At Home by the Sea

by Pam Weaver

  ‘Where did it come from?’ said Linda pulling out a couple of pound notes.

  Paul turned his head slightly. ‘We robbed the café,’ he said over his shoulder.

  Ray snorted. ‘You’re right about the Italian. I nearly wet meself when I saw him on the stairs. I had no idea he even lived there.’

  Linda drew in her breath. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Paul.

  ‘I shot him,’ said Ray matter-of-factly.

  ‘You what?’ Paul suddenly swerved and a horrified silence descended in the car. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘You heard,’ said Ray, his eyes bright with excitement. ‘The bloody old fool was yelling his head off. I had to shut him up so I shot him.’

  ‘Oh God,’ said Paul. ‘You didn’t kill him?’

  ‘Dunno,’ Ray said casually. ‘Probably.’

  Linda’s heart was racing.

  ‘But that’s murder,’ said Paul. ‘You can swing for that. Listen, I ain’t getting involved in no murder.’

  Ray leaned forward. ‘But you are involved, chum,’ he sneered. And sitting back he looked at Linda. ‘We’re all involved.’

  Linda put her hand to her mouth. Part of her thought, oh lord what have I done? While another part of her thought, this is like Bonnie and Clyde. Just like Bonnie, she’d run away with a bank robber – well, a café robber and a murderer. She shivered.

  ‘Cold?’ said Ray. He suddenly grabbed her hand and thrust it into the gap in his trousers. ‘Have a warm on this.’

  Linda made a feeble attempt to free her hand.

  ‘Hey,’ said Paul, watching them in the rear view mirror. ‘Lay off her. She’s John’s chick.’

  Linda took her hand away and she and Ray sat back. Ray took something out of his pocket and began poking the back of the driver’s seat. It wasn’t until they passed under some street lights and he pressed the muzzle up against Paul’s cheek that she realised it was a gun.

  ‘I’ll do what I like,’ he told Paul, ‘and if I say she’s my bird now, that’s the way it is, right?’

  ‘Right,’ said Paul faintly.

  Ray turned towards a white faced Linda and grinned. ‘See? Nobody can stop the fella with the gun, ’cos he’s the top man.’

  Thirty-Eight

  When Izzie finally got home the house was in darkness. A white piece of paper was pinned on the inside of the front door glass but with the nearest working street lamp several hundred yards away, it was impossible to read. Izzie squinted at it but to no avail.

  She had little idea of the time. As she’d left the police station the clock on the Old Town Hall was chiming but she hadn’t paid much attention to it. She’d spent what seemed like hours waiting to talk to the detective in the interview room. They’d been polite and a welcome cup of tea had appeared on the table but everybody seemed to have lost all sense of time.

  There was no news from the hospital but as she left the police station, everybody was still talking about a pending murder case. Izzie was so exhausted she was only half listening. It was almost unbearable that Mr Semadini was gone. What a sad end to a lovely man. There wasn’t a bad bone in his body. The people of Worthing would miss him too. She sighed as she thought how upset the matronly women who treated him like a son would be. The lonely who felt special when he was around would miss him as well. And as for the children who enjoyed his awful jokes … who would explain it to them? She was glad she’d called him darling. She hadn’t meant to. It had just sort of slipped out. He’d never known what she’d felt about him before, but she was glad she’d told him in the end. She wished she’d told him sooner, but he’d never given her even the slightest hint that he might feel the same way and she was too afraid that by telling him how she felt, she might be burning her bridges.

  Izzie was also worried about her sister. Surely Linda hadn’t gone willingly with those men? But then she remembered that kiss. One part of her told her that Linda might have been preparing to run away with John. But if Linda still liked John, what was she doing kissing that other boy? At first, Izzie had toyed with the idea that because of the way that Ray had hold of Linda’s arm and was pulling her along, her sister was being taken hostage, but that couldn’t be right, could it?

  When Izzie finally got to speak to someone, every word she uttered was written down. Izzie told them how Linda was being dragged along, and how she’d seen her in the car but she didn’t mention the kiss. Unfortunately, she did let slip that her sister was carrying a suitcase and immediately she sensed their sympathy evaporating. From that moment, they became more sceptical and suspicious.

  Exhausted and longing for her bed, Izzie banged on her front door. ‘Dad. Dad let me in, it’s Izzie.’

  When there was no answer, she rattled the letterbox and finally resorted to throwing small stones up to the window pane.

  ‘Dad, it’s me,’ she called, but nobody came.

  Izzie stared helplessly at the darkened window. She couldn’t get in. He’d bolted the side gate from the inside and in the rush to catch up with Linda, she’d stupidly left her keys inside on the dresser.

  What was she to do now? It was then that she remembered leaving her own suitcase inside. Of course, she was supposed to be going to Mrs Noyles tonight. She had totally forgotten. Her father must have seen it and decided to lock her out anyway. A wave of misery and despair engulfed her. It was far too late to go over to Queen’s Street now. ‘Dad,’ she called through the letterbox, ‘let me in please. I’m sorry. I’ve nowhere else to go.’

  Her next-door neighbour couldn’t help either. She was in Norfolk with her son and daughter-in-law for a few days. There was nothing for it but to try to get to Mrs Noyles and appeal to her better nature. It was a long walk, especially when she was so tired, but Izzie couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping outside in the street. She was lucky enough to get the last bus from the town centre and got off at the other end of Queen’s Street. When Izzie knocked on her door, Mrs Noyles gave her short shrift. ‘I was expecting you at seven, Miss Baxter,’ she called down from her bedroom window.

  ‘I know, Mrs Noyles, and I am dreadfully sorry but …’

  ‘If you cannot stick to a perfectly reasonable time table, then I’m afraid I cannot offer you a room.’

  ‘But I’ve already paid you two weeks’ rent in advance,’ Izzie protested.

  ‘I can’t help that, Miss Baxter,’ Mrs Noyles said. ‘And now I bid you good night.’ And with that, she shut her bedroom window.

  Izzie stared at the house for some seconds before she moved. Fighting to keep control of her emotions she tried to make her tired brain function. It was getting very cold and she could feel spots of rain. She had to find somewhere to shelter. She knew one of the waitresses in the Café Bellissimo, Carol, lived somewhere around South Farm Road but she couldn’t remember the number. Then she remembered that Esther had said her mother would help if ever she needed it. Esther was coming home on leave soon. She and Izzie had arranged to meet up tomorrow evening, but was she arriving in Worthing tonight or tomorrow morning? Whenever it was, Esther’s mum was her only hope. Pushing her hands into her pockets, Izzie trudged towards Esther’s home.

  It was gone eleven when she got there and Izzie would have talked herself out of knocking the door had it not been for the rain. She was already very wet, cold and miserable. The house was in darkness. Izzie raised her hand over the door two or three times before she actually had the courage to knock.

  The moment she did, a light went on upstairs and a few seconds later another light went on in the hall. She heard someone coming down the stairs. The front door opened and Mr Jordan stared at her, bleary eyed. ‘Yes? What do you want?’

  A voice behind him called, ‘Who is it, George?’

  ‘I don’t know; some woman.’ He turned to Izzie again. ‘Who are you and what do you want?’

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you Mr Jordan,’ Izzie began. She was biting back the tears, ‘but Esther said you and Mrs Jordan might be able
to help me if I was in trouble. I’m Izzie … Isobelle Baxter.’

  He hesitated but then she heard another voice behind him say, ‘Izzie?’ The next moment the door was flung wide open and Esther stood in front of her. ‘Izzie,’ she cried again. ‘What on earth has happened? Come in, come in. You’re absolutely soaked to the skin.’

  Esther pulled her inside and helped her off with her wet coat. Her father leaned out of the door and looked up and down the street while Mrs Jordan appeared with a towel to dry her hair.

  ‘Your teeth are chattering,’ said Esther. ‘I’ll warm up some soup.’

  ‘I’ll light the fire in the sitting room,’ said Mr Jordan.

  ‘I think you’d better have a nice warm bath, my dear,’ said Esther’s mother, ‘before you catch your death of cold.’

  They all looked at Izzie who promptly burst into tears.

  Everyone decided explanations could wait until morning so after her bath and some tomato soup, they made up a bed for her on the sitting room sofa. Safe and warm, Izzie was so exhausted she fell asleep almost at once.

  Thirty-Nine

  Linda was busting for the toilet. She had never been so frightened in her life. When Ray put the gun on Paul’s neck, the tension in the car was palpable. Things had calmed down since then but she knew Ray was unpredictable. She stared out of the window into the inky darkness then glanced across at him. She’d have to tell him she needed to go or she’d wet herself in a minute. He sat motionless with the gun in his lap. A couple of times when he caught her looking at him, he gave her a sinister smile and pointed the gun right at her. The first time he did it, she honestly thought she was going to die. She’d screwed her eyes up and waited for the bang. When she’d finally plucked up the courage to open her eyes again, he’d laughed at her and pointed the muzzle at the back of Paul’s head. She’d gasped. If he’d pulled the trigger while Paul was driving, they’d all die and from that moment she realised just how dangerous Ray really was.

  ‘Where does your uncle live then, mate?’ said Paul. He sounded nervous. ‘Am I on the right road?’

  Ray shifted in his seat. ‘Portsmouth.’

  ‘Where?’ said Paul.

  ‘Portsmouth!’ Ray snapped.

  ‘I know that,’ said Paul, ‘but where in Portsmouth?’

  There was an awkward moment when all three of them realised Ray had no idea.

  ‘We can’t go banging on doors to ask the way at this time of night,’ said Paul. ‘If we do, we’re bound to attract attention.’

  ‘Shut-up,’ Ray snarled. ‘I’m thinking.’

  ‘We’ve just passed a place selling caravans,’ said Linda. ‘Can’t we get in one of them?’

  ‘I said shut your gob, you dozy cow,’ said Ray, waving the gun at her again. Linda began to cry. ‘And stop that bloody whining!’

  ‘Hang on a minute, Ray,’ said Paul, slowing the car, ‘she’s got a point. We could kip there for the night and look for your uncle’s place in the morning. It’ll be easier to see the road signs in the daylight.’

  ‘All right,’ Ray said grudgingly.

  Paul turned the car around and they went back.

  The caravans were inside a wire fence and the gate was padlocked. Paul found a small torch in the glove compartment and they all got out of the car.

  ‘I’ll take the keys,’ said Ray, beckoning with his hand. Paul handed them over.

  The only building on the site was a small cabin which they presumed was the office. The whole place was in darkness and the nearest house was about half a mile away. Ray aimed the gun to shoot the lock but Paul put his hand on his forearm to stop him.

  ‘The gunfire will be heard for miles,’ he cautioned.

  They skirted the perimeter of the compound, Ray holding onto Linda’s arm in case she decided to run away. Paul went ahead of them and kept shaking the fence to look for a weak spot. In the end, several well aimed kicks loosened a dodgy looking fence post and both boys were inside the caravan park.

  Still on the outside, Linda hesitated. Now was her chance to get away, but where could she go? It was pitch black and if she ran down the road, they could easily come after her in the car. The best way to make an escape would be to run over the rough ground and hide in the undergrowth, but she had no light. Paul had the only torch. Besides, if she made a getaway, Ray would more than likely become trigger happy in case she went to the police. She must have been mad to come with them and she was still dying for the toilet. She watched them pick out a large luxury caravan at the back of the lot and shivered. She’d have to stick with them for now, wouldn’t she. What choice did she have?

  The boys walked around the caravan. When Paul shone the torch through the window, they saw a big bowl on the table laden with fruit.

  ‘I’m starving,’ Paul murmured and Ray pointed out that there was a loaf of bread and some cheese on the side.

  Lucky for them, the dealer had left one window inadequately fastened so Ray prised it open and gave Paul a leg up. Once inside, he opened the door to let Ray in. The two lads pounced on the food, taking big hungry bites. Paul spat it out and cursed. ‘Ugh, it’s wax.’ Ray lost his temper and began kicking everything in sight.

  When Linda came in, the first thing she did was to squeeze herself into the tiny toilet. What a relief. When she came out, she was so tired she pulled the cushions off the sofa and lay down.

  The lighting in the caravan wasn’t great but the boys wanted to count the money. They’d got seventy pounds from the safe and several wage packets. As they ripped them open, Linda felt a bit guilty when she saw Izzie’s name on one of them. The coins in the jar took a little longer to count but they discovered they had another eighteen pounds fourteen shillings and seven pence. That’s when the argument started.

  Ray wanted the lion’s share. ‘My idea,’ he said doggedly. ‘I planned it. My gang.’

  ‘You should have worked out how to make a clean getaway then,’ said Paul. ‘And what about John?’

  ‘What about John?’ said Ray.

  ‘You’ve got to give him his share.’

  ‘It’s not my fault he couldn’t run fast enough.’

  ‘You’ve got to.’

  ‘I haven’t got to do anything.’

  They’d started bickering like quarrelsome and greedy pigeons at the bird table, pushing and shoving each other, one picking up some money and the other taking it from him.

  ‘Oh for goodness sake,’ Linda said crossly. ‘Shut-up will you? Can’t you let a girl get some sleep?’

  Ray turned his head, his eyes narrowing. ‘No bird ever talks to me like that,’ he said, rising to his feet. He began to undo the belt on his trousers.

  Terrified, Linda sat up. ‘I’m sorry, Ray. I didn’t mean anything by it.’

  He made a grab for her but she gave him a shove and somehow managed to get past him. As she reached the door, he pulled her back by her hair. Linda was screaming and crying until one blow from his hand knocked her off balance and they both fell. All at once he was tearing at her clothes. Linda became desperate. ‘No, no, Ray,’ she shouted. ‘No, stop it.’ But the more she protested the more it seemed to enflame his passion.

  ‘Come on, come on,’ he growled. ‘You were bloody gagging for it in The Cave.’

  As she cried out in bewilderment Paul froze. ‘No, no.’ But Linda could do nothing to stop him as Ray pulled her skirt up and ripped at her underclothes. She fought like a tiger but it was obvious that there was only one thought in Ray’s head and it made him too powerful. ‘Paul help me. Help me!’

  Paul had put his hands over his ears. He’d looked for a way to get out of the caravan but the two of them were sprawled across the floor in such a way that they’d completely blocked the exit. Paul was too scared of Ray to intervene. All he could do was sit it out. Although Paul had never been with a girl himself, he’d heard his parents at it sometimes in the early hours of the morning. He was used to moans and rhythmic creaks on the bed but this was something else altogether
and she wasn’t enjoying it. He felt both sickened and ashamed. All at once Ray gave a triumphant shout and it was over.

  Linda was weeping. ‘Oh shuddup,’ he said savagely as he rolled from her. He lay on his back with a satisfied grin then his breathing became heavier as he fell asleep.

  Paul picked up his money and stepping over a whimpering Linda, he slunk silently out of the door.

  But as the door clicked shut behind him, Ray opened one eye and reached for his gun.

  Forty

  Early the next morning, the sitting room door opened and Esther popped her head around. ‘Oh you’re awake.’ Izzie was sitting on the edge of the sofa with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and staring into space. ‘Can I come in?’

  She nodded and moved over so that Esther could sit beside her. ‘I can’t thank you enough …’ she began, but Esther waved her away.

  ‘That’s what friends are for,’ she said. She gave Izzie a side hug. ‘Are you ready to tell me what happened?’

  It took a while and Izzie shed quite a few tears as she went through everything. Esther was a first-rate listener.

  ‘Linda gets cross with me for telling her what to do all the time but I couldn’t help it,’ Izzie complained. ‘Perhaps I’ve been too bossy, but we were so young when Mum went off and she looked up to me then.’

  ‘I’m sure she knows that,’ said Esther.

  ‘And then there’s my father,’ Izzie went on. ‘I think I made up my mind not to like Mavis. I just wanted Mum and Dad back together again.’

  ‘But your mother has someone else,’ said Esther.

  Izzie nodded.

  ‘And she’s happy now,’ Esther went on.

  ‘I know,’ Izzie said miserably. ‘I’ve been really stupid. Mum told me her parents and Granny Baxter made them get married. I don’t think they’ve ever been happy together and Dad ending up in prison like that just about finished it off.’ She blew her nose noisily. ‘I shouldn’t have interfered.’

  ‘But you meant well, Izzie,’ Esther said gently.