On the Brink of This Summer Working in a local library, Dana considered her life rather dull—visitor numbers had dwindled, with most people now surfing the internet. She busied herself by rearranging books and dusting shelves. The only real perk was her having read an incredible number of books, from romance to philosophy. By the time she turned thirty, Dana realized romance itself had somehow eluded her life. A reasonable age to start a family, she thought; her looks were ordinary, and her job poorly paid. Changing jobs just never crossed her mind—she was content enough. The library’s regulars were mainly students, with the occasional school pupil or pensioner. Recently, a county-wide professional competition was held, and much to her surprise, Dana won the grand prize: an all-expenses-paid fortnight at a seaside resort. “How wonderful! I’ll definitely go,” she told her friend and mum excitedly, “On my salary I’d never travel far, so this is a stroke of luck.” Summer was drawing to a close. Dana strolled along a deserted English beach—most holidaymakers were in cafés, as the sea was particularly choppy that day. On her third day by the coast, she longed for a solitary walk to reflect and dream. Suddenly, she saw a young man swept off the pier by a wave. Without thinking, she rushed to help—even though she wasn’t the strongest swimmer, she could hold her own in water. The waves alternately helped and hindered the rescue, but finally she managed to get him ashore. Only then did Dana realise: “He can’t be older than fourteen! Just tall for his age—taller than me, even.” “Why did you go swimming in this weather?” she asked, but the lad, thanking her briefly, staggered off. The next morning, Dana awoke smiling—the sun was shining and the blue sea sparkled, calmer than before. It was as if the sea itself was apologising for yesterday’s trouble. After breakfast, she found a spot on the beach for sunbathing. Toward evening, she wandered into a seaside amusement park and spotted a shooting gallery. Having shot well in school and university, she missed her first shot but hit the bullseye the second time. “Look, son, that’s how it’s done,” came a man’s friendly voice behind her. Dana turned to find the same boy from the pier, accompanied by his father, a tall, pleasant man called Andrew. Later, they wandered together, enjoyed ice creams at a café, and rode the big wheel. Dana expected the boy’s mother to join them, but she never appeared. Andrew turned out to be an interesting, engaging conversationalist. “Dana, have you been holidaying here long?” “No, just arrived. Still got another week left.” When Dana told them her home city, she was surprised—they lived there too. They all laughed at the coincidence. “Fancy that! Never met in town, but fate brings us together here,” Andrew smiled warmly. Their easy camaraderie grew. The next days were a dream—days on the beach, evenings spent exploring together, taking in the local sights. Dana, sensing a cloud over the boy, wanted to chat with him alone; an opportunity arose when he arrived solo at the beach. “Dad’s under the weather, so I’ve got the day to myself. Hope you don’t mind keeping me company?” he said, all charm. With Andrew’s blessing, Dana happily obliged. Relaxing together, the boy said suddenly, “You’re a real friend—you didn’t tell Dad about what happened the other day. I got swept off the pier and panicked for a moment.” Smiling, Dana asked, “Where’s your mum, by the way? Why just the two of you on holiday?” He hesitated, then shared how his once-happy family had changed, thanks to his mother’s betrayal. He described the separation, his decision to stay with his dad, and the pain of losing trust. The day Andrew rejoined them, he looked cheerful, promising to make up for lost time. But in just a few days, father and son had to return home. Summer was almost over. At summer’s end, they parted on the beach’s edge with promises to meet again. Andrew pledged to meet Dana at the airport, and his son beamed with hope. Dana let go of plans, basking in the glow of Andrew’s affectionate messages proclaiming how much he missed her. Soon, Dana moved in with Andrew and his son. Of all of them, the boy seemed the happiest—full of joy for his dad, for himself, and for Dana. Title: Edge of This English Summer – Dana’s Unexpected Seaside Rescue, New Friendship, and the Beginnings of Love at Thirty

At the Edge of This Summer

Working at the local library in Brighton, I, Hannah Bennett, had always considered my life rather dull. These days, there were hardly any visitorseveryone seemed to get their stories from the internet. Most afternoons, I found myself shuffling books from one shelf to another, dusting covers that nobody so much as glanced at. The one upside of my job was that Id managed to read an unimaginable number of booksromantic ones, deep philosophical treatises, even the odd thriller. Strangely, by the time I hit thirty, I realised that all the romance Id read about had managed to skip straight past me.

At my age, its really time I started thinking about a family, I supposethough my looks are nothing remarkable, and my salary barely covers the rent on my flat. It never really crossed my mind to change jobs, though; I was content with my little world. The library only saw the occasional university student, some local teens, and the odd pensioner seeking a warm spot away from the rain.

Recently, thered been a regional professional competition for library staff, and much to my shock, I won the grand prize: an all-expenses-paid, two-week holiday at the seaside.

How brilliant is that! Of course Ill go, I eagerly told Mum and my friend Emily. Its not like my wages would ever get me as far as Torquay, so this is like a gift from the gods.

Summer was drawing to a close when I arrived. On my third day, as I walked the nearly deserted shore, the holiday-makers mostly hid away in caféstoday, the sea was especially rough. I just wanted some quiet, to walk and let my thoughts drift.

Then, suddenly, I noticed a boy get swept off the pier by a crashing wave. I didnt hesitate; even though I was no expert swimmer, Id been comfortable in water since I was little. The boy was just off the shore, so I dashed in. The waves pushed and pulled at him, half dragging us both back toward the open sea, but I managed to grip the collar of his shirt and haul him towards the sand. Breathless and soaked, dress plastered to my skin, I finally got my feet under me.

To my surprise, I saw he was just a teenagermaybe fourteenbut tall for his age, a bit taller than me even. Whatever possessed you to swim in weather like this? I asked, still panting.

He just muttered a thank you and, wobbling slightly, walked away without looking back. Shrugging, I watched him go.

The next morning, I awoke to glorious sunshine pouring through the hotel curtains. The sea looked calm and blue, as if apologising for yesterdays tantrum. After breakfast, I strolled to the beach, stretching out on the warm shingle, then ambled through a nearby park as evening approached. I spotted a shooting stallyears ago in school, Id been half-decent at target practice. My first shot missed wildly. The second, though, hit the bullseye.

Now thats how you do it, son, I heard a male voice behind me. Turning, I saw the same boy from yesterday standing with his father. The boys eyes flashed with panicit was clear he recognised me. I realised his dad had no idea about the near-drowning. I offered the lad a small, private smile.

His father, a tall, friendly man named Patrick Walker, grinned as he stepped over. Maybe youd give us both a lesson then? Neither Harry nor I are much good, he admitted sheepishly.

We spent the evening together afterwardswandering the park, sharing ice cream in a beachside café, then capping it off with a spin on the old Ferris wheel. At some point, Id half-expected Harrys mum to join us, but neither seemed to be waiting for anyone.

Patrick turned out to be excellent company: quick-witted, easy-going, and growing more likable with each passing story. So, Hannah, you been here long? he asked.

This is only my first week. Another one yet to go.

Where are you from? he pressed.

We all laughed to discover we hailed from the same townnot more than a mile apart, it turned out.

Can you believe it? Never bumped into each other back home, but here we are, Patrick said, beaming.

Harry, too, relaxed into the conversation, clearly relieved I wasnt about to mention his close call at the pier. We said our goodbyes latethat odd time just before midnightafter Patrick and Harry insisted on walking me back to my hotel. We arranged to meet the following day on the beach.

I got there first, but the pair were latealmost an hour.

Morning! Patrick called, settling down with his towel beside me. Absolutely mortifiedwe just plain forgot to set the alarm.

Dad, Im off for a swim! Harry shouted and trotted towards the water.

Waityou dont even know how to swim! I blurted without thinking.

Patrick looked baffled. What are you on about? He swims for the school team! Hes brilliant.

I was taken abackId thought yesterday he could barely keep afloat. Maybe Id misread it after all.

As it happened, their hotel was right next to mine. The next few days flew by in a golden blur. Each morning, wed meet on the beach, setting off late to explore the coast, wandering through local markets, sharing laughs at touristy attractions. Something gnawed at me, thougha sense that Harry carried a weight with him. Still, perhaps it was just my imagination.

One day, only Harry showed up at the beach.

Hello, Hannah. Dads a bit under the weathertemperature and all that, he told me, grinning sheepishly. I told him youd keep an eye on me, hope you dont mind.

Of course not, Harry. Give me your dads number and Ill let him know youre all right.

Patrick sounded groggy but reassured. Just look after the lad, wont you? He promised to be good as gold. I owe you.

After his swim, Harry flopped onto a sun lounger beside me. You know, youre really like a proper mate. Thanks for not mentioningyou know, what happened at the pier.

He glanced down, embarrassed. Honestly, I didnt mean to get swept awayI just lost my footing and panicked.

I smiled, letting the silence stretch a moment. Then I asked, Harry, wheres your mum? Is that why its just the two of you here?

Harry hesitated, steeling himself. Dad works away sometimes. Mumwell, shes not around anymore.

He went on to explain. Patricks work meant hed often be away on business. Harry would stay at home with his mum, Lauraa picture-perfect family on the surface, until Laura started seeing someone else.

One day, Patrick told Laura, Ive got to go up to Manchester for some trainingshould be a good step up for my career, might even land the deputy manager job. Salarys much better, too.

He thought Laura seemed almost happy at the news. Soon after he left, Laura told Harry, Were having guests tonightmy colleague Richard and his daughter Pippa. Richard and I need to work, so can you keep Pippa company?

Pippa was two years olderbubbly, sharp. She quickly dragged Harry out to the park. Before they left, Laura pressed a fifty-pound note in Harrys palm. Buy her an ice cream, be a gentleman.

The three weeks went on. Finally, the night before Patrick was due back, Pippa confided, laughing tartly, Glad your dads coming homeyour mum and my dad have been up to their own thing. Ive been told to keep you out of the house while theyhang out.

Harry resented her tone. Hed suspected as muchhe saw his parents growing distant, his mother cold, his father sullen. Then, one night, Harry walked in from football practice and heard his parents arguing.

Yes, Ive been cheating, Laura declared. So what?

Patrick replied, Nothing, Ill just file for divorce, and Harry stays with me. Seems you dont care much.

Fine by me, Laura said flatly, Im moving in with Richard.

The next day, Harry lingered in bed, listening to his mum packing. Hed already decidedhe belonged with his dad. He barely registered the click of the door as she left.

Patrick tried to explain things, but Harry cut him off. You dont need to, Dad. I know everythingI even meant to tell you myself. I love you. Itll be better, just us.

Patrick ruffled his sons hair fondly. Youre already grown up, arent you? Keep in touch with your mum if you want; I wont stand in your wayshe left me, not you.

But Harry wasnt ready to forgive hernot yet.

After the beach, Harry and I headed over to check on Patrick, bringing fresh fruit. He looked much better, promising hed join us on the sand the next morning.

Three days later, it was time for Patrick and Harry to go home. I had two days left. We said our goodbyes on that bright, sandy edge of summerPatrick promising to meet me at Heathrow, Harry beaming.

I made no plans, just found myself grinning, reading and rereading Patricks sweet texts, where he confessed that he already missed me and couldnt wait. Before long, I moved into their flat in Brighton. The happiest person of all was Harryhed found a new family, perhaps just in time.