Ornate outlined cross design

The gate was for St Brannock's, up on the cliff path above Porthkerris, where the lych gate had rotted through the winter the boats were lost. The vicar wanted a cross in the centre of the ironwork, a plain Latin shape with arms that flared like the ends of a folded ribbon. Mr Pardoe drew it out on squared paper, then drew it again, then swore at the second drawing because the scrolls sat too heavy. I held the dividers. He cut the outlines first, a double strand for the upright so it would take the light from both sides, and the triangles he punched with a chisel one tap at a time while the forge cooled.

When the frame was hung, the cross stood with nothing behind it but the sky over the bay. Fishermen going out at four in the morning could see it against the grey, and the light came through the empty centre and laid a pale star on the path. Mr Pardoe never said so, but I think he built it that way on purpose. A solid cross keeps out the weather. This one let the weather pass through and carried it on up the hill.

He died the year after. I still have the squared paper, creased at the corners, with the scroll patterns drawn on the back in a hand that shook more each time. The cross is still up. Most mornings I walk past it on my way to the harbour and count the triangles without meaning to, the way he taught me, and there are always the same number.