Ominous thick black and dark grey clouds were rolling in from the south, covering the peaks of the surrounding mountains. Already the clouds pushing against the mountain tops were misting drops of rain on the green growth of the light bushes and vegetation.

The wind was out of the south, blowing steadily with occasional gusts, gripping with icy fingers on my face and hands and causing my hair to ruffle in all directions.

The sea was grey. Dark grey and angry. Waves were crashing into the jagged black rocks beneath the sheer drop of the cliff. Swirling and foaming as swell after swell reached up to fifteen and twenty feet, then rolling in to shore, their windswept crests sending salty spray away in the wind.

The day will continue to darken until blinding white flashes of lightning streak across the sky, followed by the roaring thunderclaps assailing my ears. This was not a day to be outside. No, I need to be inside by a hot fire in front of the fireplace in my recliner, sipping Scotch and reading with the cat curled up on the armrest beside me on the recliner.

Why then was I outside and struggling to hold myself against the wind? Nope, I have to be, for there was a serious job to be done; had to be done. The moorings on the “Miss Conduct,” had to be looked at and extra mooring lines, fore and aft, put in place. Inside the little harbour, the sea was calm, but one never knows about the rise or fall of the water.

This was then why I was outside, and longing to be inside. This is why I was taking the shorter route from the harbour to my lime washed house with the thatched roof. Going over the lower rocks and turning back to the beach, just before the cliff on the north side of the harbour.

The house, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, lounge, dining room and kitchen, was situated on a rise on the seaward side of the main road. The road connects Simon’s Town with the city of Cape Town. The railway line followed the main road, meaning that to get to the road, I need to transverse the railway line by going through the harbour itself and crossing at the level crossing with its booms and warning lights. A narrow two track sandy road connected my house to the harbour.

My house was one of only three houses along this stretch of coastline, nestled into the side of a high cliff. The cliff extended outward towards the sea, where it abruptly dropped into the sea, with a scattering of sharp-edged jagged rocks at the cliff foot.

My name is Johan Anton De Waal. Those that care to know me call me Joe. I am thirty-six years young and six foot six inches in my socks, with light sandy hair falling to my shoulders, or sometimes, like now, gathered in a ponytail. I was dressed in my uniform of the day: blue denim jeans, sea-boots, short sleeve shirt, and a grey and blue striped woollen jersey. A black beanie covered my head to my ears, to keep out the icy wind, you know. My ponytail was gathered with a leather string at the nape of my neck. Well, to be honest, this was about my everyday uniform.

It was rough going along the rocky shore, but the distance to my house was much shorter, and I will be out of this muck in a short while. In the distance I could see the house, and the little tendril of blue smoke coming out of the chimney before being whisked away on the wind.

When I get home, I’ll start brewing some coffee. Yes, the strong aromatic Arabic blend I so much favour. I do have electricity in my house. Most of the houses here around the harbour of the fishing community have electricity. But also, I retained the old Coleman stove in the kitchen. There’s nothing as good as cooking on the Coleman in black cast iron pots. The food just tastes better.

That would be my way of cooking a pot of veggies, and some lamb stew. Green bean stew, or a fish chowder. For the fish chowder, I will do it the way of the sea, as fisherman on boats and ships have done it for millennia: cooking it in seawater. Awesome!

The only three ingredients for my fish chowder are a base of salty pork or bacon, a mix of onion, celery and potatoes, and of course, fish. Salmon, Kingklip, kabeljou or Snook will be fine. The occasional rock lobster also goes through this treatment. Occasionally I will add some clams, black mussels or scrubbed and diced abalone.

(Authors note: If you use seawater, skip the SALTY pork, just make it normal pork.)

Looking back at the raging sea, I saw the tide rising. With the unseen daytime moon being high above the horizon, this will be a spring tide and the rocks and sandy beach I just went over will soon be deep underwater. Already my deep footprints on the beach were being washed away by the incoming tide. A stray seagull was riding the wind in its endless rise and dive circle flight. That’s when I saw her.

If not for the seagull that dove past me and made me for a moment to look up at it, I would not have seen the lonely figure standing on the edge of the cliff, looking down into the boiling sea at the foot of the cliff.

For a moment, I stopped and gazed at the lonely figure. The wind was blowing her long hair back, swirling it around her head. Her long skirt was flapping around her legs. She stood motionless, just staring down into the boiling and foaming sea. If she’s not careful, she might slip and fall. SLIP AND FALL! That flashed into my mind, and I instantly realised that she was about to jump into the sea. Not on my watch!

I hurried up onto the cliff and cautiously approached her from behind. If she in any way gets startled, she might slip and fall down off the cliff and onto the jagged black rocks beneath. I must be careful.

Above the howling of the wind, she must have heard me or sensed my presence, because she whipped her head around, facing me. Her eyes were wild, her hair blowing about her face. For a moment I thought her to be insane.

“GO AWAY!” She screamed above the sound of the wind and the crashing waves. “Leave me alone!”

“Why? It’s such a nice view from here,” I yelled back at her. She looked over her shoulder at me. I could see moistness in her eyes, either from the wind or she was crying.

“I’m going to jump! Stay away and don’t come any closer!”

“No!” I said, shouting to be heard above the elements.

“I said: Go away! Leave me alone!” she repeated, this time showing more life by catching her hair and shoving it out of her face. I detected a little apprehensiveness from her. She wanted to jump but was delaying it.

“Come away from the edge, I want to talk to you.”

“NO! If you come closer ... I will jump!”

“You can’t jump.”

“And why not? I want to end my miserable life ... I don’t want to live.”

“You may not die,” I shouted above the howling wind. She looked back at me, and a frightful expression showed on her pale face. The hesitation before and her attitude now were good signs. Someone who wanted to take her own life and really wanted to die would have made peace with it and jumped. She has not yet reached that point. She also said she didn’t want to live, not “I want to die.” That gave me hope. She was not ready yet.

Turning sideways away from the cliff, she looked at me, struggling with her left hand to keep her long black windswept hair from covering her face.

“I said, stay away. Don’t come closer.”

“Okay! I’ll stay here, but remember, if you jump into those rocks and sea below, you might not die.” I said, keeping my distance, and using the controversial word; “die.”

“I don’t want to live anymore! Go away!”

“You can’t jump!” I said.

“Why not?”

“You can’t jump because you don’t have a swimsuit on,” I said and smiled, reaching out my hand to her. “Come here and let’s talk. Tell me why you want to jump and cut up that beautiful body of yours on those sharp rocks down below. I need to understand it before you jump.”

This seemed to have an impact on her. Maybe the words about cutting up her body on the rocks. I saw hesitation in her eyes. A moment ago, there was a wild look in her eyes that now seems to have softened.

“You ... You just want to know why I want to jump ... And then let ... let me jump?”

“Yes, if you so choose, but keep in mind that it is a long drop, and it may be impossible for me to reach you” I said and used reverse psychology. “But you must be quick about telling me your story and jump. Its cold out here, and I have hot coffee, and a big warm fire waiting on me at my place.”

The girl turned fully to me, looked me up and down, and then gave two steps into my direction, away from the edge of the cliff. I sighed a sigh of relief, unheard above the howling wind.

“I have a proposal for you,” I said.

“What proposal?” She said, looking at me disbelievingly.

“We can sit here, or you can come down with me to my place. Have a last meal and a hot steaming mug of coffee, tell me your story, and then you can come back here and jump into the sea.”

“You just want me away from the edge,” she said, now a little calmer.

“Well at least I can have your lovely company for a short while.”

“Really? You want to share your meal and coffee with me, and then let me jump?”

“Well, let me tell you the truth. If you jump into that sea, you will hit the rocks. The waves will roll and bash your body against the sharp rocks. It will cut you to pieces, and the crabs and sharks will enjoy a large meal. The waves could also take you out to sea and wash you back to the beach, where people will either find your mutilated body, or you could still be alive. You will be nursed back to life and then have to face a life as an invalid in a wheelchair. If you want to kill yourself now, just think if you survive this, how much more will you want to kill yourself afterwards and won’t be able to do so ... Must I go on?”

“No! The coffee and the grub sound welcome...” She said, somewhat subdued. Looking over her shoulder into the raging waves, she shuddered and turned back to me. “Okay, let’s go.” Again, I sighed a sigh of relief.

She took my outstretched hand and stepped off the high end of the cliff. A lightning flash streaked across the sky, lighting up the darkness cast by the black clouds. For a moment the girl with her black hair and white clothes stood out against the cliff, shining like an angel. There was a deep loud thunderclap following the lightning flash, and the rumble of the thunder rolled over the landscape, echoing off the mountain at our back.

Then the rain started to come down. Big hard drops driven near horizontally by the now gale force wind. The waves crashed against the jagged black rocks, sending salty spray high into the air.

Stepping on the non-slippery parts of the rocks, I guided her down to the beach. This took us nearly twenty minutes against the wind. By the time we hit the sandy beach we both were drenched. She was dressed only in a cotton blouse, long cotton skirt, and barefoot. Silly girl. Climbing those rocks barefoot.

About a hundred-metre dash up the slope to my house had us both breathing hard, while ducking through the door into the living room.

I switched on the light in the room and turned to my guest. What a sight! With windblown long black hair and the wet cotton blouse and skirt clinging to her she was a mess, standing shivering in the pool of water forming around her tiny bare feet. The white colour of her blouse and skirt making them nearly see-through. Little dark spots on her chest indicated the presence of nipples on tiny breasts. Oops! I turned away.

“First, let me get you something to replace those wet clothes with. Wait here AND, DON’T, go away,” I said, and for the first time I heard a giggle behind me. “I’ll be back.”

Going to my room, I collected a T-shirt, PT-shorts, and a robe. I dashed back to the living room to find her still standing in the spot I left her. She had the presence of mind to realise that her clothes were going see-through and had her arms clasped around her chest. Her hair was now sticking slickly to her body.

“Here, the bathroom is just up the passage to the left. There’s a big fluffy towel there, and if you want to take a shower, go ahead. The warm water will do you good,” I said as I handed her the dry clothes. “We’ll put the wet stuff in the tumble dryer. I’ll get coffee going in the meantime.”

“Thank you...”

“Johan, call me Joe,” I said.

“My name is, Jessica,” she said shyly, and went up the passage to the bathroom.

Pleased to meet you, Jessica!” I called at her departing back. “There’s a hair-dryer in the cabinet under the mirror!”

“Thanks!” Came the answer, and the bathroom door closed.

Well, I got to dress in dry clothing. My hair can air dry, because the only hair-dryer I have is off limits right now. It seems like Jessica’s mood is lifting. If it was my graphic description of her intended demise, I don’t know, but there she was in the bathroom up the passage. I can’t let the waif go out in this storm, so it looks like I picked a whip for my own ass. She’ll have to stay the night, unless she has a place to go.

At least I got her away from that cliff and whatever she planned on doing. Jumping to her death was not on the cards. The hesitation in her execution of jumping, and her words made me believe that she was not ready to die yet. A small victory. But her mind needs to be put at ease.

The coffee percolator was making loud, clunky, slurping and banging noises in the kitchen. While it will be some time until the brew is ready, I placed two mugs and other makings on the kitchen island top. I don’t know how she takes her coffee, better be prepared.

Through the kitchen window I saw the lightning streaks flashing across the sky. The rumbling of the thunder rattled the loose items in the house. The storm was on top of us. It will last throughout the day until this low-pressure system moves on. Then the dark clouds will disperse, and the wind will die down to a breeze. The sun will again bathe the landscape in its golden glow. The air will smell fresh and washed after the rain. And I must go check “Miss Conduct” for any damage the storm might have caused.

The chance of a lightning strike here at my house is a little remote, as there’s that huge mountain behind and to the side of the house. Not that it may not occur, but chances are slim.

I felt little draft coming into the kitchen. Moments later a voice called to me from the living room.

“Joe? Where are you?”

“Here in the kitchen,” I called back. Moments later a vision came into the kitchen. Jessica, now dressed in one of my T-shirts and PT-shorts, and still barefoot, stood in the kitchen doorway, clutching a sad bundle of dripping wet clothes in her hands.

The T-shirt came down to mid-thigh, but the PT-shorts hung down to her knees. Lucky the drawstrings on the shorts kept them up. Skinny thing, this Jessica.

She had placed the robe over her shoulders, and stuck her arms into the sleeves, but did not tie it in the front. Well, the robe was a wee bit big for her tiny frame and dragged on the floor behind her.

I saw some shapely slender legs showing. Her hair, now dry, cascaded over her shoulders. There was still an expression of sadness in her pretty blue eyes.

“Coffee?” I enquired, taking the wet clothes from her and placing them into the tumble dryer, spotting some white cotton panties but no bra. I turned the device on and set the cycle timer to thirty minutes.

“Please, it will be nice,” Jessica said and shivered, dropping onto a breakfast nook stool and crossing her legs. I looked down at her feet and saw scratch marks on her lower legs and tops of her feet.

“Jessica, can I look at the scratches on your legs and feet?” I asked.

“It’s okay. The bleeding has stopped a while ago,” she said as she took the steaming mug of coffee I handed to her.

“The bleeding might have stopped, but the wounds need to be disinfected. Come sit on the sofa, and I will tend to it.” Silently she turned around on the stool and stood up, walked to the sofa in the living room and sat down, arranging the little bit too long robe to cover her, but left her legs uncovered.

I placed my coffee on the coffee table and knelt beside her, looking at her legs and feet. “Let’s see what is going on here.” Casting me a shy glance, she raised her left foot. I was appalled. Although there were scratches and slight lacerations on her leg and top of her foot, her sole of the foot was cut up good. Cut to smithereens on the sharp-edged rocks.

I took her right foot in my hands and raised it. The same sight greeted me. I sighed and got up.

“How do you walk, Jess?” I asked.

“Slowly and on my heels. They burned when I washed them. I cried. I did not want you to see it.”

“No, we are going to tend to it now. Come with me,” I said and held my hand out to her. She took it and got up, grimacing, and limping.

“Now, don’t take exception, but there’s only one way to get you to a more comfortable position,” I said and picked her up in my arms. A gasp escaped her lips, but I picked up the feather weight girl, one arm behind her back and one arm under her knees. Instinctively her arms went around my neck and her head on my shoulder. I took her to the guest bedroom.

“Now, here you can stay until those feet are healed,” I said as I placed her on the bed.

“I thought I would just have a last meal and drink a last mug of coffee, tell you my story, and then go jump in the sea,” Jessica said, and big sad blue eyes looked at me.

“The coffee and storytelling are still on the cards, but you won’t be jumping in any sea until you are well again, or any time soon.” I said looking at her with a stern face. Jessica looked away, and I detected that I might have hit a nerve.

“Look at me,” I said softly. Jessica looked at me, sitting next to her on the bed, “I’m not going to let you jump into anything, you hear me.”

“Yes ... I hear you...”

“Good! Now, let me get those legs and feet disinfected and put some non-inflammatory ointment on them.”

“Okay...” Came the soft reply.

Going back to the kitchen, I retrieved my first aid bag and returned to the guest room. Jessica was laying back against the pillows, her eyes closed, and a little wetness shining in the corners of her eyes. She had the robe now closed and tied, leaving only her lower legs and feet uncovered.

“This may sting a little, but you will be fine afterwards,” I said, and Jessica opened her eyes and looked up at me, but remained silent.

“Keeping you warm now is also a priority. So, after we clean the wounds and treat them, I’ll put some socks on for you. Sorry, I don’t have slippers your size,” A ghost of a smile played on her lips, but the eyes remained sad.

“When does Missus Joe get back, and what will she say about me being here?”

“There’s no missus Joe. And keep your feet still,” I flatly stated and proceeded with treating her legs and feet.

“Oh.” Was the soft reply. Leopolt, the ginger and yellow cat, jumped up on the bed and smelled at Jessica’s fingers. Then he pushed his fluffy head into her hand. Jessica looked at him, smiled and started scratching him behind his head.

“Your cat?”

“My familiar. I’m a warlock, a sorcerer.” I said, trying to keep a straight face, but failing miserably.

“And his name is Azreal, and you go by Gargamel, I suppose?” Jessica said, referencing the name of the character Gargamel, and his cat in the Smurfs comic strip. Again that ghost of a smile appeared.

“No. His name is Leopolt.”

“Hello, Joe’s Leopolt.” Jessica said and Leopolt purred, enjoying the ear scratching.

“I named him after King Leopolt the third, King of Belgium.”

“Why?

“I don’t know. It just sounded good, and like a king he strides around the house and the yard. It is his domain, his kingdom. Even the dogs around here fear him.”

“You don’t say...” Jessica said and looked at me, disbelieving.

“If you don’t believe me, go ask the five or so dogs around here with mutilated snouts.”

“Okay, I don’t speak Dog, but I believe you!” Giggle. “Maybe it’s because he belongs to a warlock. He put spells on the dogs.”

“Now, keep your legs and feet still. I am trying to get you patched up again.”

“But it hurts!”

“Just think how it will hurt if you did hit those rocks under the cliff.”

“Ouch! Yes, I suppose you’re right...” Jessica sighed, closed her eyes, and kept on scratching Leopolt.

Touching her skin sent a lightning bolt through me. Laying there on the bed with her eyes closed and a calm expression on her face and her black hair splayed out over the pillows, she looked young. What has gone so wrong in her life that she contemplated suicide? A failed love affair?

It has been a long time since I had been so close to a woman. Yes, there had been one or two women in my life who could have worked out into a life together. But that did not happen. Maybe they would not want a life of roving the sea. Not that it mattered. Roving the sea was my life. You either get on-board or not. This is me, and so I roll.

“How old are you, Jessica?” I asked, finishing off treating her wounds. Nothing serious, just a bit of a bother to her.

“I’ll be twenty-one, coming October...” She said, not opening her eyes and by now slowly stroking Leopolt down his back. Leopolt revelled in this attention, loudly purring. The purring must have had an effect on Jessica, because I could see that she was relaxing.

“Okay, socks,” I said and started to pull some thick woollen socks on her tiny feet. The socks were miles too big for her, but hey, come on, those socks are the only size I’ve got.

“Can I sleep here?” She asked.

“Yes, you can sleep here, but first eat something. I can heat up some leftover beef stew and rice I have. I was anyway going to get some for myself.”

“I thought I heard thunder, but it was my tummy growling. Beef stew would be good.”

“Then let me go and heat up some of it. I’ll put it in a soup bowl, that way you won’t spill it.”

“Let me come with you and sit by the island in the kitchen.”

“Will you be okay? I mean, walking on those hurting feet.”

“Yeah, some painkillers might work. I did not know where I lost my shoes, and those rocks were so sharp. Like razors.”

“Okay, I have some painkillers in the kitchen. You can take them with your coffee,” I said and thought of her losing her shoes. Either on the beach or the rocks themselves. I did not see women’s shoes anywhere along the path. Maybe she did not have shoes at all. One would never know.

“Thanks,” Jessica said and sat up, swinging her legs and feet to the floor. Well, she was so tiny her feet did not reach the floor while sitting on the bed.

We both went to the kitchen, Jessica hobbling out before me. Going through the living room, I took our coffee mugs from the coffee table and went into the kitchen. Jessica had already sat down by the kitchen island.

I started to heat the stew, dishing on two plates and heating it in the microwave. It would take a little longer if I did it on the Coleman. First, I need to get food into this black-haired waif, and only then could she take the painkillers.

Jessica sat with her head in her hands, but looked at me while I heated the grub.

“You are really going to feed me, and then let me jump into the sea,” she said, more a statement than a question.

“That depends entirely on you. While you are my guest, I will treat you as a guest. What you do afterwards is your decision,” I said, but only to drive home the fact that she had to reconsider her idea. Jessica just looked at me with a blank expression. No emotion, but I could see in her eyes there was a storm raging inside her. A storm bigger than the one outside the house.

Are you going to tie me up?”

“And why should I do that?

“So, that I don’t escape and go jump in the sea.”

“I said, it is your decision if you choose life or death. Just remember, death is very permanent. Once dead, you can’t turn back. There is no reset button.”

“You make it sound like a game.”

“It is not a game. In a game, if you die, you press restart, and carry on, not making the mistake that caused your death in the first place. In life, if you make a mistake, you learn from it and carry on. You don’t press the eject button. It is no solution.”

“Was I about to press the eject button?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry...”

“Jessica, don’t be sorry. Be the Jessica you want to be, not the Jessica people tell you, you are.”

“How do I become the Jessica, I want to be?” She asked, and I realised that no one has ever told her how to be herself in the big bad world.

“Tell me, Jess, where do you stay?”

“In the flats on the Main Road, just over the railway tracks.”

“There are plenty apartments there. What building?”

“Kalk Bay Court, ... number 5...” She said, and her voice trailed off.

“Nice place. I’ve seen it. It’s got a good view of the harbour and the sea. Here, have some stew,” I said as I handed her a plate.

“Thank you, Joe. It smells delicious.”

“Eat up. You have to take your painkillers.” Jessica said nothing, and we ate in silence.

Outside the storm was in full force. The wind howled around the house, and I could see the curtains on the windows swaying slightly as the outside pressure dropped and the inside pressure stayed normal. A phenomenon that people don’t always see or appreciate.

“If the storm dies down a bit, I need to go out to the harbour,” I said after I took the last scraps of stew from the plate into my mouth.

“What do you need to do out at the harbour in this weather?” Jessica asked, her blue eyes searching my face.

“I need to go check my boat, if it is still afloat.”

“You have a boat? Are you a fisherman?”

“Yes, I have a boat. No, I’m not a fisherman.”

“Then what do you do for a living?”

“I enjoy life and go where the sea, and the wind takes me,” I said, and Jessica looked up from here plate.”

“You don’t work?”

“I do work, but only when I get the inspiration to work.”

“It sounds funny the way you say it. Work only when you get the inspiration to work. I just wish I had work,” Jessica sighed.

“You are young, and you are intelligent. You can have any work you want. Even create your own work. It is just how you go about it.”

“And how do I do that?”

“If you are prepared to postpone your jumping-into-the-sea-and-drown project for say, a week, I will show you the way.”

“You would!”

“Yes! I would, but would you postpone your dark project?”

“I would...” Jessica softly said and bowed her head, looking down at her hands beside the empty plate.

“Good! Now, let’s get you some painkillers. Tell me, are you allergic to penicillin?”

“No, why?”

“I just thought about infection in your wounds, I have some Amoxicillin, 1000 milligrams, you could take one after the painkillers.”

“You’re too good for me. Are you an angel sent to rescue me?”

“No, the devil’s brother is more correct. But don’t let it bother you.”

“You are funny! You should be a great bestseller writer,” Jessica giggled.

“I might be,” I said and smiled at her wit and clever grasp of things.

“You read?” I asked.

“Yes, I like reading.”

“What do you read, Jess?”

“Oh, all sorts of things. Books without pictures in them. If you know what I mean?”

“Fiction. Adventure stories, or girlie romantic love stories?”

“All the above.” Giggle.

“Good. There’re some books on my bookcase in the living room. Get yourself something while I go check the boat.”

“Can I come along, to the boat, or don’t you want me along?”

“Well, the harbour water is not so rough as the sea under the cliff. If you jump in, I could get you out pronto.”

“I said I will postpone that part.”

“Then you can come along.”

“Thank you.”

“But not in your pyjamas. Your clothes are dry; you can go get dressed. Only, what do we do for shoes?”

“I did not think of that...”

“No problem! Let’s improvise. I’ll give you two more sets of socks to put on, and a pair of Wellington water boots. The boots will then fit.”

“You sound like you always have a plan.”

“That’s me. Always sees the glass half full.”

“Yeah, and an accountant will see the top half as wasted space.”

“You’re getting better, girl. Much better. Now let me do the dishes, and you take your pills and try to catch a bit of shut-eye while the storm dies out a bit.”

“Can I use the same room as where we were before?”

“Go for it. It’s yours for as long as you need it.”

“Thanks, Joe. You’re a lifesaver.”

“The sweetie with the hole in the middle, or the big tan muscled guys on the beach in red speedos?”

Giggle. “The big tan muscled kind...” Jessica said and reached across the table-top, placing her hand on mine and squeezing it. “Thanks for being there ... you made me realise some stuff...”