Page 20 of The Island Girls

‘This bay must be very shallow, even when the tide is in,’ Paul commented.

‘Yes, it is. You probably wouldn’t get more than waist-deep until you almost reach the main channel out there. But when the tide is in, this area is full of windsurfers. It’s a great spot for them.’

They walked on past the Sandbanks Hotel and onto the beach, each taking deep breaths of the fresh sea air that came in on the breeze as they paused to take in the view of the expanse of beach to the left and right of them.

‘Which way shall we walk? Left towards Bournemouth, or right and along the peninsula, down to the Haven Hotel at the harbour entrance? Lovely spot for a cuppa or even a glass of wine in the hotel if we go that way,’ Rebekah suggested.

‘That’s me sold! Lead the way Haven-wards, Ranger Rebekah.’ He grinned, and she laughed in response.

As they walked, Rebekah told him more about her childhood in Australia, and how the native wildlife where she grew up in Brisbane had inspired her to lead the life of a conservationist.

‘But why learn all about Australian ecology and then come here to England? Do you have family here?’ he asked, knowing from various of his historical studies how many Australians had British roots.

Rebekah flinched as the pain flared in the deep scars left by her father and then Andy. The idea of coming to Poole and Brownsea Island had begun in her innocent childhood, but the trauma caused by Andy’s abuse had been the hinge on which herlife had pivoted, sending her across the world to escape him and the memory of fear and pain.

‘Not family, no. But my next-door neighbour grew up here in Poole.’

‘But she’s not here now?’ he asked.

‘No. She went over to Australia after the war and became like a grandmother to me as I grew up. We lost Peggy to cancer not long before I came over here to live,’ she said.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ he said with such feeling that she paused to look up at his face. He had a kindness in his look, all the time, but at this moment, he seemed to be reaching out to her with his eyes. And she was grateful for that extra connection. She lived a lonely life on the island by choice, but this moment made her realise that perhaps it was a little too solitary.

And before she knew how she’d really begun, Rebekah was telling Paul all about Peggy, the neighbour who had helped her mum to raise her. ‘She was there through the worst of my life, and the best of it. At my graduation ceremony from university – that’s when I first realised something was wrong. That first hint that she wasn’t as well as she normally would have been,’ Rebekah said.

She told Paul how, at the ceremony beside the river on Brisbane’s South Bank in the winter of ’88, she’d first seen Peggy resting in the shade and feeling unwell, when normally she would have stood through an afternoon like that and loudly cheered her on.

Earlier, Rebekah had taken a few minutes, before she had to get gowned up and find her seat, to look at the little section of rainforest that had been created there on the banks of the Brisbane River especially for the world expo display. It was an amazingly good replica, with a running creek and sprinklers that made a realistic wet rainforest environment for the frogs, and the few minutes she’d spent there had helped Rebekah solidifyher plans for the short break she had before she went off to start her new job in the new year.

Rebekah told Paul how she had always been hoping for a job in a national park around Brisbane – perhaps Lamington, in the rainforest she loved so much. But first, she had ended up doing some work on wetlands conservation right in Brisbane, at Boondall. And all of this was just a precursor to the big plan: the world-wide travelling plan. The plan to graduate, work hard, learn lots more about Australian ecology, save enough money to travel, then head off to England to learn about the ecology of the British waterways and woodlands, and specifically those in Poole Harbour and on Brownsea Island.

Ever since Rebekah had been a little girl and Peggy had told her stories of her life in Dorset – the harbour, the beaches, the limestone hills and cliff faces and especially the island – she’d dreamed of visiting. For the whole of her life, Brownsea Island had been owned by the National Trust and Peggy had helped Rebekah to stay up to date on the news of what was being done to return it to its natural state, after years of farming and then neglect. She had books and news clippings and photos that had been sent out by Peggy’s friends and relatives, who were working on the island as volunteers. And when Rebekah discovered that the island had its own rangers, she was hooked on the idea of visiting and becoming part of the place of her dreams. But first, there had been qualifications to earn.

‘After my grad ceremony, when I found Mum, I saw that Peggy was still sitting in her chair in the shade. She was holding out a small bunch of lovely native flowers – red callistemon and pink grevillea, yellow banksia and grey-green eucalyptus leaves – all wrapped in brown paper and tied with a raffia ribbon,’ she said. ‘I remember so many details that I hadn’t realised were important to me, but Peggy and I shared such a bond over native flora. It was the only choice of flowers she could everhave made for me. I bent down to give Pig a hug and heard her wince slightly. I didn’t know then, but I soon found out. She was already in the late stages of cancer.’

Rebekah walked on in quiet thought for a while, and Paul gave her the space she needed for her memories.

Up until then, she remembered, she’d never thought of Peggy needing a man in her life, but it had suddenly occurred to Rebekah that Peggy might have been better off with a partner to care for her. She’d had Mum, of course, and Rebekah was there through the worst of it, but she had realised at that moment how nothing was quite the same as a lifelong mate. She thought again now that though being a strong, independent young woman was one thing, old age and sickness was something else altogether. Rebekah wondered now, for the first time, if it weren’t true that everyone needed someone to spend their twilight years with.

And now here was this strangely kind and warm historian: Paul. She knew she’d probably only have a few more hours of his company before he disappeared back to London, probably forever, but something in her heart said that was wrong. That couldn’t be.

Within half an hour, they’d reached what Paul had assumed to be the end of the beach as they approached the rocks that were laid as a sea defence all around the harbour entrance and a gate into the hotel that was marked,Private Property: Hotel Guests Only.

‘Do we need to turn back to reach the hotel from the road?’ he asked her.

In return, she just smiled and winked.

‘Follow me, if you’re feeling adventurous!’ she called as she climbed and picked her way along the rocks at the water’s edge, looking back over her shoulder to check he was following her. Rebekah nimbly led the way around the rocks beneath the wall that surrounded the hotel, and past a couple of fishermen whostood with lines taut in the rush of the outgoing tide at the harbour entrance. When she reached the metal ladder that led up the wall to the front of the hotel, she checked that Paul was still with her. She was surprised to see he’d paused and was studying one of the stones that made up the rock wall, so went back to see him.

‘Look at this, Rebekah! It’s a whole hand, carved into the rock,’ he said as he felt between the fingers of the huge print that must have been carved in the stone right here. She reached his side and explained.

‘There’s a face over there too, see? I’m not sure who carved them, or how long they’ve been there but this is Purbeck stone – quite easy to carve as the stonemasons of some of the country’s finest cathedrals would tell you. If you’d had time to visit Corfe Castle, you’d see plenty of it there. The whole village is made of it. It’s the prettiest place,’ she said standing to wave in the general direction of the Isle of Purbeck. ‘This is where you’d take the car across on the chain ferry, through Studland and on to Corfe.’

‘Did anyone ever tell you that you’d make a good saleswoman, as well as a ranger? You’re making it very difficult to leave Poole tomorrow morning and miss out on all this back in London,’ he groaned.

‘Actually, there’s plenty of Purbeck Stone in London too, if that helps. There’s even some at the Tower of London, I believe,’ she said brightly before heading back to the ladder that rested against the wall and climbing swiftly up to the car park with Paul following on behind.

‘Here we are: I give you the more conventional entrance to the Haven Hotel, though I must say I prefer our route for getting here,’ she said as she led the way into the hotel foyer.

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