The Sun Goes Down at Lands' End by Adam Rutter

I drive along a narrow by the Cornish coast. I pull over to admire the sea view. My journey ends at the far edge of the British Isles. I have travelled 300 miles from London to Land’s End where it all began ten years earlier. This is where I met Sara all that time ago. I watch a deep red sun sink below the Atlantic Ocean that stretches beyond the horizon. Protruding above where the land slides down into the ocean, a terraced rocky outcrop rises as thin ridges connecting with boulders and round stones. The waves wash over the rocks that hang just above the water. One of those on the upper level is slightly flatter. And, that is the same rock she sat on at the same time of day. It was on a summer’s evening of 2012 when I first set eyes on her. The sky was violet-blue, just as it is now, and the sea is calm – just as it was back then. Her raised knees were pressed against her chest. Her olive skin: a shade of gold in the dim light. Her long dress was as red as the sun. Her dark eyes gazed at the expanse of the Atlantic. The sea breeze blew around her black hair, which covered the back of her shoulders. I stood a few feet from her. She didn’t know I was there. At least, I don’t think she did. It was as though she were the only human being in this secluded part of Europe. Her gaze was still transfixed after the sun had set. She slowly turned her head until she noticed me. I smiled. Sara smiled back – one side of lips raised. She looked away, still holding onto that smile.

‘Are you still waiting for your pickup’, I asked humorously.

Sara grinned.

‘You know you’ll be waiting a long time for the next cruiser to arrive’, I joked.

Her grin burst into a giggle, showing her white teeth.

‘You know when the last time is I saw a ship passing’, asked Sara.     

I shook my head lightly.

‘Eight o’clock this morning’, she said.

‘You mean, you haven’t seen anymore?’

‘Not one yacht.’

‘No way.’

‘The only thing I saw since I’ve been here, and that is a bottle of Coca-Cola.’

‘Ha!’

‘It’s true. It’s down here.’

Sara was pointing right by where she sat, showing me the washed-up jetsam. The bottle was full. It had obviously never been opened.

‘When did that turn up’, I asked.

‘I don’t know. It was already there when I got here.’

The bottle bobbed up and down with the waves, tapping against the rocks. The tossing and pelting of the waves made the drink froth up like a pint of beer. It was very gaseous. The bottle looked as though it was about to explode at any moment.

‘Would you like a drink’, asked Sara.

I looked at her uncertainly.

‘I don’t know’, I began. ‘I mean, should we?’

‘Yeah,’ she replied.

I felt hesitant, so much so that I wasn’t sure whether to say yes or no for fear of offending her, and due to the fact that what we were about to do was looting, of course. I finally relented and accepted her offer. Sara picked up the bottle, which almost slipped out of her hand. She managed to get hold of it with her other hand. Sara tried to turn the top on the bottle with a lot of effort since it was wet. Using all her strength, she managed to unscrew the top – eventually. The drink fizzed like champagne and flew out of the bottle with a loud hiss, spilling all over her dress. Her eyes popped out of their sockets. Her mouth was gaping. The expression of horror and disbelief on her face makes me smile, even though it may not have seemed funny at the time, I still treasure that moment. The moment we saw each other. That same day when we first met. It was not ships that pass in the night, if you excuse the cliché. No. We were both brought together by fate. I am not a big believer in fate, but we were meant to be here that day. We were in the same place. We stayed in the same hotel around the same time. After the disaster with the bottle of Coca-Cola, we drove back to Penzance. The same town where we stayed. I suggested that we go back there. I had to make it up to her somehow. She was shocked and angry after all. Sara was staying in Penzance for the weekend. I spent the entire week there. We decided to spend quality time together, so we could take the opportunity to get to know each other. We walked along the beach. We stopped at the Jamaica Inn on Bodmin Moor to toast our relationship. We sat by the fireplace. Even on a hot summer’s day, the flames were radiating heat throughout the bar area because it is very cold on Bodmin Moor.

‘How long have you lived in Dorset’, I asked.

‘Twenty-five years.’

‘Have you always lived in England?’

‘No. I was born in India. I moved to England with my parents when I was two.’

‘And you’ve lived in Dorset ever since.’

‘We lived in London before we went to Dorset. Whereabouts in the States are you from’, asked Sara, noticing my American accent.

‘Mississippi.’

‘And you have lived there ever since.’

‘No. I live in South Carolina now.’

‘Have you been to the UK before?’

‘It’s my first time.’

After we had left the Jamaica Inn, we travelled to Newquay to watch a fireworks display. We decided to make a night together before Sara went home the next day. We stayed in touch after that. We video chat on Skype, and text each other during my stay in Penzance. Our video chats became more frequent once I had returned to South Carolina, and our relationship became more serious. Eight months after we had initially met, I took another vacation in Penzance to meet up with Sara. We stayed at the same hotel as we did the last time. Only this time round, she stayed longer. She spent the whole week there. During our stay, we went on trips. The first was to the coastal town of St Ives, overlooking Godrevy Point on the other side of the bay. The second was to Lizard Lighthouse and Heritage Centre at the tip of the Lizard Peninsular. From the top of the lighthouse, we looked across Mount’s Bay and saw Penzance tucked away at the edge of the Penwith Peninsular. We took a walk along the South West Coast Path from Penzance to Minack Open Air Theatre to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream. After a month of our second vacation, I moved in with Sara. We bought a house on the outskirts of London where we have lived since. It has been six days since I last saw Sara. She went missing a week ago. She left the house early in the morning, and never came back. What I ask is ‘why?’ I have checked for signs of Sara’s whereabouts on social media. There is no more news on her. Her Twitter feeds have fallen silent. Her Facebook profile has shut down. Now I don’t know where she is or where she’s gone. And here I am sitting alone in the car at Land’s End.