Page 26, Line 26 by Lindsey Dawson

Inspired by page 26, line 26 of 'Dancers on a Plane' by John Cage, Merce Cunningham, and Jasper Johns.

BEACHCOMBING

The right-hand side of the drawing shows an arm. It lies isolated, palm up, thumb and fingers curled. Constable Green stands with me on the seaside cliff edge. We’re here because some dog walker reported sighting a body on the beach. Green has climbed down to check it out. Now she is damp, dirt-smeared and cold. And it’s clear she’s no artist.

‘A decent photo of it might be helpful,’ I complain.

‘Sorry, Sir,’ says Green. ‘It was hard to get close enough. And then I realised I’d left my phone in the car. Didn’t want to come back for it and have to go down again. I had my notebook though,’ she adds. ‘Thought I should at least draw something in case the arm gets washed away. It’s getting dark and the tide’s coming in.’

I am forced to peer over the cliff. The pale forearm Green has attempted to draw lies on a ledge of wet grey stone. Breaking waves are pushing scallops of foam close to the lonely limb.

‘Did it not occur to you, constable, to pick it up?’

‘I was afraid of slipping, Sir. Needed both hands for climbing.’

‘Oh, fair enough,’ I say. ‘No point in you staying. Go and get dry.’ An abseiling crew finally turns up and retrieves the arm. Later, back at base, Green startles when I smack it down on her desk. ‘Part of a fashion store dummy. Plastic. You can have the pleasure of calling the dog walker to report you risked your life for this today.’

Lindsey Dawson