NaNoWriMo - Extract from 'Midnight' by Annie Bell

Following on from yesterday's post about my NaNoWriMo novel, I thought I would post an extract.  It is a first draft but would love to hear any feedback on it. 

The next day, June 1^st, was an interesting one. The boys all came down for their breakfast. As Cecil and Ivan chewed through their porridge, they seemed a bit too quiet and I was troubled by it.

“What are you two up to?” I asked.

“Nothing,” said Cecil, angelically.

“We were thinking of going out for the afternoon. We want to go fishing in Brightlingsea and build forts.” Ivan blurted out, unchecked. Cecil scowled at him.

 

“It is summer,” Cecil added. “and we always go to the beach.”

 

“If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times.” I told them. “Steer clear of Brightlingsea beach. I've heard some horrendous stories about that place and besides that, all beaches are off limits because of the war.” I was really worried about my mischievous youngsters. They had been nagging me for ages to go back to the beach. We hadn't had our annual outing since Reg's departure. It didn't seem right to have our family outing without our fort building champions and it was now completely forbidden to go near any beach on the east or south coast due to the dangerous coastal defences which had been put up.

 

“Mum...” they both whined. I threw them a stern look as they both stood there in the kitchen, hands behind their backs, their faces painted with innocent smiles, looking as though butter would never soften in their mouths, let alone melt. They made me seem ridiculous, clucking around them like an old mother hen.

 

“No. I will not say it again. You can go to play with your friends as you normally do,” I put on my cross voice. “If you mention it again, you will not go out and you will have your father to answer to.”

 

“Humph. Ok … but can we go and play with Dennis and the others instead?” asked Cecil.

 

“Yes. That would be fun instead,” agreed Ivan. “We're not stupid enough to go to the beach after what you just said, Mum.”

 

I continued peeling potatoes for dinner and, despite my better judgement, I nodded, giving the boys permission to go out and see their friends.

 

I had my misgivings regarding what they might be up to, but I was in absolute shock when I found out what they actually ended up doing.

 

One hour after leaving the house, my naughty, disobedient boys scampered along the train tracks, following the slow train through the marshland to Brightlingsea. They were beyond excited as their naughty plan drew towards its climax. They even raced onto the swing bridge, risking being tipped headfirst into the horrible estuary mud as they balanced behind the train. How they weren't caught sooner, I will never know.

 

As soon as the lads arrived in Brightlingsea, they headed straight for the beach, the salty sea air reassuringly familiar to them as their adventure progressed.

 

As they approached the beach, the changes since their last visit were stark. The waterline was marked with dense structures of scaffolding, barbed wire and other sorts of spiky and unfriendly looking apparatus. Unfortunately, to these two, excited boys, these defences did not really represent a warning as perhaps they should have done.

 

“Let's go crabbing!” cried Cecil joyfully, heading onto the sand. “And we can practise building forts too. Then we can beat the others next time we come to the beach, when the war is over!” Ivan stood back for a moment, pondering the tremendous defeat he and Cecil had suffered against their brothers just last year. As his more adventurous brother sped across the smooth, golden and worryingly empty sand towards the sea, his mother's warnings rang in his ears. “Come on Ivan!” yelled Cecil with excitement. “You have the scraps and I want to catch a massive crab.” With that, Ivan forgot his concerns and ran over to his brother, giggling naughtily.

 

Suddenly, the boys' voices were drowned out by the roar of a Lancaster bomber passing overhead. They looked up, their mouths hanging open as they watched the elegant machine making its way to fight the enemy. Unfortunately, the clattering roar of the Rolls Royce engine prevented them hearing the voice of a man in forces uniform, who stood on the sea wall, having just come out of a bunker near to Bateman's Tower. Too late, they heard his cries.

 

“STOP!” he yelled urgently. “You're walking through a minefield! Don't you lads know there's a war on and the beaches are off limits?”

 

Both boys froze on the spot, fear creeping its fickle way up their spines. Their mother's words were now ringing in their ears louder than ever but it was too late.

Ivan glanced at his younger brother, regret stabbing him in the stomach. Cecil glanced back at him, his lip quivering and tears welling up in his eyes. How would they get out of this scrape?

 

“I know!” yelled Ivan, wanting to calm his brother down and reach safety. “There's a stick next to me. I'll make my way to you and we'll go back to the sea wall together. With that, Ivan began tentatively poking the stick into the sand and inched slowly forward. Cecil visibly flinched each time the stick pierced the sandy surface.

 

After several painful minutes, during which, time seemed to stop, Ivan reached Cecil. He then instructed his brother to stand directly behind him and walk in his footsteps. He continued prodding the ground, scarcely breathing as they made their painstakingly slow way back to the safety of the sea wall.

 

Around three feet from the sea wall, Ivan stopped in his tracks. Cecil nearly knocked him over, he stopped so abruptly.

 

“Oh my God!” Ivan uttered under his breath, shrinking backwards and knocking his brother slightly off balance.

 

“What? What?” whispered Cecil loudly.

 

"Mine. In front of us.”

 

“Oh my God!” whispered Cecil. “What do we do?

 

“Look behind you, Cecil.” Cecil turned his head round delicately.

 

“See the footprints?”

 

“Yes Ivan.”

 

“Step back into them but be really careful.” Cecil stepped back three paces, treading exactly into the marks on the beach. Ivan followed him carefully. He prodded the ground a foot to the right of the mine, which he had marked with a large stone. The coast was clear and, finally, after a few more minutes with no more dramas, they reached the sea wall.

The soldier, who had shouted at them looked livid. He grabbed the two boys by their ears and dragged them kicking and screaming to the local police station, where he deposited them with the local constable.

 

“I found these two playing in the minefield, Constable.” he said. “I don't know what you want to do with them. I'd personally lock them up and throw away the key.” Ivan and Cecil were terrified at this prospect. They both burst into tears, apologising profusely for their stupid behaviour and begging for forgiveness.

 

Evidently, the constable felt sorry for them. Very kindly, he placed them in his police car and drove them home, none the worse for their ordeal but eating humble pie like there was no tomorrow.

 

When the constable knocked on my door, my first thought was that something terrible had happened but as soon as I opened the door, it was obvious that there was nothing wrong at all.

 

“Mrs Bell?” the tall constable asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are these two young scoundrels your children?” he asked with more than a hint of judgement.

“They are, Constable,” I answered, dreading what he might be about to tell me.

 

“Well,” the constable shook his head. “A soldier just found these two running about on a mined beach in Brightlingsea. Did you allow them to do this?”

 

“Absolutely not!” I retorted. “I specifically told them to stay away from the beaches.” I was truly angry now but also terrified. My boys? In a minefield? It didn't bear thinking about.

Having accepted that the boys would be suitable punished for their foolish behaviour, the constable decided to leave them to me rather than taking any further action but he gave them a very stern warning implying that they would be put into prison if they ever did anything so stupid again.

 

I was too angry and disappointed to talk to the boys and so I sent them to their room until their father returned home. 

 

© Annie Bell 2012