“It doesn’t matter what I think. Only you know what you’re really like.” She prodded his chest with a finger then quickly withdrew it. “In here.”
“I’m not like them. Robert. My dad.”
“Your dad?”
A nod. “He was a drunk. Violent. Made my life hell.”
“And you think that excuses what you did?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. But I’m not like them. I’m not going to be like them.”
She was too tired for this. She longed for the soft bed behind her, the heavy bedspread. But she needed to get away.
She retreated and started to push the door closed.
“Good luck, Martin. Whatever you’ve got planned. Just… be better. Don’t fall in with people like Robert again.”
“I’ll try not to. I was planning—”
She held up a palm. “I don’t want to know. If I don’t know, I can’t tell the police.”
His eyes widened. “You don’t want to tell them about me?”
“I know what you did. We all do. But Robert had it coming. The world’s a better place without him. You shouldn’t suffer for that. Nor should Ruth.”
“Ruth. I need to go to the police, don’t I?”
“You might only make it worse. Jess will vouch for her. You can’t know what Ruth went through, why she did what she did.”
“I know.” He hung his head. “I’m sorry.”
She heard sounds from downstairs; Bill, moving around in the kitchen. A door opened and closed. She stared towards the staircase, glad her door had a lock.
“I know.” She pushed Martin back, but gently. “Now, goodnight.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dawn stood at the top of the ladder. She wished she’d thought to put shoes on; the rungs dug into her feet. She reached into the loft, feeling for the rope.
Her fingers landed on it and she tugged. There was a moment when she thought it might not budge, but then it came away, almost sending her toppling back.
Falling down the ladder; that would do the job. But she wasn’t ready. Not yet.
She pushed the rope past her and watched as it went snaking to the floor below. It was stained and mottled, grey with age. Ted had carried it all the way here from Somerset, believing it to be useful. And he’d been right; they’d often used it to tie a tarpaulin over their belongings and sometimes themselves, glad of the protection from the driving rain.
Since they’d arrived here, it had only come out once, when Harry had asked Ted to help him in the boathouse. Ted had come home disgruntled; it seemed Harry and Clyde had better ropes.
She lowered herself down the ladder, hand over hand, careful. As she was about to place a foot on the floor, there was a knock at the door.
She flinched, almost falling. She composed herself, then stepped down.
She looked at the ladder; did she have time to push it back up into the loft?
She grabbed the bottom rung and pulled it towards her, ducking out of the way as the ladder folded into itself.
The door knocked again; two short raps.
She gave a final heave and pushed the ladder up into the dark space of the loft. Brushing her hands together, she descended the stairs, wishing she’d stopped to look out of the upstairs window first.
As she reached the door the thought came to her that it might be Sarah. She flung the door open, her face bright.
“Oh.”
“Hi Dawn.” It was Jess.
“What can I do for you?”
“I just wanted a chat.”
“A chat?” Chatting wasn’t something Dawn did.
“While Ted’s talking to the police.”
Dawn put a hand on the doorframe. “They haven’t taken him?”
“No. They just want to find out what happened, at the farm.”
“Can’t you tell them?”
“I didn’t see it all. I burst in right at the end.”
“Oh.”
“And they’ll want as many witnesses as they can get, I guess.”
“Yes.”
So Ted hadn’t been arrested; that was a relief.
“Can I come in?”
Dawn squinted at Jess. Her thick red hair was unkempt. She looked flushed and harried.
“Go on. Be quick though.”
As Jess slipped past her into the house, Dawn peered outside. Hopefully no one would see. Hopefully she would be gone before Ted returned.
Jess shrugged her shoulders a few times then peeled off her coat. Dawn watched her, alarmed. The hall felt cramped with a stranger in it.
“What can I do for you?”
“Like I said, just a chat. Can we sit down?”
Dawn ushered her through to the living room. Jess surveyed the twin sofas then chose one, perching as if she didn’t want to crease it.
“Can I offer you a drink?”
“No. But thank you; that’s kind.”
Dawn never normally offered outsiders food and drink; they were strictly rationed and she had none to spare. She wondered if the other members of the village entertained each other, if they pooled their rations. She shuddered.
“So, what do you need to talk about?”
Jess sniffed. “I’m sorry about Sarah.”
“Oh.”
“I heard what happened, in the boat house.”
“Yes.”
Jess turned to her. “I also saw her, before that. She had a bruise.” Jess raised a hand to her face. “Right here.”
“Yes. She slipped.”
“Really?”
“Would I be lying?”
Jess shuffled in her seat. Dawn perched on the edge of her own, her skin taut.
“Dawn, you can trust me.”
“I know I can. You’re the steward.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Is this all you’ve come for?”
Jess put out a hand then stopped it in mid-air. “We can help you, you know. You and Sarah. This village doesn’t exactly have a women’s refuge but we can rehouse you, somewhere on the other edge. If needed, we can send Ted away.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because he hurts you.”
Dawn stood up. “You have no evidence of that.”
Jess looked uncomfortable. “I thought you trusted me, Dawn. After I left you those notes, when Sarah was taken?”
Dawn nodded. It was true that Jess had been the only member of the village with whom she’d had any communication at that time. Jess had left updates for her under her dustbin.
“I appreciate that. But if you don’t mind, I’ve got jobs to be getting on with.”
Jess heaved herself up and made for the door. As Dawn opened it, a man walked past the front of the house and Dawn felt her heart skip a beat. She closed the door again.
“I understand,” said Jess. “But you can talk to me, if you need help. If he hurts Sarah again.”
Dawn pushed her shoulders back; how dare Jess prod at her Achilles heel like that?
“I owe my life to my husband.”
“Really?”
“He risked his neck for me and Sarah many times, on our way here. Without him, I’d be lying in a bush somewhere. And Sarah… well, the less said about that the better.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Dawn remembered their journey to the village, the long walk north. Jess had no idea. She didn’t have a daughter who’d been almost raped. A husband who had stopped it in the most forceful of ways.
Then she remembered. “We all had it hard. You had to bring your poor mother.”
Jess’s face darkened. Her mother, Sonia, had been ill on her journey here and had died not long after arriving at the village.
“I’m sorry,” said Dawn. “I didn’t mean to…”
Jess sniffed. “It’s OK. I don’t mind talking about her. But I mean it about Ted. We’re here to protect you.”
“As is my husband.”
“Well.” Jess sighed. “That�
��s not how it always looks.”
Dawn took a step forward, making Jess step back. “Don’t talk about him like that. Don’t come into his house, reject hospitality which would be impossible without his efforts, and then make insinuations about him. Please.”
“That’s not what I meant to—”
“My marriage is none of your concern. Now leave.”
They met each others’ gaze for a moment then Jess turned to the door. Her gaze caught on the wall next to it.
“Does that give you strength?”
Dawn looked past her at her crucifix. Wrapped in tissue paper, it had made its way here from Somerset. And before that, it had been her mother’s and her grandmother’s before her. It had survived two world wars; it would survive more.
As would she.
“It does. Strength to know my daughter will be coming back to me.”
Jess stared at it. “I hope so.”
“I know so.” Dawn stepped past Jess and opened the door. She stared at her visitor, urging her to leave with her eyes.
Jess gave her a sad smile. “It’s been good to talk to you.”
Dawn said nothing. She watched as Jess walked along the path that led to the village centre. She should be in her schoolroom, teaching those poor children. But instead here she was, throwing her weight around and poking her nose where it wasn’t wanted.
Dawn pushed the door shut and closed her eyes. She leaned her forehead against the wood and trembled as tears ran down her face.
Chapter Thirty
The moon was three-quarters full, clouds drifting across it like slow fingers of mist. Sarah picked her way through the long grass, heading back the way she’d arrived. Around her were the sounds of night; animals shooting through the grasses, an owl somewhere behind her, the sea ahead.
She reached the beach. It looked dirty and littered in the dark, piles of seaweed easily mistaken for washed-up debris.
The tide was on its way out and the sand was damp. She picked her way across it, glad not to be sinking into dry powder but troubled by the cold. She’d found a pair of trainers under Robert’s bed; two sizes too big but she’d laced them tightly and stuffed a balled up sock in the toes of each one. They hung on, for now.
She sniffed the salty air and surveyed the shore, looking for the boat. Nothing. She walked closer to the shore, careful not to let the water touch her feet. The rocks where they had come to shore were to her left, dark and moody in the dim light. If the boat had been wrecked, the pieces would be there.
She withdrew from the shore, finding a firm patch of sand to make her way across. When she reached the rocks, she headed back out towards the water. She considered clambering across the rocks, but then remembered how slippery and encrusted with barnacles they were, dips and troughs catching the water and glinting every time the moon came out from behind a cloud.
Then she saw it at the edge of the water, lapped by the waves. A dark shape, listing heavily but still distinctly boat-shaped. She clenched her fists, hopeful. And angry; Bill had been wrong about leaving it on the beach.
She hurried to it and bent to put a hand on the hull. It was dirty but intact. She couldn’t see what the underside was like.
She grabbed an edge and heaved. It wouldn’t budge. She placed her feet up against the keel, leaning into it. It moved slightly then shuddered to a halt.
“Need a hand?”
She spun round to see Bill watching her. He wore a heavy black coat that made him look larger, and his outline against the pale sand was eerie. She felt her heart flutter.
“No thanks.”
He approached her. She had nowhere to go; behind her, the sea, and to her side, the rocks.
“I said no thanks.”
“I just want to help.” He was closer now; she could smell tobacco on him and heard his coat rustle as he walked. He had a purple scar on the side of his neck; she wondered how he’d got it.
“I don’t need any help.”
“I can help you move it. Check it over. You want to take the boat home, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Right, then. The quicker we get it fixed up, the quicker you can be back with your family.”
She glared at him. What right did he have to talk about her family like that?
She turned to the boat and gave it another tug. He snorted.
“You’ll never do it like that. It’s wedged against that rock, see?”
She looked at the other side of the boat. Sure enough, it was wedged under an overhanging rock.
“We’ll need to bring it out at an angle,” Bill said.
She couldn’t do this alone. “Go on then.”
He chuckled. “That’s better. Now, you take that end. Pull it upwards, just a little bit, and then angle it out. Like this.”
She followed his lead. The boat shifted upwards on the side closest to them and downwards on the other, freeing itself from the rock.
“Now we pull it onto the beach,” he said.
“I can take it from here.”
He eyed her. “Maybe you can. But it’s easier with two of us.”
He was right. She said nothing but let him help her. They pulled the boat away from the rocks until there was space for him to slip around the other side. Then they each took one side and heaved it across the damp sand, stopping when it was a few feet over the high water line.
He leaned over and took some deep breaths. “Not as fit as I was. That thing’s heavy.”
“You told us it was safe before.”
“Sorry. Tide’s unpredictable, these days.”
“Right.”
He straightened. “I just want to help you. And Martin. I owe you that at least.”
She felt her stomach hollow out and her head lighten. Here she was, miles from home, alone on a beach with the man who’d drugged her, slung her over his shoulder and abducted her.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Huh?”
“For what I did to you. There’s no excuse. Robert didn’t coerce me. I just spotted you and thought you’d tell them about Ruth.”
She pulled back. She shouldn’t have let him help her. It was a mistake.
“I’d like you to leave.”
He stared at her for a moment then nodded. “I don’t blame you. But you can’t take that thing out on your own. Not now.”
“Why not?’
“Because you’ll drown, out there in the dark.”
“I didn’t drown on the way here.”
“The boat’s damaged. I can tell by the way it leans on the sand. Even a slow leak is enough to sink a little thing like this. And you don’t know what you’re doing.”
She turned to him. “How can you know that?”
“Do you have experience at sea?”
She thought of the times she’d sat on the beach in Somerset as a child, watching the other families with their inflatable dinghies and lilos. She’d always been alone, sitting at the spot where the sand began, an observer of these incomers on her territory. In winter they’d be gone and she’d have the beach to herself.
But she’d never gone out on the water. And she’d only been in the village boat three times.
“It’s just a day boat,” she said. “I can manage it.”
He was crouching next to the boat, peering under it. It would be too dark to see properly.
“Please,” he said. “Wait till daylight. Then I’ll come down here with you, help you get it ready.”
“I’d rather go now.”
“Shall I tell you what it’s like to think you’re drowning?”
She shrugged.
“First there’s the cold. Your limbs, legs first, drop a degree or two. Then there’s the claustrophobia. You’re out in the big wide ocean but you feel like you’re being hemmed in to the tiniest room. Then there’s the panic. You flail wildly, despite the fact that your brain’s screaming at you to be still. You know how to be safe, but your body refuses to do it.”
“Then?”
“To drowning?”
“I watched him fall in. Ruth treated him for hypothermia.”
“And then he repaid her by bringing her here, with you.”
“Sarah, please come back to the farm. A good night’s sleep will give you the energy you need for tomorrow. I’ll help you get this thing fixed up.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why would I lie? I could just walk away now and I’d be no worse off.”
“Do you know boats? Can you help me?”
“I’ve got some experience with carpentry.”
She pulled Robert’s jacket tighter around her. The sky was lightening very slightly, dawn approaching. She could be back here in just a couple of hours.
“Alright.”
“Good.”
He turned and headed back for the farm. The darkness swallowed him up, making her wonder if he’d really gone or was just a few paces away.
“Bill?”
No response. Suddenly she didn’t want to follow him, didn’t want him jumping out at her from the grasses.
She turned back to the boat. It was safe now. This would have to wait until morning.
She looked back the way she had come. Was he there still, or had he left her behind?
Only one way to find out.
She pushed through the grasses, taking a different path, trying not to lose her bearings. When at last the grass let go of her, she was on the road a short way from the farm. She crept towards it, hoping the men were asleep.
She pushed the front door open. Silence. She eased off the damp trainers and crept upstairs, wondering if Bill was a man of his word.
Chapter Thirty-One
Martin should have been on the move by now, heading as far away from here as he could get, but he’d stayed to help Sarah.
Early that morning they’d dragged the boat to the edge of the beach, where it met the grass. The hull was just scratched; no hole. But the propeller had been torn apart on the rocks, one of its blades flopping loosely onto the sand.
Even if they could get the thing started, Sarah would never be able to control it.
Bill had his arms crossed and his face contorted into a frown. “It’s not good.”
Sea of Lies Page 11