with equally selfless
actions was the only thing she needed and wanted to do, before taking her place
beside him.
“So where
are you going on this trip?” Bryce asked. He knew the answer, or at least part
of it, for he was aware of where The
Cornish Dream was taking them on this already warm morning in May. He had,
however, no idea where she would be when the dream was over, or where he might
be, either.
“Home,” She replied, with pride
and excitement evident in equal measure as she spoke. “You?”
“On Holiday,” Bryce replied.
“Well, you could not have picked
a better place to be.”
“Why’s that?” Bryce asked. Like
before, he already had an idea of what she might say next. She would, sure
enough, try and sell the destination to him. He had a funny feeling, though,
that, unlike the tour guides, sincerity would be at the heart of her every
word.
She began explaining, with a level of
intricate detail that Bryce found fascinating, what made Cornwall so beautiful to
the thousands of pleasure-seekers who raced to its beaches, countryside and
pasties every year. In return, Bryce listened intently, while putting as much
thought as he could into his questions for her, not out of panic but rather a delightfully
soothing sensation that rose up from within and enveloped him without warning,
creating an overwhelmingly satisfying feeling similar to how he felt whenever
he raced to wear warm clothes that were fresh out of the tumble dryer. Their conversation
reached a sudden state of silence, which, in reality, was just over a couple of
seconds, but, to Bryce, felt like an incomprehensibly long time. It then occurred
to Bryce that he had not asked for her name. The journey had long since started
and he had not really realised it, having been lost, so completely, in the saintly
presence of a perfect stranger. The trance was, of course, aided by her
ceaselessly attentive gaze upon him as she talked, content in sharing her story
but deep down hoping that her audience really cared. Both of them totally let
go of the mundaneness of everyday life, opening their hearts to sharing their
joys with one another and trusting in even the faintest hope that they might even
slightly align with one another, beginning an adventure where the destination
was unknown but the fleeting happiness was certain.
“I’m sorry, Miss. I should have
asked earlier. What’s your name?” Bryce worried that the respect he so keenly
wanted to show her would be lost in sudden timidity in his tone, barely masked
by a smile.
“No, no.” She asserted. “It’s
okay.” Noting how the relief lessened the redness in Bryce’s cheeks, she continued.
“Cassidy.”
Conversation flowed, without end.
Back and forth, they talked gracefully, clumsily and enthusiastically, until
the coach finally arrived, with perfect timing, at the Lizard. They had made
it, must faster than they both thought they would, to the gateway for Kynance
Cove.
*
* * *
Never had Bryce observed such a
magical assortment of colours until he stood atop the small cliff overlooking
the central beach. The water alone shifted from an alluring azure, as it lay
still beyond the rocks, to a tantalising turquoise, which glistened brighter and
brighter, right up until the waves gently massaged the shore. With the sun
shining over the wonder before him, could not quite settle on whether the neat
arrangement of sand that blessed the coastline was a majestic kind of gold or a
soothing sort of white.
“Waiting for something?” Cassidy
asked.
“My bad,” Bryce said. “I just
don’t think I’ve ever seen something that really does look better in real-life
than when it’s gone through an Instagram filter.”
“I know, right?!” Cassidy
returned with a giggle. “That’s one reason why I can’t be bothered with that
app.”
“Oh. Really? You’d be surprised
what else people use it for, aside from sharing fancy photos.”
“I totally spend enough time on
Facebook anyway, when I’m not in teacher mode at least.”
“Nice. It’s probably for the
best. If my Editor didn’t expect me to promote our latest memoir or manual
every hour of the working day, I’d probably not use it either.”
Now more alert, Bryce noticed an
eccentric sign in front of the café to their left, drawing his attention well
away from nature to something sweeter. Cassidy figured out, within moments,
exactly what Bryce was going to ask next.
“Is the ice-cream any good here?”
Bryce asked.
“Just the best!” Cassidy replied.
“Want some? Before we head down
there? I’m starving.”
“I’d love some but don’t worry. I
can get my own. It’s okay.”
Their fragile friendship had reached
its first crossroads, during which they were both keen to put their best foot
forward in the dance of words and deeds, hopefully proving to one another early
on that they valued each other’s time together. For both of them, their new
travel companion had made a great start, for Cassidy deeply appreciated the
generosity, and Bryce greatly admired Cassidy’s strong-willed assertiveness. As
they looked delicately into each other’s eyes, unaware at that moment of
feelings of longing and affection mutually rising within both of them, they
each trusted that their new friend was acting as they were for the right
reasons. However, someone had to take the lead eventually.
“I got this. It’s all good.”
Bryce said.
“Are you sure?” Cassidy asked.
“Absolutely.”
“Thanks, Bryce. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
As the day drifted along into the
early afternoon, they sat together at an old, tipsy table, gleefully enjoying
the chilled Cornish ice cream while it slowly melted under the warm sunlight.
Appreciating that there were hardly any other thrill-seekers around, save for
their pretty big group now spread all over the place in a free-for-all, Bryce
was suddenly distracted by Cassidy giggling again, for he knew not why she
seemed to be becoming more hysterical with each passing moment, until he became
conscious of how the ice cream had somehow evaded him and ended up dotted
across his face and shirt. He could do nothing to conceal his blushing as she
handed him a serviette, after wiping it softly across his right cheek. He
simply surrendered and laughed.
“I guess you have to do this
often?” Bryce asked.
“You bet. Mostly with year ones,
though. Not year twenty-somethings.” Cassidy replied.
“No doubt.” A silence followed. Not exactly an awkward
one, but rather one that felt necessary for savouring the occasion.
“Come on! It looks like you’re
done! We’ve only got an hour left! Let’s go!” Cassidy rose and headed for the
steps down towards the beach.
“You got it!” Bryce followed with
equal zeal, not least because he had no idea where he was going, yet he felt
almost certain that he was headed the right way.
* * * *
Merrily, they ran over, under and
in-between the numerous formations of large, flint-grey rocks that were dotted
across the beach. Noting the small but nonetheless slowly increasing crowd of
fellow joy-seekers along the principle shoreline, Cassidy, without uttering a
word, took hold of Bryce’s wary hand and made an abrupt turn to the right.
Suddenly, she turned to him, only to be sure that he was still there, even
while she still gently but firmly held him close. Bryce met her caring,
glistening blue eyes with a relaxed, trusting gaze of reassurance, allowing her
to face forwards once again, towards a more secluded area of the beach. Of
course, there were people there, for it was hardly hidden from sight. Still,
there was an alluring stillness in the cool breeze before them and a calming peacefulness
in the light waves that swayed over the sand. Just a few feet from where the
tide laid its claim to the shore, with a small but still exciting cave
formation in the rocks that was entrenched directly behind them, they sat
together, caring little for the sand that mischievously got all over them as they
made themselves comfortable, absorbing the sheer beauty of life all around
them.
It was here that Bryce realised
the enormity of Cassidy’s own splendour, with her delicate blonde hair swaying
with the wind, her fair and glowing face gazing into the distance ahead of
them, and her soft hands that had released him and were now supporting her as
she leaned back a little in the wake of the generous amount of sunlight that
their position had afforded them. With his short brown hair, regular build and
innocently inquisitive grey eyes, he felt sure that he paled in comparison to
her wonder. However, there was a strange warmth eternally surrounding her then,
which had left him at ease around her and, he felt, brought out the best in him,
without making him feel as if he was ever trying too hard in seeking true
reciprocity in their new-found friendship.
“I love coming home, more and
more every time,” Cassidy said.
“I can only imagine,” Bryce
replied. “This definitely looks like a better place to grow up than any of the
homes I’ve lived in around England. That’s the life of the Minister’s son,
though.”
“At least it’s interesting!” She
assured him. “I feel like I’ve met everyone here! And there’s so much I want to
see! I adore my history and all, with my dad’s farm and his dad’s fascinating
but pretty traumatic days in the mines before that. But yeah, there isn’t quite
as much to do for fun as there is in London!”
“I guess so, but I’m starting to
think that London’s overrated.”
“It’s the people who do it for
me.”
“No one talks to you there!”
“Maybe on the tubes,” she
returned with equal light-heartedness. “Honestly, if you think of some club
you’d want to join with like-minded people, London’s probably got it.”
“Except the affordable housing
society, not doubt.”
“Of course! Except that one!”
They spent the precious little
time that remained dipping their toes into the sea, which, to Bryce’s surprise
and Cassidy’s overwhelming delight, was deceitfully freezing. In slight shock,
Bryce felt forced to jump in a panic, then losing his balance and falling upon
the shallow waters. Cassidy was beside him in moments, saving him from sinking
in embarrassment, again. Content with having enjoyed the best of Kynance Cove,
they leisurely returned to the coach, but not before Bryce jovially but
carefully asked for Cassidy to put her name into his phone’s notes app, since
the lack of phone signal for both of them meant that phone numbers were pretty
futile for now. Such haste Cassidy understood, since she would stay in Cornwall
for at least the rest of the week to be with her family, while Bryce would
continue as planned and return to London that evening and be ready to help his
father prepare the next Sunday service.
“It was a pleasure meeting you,
Cassidy. Thank you for today.” Bryce wanted to at least part with a gentle hug,
marking the start of what he hoped would be something special, whether it would
remain a friendship or grow further still into something more that he had yet
to truly know and understand.
“You’re adorable,” Cassidy
replied, softly, before embracing him, gently, without warning, holding him
only for a fraction of a second before retreating, with her glowing smile
remaining constant as it lingered on his composed but uncertain steadiness.
“Goodbye.”
“See you soon!”
*
* * *
On Bryce’s return to his Mayfair
flat, the cloudy skies of London were draped in gold as the sun had all but
vanished from view. The coin-grey pavements remained drenched in the remnants
of a day’s worth of rain, with shallow puddles scattered everywhere like
craters over the moon. Yet the weather did not concern him as it usually
succeeded in doing, for all that he could think about was the beautiful Cornish
girl whom he had met through some blessed gift of serendipity, fuelled by a
zest for life. Safely in his bedroom by his desk, overlooking the quiet and
clean streets below, he began searching for Cassidy on Facebook, to no avail. It
turned out that many accounts used exactly the same full name. Yet, while there
were, at least on the internet, apparently hundreds of women with her name,
Bryce could not and would not release himself from his firm belief that there
was only one Cassidy. Realising, however, that he was falling into the fatal
trap of desperation, he stopped searching, filled with frustration but still
content that such good fortune had granted him at least a day with a wonderful
woman, who made him feel like his best self and so much more. In the end, he
lay in bed with bitter-sweet satisfaction, for he had re-discovered, after a
past filled with dramatic disappointments in love, that love was possible. He
only wished that she could know how she had made him feel and what she had done
for him. What was she thinking right now? Would she remember him? What
impression, if any, had he left behind with her? Would they ever be blessed
twice with another chance encounter in the capital? He may never know. All that
he knew was that he hoped that Cassidy was well and happy, wherever she was.
*
* * *
Not far from The Lizard lay
Cassidy’s family farm, now under a gorgeous setting sun, with shades of purple,
pink and blue blended together in glorious harmony over the darker but no less
glorious clouds. Across the green fields, beyond the classic red telephone box
and within the shelter of her beloved cottage, Cassidy had talked all evening
to her mother and father about this guy she had just met through one of, she
felt, the strangest coincidences of her life. When dinner was finished and her cherished
talk with her family had concluded, she dashed for her room. There she wondered
if what she had felt was real. Was it the spark of something special, or at
least a reminder that there were still good men out there? She realised, then,
that she could not wait to find out. She knew that Bryce might never find her
again and not for lack of trying, so she would find him instead. The memory of a teacher, she thought,
although she would not soon have forgotten Bryce. His name, thank goodness, was
far less common than hers on social media, so it was not long before she found
him and sent him a friend request. London was now calling, louder than it had ever
been before, and she would return to her busy life in the city, to a job that
brought her so much joy, and now, hopefully, to a friend and perhaps more, who
would heighten that joy beyond limits that neither of them knew existed. This was
her deepest hope, cheered on by a wonderful memory of the day that she once
thought she never deserved. Within the protective warmth of her bedroom, she
fell asleep within seconds, having hopelessly surrendered to the dream of her
happiness by the sea.
