Jill leaned over the parapet staring intently at something in the sea below then clutched her sister's arm with foreboding.

"Janet, look down there. Do you see that? I dare not say it."

Janet's gaze followed her sister's pointing finger.

In the sea by some rocks that edged the gorge, sprawled a lifeless body, draped in chequered garments and seaweed.

"It could be a body," Janet replied a feeling of dread rising within her.

"Another young fisherman drowned...oh, Janet, how will we bear it," Jill turned her pleading eyes on her sister before picking up her long skirt and running as fast as her long legs could carry her towards the hapless figure below.

"We will bear it as we have in the past," replied Janet running closely behind.

"Do you think he's dead, Janet," asked a breathless Jill.

"We'll know soon enough."

They raced down the ragged, rocky path. Jill reached the wet sandy beaches first, pulled down her long skirt, peeled off her coat and shawl leaving them on a jutting boulder.

She waded into the freezing cold sea in short white silk lingerie and began dragging the dead weight of the unconscious man on his back towards the sandy beach.

She gave a cry of relief. "Janet, come quickly. He's breathing. He's alive...help me pull him out of the water." Together the ladies dragged him onto the dry sandy cove.

As Janet knelt down drenched beside Jill she said regretfully, "We should have brought brandy and blankets."

They both placed their woollen shawls over the shivering unconscious man before them. He had long golden strands of hair, the tanned complexion of someone who spent a great deal of time outdoors and full lips partly open to show pearl white teeth.

He looked to be in his early twenties. The soaked clothing clinging to every contour revealed a muscular body that lay sprawled with the cat like grace of a panther. A large hand unconsciously closed firmly around Jill's for a moment, making her aware of warm masculine hand and well formed long fingers. After years of longing to be touched by such a man, a shiver of sexual excitement ran through her body.

"Those jellyfish stings in his face, hands and feet must be agony. Oh...doesn't he have the muscular body of a Greek god," exclaimed Jill.

Janet ignored her sister's impertinence, "This man is injured, shivering and drank from sea water." She continued with more resolve. "The tide is low enough for you to go round the cliff and directly to the village. Jan Pendered can be counted on to part with good quality brandy. Ask him and his son, Luke to bring a stretcher that will help us get this young man indoors. Send Joe Gullow on his bicycle for Dr. Wilfred Mead. I'll remain here, determine the extent of the injuries and remove jellyfish tentacles embedded in his body."

Janet who often assisted young Dr. Wilfred Mead immediately took charge of the situation. "On second thought, it will be quicker if I go. Administer first aid and I'll be back shortly."

Left alone with the handsome stranger, Jill rolled up her shawl and made a comfortable pillow for his head. She used her panty hose to carefully remove jellyfish tentacles embedded in his exposed skin. She felt around her patient's head, muscular chest, back and limbs for injuries. She surmised that his injuries were for the most part superficial except for the fractured right ankle. She rubbed his limbs vigorously restoring circulation to reduce the cold he was exposed to. As his shivering lessened, Jill continued her ministrations, willing Janet's swift return.

In a village where everyone knew each other, it was safe to say that the tall, darkly handsome man before her was a stranger. She could only speculate about who he was and where in the world the storm carried him from. The wet clothes clinging to his body were a nondescript pair of trousers, a flannel shirt with collar that was open at the neck. As there was no button or stud, he may have lost the tasselled cord that secured his collar.

Jill glanced clinically at his bare feet, which were shapely apart from swelling and bruising; the soles were soft and pink unlike his masculine palms. It was obvious that he was neither a sailor nor a fisherman. His hands suggested a profession that was not menial. Not that a profession or lack of one would have mattered to Jill.

She wanted to solve the mystery of the young man washing up on the Cornish country coastline. Long dark hair flung over his forehead carelessly. Although the shivering lessened, he remained unconsciousness. Kneeling on the golden sandy beach by the cove, Jill rubbed the stranger's limbs facing the turbulent sun kissed sea.

In times of war, strangers with suspicious origins could face mob justice, the noose or firing squad. Had the stranger brought danger to their quiet little village?

April, 27, 2015

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