A Ghost in the Groyne

A Ghost in the Groyne

Three times a week, I found myself going back to Bexhill around 10 p.m. Danny wanted me at the station, and then we walked along the Promenade. Well, “walked together” isn’t exactly correct: he always walks twenty steps ahead of me.

While the sea fog took over the town, that routine became sacred. He kept moving, and I got lost in my thoughts.

One night, I saw a shadow in the groyne.

My love, did you see that? I shouted.

What? Where? At what time, darling? Danny replied. Always absent-minded, of course.

In the groyne, my love. A… shadow, I think?

“My Yeins, I didn’t see anything,” Danny said, while actually watching an old woman walking slowly. At that moment, I understood: Danny’s only urgency was to avoid bumping into her.

We kept walking in our own rhythms, but I kept thinking about the “shadow.”

When I arrived in Bexhill, GJDJ, our Dungeon Master of the Sea Fog, told me the story about King Harold. He said that at night, when the sea fog is extremely thick, the King wakes up and wanders through his old kingdom. Seeing King Harold is considered a blessing, because he doesn’t appear often.

Was that shadow King Harold? I’ll never know. Danny won’t, either. But both of us still walk the Promenade at 10 p.m., three times a week.

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