We sat together on the bright blue wooden bench at the end of the ramp that led on to the beach. The bench was well-worn, paint peeling, and I thought of previous stories exchanged. The history of break-ups and new romances was absorbed in its knots and twists. I felt a sense of peace in that moment. Our togetherness, the powder blue sky. The delicious warmth of the early autumn sun, sweet like fresh mango. Seagulls, I counted five, formed an exquisite pattern as they flew close to the surface of the water. A flock of turnstones scattered on the stones, busily going about their business. Stones that were grey and white and dull green. Stones that were thousands of years old containing fossils, the indentations of tiny bird footprints. And the ochre bricks that were tossed and mauled by the sea amongst the others.

Killiney beach was my favourite place in the whole world. The sheer vastness of the bay, totally underused for as long as I could remember. Perhaps it was the gravelly quality of the beach or the fairly inaccessible car park, I didn’t know and I didn’t mind. I figured there was more of it, just for me.

Jenny said that somehow she had never been there before and I said that some day I wanted to live beside it and I’d take anywhere within walking distance.

I removed my black Converse boots and rolled up the ends of my jeans. I made my way to the twinkling water’s edge and gingerly placed my feet in the sea. Jenny followed me down, her maxi skirt swayed on her hips as she walked. I loved the way she moved, it was so elegant.

I cupped some water in my hands and I threw it at Jenny. She laughed and for a moment she seemed very young to me, and vulnerable. I came out of the water and I brought Jenny into my arms and held her really tight. This was what it was supposed to be like – natural surroundings and an exciting feeling, a sense that this was going somewhere.

And I told her she was so beautiful.

She laughed and broke free from my embrace and she ran on along the beach towards the broken fences by the steps which led up on to the top road. I ran after her and caught her. We were standing in an area where the sea had exposed a great rift of sand. Behind it, enormous pieces of driftwood, moved by the ferocity of the waves, lay stranded together with lumps of concrete pipes and granite boulders. It made for striking beach furniture.

It must have been some storm, I said. It’s hard to imagine the sea has the strength to move concrete around like that. It’s been crazy the autumn we’ve had, look at the state of the place.