Jim free-wheeled down the hill, sunlight glinted on water as seagulls soared over foam-tipped waves. Suddenly he was back in a grey, frightening sea. The scream of shells from aerial bombardment had deafened him then as he stood with arms aloft to keep his rifle out of the water. He had watched little boats edge closer to the waiting soldiers who one by one were dragged aboard. At last it had been his turn. Rough, fishermen's hands had hauled him from the ocean and he had lain in the bottom of the boat and wept.

Jim stopped and rested his head in his hands, took long, steadying breaths to calm his nerves. He wondered if the nightmare would ever end. Friends said he was mad to live by the sea - a constant reminder of Dunkirk. But the fishermen who had risked their lives to save him and his mates hadn't run away and neither would he. 

On summer mornings it was a joy to be a milkman. Once his heart-beat returned to normal, he tightened his grip on the handlebars and set off along the coast road. Soon holidaymakers would arrive and the town would swarm with families determined to have a wonderful holiday. 

He was surprised to see a young woman standing at the end of the pier. It was half-past six and not many got up that early unless they had to. He shrugged his shoulders, nothing to do with him. Then, to his amazement, the young woman tried to climb over the railings. Jim shouted, leapt from his bike and ran along the pier. His footsteps rattled the wooden boards. 

"Now then, what's all this?" 

The young woman turned. Her tear-streaked face was framed with golden hair tousled by the breeze. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. 

"It's Ben," she sobbed, "down there, he tried to catch a seagull!" 

Jim leaned over the rail and saw a small dog paddling in a surging sea. The young woman clasped her hands together. "Please help me." 

"Right," said Jim, "follow me," he ran back along the pier, "grab the lifebelt," he yelled, stripping off his jacket and shirt as he went. He threw his trousers and shoes in a heap on the sand and rushed to the water's edge. By now the young woman had wrestled the life belt off its bracket and stumbled and lurched her way down the pebbled beach. 

"We're coming, Ben," she called. 

"You stay here," Jim said, as he slipped the belt over his shoulders, "we don't want another accident." 

He strode into the water and was up to his waist when panic began. This was the first time he had been in the sea for nine years. His heart was racing. That was how it had been all those years ago when he tried to comfort the young soldier standing beside him while they waited to be rescued. 

Jim looked back; the young woman was depending on him. He clenched his fists and struggled closer to the dog. Now was his chance to confront the demons that filled his dreams. He edged closer but each time he tried to reach Ben a wave pushed them apart. He tried to shout to the animal but no sound came. He stumbled and water closed over his head. His lungs were bursting, he was going to drown; the sea would finish him off this time. 

At last the life belt jerked him upwards and his head broke the surface of the water. He gasped for breath and struggled to regain his feet on the shifting pebbles. 

He shook water from his eyes and heard the young woman shouting encouragement as he edged his way closer to Ben. 

"Here boy, there's a good lad." Jim grabbed at the pier struts before he was dragged under again. At last he was close enough to reach and clutched Ben under his arm.
 
"You're all right now," he said. 

Jim held the terrified dog to his chest, turned and used the pier struts to pull himself back to shore, so much effort for such a tiny scrap. He limped up the beach; Ben wasn't the only one shivering. 

"Oh, you wonderful man, I can never thank you enough." 

The young woman took Ben and hugged him. Then with a smile that warmed Jlm's heart, she put an arm round his waist and hugged him too. He felt dizzy and embarrassed standing there in nothing but underclothes. She moved away and he saw colour burn her cheeks. 

"I'm sorry, I've wet your clothes," Jim stuttered through chattering teeth. 

"It doesn't matter," she said 

"You'd better take Ben back home before he gets a chill." 

Jim heard the town-hall clock strike seven; he was going to be late. He struggled into his clothes. 

"Perhaps we could..." the young woman whispered. 

"Must be off," Jim muttered as he laced his shoes. He grabbed his dairy uniform jacket and scrambled up the beach, back to where his bike lay. The young woman's gratitude left him tongue-tied. He wanted to ask her name but what would a lovely-looking girl like her want with an ordinary bloke like him? 

"Keep young Ben out of the water next time," he shouted over his shoulder. 

He heard her shout something back as he pedalled away but her voice was lost in the cries of seagulls wheeling and diving above his head. As he turned the corner he looked back. She was still standing there and he thought she was waving but he could not be sure. 

When he arrived at the depot, the manager looked at his watch."Sorry Guv, had to help a maiden in distress." 

Mr. Johnson rolled his eyes. "You young fellows have no idea, now shape up; I've a business to run. Folk want their milk for breakfast, not tea-time." 

"Sorry Guv, but it's like his..."

"No time, lad." 

"Well, I had to do something." 

"Looks like you've had a bucket of water thrown over you, sure you weren't the one causing the distress?" 

Jim grinned as he remembered the golden hair and deep blue eyes. If only he'd asked her name and where she lived, perhaps he would have plucked up the courage to ask her out. It was too late now. 

"Come on," grumbled Mr. Johnson, "you can't stand here all day. You've got milk to deliver." 

*

Jim completed his round in a daze. Why didn't he say something, if only he weren't so shy; he had never seen her before, was she was a resident or a visitor? Perhaps she'd be out early tomorrow: Ben was bound to need a walk. If he saw her he'd introduce himself properly, that's what he'd do. He drove his milk-cart back into the yard and started unloading empty bottles and crates when Mr. Johnson approached. 

"You've taken your time, lad. I've had someone here checking up on you." Jim wondered if he'd missed any of his regulars. 

"Seems like you've got some unfinished business." 

Eric Jenkins lumbered into the yard. 

"Here," Mr. Johnson said as he pointed to Jim, "he don't look much like a hero, eh?" 

Eric grinned and climbed down off his milk cart. "What, young skinny-ribs here? 

He couldn't knock the skin off a rice pudding." 

Jim felt his colour rising, he was no hero. 

"Had some bloke here from the 'Echo' and this young lady, stunner she was, it  seems you are going to be front page news." 

It must be her, Jim thought. 

"Want you to go down to the pier, where it all happened apparently." Jim grinned and set off to get his bike. 

"And comb your hair," Mr. Johnson shouted, "you're having your picture took." Jim scorched down the road to a blare of horns from startled motorists. As he approached the pier he saw her and his heart leapt. She had a man with her, a man with a camera. Jim screeched to a halt then with studied nonchalance walked his bicycle to the railings where he propped it up. 

She hurried towards him with a dry and fluffy Ben in her arms. She had a smile that would melt glaciers, Jim thought. He could not speak when she held out her hand. 

"I'm Alison," she said. 

He blushed as he took her hand in his, such a small hand. 

"Let's have a picture of you two, come on stand a bit closer.' Local hero saves dog.' How's that for a headline? Miss Smedley, told us all about you." 

"But..." Jim stammered. 

"The name on your jacket... I had to find you, say thank you properly. I told them at the newspaper offices how brave you were. Then I went to the dairy depot." 

She stopped and blushed. "You don't mind, do you?" 

As she gazed at Jim her eyes reminded him of the ocean, blue and beautiful. The future looked bright.