New short story: Beside the Seaside

A fight against the rising tide in search of a missing child

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‘Is Grace with you, Jane?’ The edge to Debbie’s voice on the other side of the phone told me she was worried.

‘No, I haven’t seen her, Debbie, but I’ll come and help you look for her.’ Debbie lived next door with her husband, Bill and their little girl, Grace. It was not unusual for Grace to go missing. ‘Hide and seek’ was her favourite game, and the three-year-old had a history of wandering off and hiding from her parents. 

Six months earlier, a full-scale search with police and neighbours had her mother almost hysterical. The search party combed the beaches and neighbouring scrub land for hours before they returned home at dusk for a debrief. 

It had cooled down by this time, and someone closed the front door. Gracey was sitting as quietly as a mouse behind it. She’d been listening to the comings and goings of dozens of people calling her name repeatedly. No one had thought to look behind the front door, which was standing wide open. 

There were several others before this incident. We had found Grace hiding under the dirty washing in the laundry basket, squeezed like a gecko behind the freezer, in an empty box in the garden shed and even under the potatoes in the large storage potato bin. I had twice found her hiding under the beds in my house.

This was the reason I wasn’t concerned. There was no reason to panic. We would find Gracey in some new hiding place. 

My husband, John and I had retired to a cottage on the Cape coast of South Africa. I enjoyed writing, and John loved fishing. John was away in Cape Town today, so I went to Debbie and Bill’s home. Their house was hidden from view behind a large sand dune about half a kilometre away from our home. We chose to live in this remote area amongst the vegetation called Fynbos, birds, and wildlife because of our love of the ocean and the simple way of life. 

***

After Gracey was found hiding behind the front door, Debbie and Bill brought an 18-month-old border collie named Sasha into their home. Gracey and Sasha were best friends, and Grace’s disappearing acts appeared to be under control—until now. 

Unfortunately, Sasha had a bad habit of chasing wild rabbits. She never caught them; it was just the fun of the chase, but she would go missing for hours, leaving Gracey to her own devices.

Debbie was agitated when I arrived. ‘We’ve searched the house and yard – she’s not here – neither is Sasha. Bill’s gone down to the beach to see if they’re there.’ She gritted her teeth. ‘I’ll be so cross with Grace if she’s disobeyed me. I know she’s probably too young to understand, but I’ve warned her a hundred times about wandering onto the beach alone.’ 

I tried to soothe my distressed neighbour. ‘A new pair of eyes can do wonders. I’ve checked the usual places in my home; let me look around your house.’

‘Thanks, Jane. I keep hoping Gracey will outgrow this silly hiding stage.’ 

I checked the house, garage and shed. She wasn’t there. 

‘When did you last see Gracey and Sasha together?’ I asked.

‘I left Grace in her bedroom playing dress-ups – Sasha was with her. That was about an hour ago. We realised she was missing when she didn’t run out to greet Bill as she usually does when he returns home.’ 

‘I’ll go to the beach and check if Bill found her. If she’s not there, I think you should call the police, Debbie.’ 

Bill gestured to me when I reached the beach. His eyes narrowed against the sunlight. ‘Look.’ He pointed to the few remaining tiny footprints before they vanished beneath a pounding wave.

I stopped in my tracks, not wanting to disturb the sand. My face probably said it all. ‘Please don’t say Gracey’s gone into the caves?’ My words were more a prayer than a statement.

…

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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