The Kite Maker – Part 2: The Windy Day

The first big blow of autumn came on a Sunday.

The whole seafront was alive with kites. Red ones and green ones, huge delta wings and dancing stunt kites, diamonds with long ribboned tails, a great white dragon that snaked and rippled in the gusts. Families lined the shingle. Children ran, shrieking. The sky was a riot of colour against the grey clouds.

Joel stood on the beach with the reel in his hands. He had spent six weeks in Elsie's workshop, cutting ripstop, gluing spars, stitching seams. His kite was a small, lopsided, cheerful yellow bird with a fat tail. It looked slightly absurd. It was the best thing he had ever made.

"Ready?" said Elsie.

"No."

"Good. Go."

He lifted his arms. The wind caught the yellow bird. It soared up in a swoop, wobbled, steadied, and climbed. The string sang. It rose past the pier, past the gulls, into the high blue. Joel stared up, grinning like a boy.

"It's flying!"

"It's yours."

He flew it until the afternoon turned to dusk, until the sea went pewter and the lights of the pier blinked on one by one. The crowds drifted off. The kites came down. Only Joel and Elsie remained on the shingle, with the yellow bird still riding high above the water.

"You could reel it in," said Elsie.

"I'd rather not."

"It's getting dark."

"I know." He turned. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"If I let go of it, will it find the Netherlands?"

"Probably."

"Good. May I kiss you first?"

She laughed, her cheeks pink in the cold. "Yes. And if I say stop, you must make me a kite with a heart on it."

"I'll make you a hundred."

He kissed her, windblown and salty, a cold hand rising to her bobble hat. She kissed him back with a warm, bright joy, her fingers curling in his damp coat. The wind roared. Spray flew. Above them, the yellow bird tugged, tugged, and went on tugging.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Elsie. "Very green."

He cut the string. The yellow bird flew on over the sea until it was a speck, and then not even that.

Elsie's stall now has a second name: Elsie & Joel. Kites made, kites lost, kites found.

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