THE SKY WAS very bright still though the hour quite late for a Frangean afternoon melted imperceptibly into a Frangean evening and then hung around way past closing time.
To Vetta this was a source of relief for the scary shadows that followed her down the mountain path to the first tramstop on the outskirts of Cherryball Flats were a great deal less menacing when their looming dark silhouettes still contained detail within. The stop was brightly lit even in the daytime and green lights told her a tram was about to depart down the track and round the beach front to where she wished to go. It was like riding a canal scurry, only at an angle and without the shudder of bow waves bouncing off the sides. Instead there was a whispering as trees brushed the canopy above her head and the electric cable buzzed pleasantly like a bumble bee feasting on clover nectar.
In no time at all the surf boomed in her ears, the lights changed to red and she was deposited on the coral platform that was the first coast station of Blossom Bay.
'Thank you,' she said to the driver, who muttered something, not used to being noticed except regarding fares, though Plazenby girls had infinite ride season cards for each academic year so no payment was required. Luckily her hat had the badge facing front to guarantee she would not be charged. Thus she clutched the coin in her pocket even harder to assure herself all was well.
The steps to the beach were lit by colourful fairy lights dangling from an overhead cable and they danced in the sea breeze most pleasantly. Vetta's descent was interrupted frequently as she gaped at the shadows formed by the magical lights for each moving shadow was of a different colour and they shifted and overlapped and created a kaleidoscope of effects on what were otherwise featureless concrete steps.
'How pretty,' she said and then tripped on the last step which had changed from sea green to soft crimson pink in an impossible way so that she landed in soft sand face down.
Her coin was free and in a moment she was up and pursuing it down the slope towards the hungry surf. It picked up speed when bouncing off a shell with a metallic ping that echoed across the sand, catching experienced ears by a telltale note. Be sharp, it said.
Before Vetta could reach it a great boot stopped its progress.
'Oh thank you kind sir,' Vetta said with a gasp and looked up at the dark towering figure backlit by an orange sky. The outline seemed fringed by a filigree of seaweed and ragged hair. Without a word the man bent down, picked up the coin and rubbed it on a damp sleeve to a bright polish.
'Think nothing of it,' he said, pocketing the coin artlessly. Vetta blinked but said nothing.
'By the Faceless, it's her,' a croaky voice floated over the booming surf and another figure swayed into view just beyond the glistening wetness of sea-smoothed sand. 'That there girl from the other day, the one who blinked a lot and stared.'
Vetta looked at this new arrival. She blinked and stared.
'I remember you,' she said, smiling. In the strange light there was a glow upon the woman, like as if starlight poured from one of her eyes. A glassy eye.
'That's me,' the lady rasped. 'What's a little thing like you doing down here all alone on such a cold and wet evening?'
Vetta looked around. It was warm and quite dry with barely a wisp of cloud in the sunset sky so she said nothing to that. Instead she launched into her heartfelt speech.
'It was those birch rods,' she said, looking around to see if beach wardens were near, 'and the way you wailed and cried and ran. It seemed such a shame and I never got a chance to give you a coin.'
'Yes, well,' the man grumbled, his back rolling a bit in memory of the birch rods. None had ever touched him of course. The whole thing was put on for the tourists, but this girl need not know that.
'And so you've come now, bless you, to give your coin,' the lady squawked a little breathlessly. There was a wheeziness about her voice which suggested a struggle to find enough air to expel into words.
'Yes, well,' the man grumbled again, making another odd squirm that rustled the dried seaweed that clung to him like a second or even third skin, so thickly wrapped was he.
'Crackey, what you been doing?'
'Nothing,' the man said.
'Well then,' and the lady's voice softened to a sibilant creaking sound as she turned the glittering glass orb towards the girl again. 'So as not to you know, endanger ourselves with them birch rods, being still sore and all, what say we amble over to them rocks over there and sort out this little gift you've taken the trouble to come all the way down from that high place to bring to us struggling folk.'
Vetta looked again at the man. The decrease of light made his features recede into shadow so that he more resembled an animated tower of darkness now than one of the struggling folk.
'This way my dear.'
Glasseye led the Wonder girl along the sand to strangely shaped masses of rock, boulders that had tumbled down from the cliffs at the south end of Blossom Bay a little away from the bright lights of Cherryball Flats. The music of bars receded too but the booming surf was even louder now.
'Sit yourself there and tell Mama Glasseye all about it,' the lady said, indicating a cool slab of rock that faced the sea. Farther along pools of light seemed to nestle in pits in the sandstone and Vetta admired them briefly.