Chapter 7. Tom's feat
We reached the coast and slowly walked along the tide line, looking at the ground.
"Honestly, I don't understand what we're doing here," Nick was grumbling. "If there was the last piece of the picture frame, we'd find it yesterday."
"All the same we should check," Tom objected automatically. Though he didn't look too cheerful either.
The sun was setting, staining the sky a deep pink. It was getting darker and colder. Chill wind blew from the ocean; big, strong waves were lapping at our feet as we walked along the tide line.
"Nick's right, if the last piece of frame were here, we'd already find it," Richelle whinged. She was limping in front of me; her high heels were constantly drowning in the sand. "Why are there so many rocks on this beach? It's just impossible to walk."
She took Nick's arm. Hardly had she done it, when there was a loud cracking noise. Richelle shrieked and fell to the ground, pulling Nick downward after her. Swearing, Nick stood up and started to haul Richelle to her feet.
"Are you okay?" he asked irritably, brushing sand off his jeans.
"No, I'm not," she sat down on a big flat rock and lifted her foot, staring sorrowfully at the shoe. The heel was broken.
Liz bent down and began to dig in the sand. "Here it is," finally she handed the broken, dirty heel over to Richelle.
"How do you think," Richelle looked at us, "is there any shoe repair shop nearby?"
"I doubt it," Sunny replied flatly. "Anyway, we won't go back and look for a shoe repair shop for you until we check the coast. It's getting late. We can't waste our time. No one asked you to put on shoes on such high heels."
Richelle pouted, but didn't argue. Silently, she stood up and limped forward, leaning on Nick. Though, soon they accommodated themselves so well that Richelle even said that she didn't need to look for a shoe repair shop any more, because Nick would help her to get home.
"Tomorrow I'll go to the shop where I bought these shoes. It's nonsense! These shoes cost a fortune. I've been wearing them for only a week!" she was complaining, staggering down the coast, using Nick as a crutch.
Sunny rolled her eyes and turned to the bay. "Hey, look over there!" she exclaimed, pointing at the ocean. "See? Something is floating there!"
We all craned our necks, peering in the direction she was pointing. Something golden was bobbing on the waves, but it was so far that none of us could understand what it was. But we all agreed that it might be the last piece of the picture frame.
"It seems to be drifting nearer," Liz said doubtfully. "Maybe this thing soon will be washed ashore?"
"You know, Liz, it's very late. I don't know about you, but I don't feel like waiting half the night for this thing to be washed ashore," Richelle muttered.
"It's something long, narrow and golden," said Sunny, squinting at the ocean. "It really can be the last piece of the frame."
We looked at each other in hesitation. Now everyone considered that we just needed to know if it was the last fragment of the stolen frame or not. Waves were rolling over each other and hit the shore. The mysterious thing was drawing nearer and nearer, but very slowly. Richelle was right - it might take half the night for the thing to reach the shore.
"As far as I remember the sea is shallow here," Liz said thoughtfully. "And it's a low tide. Maybe it's possible to walk over to this thing?"
"I'm not going there," Nick shuddered, wrapping his jacket around him in the cold breeze.
"Oh, okay! I'll go," Tom decided to sacrifice himself.
"That's right," Richelle instantly agreed. "You're the tallest. You have more chances to walk up to this thing than any of us. And we finally can go home after that."
Tom pulled off his shoes and socks, and rolled up his jeans above the knees. "Okay, I'm going," looking like a soldier, who was going to sacrifice himself for the sake of his country, Tom slowly stepped into the water. A wave came up and rolled into him. "It's cold," he complained, turning to us. He stood for a moment, then moved forward.
"Tom, it's a folly!" Sunny tried to stop him.
"Folly is Tom's second name," Nick muttered.
Tom continued slowly moving forward. Liz was right, the sea was shallow here. Tom had gone several meters forward, but the water was still lapping at his knees. Having made several more steps, Tom turned to us again.
"Where's this thing?" he shouted. "I can't see it."
We all stared at the ocean. The golden thing, which had been bobbing on the waves, disappeared. In twilights it was almost impossible to see such a little thing between white horses on waves.
"Maybe it drowned?" Sunny suggested, peering into the ocean.
"No! There it is!" Liz shouted, pointing to the right. "It must have been washed aside."
"Tom, go to the right!" I yelled. "To the right! It's over there!"
"That's Tom for you," Nick drawled. "Yeah. Only Tom can go into such cold water without even working out which way to go."
"Tom! Come back! You'll catch pneumonia!" shouted Sunny.
"My jeans are already wet," Tom objected. "My legs and hands are numb with cold. I just can't leave it here now." He started moving towards the golden thing. We also walked to the right. A big wave hit Tom, completely drenching his jeans and jacket. At the very last Tom walked closer to the thing, held out his hand, but another wave threw the thing away from him. Tom struggled through the water towards it, and finally managed to catch it.
"Done!" he yelled, turning to us. "It's it! The last piece of the frame!"
"Come back!" Sunny shouted. "Tom, come back or you'll be completely drenched!"
Tom waded back towards the shore as fast as the ocean let him. Finally wet and trembling, he clambered ashore, tightly clutching the fragment of the picture frame in his hand. I grabbed it and started to inspect it from all sides. Sunny, meanwhile, took off her jacket and covered Tom's shoulders to warm him. Then she and Liz tried to dry his legs using their handkerchiefs, but it was useless, because the handkerchiefs immediately became wet.
"Hey, where's my shoes?" Tom muttered, his teeth chattering.
"They're over there, where you left them," Richelle pointed in the direction from which we'd come. "We've forgotten to take them when we walked down here."
"I'll bring. Stay here," Sunny darted back along the coast. She ran up to the rock where we'd left Tom's stuff, and started searching around.
"Sunny! What's up?" Tom shouted. "I'm freezing!"
"I can't find the second shoe," Sunny shouted back. "There's only one shoe here."
"What?" we gasped.
"Yeah," Sunny spread her arms. "Probably one shoe was washed away."
Liz, Nick and I ran up to her. Tom and Richelle limped after us. Sunny was standing, holding one of Tom's shoes in her hand.
"I've found only this one," she said. "It's even dry inside. But the second one isn't anywhere."
"Oh, great! Awesome!" Liz muttered.
"Hey, maybe you'll help me?" Tom exclaimed, his teeth chattering. "I'm wet and freezing!"
"I guess so," Nick drawled. "People usually don't swim in winter."
"Hang on," Richelle opened her bag. "I've got a plastic packet. You can put it on your foot. It's better than standing barefoot on the cold sand."
We wiped Tom's foot as dry as possible, put on the plastic packet over the sock and tied it to his ankle. Then Nick, Liz, Sunny and I took off our shoes and socks, rolled up jeans and started to look for Tom's shoe. We inspected every single stone and pit in the sand. Nick and I went into the water, groping with our hands on the floor, hoping that the shoe might be drowned nearby. But it was hopeless. Tom's shoe wasn't anywhere. Probably Sunny was right that waves had washed it away.
"I've had enough," after about half an hour Nick clambered out of the water, and chattering with his teeth, started to wipe his feet with a handkerchief.
"Okay, I'll have to go home without the shoe," Tom resigned to his fate.
Quickly we got dressed and trudged to the road. Rustling with the plastic packet, Tom hobbled first. Richelle limped after him, leaning on Nick.
"A team of invalids, as my granddad would say," I whispered to Liz.
"Eeyore the donkey would say another thing," Liz smiled. "Pathetic. That's what it is. Pathetic."
We went over to the crowded street. But once Tom stepped forward, everyone stared at his foot.
"Excuse me," Tom came up to an old woman. "Do you have a spare sock or woollen cloth or something like that?" he asked politely.
"No," the woman shook her head, edging away from him.
"Moysten, stop scaring people," Nick hissed, looking around self-consciously.
"Guys!" Tom pleaded. "I can't stand it any more. My foot is really freezing."
We went towards Craigend Road, but our houses were quite far from this place. It was already dark. The rain started spitting down, cold wind was blowing into our faces. Soon we all were wet and trembling with cold. Tom tried to warm himself by jumping on one foot, then he attempted to start a fight with Nick. But it didn't make Tom feel any better, because Nick was too annoyed for that and thumped him in the ribs.
"Guys," finally Tom said in a small voice, full of despair and misery. "My foot is going really bad. I barely can move with my fingers."
"Oh, okay," Nick muttered, pulling his mobile phone out of his pocket and calling a taxi.