Mark was going over his plans. It was something to concentrate on, it calmed him down and diluted that feeling of worthlessness, and the guilt that followed. What right did he have to feel depressed or even sad? He had a roof over his head, enough money in benefits to live on and a splendid view of Scarborough from the edge of this caravan site on top of the cliffs. He was lucky he knew and that made him feel worse. He forced himself to eat and battled daily against the booze. He’d started work on his plans the day he’d almost been caught trying to shoplift. He’d put the bottle back just in time and felt so disgusted with himself he’d vomited into the hedge on the way home. After that he stopped looking people in the eye.
Mark checked the weather forecast. Not that it mattered particularly, rain and wind would make his story more plausible. He looked at the tides. They’d been coming in since late afternoon. Wednesday night was usually quiet. Changeover day was Saturday so Thursday and Friday nights were the campers’ last opportunity to let their hair down before the journey home. Mark reckoned that by 1.00am, everything would be quiet with just the sound of the sea. He looked at his watch – it was just gone midnight, a while yet before he called the coast guard. He’d watched the lifeboats at Runswick Bay and Staithes, timed their reactions and was confident he’d have a good half hour while they were out of the way. As long as Scarborough didn’t join the search, the operation would be successful. He practised his sound effects sloshing water around in the washing-up bowl and opened the caravan door. There was just enough wind to set it banging. Perfect. Mark felt better than he had for months. He was empowered, in charge of events. Thirty more minutes and he’d put in a Mayday call to the coastguard..
He could just about see the lights of the lifeboat from his vantage point at the highest section of the cliffs. It was heading out to sea to the area which he had specified. Mark locked the caravan door, then froze as car headlights caught him before thankfully moving on. He waited for ten minutes until the car had stopped and its occupants, shouting and singing, had got out. He heard doors open and close then loud pop music. Good, his movements would be covered. Another lifeboat had joined the first. They were combing the area about one mile off shore. Perfect. Mark felt calm and peaceful. He walked towards the sea, climbed over the fence and continued to the cliff edge. With no hesitation, he jumped.
If only he’d thought to remove his watch, if only the moon had stayed behind the clouds and if only the Yorkshire Air Ambulance hadn’t decided to take the coastal route back to base having delivered their latest casualty to Scarborough hospital. Mark’s metallic watch strap shone like a beacon directing the helicopter crew to what was left of him lying at the bottom of the cliff. The pilot landed on the cliff top and paramedics winched down the rock face and winched Mark upwards before transporting him back to where they’d come from. Various surgical procedures later and much to Mark’s annoyance it looked as if he was going to make it. He had a visit from his estranged wife who was full of concern.
‘You bloody idiot! What the hell did you think you were doing?’
‘But Trace, I’ve got nothing to live for!’
‘We’ve none of us got anything to live for. We just get on with it. And if you’re thinking of trying to pull a stunt like this again, don’t bother!’ God, how this woman knew him. He’d already been planning his next ‘escape’. ‘What makes you think you’d be any more successful a second time?’
Tracey had a point. Tracey usually had a point.
Sporting a prosthetic leg, a set of false teeth and at least one replacement organ, Mark was discharged to a secure facility where he received therapy. Once he’d completed his time he volunteered for a mental health charity and gradually learnt to help those whose minds were in a similar state to his, before the jump. He could identify with their depression and found his personal experience useful. For once he FELT useful, fulfilled even. Tracey turned up now and again. On her last visit she brought him a cake.
(c) 2024 Katya Marsh.
