I stood still and listened.

Down on the shingles I could hear the sea come thundering in with a loud increasing roar, dying monotonously away at regular intervals.

I could hear the harsh grinding of the pebbles, the backward swirl of long waves thrown back from the land.

I heard the wind come booming across the waste lands, rustling and creaking amongst the few stunted trees in the grounds of Braster Grange.

Of slighter sounds there seemed to be none.