The Metal Detectors

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The beach was nearly deserted; the cars, buses and trains had taken away most of the day trippers, leaving just the stragglers, the local dog walkers and the seagulls to pick over the debris of the day. Even the tide had had enough and was on its way out, lapping the shore with dwindling enthusiasm. I wandered aimlessly down the promenade, the smoke from my cigarette swirling in the breeze. The birds swooped and dived, riding on the currents, enjoying the last dregs of the sun as it began its descent across the water. 

I stop by the sea wall and watched two metal detectors scouring the beach for goodies that the day trippers might have left behind; a few pence, a ring, maybe even a mobile phone or necklace if lucky, but probably just ring pulls,  bottle tops and cigarette wrappers . I took a drag and heard the tobacco crackle.

A dog chased a ball across the sand, wagging its tail as it went, while one of the metal detectors slipped his headphones down to his neck and laid the machine on the sand. His elderly bones slowly allowed his body to kneel down and he start digging; an expectant look on his face. The other man, noticing his mate had got a bite, came over to see what treasure had been found. The two men dug their holes with little trowels making small sandcastles next to them.

“Fuck!” the cry was loud enough to attract the looks of the others on the beach. The older man continued digging, but the younger one reeled away covering his mouth. I couldn’t see what it was, but from their reaction I knew what they’d found.

“Call the police,” the older man said, but the younger one was in no state to do anything; his hands were on his knees and his lunch was hitting the sand.

Others were walking towards the scene now, camera phones in hands, some dialling numbers, other documenting events ready for social media.

“Call the fucking police,” the older man said, gradually getting to his feet and moving away from the hole he’d dug. He smacked his hands against each other and then against his knees, brushing dirt away from his skin and clothes.

A seagull screeched loudly, and a dog went to sniff the hole, its owner yanking it away. There was a hum of voices and the noise of sirens getting louder and louder. I lit another cigarette and watched four policemen jump out of their cars and walk-jog down onto the beach. 

It was time for me to go. To walk away quietly and keep walking and walking and walking, never looking back.