ghajn barrani

It was one of the days when we’d gone off the beaten track. Joel knew a beach we could get to where hardly anyone else ever went. I think Will drove. I seem to remember that no one else at that time could. All the hire cars on the island were the same in 1980; ancient but beautiful open-topped Triumph Heralds. Because it was a very small place, it was never far to anywhere, but the roads were twisting and narrow.

Joel and Will knew exactly which dusty little bit of roadside to park at– they had been going to the island every summer since they were children. To me, it seemed as if we’d stopped at a small passing point, with a cliff on the other side of the road. I was puzzled. I couldn’t see any beach. We piled out, bags full of books, towels, suntan oil. It was still early but it was already stiflingly hot. “This way” said Joel, and he seemingly disappeared off the cliff. I went closer to the edge and there was a tortuous little pathway, nothing more than an almost vertical sandy track dotted here and there with little prickly pear plants and stray tufts of grass.

I wondered if it wasn’t so much that no one went to this beach, but more that they mostly perished along the way. It was scarily steep, and there were no footholds, and I was wearing the most useless old pair of espadrilles with no grip on the soles. Joel had to hold my hand most of the time – to stop me falling but also to stop me fleeing in horror. Every time I told him I couldn't and wouldn't go any further he’d turn around, give me a look, and say something reassuring enough to persuade me into following him once more

It seemed to take forever to get to the bottom, and then we had to follow the same little path along the edge. You couldn’t see anything until you rounded each corner. Finally we were there. I had never seen any place so private or so beautiful. There was no sand. I think it was volcanic rock. It looked porous, and there were indentations in the pale stone – some big enough to be filled with water to make pools you could sit in. The sea was glorious. Deep blue, dead calm, warm and silky as you walked in. The rock was hot and smooth, with occasional dips and rises that you could use to prop yourself up on, to make it easier to read.

We were the only ones there. I can’t remember how many of us went – as many as you could cram into a Triumph Herald I suppose. What did we do all day long on that island; those days when we’d go off early and come back late? I think we just lay there, reading, chatting, and laughing in a desultory fashion about nothing in particular. It was too hot for anything else. From time to time we’d wade into the water and swim until we were cool enough to come out again

It was lovely not having to wear the top half of my bikini. Mostly that wasn’t allowed – it was a very Catholic country – but here there was no one to see or care. There’s something really special about swimming in a warm sea when you aren’t wearing much. Will and his girlfriend lay together at a slight distance from us, but Joel and T and I all stayed close enough to chat.

I think it was too hot to mess around. I can’t remember any splashing games, or water fights. We floated, and we talked, and we read and we soaked up the sun. We were all of us very tanned by then. Will and T were dark haired and their skin had turned a deep brown. Joel and I were fairer. Joel’s hair was almost white, contrasting so vividly against his golden face. I’d plaited my hair because it was so hot, but when the plaits came undone, as they always did after swimming, you could see blonde streaks where the sun had bleached it.

Every now and again Joel would take a photograph. Me lying flat on my back with my eyes closed, T sitting up, staring straight at the camera, with his mirrored sunglasses reflecting Joel’s’ half-crouching image. The only sound was the lazy slap of the seawater as it gently hit the stone. It was so hot, even the birds seemed to have gone to sleep.

Suddenly I felt a sharp pain under one of my shoulder blades. I cried out and jumped up. Something had stung me and it hurt like hell. Then the strangest thing happened; I looked around me, at the golden rock, the little pools, T with his shades, Joel, the blue sky, the endless sea, and I knew instantly, with total certainty, that I was reliving a dream I’d had years ago.

I’d never felt like that before and it made me shiver, despite the heat. Maybe that’s why the memory is so clear – because I lived it twice in a way, or at least I felt I had. All these years later it only takes a second and I am back in that hot, gold and blue lazy day, when nothing in particular happened.