Time Is, Time Was, Time... Is Not

I wandered along the beach, doing nothing in particular, staring at
the sea and at the cliffs that rose high around me. Sun danced on the
waves like a ballet dancer on a stage, and the gulls swooped low over
head, calling to one another.

I left the beach by a small pathway that lead through a cliff and out
onto a deserted track, that passed Tintagel castle and which I followed
along into a small wooded area, surrounded by trees. I rested by the
wayside for a little, and it was not for some minutes that I relised
that I was being watched by a girl of about my own age, with nut-brown
skin, dark red hair and green-grey eyes.

Her stare made me feel uncomfortable. It was sharp and piercing, and
she never seemed to blink.

Two can play at that game! I thought, and stred directly back at her,
trying not to blink. Eventually, I broke my gaze. She laughed like a
sparrow twittering shrilly, and it was only then that she smiled at
me.

"Hello," She greeted me "What's your name? I'm Joan. Here on holiday
are you?"

"My name's Phoebe," I replied "and yes, I am here on holiday. Are
you?"

She laughed again, although I could see nothing to laugh about.

"No, I will never leave Tintagel, and I never have, not for- oh-
years!" She replied, smiling like the Cheshire cat "I love it here,
it's so mysterious! Some times you feel as if nothing ever happens
here, and other times, you feel sure that King Arthur and all his
knights are going to come out of the castle and an adventure is a
certainty! You know they say the ghosts of the knights are sometimes to
be seen jousting and and laughing around the castle grounds?"

I had not heard this. I had, however, seen the castle, and, as yet,
failed to be impressed by it's remaining wall and overgrown Great Hall
[or what was left of it]. It was beautiful in a picturesque sort of
way, but really, as a castle it was none too impressive. And this...
this was an odd thing to say to a new aquaintance!

"I think I should like to see the knights," I informed Joan "but I do
not think I will be going to the castle again this holiday."

"Well, do you have any other plans for the holiday? If not, would you
like to, well, stick together? We don't have to go to the castle, but
there is plenty else to do around here. I can show you all the best
places to go."

I smiled at her "OK, sure!"

As from then, we took each other's co-operation for granted. Although
Joan seemed a little old fashioned and strange, not to mention full of
odd ideas about all sorts of things, I liked her; she was different
from any of my friends back at home in London.

I told my mother about Joan that night, and on her instructions,
invited Joan back to tea the next evening.

"I can't," Joan told me "I mustn't. There is something I have to take
care of; it cannot be left alone, even for one night. Besides, I think
my mother would worry." And that was more-or-less the end of the
matter. Joan would never tell me what she had to "take care of", and my
mum became suspicious about Joan's existance. Joan never once invited
me to her house, and I had no idea where she lived anyway, so I could
not drop in for a supprise visit, or go there on the pretense of
"knocking for her".

On the day before the last day of the holiday, I asked Joan if she
would not, at least, come to my house so she could wave me off, so I
could see her for a last time before returning to grey London. She
refused, giving the same excuse as before. I could not be bothered to
argue, and left her for the little holiday cottage for the last
time.

I was hanging around outside by the car that would return all my family
to London, waiting for my pairents and little sister, when I had an
idea. The old house-keeper, Mrs. Phillips, was there to see us off. I
went over to her.

"Mrs Phillips, do you know where Joan Tompson's house is?" I asked her,
hoping she would. I had never even metioned Joan to her before, and she
seemed mildly supprised that I should want to know.

"Yes, of course."

"Oh! But... where is it? She wouldn't tell me."

Mrs. Phillips gave me an odd look. "Well, of course she wouldn't tell
you, dear. She's not telling anyone anything. Not any more."

I wondered what on Earth she could mean. Joan was not what you would
call a quiet girl, and she had told me many things.

"What.... what do you mean, Mrs. Phillips? And where is her house?" I
repeated myself.

She sighed "You've been living in it, dear, these past few weeks. Poor
little girl..." She sighed again, her face lined with sadness.

"But... how can I have been? What happened to her? What's wrong with
her?"

"Poor little Joan Thompson..." She blinked slowly, "She's dead and gone
now, of course. Wouldn't leave them."

I felt a shock. Joan... well, she was as real as I was. I had seen her
only yesterday. A lump came into my throat. "Mrs. Phillips, what
couldn't she leave? What happened to her?"

"Well, I don't know I should tell you... might be upsetting... I know
kids sometimes do go funny about things like this, it said on the
television...Sensitive minds, see?"

I assured her that I could cope with whatever she was on about.

"Very well, then," she replied "Joan lived in this here house nigh on
50 years ago. Nice girl, she was. Seems she was up in the haylof of the
barn when the beams broke. She fell to the ground, cracking her skull,
poor girl. By the time they found her... it was all too late." She
wiped away a tear.

"But... why should she be up in the barn in the first place, Mrs
Phillips?"

"Well, seems she had some baby ducklings, kept secret up in the
hayloft.Went up there to feed them, and, well... you know the rest."
She turned away up the garden path. I stood, leaning against the car
for what felt like a million years, not registering anything I saw or
felt.

It was not til I got into the car that I saw her. Joan. Standing at the
end of the garden waving to me. She was smiling at me, strangely
transparent. I smiled back at her. She was happy, and I could see it.
Not happy that I was going, but happy that we had found a friend in
each other. After all, it must have been a very lonely 50 years for her
to spend. Eventually, she faded from sight, like a cloud dissapearing
from the sky, a strange light around her that illuminated her red hair
and freckles. She was going somewhere, I could feel it. No where on
Earth; prehaps somehere high above us, maybe not even in this universe,
but where ever it was, I could tell she would be happy there.