“Three ruins at an older ruin.”
At Jane’s gesticulation, Shelley lifted her gaze to the hilltop. The forlorn skeleton of the banqueting hall had once pulsated with bacchanalian pleasures. Then rescanning the high-tide line, “At least we’re more than these empty shells”
“Some of us not much more” Jane batted back acidly.
Chloe, watching, marvelled at the continuation of their monthly sociabilities. We don’t have much in common or even like each other that much now. A diversionary tactic was called for. “Let’s explore nearer the riverbed for conches” she suggested.
“Why not,- exchange them for chips and ice cream on the way back!” Shelley’s wisecrack ended in a splutter; Chloe saw the red specks as the froth sank into the sand like evaporating lugworm casts.
“Fingers crossed the buses will still be running.” Jane was determined to prove she was up to it despite the double hip replacement and had pushed ahead on her trekking poles at the word “buses.”
Chloe and Shelley struggled to keep up. Clouds curtained the sun and the midday darkened to a winter’s chilling twilight. Had it been wise to ignore the “essential travel only” advisories?
“The Triangle to Eternity.” Chloe punched the air as she struggled to keep the mood light. “Remember us chanting at school?”
Shelley rose to the challenge. “Yes,- not that we were ever equilateral. Jane was always the cleverest yet we all three pulled-off A1 Maths grades at A Level.” Shelley’s voice almost broke with incredulity.
“Didn’t we do well?” Chloe put a supportive arm around Shelley’s shoulder, palpably wasted through layers of designer clothing and outer storm wear.
Shelley had always made a point of dressing appropriately – and expensively. Her Maths PhD and impeccable sartorial style impressed at interview. She secured that position at UK Aerospace and Defence, acquired a £3.5 million manor house, an Afghan Hound, a husband and a couple of paramours along the way. Plus the diagnostically baffling consumptive condition.
Chloe mused on. Should they ever discuss anything as crude as money matters (they never did!)in order of personal wealth, Jane as Head Of Mathematical Sciences at a red brick university, would most likely come second to Shelley. She an unemployed statistical meteorologists, single, living in a terraced house, a financially ruined but healthy third and last.
A silvery orb, the sun, broke through, struggling with them against the gusty dominance of Storm Henrik. Jane had disappeared from sight around the headland; it took some time to catch her up.
“How many have you got?” Jane opened her hand to reveal 13 conches.
“None for us!”
A flash as the lightning struck.
“Possible even though statistically improbable. An irrefutable bolt from the blue,” said Chloe.
“The Triangle to Eternity,” they chanted in unison.
Storm Henrik raged for three days. Helicopter and land searches were impossible due to the gale force winds
They were found, arranged as a triangle, head to foot, 13 conch shells at the centroid.
