Monday 16 November 2020

The Cavern - A Story

 


Image by Rudy and Peter Skitterians from Pixabyay


This story was written for a Uxbridge Writers' Circle Meeting. The words in italics are the ones we were challenged to include in our writing. I hope you enjoy "The Cavern":

Carter had no desire to visit Benwick’s Cavern near the Devon coast. It was bad enough that he’d allowed himself to be cajoled into a trip to the southwest of England. He considered the area to be backward – what it lacked in culture it made up for with noisy amusement arcades and trashy souvenir shops.

Carter was a city man who loved the world of finance and international business, with its busy days and packed schedules. He even liked riding up the lift in the centre of Toronto, to the 60th floor, and striding along the corridor to his corner office to sit in his executive leather chair.

But he did allow himself a seat in the theatre now and again, or a ticket to a Toronto Symphony Orchestra concert.

He sat in the Palace Hotel that morning, and appreciated the white linen tablecloths, the silver cutlery and the real carnation. The buffet breakfast was pretty decent too. This was better than he’d feared. His room was tolerable, with its large ensuite bathroom and comfortable bed.

But all these satisfactory things weren’t enough to persuade him it was worth his while to dress down – to don jeans and a sweater to visit a dark, dank, dripping cavern. He’d picked up a pamphlet on Benwick’s Cavern from the display in the hotel lobby. But the poor quality pictures of stalactites and stalagmites, along with the slimy, shiny walls, just served to make him even more disgruntled.

Carter folded his linen napkin and placed it with precision, parallel to the table’s edge. He finished his strong coffee and replaced the cup onto the saucer without a sound, and prepared to leave. Maggie and John said they would pick him up at ten. They were bound to be late but he needed to be on time.

He stood outside the revolving door and the damp air seeped through his clothes in an instant. He viewed this as an ominous omen for the day. He put his new rain jacket on and told himself if Maggie and John didn’t show up within five minutes, he’d go back to his room.

But they did show up, laughing at some idiotic joke as they waved and came to an abrupt halt in front of the hotel. Maggie had yet to master a manual gearbox, so the drive to the cavern was far from smooth, and the space in the back of the car didn’t come close to being enough for Carter’s comfort, being much more cramped than he was used to. He tried to cross his legs and couldn’t. Maggie’s sparkly eyes caught his, in the rear-view mirror, and he gave her a weak smile.

There was an introduction to the guided tour, with great emphasis placed on how dangerous it was to attempt to go under or over the railing. Children must be supervised at all times. Carter tuned out and looked around him. The predictable gift shop guarded the entrance and notices had been erected in numerous spots. The lawyers would have made a buck or two out of these, Carter thought. His feet were cold. His leather shoes were not a good choice. He noticed a lot of colourful rubber boots.

At last, the guide beckoned the group to follow, but Carter hung back. He planned to trail behind. He’d let others be within earshot of the enthusiastic commentator. The gravel pathway gave way to slimy stone and Carter grew concerned as his shoes failed to grip. Their leather soles gave no pretense at providing any traction. Traction was not something Carter needed. His driver would bring the car to the door in the heated garage at work and the same at home.

Carter was glad he was at the back of the group. He could hold onto the railing as they descended down the slippery slopes which led further into the hillside. He thought of turning back but hadn’t made note of which way they’d come, or if there were several choices or not – he thought there were. He’d noticed that the lights came on automatically as the group approached them. Would they light up for him if he went back? What if they suddenly turned off? He wasn’t sure his mobile’s flashlight would be enough.

A scream. And it didn’t come from him. It was piercing and followed by sobs. But the guide hadn’t heard it and, if anyone in the group had noticed, they didn’t let on. The lights behind Carter went out, but there was still enough light for him to make out a mother crouched down, holding a child who had an arm outreached towards the railing.

Carter edged towards them. They were in semi-darkness now.

“What’s the matter?” asked Carter.

“My giraffe. I dropped my giraffe.” The child burst into uncontrollable sobs as the mother, crouched down beside him, held him firmly in her arms.

“It’s okay,” the mother said to Carter. “He has other toys.”

“I want my giraffe.” The child kicked out and hit his mother. Carter became concerned. What if the child broke loose and got under the railing?

“I’ll get it,” said Carter, before he had a chance to think rationally or develop a plan. He took his mobile out of his pocket, got the flashlight working and shone it over the railing.

“Please don’t even try,” the mother said as she held onto the child’s writing body. “It’s not a stuffed toy, it’s made of wood and it’s breakable. It’ll be in pieces, falling on the rocks like that.”

“Ganpa gave it. Ganpa made it.” The child kicked out again.

“I will get it,” Carter said, as he placed a hand on the boy’s head. “But only if you stop kicking and screaming.” His deep, authoritative voice seemed to do the trick. The child turned his flushed face with its swollen eyes towards him and stopped his tantrum.

Carter took off his shoes. To give her credit, the mother didn’t make any comment – on this lack of suitability for a visit to the cavern. He rolled off his socks and folded each of them and placed them in his shoes. He could see the giraffe in the gulley and asked the mother to hold his phone so the light would stay focused on the toy.

They were right. It was dangerous to venture past the railing and negotiate the downwards slope of smooth, wet stone. He lost his balance and fell, but only his dignity was damaged. The gulley was about 15 feet deep and he’d slipped about two feet from the bottom.

The giraffe was lodged into a crevice but Carter was able to remove it with just one minor scratch. He crammed it into his pocket and scrambled back up the slope.

The child hugged his legs so hard that Carter thought he might lose his balance, and the mother gave him a peck on the cheek. What was this strange warm feeling tingling his insides?

“We need to catch up with the group somehow,” the mother said.

Carter said the child could ride on his shoulders, but the mother would have to alert him when they came to low parts. By the time they got back outside, Carter had a sore head from being pummeled by a wooden giraffe and a stiff back, but he’d made a lifetime friend in Annie.

He was so glad he visited Benwick’s Cavern.

It changed his life.


Vicky Earle Copyright 2020