Dearest Kit

Chapter Thirty Two

Dear Reader, so, it's sad to say that this story is coming to it's end :( I know, we'll all have to grieve together. This isn't the last chapter, but there will only be 3 or 4 more after this. I hope people are still enjoying it, and I think this is one of my favourite chapters, one of the best I've ever written. Please leave me with your thoughts...thanks xxx

   “So, when I asked you to take me somewhere special, somewhere beautiful, somewhere secret,” Kit paused then, taking a deep breath in and laughing ruefully, “you decided to take me to Brighton Pier?” I giggled, pulling the sleeves of my jumper down over my hands. 

   “Yes,” I said, brushing my hair back so that it fell in long tresses. “It’s all of those things you just mentioned,” I argued. “It’s special, because I spent my childhood here, and I haven’t visited it for a while. It’s beautiful because of the lights,” I lent back on the balustrades and stared up at the garish signs of the sideshows and fairground rides, “and because it’s always been here, for as long as I can remember. It may not be a secret, but not many people come here at this time of year,” I explained. “It’s cold tonight.” 

   “Okay, you’ve nearly convinced me,” Kit confessed, holding up his hands, palms up to the twilight sky, “but what’s wonderful about the drunk man trying to sell people dead mice in exchange for a kiss?” I looked up at him with wide eyes, like saucers, before I burst out into fits of giggles. 

   “He’s lonely!” I retorted, grinning, “I like the character this place has, it’s unique.” 

   “I’m never sure if unique is a good thing,” Kit replied, “not if it involves mentally ill men in anoraks.” 

   “Unique is always a good thing,” I shook my head and looked down at my feet, as we walked along by the railings, close to the sea which was raging all around us, like a beast snatching at our feet. “Can I tell you a secret?” I whispered, sucking on my bottom lip in the way I always have done, ever since I was a child. 

   “Of course,” Kit nodded, motioning to an empty bench and taking a seat. I sat down besides him and propped my feet up on the balcony in front, nudging my feet against Kit’s gently. 

   “When I used to come here with my parents, I would always be frightened of the wooden planks,” I pointed down at the floor, at the old, splintered wood, nailed together rather crookedly. “The way you could see through the gaps into the depths of the water below, almost feel the salt spray against your skin,” I closed my eyes and imagined being engulfed by the water; I shivered involuntarily. 

   “It’s been here for years, we’re perfectly safe,” he uttered into my ear, and I laughed wearily. 

   “I know, I know that,” I nodded. “It’s just a childhood thing, something you’ve always believed despite how ridiculous it is.” 

   “It’s fine, I understand.” 

   “I don’t like the idea of falling into the sea from this height,” I lent forward on the bench, so I was leaning against the railings, peering down into the ocean. “The cold scares me, I don’t know if I’ve ever admitted it to someone else, said the words out loud.” 

   “You have a fear of water?” Kit queried, resting a hand against my back and moving it around comfortingly, making me feel safe. 

   “Not really,” I disagreed, “just,” I paused then, because it was hard to describe, “being captured and helpless and drowning.”