No. Stay quiet. Don’t speak to her. Please.
“Hello.” Another cough. “I’m Martin. You must be Sarah’s mum.”
Sarah felt her legs weaken. Dawn turned to Martin, puzzled.
“I wanted to apologise, for what happened to her. I helped her escape. I hope she’ll recover.”
Dawn shrank back. “Oh. Thank you. Who are you?”
“Martin.”
“Do you… do you live here?”
“I hope to.”
“Oh.” Recognition crossed Dawn’s face. Sarah felt as if her stomach was turning itself inside out. She grabbed her mother’s arm.
“Come on, Mum. Take me home.”
“Of course.”
Ruth flashed Martin a look then held the door open. Behind the counter, Pam looked on, not even pretending to be working. Sarah wondered if the whole village would be talking about her within the hour.
If they weren’t already.
She shoved her mother out of the door and hurried towards the house.
“Slow down, love. You’ll do yourself an—”
“Come on. Please. I want to get home.”
She kept her head down, unsure if there was anyone around to watch them. Dawn hurried to catch up. They reached the path outside their house and her mother put a hand on her arm to stop her.
Sarah looked up. Dawn was looking at the house, her face pale. Was she scared?
“What did they do to you, Sarah? Did they hurt you? Did they – oh, I don’t know how to say this – did they force themselves on you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Mum.”
“Please, love. I want to help you. That Martin lad. Back there. Was he one of them?”
Sarah stiffened. “Yes.”
“Did he hurt you? Why is he here?”
“He told you, Mum. He helped me escape. He came back with us.”
“He came back with you? Why?”
“He wasn’t safe, there.”
“Why ever not?”
“Mum! I’ve told you I don’t want to talk about it.” Sarah let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. Let’s go inside, yes?”
Dawn cast a worried glance at the house. Sarah wondered if her father was home yet.
“Yes. Let’s,” said her mother.
Dawn hurried along the path, leaving Sarah behind, and turned her key in the lock.
Chapter Five
Dawn pulled Sarah into the house and closed the door behind them. She was like a startled animal, breathing in sharp bursts and looking around her with small, quick movements.
“Mum? What’s wrong?”
“Did your father come back with you? Did he find you?”
“Yes. Yes, he caught up with us. He didn’t find me though. Jess and the others, they had to let him out.”
“What?”
“Robert and his men. They found Dad and Harry on the beach, coming after us. They put them in the cell I’d escaped from.” She backed into the wall, her limbs heavy. “Dad’s injured, Mum.”
Dawn paled. “Dear God.” She crossed herself.
“His shoulder. But he’s going to be alright. He’s already shouting at people.” Sarah tried to laugh.
“You’re making no sense,” said Dawn.
“I’m sorry. Look, I need a lie down. Can I talk about it later?”
“I’ve got someone to see you first.”
“Who?”
Sarah pushed past her mother into the living room, wondering who might be there. They never had visitors.
As usual, the room was tidy to the point of sparseness, the sound of the sea faint through the tall windows at the back.
She turned to Dawn. “Who?”
“He’s outside. On the grass.”
Sarah crossed to the window and peered outside. The sun had disappeared behind thick clouds now and the sky above the sea was blurred. It was going to rain.
There was no one out there.
“Who, Mum?”
“Wait.”
Dawn pushed the sliding door open a crack. “We’re here. Come in.”
Sarah watched, frowning, as a shape appeared from beside the window where it had been huddled unseen against the wall.
He stepped inside, shaking himself out and glancing down at his shoes as if worried he’d bring mud in.
“Sam?”
It was Sam Golder, one of the Golder twins. His brother Zack had gone out in the boat with Jess a week ago, to answer a distress call. The mission that had brought the men to their village. He’d gone with Jess on the walk south to find Sarah and the other women, too. Leaving Sam behind. She wondered how Sam felt about that.
“Hi, Sarah.” He ran a hand through his messy hair. He was almost a foot taller than her, and similarly broad. A stranger would never know there were only four years between them.
She turned to Dawn. “Why is Sam here?”
“I thought you might want to see him. After what you’ve been through.”
“Sam?”
“He’s your friend, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but…” She turned to Sam, aware she was being rude. Friend was hardly the word she’d use. She’d spoken to Sam on a few occasions, on the beach. They both liked to go down there for early morning solitude. She had no idea they’d been spotted.
She turned to Dawn. “Have you been spying on me?”
“I just saw you talking. He’s a nice boy.”
Sarah blushed. She blinked at Sam. Was her mother trying to play Cupid?
“It’s good to see you home,” said Sam. He looked down at his feet again. He hadn’t moved them since stepping inside.
“Close the door,” said Sarah. “It’s freezing.” She reached round him to pull it shut. They both jumped as her arm touched his back.
“Nice house,” he said.
She looked around them. The living room was dull in this light, with nothing except her mother’s crucifix on the wall. The coffee table was bare except for a single spray of flowers picked from the dunes, in a cracked cup. The kitchen, beyond, was equally bare; nothing on the surfaces except a teapot.
Dawn hurried into the kitchen. She picked up the teapot and put it in a cupboard. “Excuse the mess.”
Mum, it’s spotless, Sarah wanted to say. But she’d lived with this all her life. It was as if her mother was scared to leave her mark on the world in any way than through her faith.
“Have you been out there for long?” she asked Sam.
“Not long. Twenty minutes or so.”
“That’s ages, in this cold.”
A shrug. “I’m used to it.”
She knew he was. Sam was one of several young men who regularly left the village in search of work. It was their community’s only way of getting cash for those things they couldn’t grow or make themselves. They worked on the land reclamation near Hull, trying to grab back land the sea had taken in the floods six years ago. Floods that had made Sarah’s family homeless and forced them to make the journey north to this village. Everyone here was like them, a refugee from the floods, provided with temporary accommodation in this former holiday village but not, as yet, able to leave. She doubted they ever would; the authorities seemed to have abandoned them.
“Why did you come?”
“To see if you were OK, I guess.” He shifted his weight without moving his feet. She longed to tell him to step inside, to ignore the mud on the carpet. But her mother would be horrified.
“Well, I am. Thanks for coming.”
She put a hand on the door, ready to open it again. He gave her a shy smile as she did. She blushed.
“Quick, out!”
She turned to see her mother advancing on them, her face full of horror.
“What?”
“It’s your father. He’s outside.” Dawn’s eyes were wide. “He looks cross.”
Cross would be an understatement. In the last few days, Ted had seen his daughter abducted, had gone after her, been locked up himself, and th
en almost killed the man responsible. Yes, he would be cross.
Sarah had the door open. Dawn pushed her and Sam through it. Sarah grabbed her arm, not wanting to go out herself. Surely only Sam needed to leave?
The pressure made Dawn stumble into her. They tumbled to the grass, Dawn gasping in surprise.
Sarah turned back to the glass door. Through it, she could see the front door to their house opening. Without thinking, she yanked the door closed then pushed her mother and Sam to one side, out of sight of the interior.
“What are you doing?” breathed Sam. “Are you coming with me?”
“No, silly.” Sarah looked at Dawn. “I don’t know what I’m doing. But can you leave me and my mother alone, please. We need to talk.”
Sam threw her a sheepish smile then shook his boots out and slipped around the side of the house. Sarah assumed he would head home, to see his brother Zack, who would only just be back himself. She realised she had no idea where he lived.
She turned to Dawn.
“What was all that about?”
“Why did you pull me outside? It’s starting to rain.” Dawn moaned and tugged her pale blue cardigan up over her head. It was threadbare at the elbows and there was a thin trace of black cotton where she’d sewn up a tear in the hem.
“Sorry. It was an accident. Let’s get back inside.”
“Yes.”
Dawn reached for the door. “It’s locked.”
“What?”
“You closed it from the outside. I can’t open it.”
“Damn.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Sorry, Mum. Let’s go round the front. Dad’ll let us in.”
Dawn peered round the door. “No.”
“It’s raining. We have to get inside.”
Dawn turned to her. Heavy drops of rain fell, darkening the village and the view out to sea. “I don’t want to alarm him.”
“Mum, please. He’ll let us in. We can tell him we just got back from the pharmacy.”
“No, love. We’ll shelter for a bit, wait for him to go out.”
“What good will that do? We still can’t get in.”
“Do you have your key?”
“Mum, I just got back from three days being locked up in an outhouse. Of course I don’t have my—”
She fumbled in the pocket of her skirt. She had taken her key, on the morning she’d been snatched. Her parents had been asleep and she hadn’t wanted to disturb them. She’d been looking for her cat, Snowy. She hadn’t seen him since returning.
“I’ve got it,” she breathed. Dawn looked like she might cry with relief.
“Mum, what’s he been like? While I’ve been gone?”
Dawn shook her head. “He’s hardly been here. He came after you, remember.”
“Dad does things like that when he’s angry.” She lowered her voice. “Did he take it out on you?”
Dawn looked away. “He shouted at me a bit, that’s all. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“You shouldn’t have to handle him, Mum.”
Dawn leaned in close. Her eyes flashed at Sarah, the pupils dilated. “With God’s help, I handle him. I always have and I always will. It’s what I do.”
“It’s not right.”
“Sarah. This is not for you to judge. Now let’s get inside. You’re the one complaining about the rain.”
“I’m not complaining.” But Sarah’s body was complaining. About the wet, and the cold, and the aches deep inside as well as her throbbing head. She wanted to sleep for a year.
They rounded the house to the front. The village square was deserted, rain chasing everyone inside. Sarah slipped past Dawn to get to the front door.
She raised her key to the lock. Theirs was one of few houses that were locked in the daytime.
She paused. “What was all that with Sam?”
Dawn shook her head. Beads of water sprayed into Sarah’s eyes. “He’s a nice boy.”
“I know he’s a nice boy, but why did you bring him here?”
“He’d be good for you.”
“He’d be what? Mum, I don’t need a matchmaker.”
“You need to lead your own life. Sam could give you that.”
“I don’t. I’m nineteen years old. I’m not leaving you. Not with him.”
She looked back at the door, imagining Ted inside. Would he be pacing the room? Watching from an upstairs window, wondering where his women had got to? Listening to them through the door?
“Just let me make my own decisions, please Mum,” she said, as she turned her key in the lock. “I can look after myself.”
Chapter Six
Martin could barely bring himself to look Ruth in the eye as she patched up his chin. She bustled around the pharmacy, grabbing surgical glue, disinfectant and cotton wool, then tending to his wound without looking into his eyes.
At last she was finished. She stood back and wiped her hands on her apron. He jumped down from the table on which he’d been sitting.
“Thanks.”
She shrugged.
“I’m sorry.”
Her eyes moved upwards to meet his gaze. “Yes.”
“If I’d known you, if I’d known what you were like, I’d never have—”
“But given that I was a stranger to you, you were happy to go along with it?”
“Not happy. I was scared. Scared of Robert.” His hands were sweating. He hated himself. “I’m sorry, is all. If I can make it up to you in any way…”
“Go home.”
“Sorry?”
“I have no idea what possessed you to tag along with the boat. I think the best thing is for you to go back to your friends, at the farm.”
“You saw what they did to me. They’ll never take me back.”
“That’s hardly my concern.”
“And Sarah wants me here.”
Ruth arched an eyebrow. “Does she?”
He thought of Sarah shuffling out of the pharmacy, refusing to look at him. “Maybe I should go back.”
“Sensible boy. Just take care of that chin. Keep it clean.”
“I will.”
He pushed the door to find Jess outside, making stilted conversation with the woman running the shop. Martin knew that she’d only become village steward a few days before he and his friends had taken Sarah and the other women. He’d seen her struggling to assert her authority. Especially with her brother Ben, who’d held the job before her.
She turned at the sound of the door.
“All fixed?”
“Yes. Thanks.” He ignored the puzzled stare of the other woman. “I think I’d best be on my way now.”
“On your way where?”
“I’m not welcome here. It was stupid of me to think I might be.”
Jess shook her head. She opened the shop door and guided him outside.
“That’s better,” she said. “Pam does like to listen in.” She smiled. “Don’t tell her I said that.”
“I can’t if I’m leaving.”
“About that. Are you sure?”
He looked around the square in front of the shop. Heavy drops of rain were falling, and there was no one in sight. The air was dark and heavy and he could barely make out the houses beyond.
“Yes,” he said. “I should go back to the farm.”
“I saw what you did, back there.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, you did. You stopped that man in his tracks. And you did it for Sarah.”
“If by that man, you mean Robert, well it wasn’t me who stopped him. Not in the end.”
She shook her head. “Not a word about that. Ruth is the beating heart of my family, and indispensable to this village. If anyone found out what she did…”
“I won’t tell.”
“Good. Now, the flat your fr— that Robert and Bill were in. After we rescued you from your boat that wasn’t really sinking.”
He blushed. “Sorry.”
“Stop saying that. Th
e flat’s still empty. I’m putting you in it for twenty-four hours, while we come to a decision.”
“You really don’t need to do that.”
She stopped walking. A gust of wind blew her red hair in front of her face and she shoved it to one side. “I said you could come. I’ve only been steward here for a week. If I change my mind, I’ll look weak. I’m sticking up for you, whether you like it or not.”
“Err—”
“Come with me.”
She started walking. He followed, unaware now which direction they were going in. Towards the sea, or away from it? Towards the road back to the farm, or away from it?
“Where are we going?”
She didn’t break stride. “I told you. The flat. One night. Then you’ll either stay, or you’ll go.”
They reached a low red brick building. She handed him a key. “Here you are. That door there. It’s upstairs, first on the left, once you get inside. It’s basic, but it’ll do.”
“I don’t deserve this.”
“That’s for the village council to decide.”
“Thank you.”
She hesitated, as if about to say something, then decided against it. She turned away from him and started walking back towards the square. He realised he had no idea where in the village he was, no idea how to get back to the farm even if he wanted to.
When she was twenty yards away, she turned. “Sit tight,” she called. “Stay in the flat. And lock your door.”
Chapter Seven
Sarah sat against her bedroom door, listening to the voices downstairs. Ted had been irritable when she and Dawn came in, snapping about the fact that his lunch wasn’t ready and the house was cold. Dawn had fussed about his shoulder but he’d pushed her away. So she’d slipped into her usual mode of attempting to reach him through his stomach. They couldn’t be too fussy about food here, not with the rationing and the limitations on power. Soup, made from carrots grown in the allotments, wouldn’t have been Ted’s preferred meal. But he’d learned to live with it.
Sarah had slipped upstairs as soon as she and Dawn had finished the washing up, anxious to get away from her father. And she was tired. She’d spent over an hour lying on her bed, blinking up at the ceiling, thinking about Dawn, and Sam, and Martin. She didn’t understand why her mother was trying to hook her up with Sam. Dawn needed her here, to help ward off Ted’s moods.
Sea of Lies Page 3