She caught movement from the corner of her eye and looked up. Something was rounding the bed, ahead of her. A bike?
She stepped onto the path, pulling the door behind her. Nobody had bikes here. They were too bulky for people to have carried them, and too expensive - too unnecessary to buy. Was it those boys again, from the estate? The ones who’d threatened those poor children?
She stood her ground, ready to tell them to leave, wondering where her strength had come from.
Then she realised it was a woman riding the bike, long white-blonde hair flying out behind her.
Sarah?
Chapter Forty-Six
Her mother was at the front door, her arms wide, her jaw dropped.
“Sarah!”
Sarah brought the bike to a halt and threw it to the ground. Almost tripping over the wheel, she ran to her mother who gathered her up in a tight hug.
“You’re safe! Oh dear Lord, I’m so glad to see you.” Dawn drew back to push a stray hair out of Sarah’s eyes. “Did he hurt you?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
Dawn frowned then looked towards a group of men who were tending the plants four houses along. “Come inside.”
She pulled Sarah in, slamming the door behind her.
“The bike?” Sarah asked, her voice frail.
“We can worry about that later. Oh, come here. Let me hold you.”
Sarah let her mother gobble her up again, feeling like a lost child. She felt tears run down her cheeks.
Dawn held her at arms length again and stroked her cheek. “You poor love. Here, you need warming up.”
Sarah let her mother drag her into the kitchen and guide her to a chair. She was shivering, her layers of clothing soaked through.
“Can I get changed?”
“Of course! You go and clean yourself up while I warm you up some soup.”
Sarah smiled in thanks and slid upstairs, listening for her father. He seemed to be out; causing trouble no doubt.
Her room had been tidied, her panda propped up on her bed like she was six. Snowy was on the windowsill, staring out at the sea. She gathered him up in her arms, sinking her face into his soft fur. He struggled against her and she put him gently back down, ruffling the fur behind his ears. He jumped off and slid downstairs. She watched him then crashed to the bed, exhausted.
Her mind felt full and empty at the same time. She couldn’t quite believe she was home. Could things get back to normal now? Did she want them to?
She pushed herself up and went to her chest of drawers. One drawer held skirts, neatly folded. Another held blouses. She took one of each and some clean underwear. It felt good to have her own clothes next to her skin.
She sat heavily on the bed, thinking of the last time her clothes had been removed. Of Martin’s touch on her. He’d been gentle, tender. How could a murderer be so considerate?
A deep longing to lie down was pulling her back to the bed. But she was hungry, and she’d promised her mother. She could smell pea soup. Her favourite.
She sat at the kitchen table and wrapped her chilled fingers around the mug. Next to it was a misshapen granary roll. She tore into it and dunked it into the soup, only now realising just how hungry she was.
“Thanks, Mum.” She swallowed the soup in great, hungry gulps, smacking her lips when it was finished. She looked at the pan on the stove, hoping for more. But it was empty.
Dawn sat opposite her. Her face was pained, her forehead deeply lined. She smelt of the soap she made from seaweed and lavender.
Sarah looked down at her empty mug, hoping Dawn couldn’t read the changes on her face. No one needed to know what had happened last night. The sooner she put it out of her own mind, the better.
“What happened?” her mother asked, her voice gentle. “Did he force you to go with him?”
Sarah shot her head up. “He’s not like that.” She felt her cheeks flush. “He’s not.”
Why was she lying? Martin was a murderer who had tricked her into bed.
She felt her stomach clench. What if she was pregnant?
“What is it, love? You look like you’ve got the cares of the world on your shoulders.”
“I’m just tired.”
“No surprise there. But you’re home now, thank the Lord. We’ll look after you. We’ll help you recover.”
“We?”
Dawn stiffened. “Your dad was worried about you.”
“I bet he was.”
“Now, Sarah. Don’t go talking about him like that. He loves you, in his own way.”
So does Martin, thought Sarah, then shook her head. “He’s got a funny way of showing it.” She pointed to the bruise on her forehead.
“I’m sorry about that, sweetheart. It won’t happen again.”
“How can you know?”
“Because I won’t let it.”
Sarah eyed her mother. Was she finding some courage at last? Was the sight of her daughter being hit by the man who’d dished out the same punishment to her time and time again enough to turn her?
“How?”
Dawn smiled. “Your dad’s had a hard time, love. What with his injury, and that Martin causing trouble. He just needs a rest from all that.”
“You don’t think other people have had a hard time too?”
“He’s different. I know how to look after him. I neglected him, for a while. I won’t let it happen again.”
Sarah slumped back in her chair. Dawn had it all wrong. It was she who needed to be treated better, not her husband.
She heard a key turning in the lock, and turned in her chair. Dawn pulled her hand off Sarah’s. She stood up and put Sarah’s mug and plate in the sink.
Ted pushed the door closed behind him, his face dark. Sarah held her breath.
“Hello Dad.”
He spun round. “Sarah?”
She tried to smile. “I’m home.”
He advanced on her. “Oh!” For a moment she thought he might hug her. Then his face fell. “What the hell were you doing, jumping into that boat?”
“I’m sorry, Dad. I was stupid.”
“Fucking impetuous more like!”
“Ted,” Dawn whispered. She was prepared to put up with violence but not with swearing. Sarah had never understood it.
Ted loomed over Sarah. She pulled herself up but he placed a hand on her shoulder, pushing her gently down.
“You shagged him, didn’t you?”
Her eyes widened.
“Ted!” Dawn hissed. “Please don’t talk like—”
Sarah recovered herself. “No,” she said. “You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
He grunted. “Well, you’re grounded. No going running after him – and no seeing Sam Golder.” At this his gaze flicked up to Dawn, who made an involuntary sound.
Sarah shrugged. “Fine with me.”
“Good.” He grabbed her shoulder and hauled her up. His own shoulder was free of its sling. “Get upstairs.”
“Dad, I’m nineteen. You can’t—”
“I said go upstairs!”
She looked at her mother, who nodded assent. She raised herself from the chair, leaning back to avoid making contact with him. She rounded him and made for the stairs.
“This is stupid,” she said. “You can’t lock me up.”
“That’s what you think,” said Ted.
“You’re no better than them.”
He took a step towards her, his arm raised. Dawn’s face crumpled. “No, Ted, please! She’s been through enough!”
He lowered his hand, glaring at Sarah. His chin was trembling, his pupils dilated. She stared back at him.
She looked at her mother. She was close to tears.
“Like I say, you can’t lock me up forever.”
She ran upstairs and threw herself on the bed.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Sarah woke to a grey room, sun seeping round the curtains. She yawned and sat up in bed, her limbs heavy.
&nbs
p; For a moment she forgot everything that had happened over the last ten days; she was at home the way she’d been before Martin first came to the village. Before they’d taken her. But then the thought of it fell onto her, like lead cloaking her shoulders. She sighed and leaned back against the wall.
She was hungry. When was the last time she ate; twelve, fourteen hours ago? Her stomach growled as if in answer.
She flung her feet out of bed and found her slippers. She padded to the door.
It was locked. She rattled the handle, annoyed.
“Mum!” she called. “My door’s stuck.”
“No it isn’t.”
Her mother’s voice was directly outside the door.
“Have you been sitting out there?”
“I wanted to make sure you were alright, when you woke.”
“I’m fine. But I’m hungry, and I need the loo. Let me out.”
“I can’t.”
She rattled the door again. “Of course you can. I need to eat.”
“Look on your chest of drawers.”
She looked at the chest of drawers. There was a plate on it, with some goats cheese, a hunk of bread and sliced up apple. The apple was starting to brown at the edges.
“You came in here? You left it?”
“I wanted to check on you. You were asleep.”
“I still need to use the bathroom.”
“You’ll have to hold on. Wait till your dad gets home.”
“I can’t.”
“I’m sorry, love.”
She heard creaking and rustling outside as her mother stood up. There was a moment’s silence; was she out there, looking at the door, coming to a decision?
“Let me out.”
“You have to wait.”
Sarah threw herself back onto the bed. Her stomach grumbled again. She went to the chest and picked up the plate. There was a glass of water next to it. She munched on the food. Maybe she shouldn’t have come home after all.
She heard voices outside, below her window. She pulled the curtains aside and opened the window. Jess was on the grass below, running across the back of the houses that overlooked the cliffs.
“Jess?”
Jess stopped. “Sarah? Since when have you been back?”
“Yesterday afternoon. They’ve locked me in.”
Jess looked towards the glass doors below Sarah’s window. Was Dawn down there, discouraging her? Shooing her away?
“Sorry, I’ve got bigger things to deal with. I’m sure they’ll let you out soon. Your mum’s downstairs.”
“It’s her who’s got me locked in. What is it you’ve got to deal with?”
Jess frowned. “Bill. From the farm.”
“What about him?”
“He’s turned up with the boat.”
“What?”
“Sorry, Sarah. Got to dash.”
Sarah ran to the door and hammered on it. “Let me out! I need to go out!”
The door handle turned.
“Stand back,” her mother said through the wood. Sarah did as she was told.
Dawn pushed the door ajar. “Sit on the bed. Don’t move.”
Sarah sat on the bed, arranging her feet beneath her. She’d never seen her mother behave like this.
She watched as Dawn crossed the room, heading for the window. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and brought out a small key. She pulled the window shut then locked it.
“What are you doing?”
“I know you get out that way. When your dad grounds you.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“It’s for your own good. You need to see sense. Realise that I only want what’s best for you.”
“But I need the loo.”
“Use the glass.”
Sarah stared at Dawn. Her mother was the cleanest, most meticulous person she had ever known. The thought of peeing in a mug would be as unwelcome to her as peeling her own skin off.
“Mum? Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” Dawn looked tired, but there was colour in her cheeks and a determination in her eyes. “I’m going out. You stay quiet, and don’t try talking to anyone again.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Dawn stood watching from the shadow of the house.
A hundred yards in front of her, Jess and some other council members were talking to a man. The man who’d come to the village with Martin. The man they called Bill.
He was solidly-built with greying hair that was thin on top, and he stood with a stoop. He wore a heavy black coat that stretched almost to his fingertips, with a pale stain running from collar to hem. He had a scar on his neck that made Dawn shudder. Apart from that he looked harmless enough, but that meant nothing. Martin had looked harmless too, with his open face and thick mousy hair.
She wished she could get closer. There was an open space ahead, with nothing to shield her. There were four of them other than the newcomer. Jess, her brother Ben, his friend Sanjeev, and Ted. She wondered what Bill wanted. Why he’d come here.
Ted looked angry. He was shouting at Jess, his arms waving. Ben was tense next to her, looking like he might throw himself at Ted any moment. He’d done it before, a couple of years ago. But Ted was stronger than he looked. As Dawn well knew.
Jess put a hand on Ted’s shoulder and he jerked it away, shouting at her. Dawn winced; that would hurt. His words echoed off the buildings but were too muddled to make out. Bill watched them, his frown deepening. You’ll regret coming here now, she thought. As you should.
She stared at him, horrified by his nerve. That he should cart her daughter off like that, imprison her on his farm, then come back here like he’d done nothing wrong. She had no idea why he’d chosen today to come here, but she could guess. He’d found the boat, washed up somewhere, and thought he could use it to inveigle his way into their trust again.
This time she wasn’t going to stand by and watch.
She pulled back as Jess turned to glance in her direction. She was gesturing towards Dawn, towards the houses. Dawn crouched down, torn between running away and staying to hear more.
Then it hit her. If he had the boat, that meant he’d taken it from Sarah. He and Martin had worked together to convince her to leave with it, then attacked her and stolen it from her.
Good for her, escaping them. But where had she got that bike? She must have taken it from somewhere.
That wasn’t good. Thou shalt not steal. But that was only one commandment that had been broken recently. The ones broken by the man she was watching, not to mention his friend who was where he belonged in a police cell; well, they were far worse.
The group turned to walk in Dawn’s direction. She slipped through the shadows and darted to the side of Sanjeev’s house next to her own, hoping he wouldn’t spot her. She crouched behind a side wall and peered out. Jess unlocked the door to the village hall and gestured for Bill to go in. Ted shouted something at her. She looked him in the eye and snapped something back. He growled but didn’t reply.
Once Bill was inside, Jess locked the door. She spoke to Ted again then walked off towards the beach. Maybe she was going to check on the boat, talk to Clyde. She was friendly enough with him. Dawn disapproved; it wasn’t right, a white woman and a black man. She’d never be as vociferous about it as her husband, but it still made her uncomfortable. It was enough that Sanjeev there had such a hold over Ben. Especially when it was Ben who had saved his life after the floods, so it should be the other way around.
She scurried across the square, stopping at the back of the JP. She leaned against the pub wall, looking around her. A woman passed with two small children; they looked sidelong at Dawn but didn’t say anything. She gave them a nervous smile in return and hid behind the bins at the back of the pub.
She waited for footsteps. She heard three sets heading towards her: Ben and Sanjeev, followed by Ted’s uneven gait a few paces behind. Ben and Sanjeev muttered as they passed her, but didn’t spot her. She drew further back before
Ted passed. She needed to be quick.
She slipped around to the other side of the pub, through the archway that linked it to the village hall. She went to the door of the hall and knocked gently.
“Who is it?”
“Let me in.”
Bill came to the door. It was half-glazed and she could see him staring out at her. His eyes were small and dark, pig-like.
“Who are you?”
“My name’s Dawn. Let me in.”
“The door’s locked.”
“They’re keeping you prisoner?”
“Jess said it was for my protection. But yeah, I guess they are. D’you know where to find a key?”
“Even if I did, I wouldn’t bring it.”
He frowned. “Who are you? What have I done to you?”
“What did you do to my daughter?”
Recognition broke out on his face. “You’re Sarah’s mum.”
“What did you do to her?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t want your apologies. I want to know what you did. Did you rape her?”
“What? No. Why would you think that?”
“Why else would you take her?”
He blew out a breath. “I don’t know. Robert wanted Ruth. But he told us to take more women. I guess he thought it would give him bargaining power.”
“Why is my daughter bargaining power?”
“I didn’t say she was. Look, I’m really sorry. She’s a good girl. She’s forgiven me.”
“Don’t talk rubbish.”
“We got to know each other. At the farm.”
“After you captured her, and held her prisoner? I doubt it.”
“No, I mean— you don’t know, do you?”
“What don’t I know? Enlighten me, please.”
She looked behind her, towards the village square. Towards her house. If Ted got home and found her missing, would he come back here?
“I came here to tell you to leave,” she said. “You and your friends are no good for this village.”
“You mean Martin.”
“I mean all of you. Don’t entertain any notions of becoming part of this community.”
Sea of Lies Page 16