Last October I went to stay with my aunt on a sheep farm
overlooking the cliffs on the Isle of Wight. It was a bleak and remote
place, and soon after I arrived I wanted to go home.
I’d only come because I’d had nothing to do at half-term and Mum
had said that the Mortons had always wanted to meet me and that
my aunt thought I might ‘bring her son Ed out of himself’, whatever
that meant.
Ed and his mother – his dad had died when he was a baby –
seemed to think that everything on the mainland was fabulous – and
everything on the island was awful. Ed was surly, maybe because he
had to work so hard. When he wasn’t at school, he had to help with
the sheep, but in spite of all their efforts, the farm was still heading
for bankruptcy.
Even the elements were against them; the sea was eroding the
cliffs and the Mortons were losing land so fast that the experts had
told them their home could be uninhabitable in a couple of years’
time. As for the farm – much of it would have disappeared.
After an evening of tramping the land with a largely silent Ed, I
gloomily realized my so-called holiday could well be compared with
spending a week in an open prison. The trouble was that although
he was tall and strong and good-looking, he was a complete
pessimist, and although there were definitely problems on the farm,
Ed had made up his mind that there was nothing he could do about
them.
In that way, he was the complete opposite of me. So the cliffs
were crumbling and the land was arid but I knew I’d have found a
way of coping somehow. I have to admit, however, that the solution
to this particular problem didn’t spring to mind that easily.
As Ed and I strode the precarious path on our walk, one particular
part of the cliffs unnerved me. The black clay had fallen away and
lay on the rocky beach in dark lumps, looking as if a giant had
scattered them about.
The waves thundered at the massive debris forbiddingly,
triumphantly. It was a strange, primeval sight and gave me the
feeling of standing at the dawn of time, watching the earth being
created by the elements. Suddenly I felt afraid, wanting to hurry
away from that sombre place where human beings were weak
creatures of no importance.
‘What’s up?’ asked Ed. ‘You scared?’
‘It’s just the way the cliffs have fallen in. All those black lumps of
clay.’
‘And more’s going to come down.’ For the first time he caught my
eye and I knew we had something in common, a shared anxiety, a
fear that we both understood and recognized.
‘Why don’t you leave?’ I asked. ‘Find somewhere else to live?’
‘Mum wouldn’t go. She’s been here most of her life. She’ll stay
and fight it.’
‘It?’
‘The erosion. The sea. Whatever. Those cliffs haven’t moved in
hundreds of years and now they’re being eaten away by the week.’
Again he caught my eye. ‘It’s like we’re being eaten away.’ He
laughed mirthlessly. ‘Come on, we’ll be late for supper,’ he said
abruptly and I knew our moment of intimacy had passed.
That night, after some hours slumped in front of the TV, I went to bed
early, grateful for some privacy. I lay in my small, well scrubbed but
bleak little room and tried to sleep – but I couldn’t, however hard I
tried. Eventually, after tossing and turning for what seemed like
hours, I began to doze and then fell into a light sleep.
I dreamt that I was standing on the cliff-top, overlooking a treecovered
landscape with the sea stirring on the horizon. But my eyes
were riveted on a black shape, impossible to identify, that was
moving through the trees towards me, large, sure-footed and
relentless.
I woke suddenly, sweating and listening to the mounting wind and
the crashing of waves as a vicious storm broke over the coastline.
Dull, booming thunder began to draw nearer and flashes of lightning
criss-crossed the sky, making the fields blue with electricity.
Suddenly the whole of the house shook and there was a dull
thumping sound. Almost immediately I could hear doors slamming,
and when I went fearfully downstairs I found Ed and my aunt,
torches in hand, ready to go outside.
‘What’s happened?’ I demanded.
‘We think there’s been another land-slip.’ Aunt Peggy was tall like
her son but gaunt, with a dark, oval, weather-beaten face. ‘We’re just
going to take a look. There’s no need to come with us. Make yourself
a cup of tea and sit in the kitchen. We won’t be long.’
‘No way,’ I replied, determined not to be left behind in the stormbesieged
house. ‘I’m coming with you.’
Ed gave me a grudging look of respect as his mother handed me
a torch.
*
We approached the cliffs in the early dawn, with the storm dying
back and only the occasional flash of lightning searing the sky. A
great swathe of cliff had fallen, leaving an undulating valley of broken
slabs leading to the mound-strewn beach. Even more metres had
been taken from the Mortons’ land and my aunt looked grey in the
chilly, leaden light.
Ed, however, was peering down at the fallen cliff intently. ‘I don’t
believe it,’ he muttered.
‘What now?’ asked his mother wearily. ‘Is more going to fall?’
‘Something miraculous has happened.’ His voice was a little
unsteady.
‘What are you looking at?’ I asked in bewilderment.
‘See those bits of rock?’ For the first time since I had met him, Ed
was excited.
‘Yes. I think so.’ They were lying across the clay, long and dark
and rough hewn.
‘What do you think they are?’ he asked, his voice trembling.
‘I don’t know –’
‘They’re dinosaur bones.’
‘Dinosaur?’ I must have gaped at him stupidly.
‘There’s been a lot discovered on the island.’ Ed was even more
excited now, quite unlike his usual self. ‘We’ll put them on show, turn
one of the barns into a dinosaur museum. That could make us a
bomb.’
‘From a few old bones?’ I said wonderingly. They still looked like
lumps of rock to me.
But even Aunt Peggy was animated. ‘You’d be surprised,’ she
said. ‘We could knock up a few display stands and –’
‘I’ll do that, Mum. And we’ll get photographs, replicas, posters,
books – and bring the punters up here. Charge them a bit more to
see the actual Dinosaur Cliff.’ Suddenly he was gazing round his
dwindling land with pride. Then he paused. ‘I’ll ring that
palaeontologist. What’s his name – Dr Maurice Arnold – down at the
museum. He’ll have to come over and officially identify the bones.’
Ed paused grudgingly. ‘But I’m sure I’m right.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ said Aunt Peggy, turning to me. The smile lit up
her face, making her warmer and more vulnerable at the same time.
‘Ed was always interested in fossils – even when he was a little boy.
He won’t be wrong.’
He wasn’t, but the blow came all the same.
Dr Arnold arrived mid-morning and we all three took an instant
dislike to him. He had a bustling, bureaucratic personality and
seemed both short-tempered and overbearing.
He scrambled down the cliff and examined the bones minutely,
taking such a long time that I began to seethe with impatience,
knowing that Ed and his mother were feeling exactly the same.
‘Well,’ he said finally, wheeling round on us, his glasses misty and
his lips pursed. ‘They’re the genuine article. There’s no doubt about
that.’
‘That’s terrific,’ said Ed. ‘We’re going to set up an exhibition on the
farm to show them off. We’ll convert one of the barns and –’
Dr Arnold smiled for the first time. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be
possible.’
‘Why not?’ asked Aunt Peggy sharply.
‘The bones are a major discovery and I’ll need to arrange to have
them taken to my museum for further research. There can be no
question of them being exhibited on your land.’
‘They’re our bones –’ began Ed furiously.
‘They come under the legal care of the local authority.’
There was an unmistakable ring of authority in Dr Arnold’s voice.
‘Since when?’ asked Aunt Peggy belligerently.
‘I can arrange for you to see a copy of the bye-law,’ Dr Arnold
replied smoothly.
‘So when do we get them back?’ demanded Ed.
‘You don’t.’
‘What?’
‘The bones are automatically the property of the local authority
and will be exhibited in its museum,’ he said in the same measured
tone. ‘I’m sure you will realize this is in the best interests of the
general public.’ He paused. ‘After all – our museum has free entry.’
‘They’re our bones. You can’t take them away,’ yelled Ed but his
mother put a restraining hand on his arm.
‘I’m afraid they’re not.’ Dr Arnold sighed, as if he was talking to
someone stupid. ‘I shall be sending some men to remove them as
soon as I can – hopefully by tomorrow morning at the very latest. In
the meantime I’d be grateful if you would ensure no one goes near
them. It would be a tragedy if they were damaged in any way.’ He
paused again, looking meaningfully at Ed. ‘It would also be a criminal
offence.’
When Dr Arnold had gone, I watched Ed lose all control; he was so
furious that even Aunt Peggy looked concerned.
‘I’ll get him,’ he yelled, hurling lumps of clay at the shattered cliff
face. ‘I’ll fight him in every court in the land. They’re our bones. Not
his. We could make a fortune. We deserve to make a fortune what
with the land being eaten away like it is.’
‘It’s no good,’ said his mother dourly. ‘The council always wins.
We’ve just got to face it.’
‘No,’ he yelled. Ed ran down the cliff path, leapt over one of the
enormous bones and then tore up the beach until he was out of
sight.
‘Let him be,’ said Aunt Peggy. ‘He gets like this sometimes and
has to work it off. Don’t go after him. Best thing we can do is get
some lunch going.’
After a strained and largely silent meal, I wandered out into the
farmyard and then began to walk rapidly towards the crumbling cliffs
and the path that led down to the beach. I was determined to find Ed.
I liked him now, for all his hot temper, and I wanted to help him find a
solution.
But as a I hurried down the path I saw him on the Dinosaur Cliff.
He had a sledgehammer in his hand.
‘What are you doing?’ I shouted, standing precariously on the
uneven ground, half frightened of him, half appalled at what he had
done. The huge bone was in fragments, yet he kept on bringing
down the sledgehammer.
‘Go to hell –’
‘You can’t do this,’ I insisted. ‘For goodness’ sake, Ed.’
‘They’re my bones,’ he insisted.
‘You’ll be arrested.’
‘And it’s my land. What I do on my land is my business – and no
one else’s.’
Ed didn’t even look up but just kept on crushing the bone.
Knowing there was no reasoning with him, I walked slowly away.
He didn’t return until late afternoon and then went straight upstairs to
his room without speaking. At five, Ed went out to check the sheep
and didn’t come back until nine. Once again he went to his room and
Aunt Peggy tentatively took up a tray of supper. She came down a
few minutes later.
‘I’m sorry, Helen. You must think him so rude,’ she began
apologetically. ‘What with you being a visitor and all. I’m sure he –’
I quickly cut her short. ‘It doesn’t matter. How is he?’
‘Angry.’
‘You know he’s smashed up one of the bones.’ I realized I should
have told her earlier, but her reaction was surprisingly low key.
‘I guessed what he was up to when I saw him come back to get
the sledgehammer. But I didn’t try to stop him – and, to be honest, I
feel much the same.’
‘He could be arrested.’
‘If they can prove it was him.’ She was very determined. ‘I’ve
wiped the sledgehammer clean so they won’t be able to find his
fingerprints. And later on, I’ll go down to the cliff and try and get rid of
his footprints.’ Aunt Peggy laughed uneasily. ‘You must think I’m a
practised criminal.’ She paused and then said hurriedly, ‘If you feel
you can’t stomach us any longer, I’d quite understand if you went
home.’
I looked at her steadily. ‘Do you want me to?’
Aunt Peggy shook her head emphatically. ‘No – I don’t. You’ll be
someone for Ed to talk to – when he comes round. He’s fed up with
only having me.’
But Ed didn’t ‘come round’ that night and I went to bed miserably,
knowing there would be big trouble tomorrow morning when Dr
Arnold’s workers arrived. Would the police arrest Ed? Impose a
heavy fine the family couldn’t afford to pay? Or even send him to
prison?
But I was so exhausted that I soon fell into a deep sleep and once
again I dreamt vividly. This time I was standing on a huge plain that
was covered in coarse grass. Below me were trees and dense
foliage, and beyond them a distant, glittering ocean. Once again I felt
I was at the dawn of time. Between the trees I could see a large,
dark lake, surrounded by reeds.
Then I saw the thing rise up and begin to walk towards me,
tearing voraciously at the tree tops as it advanced.
I woke sweating, and knowing I wouldn’t sleep again went to the
window. Outside the wind had become a gale and a full moon rode
tumultuous clouds.
I stood there for a long time and then, suddenly, I saw Ed steal out
of the house and begin to walk purposefully towards the cliffs. Was
he going to smash up the last of the bones? He was wearing an
anorak, jeans and wellington boots, but I could see no sign of the
sledgehammer.
Whatever Ed was doing, wherever he was going, I knew I had to
follow, so I hurried downstairs and gently let myself out.
The wind was steely cold, sharply piercing; it seemed to get under
and inside everything, rattling sheep pens, banging doors, whistling
through the battered sheds, making so much noise that I began to
run, all too conscious of Ed’s reckless temper. Then I heard a hollow
booming sound and I knew that more of the Dinosaur Cliff had given
way.
Ed was standing on the edge of the fall, battered by the wind, and as
I hurried towards him I could see he was swaying.
I called his name, gently at first so as not to give him a fright, and
then more positively as he seemed to stumble slightly.
‘Just look at that –’ His whisper penetrated the rising gale.
I gazed down, seeing more fossilized bone, in much larger
quantities this time.
‘That’s one hell of a lot of dinosaur,’ he said. ‘Arnold isn’t getting
one little bit piece of it.’
‘What are you going to do?’ I gasped. But I knew exactly.
‘Get the sledgehammer of course.’ His voice was matter-of-fact.
‘Ed, you can’t! You’ll be arrested,’ I gabbled desperately but he
only gave me a sardonic smile.
‘Get out of my way.’
I tried to grab hold of him as he pushed me to one side, but the
effort was too great and he swayed, trying desperately to keep his
balance and failing.
As if in slow motion, he fell over the cliff, rolling, bouncing and
eventually lying still on the pebbles less than a metre from the
lashing surf.
I knew I had to get to him fast and began to scramble down, not
thinking of the dangers of the crumbling clay but only of Ed.
Eventually I made the shingle and began to run towards him. Then I
paused, bewildered and disorientated. Something was happening to
the beach.
The sea moved dimly on a low horizon, trees and foliage swayed
as the dark mass began to move towards Ed, a pair of huge reptilian
eyes scanning the foreshore, enormous webbed feet crunching the
pebbles.
Ed moved, looked up and gave a shuddering cry.
There was a long, horrified silence as everyone round the
smouldering fire wondered what had happened. But no one had the
courage to ask.
Susie put her arms round Helen and Martin quietly intervened.
‘I’ve got a story. It’s about dares and I’ll tell you this – I’ll never
take up another one again. Not as long as I live. Not after what Tom
told me. Want to know why?’
Most of them were still too upset to try and prevent Martin telling
his story.
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