by Gary P Moss
‘Aye, well, takes all sorts. Did she give a name, this caller?’
‘I can’t remember. I just remembered she was in her seventies.’
‘No, the woman who tried to kill her son. Allegedly.’
‘Yeah, I wrote it down. To look like I was doing something, you know?’ He fished a notebook from his pocket, flipped a few pages.
‘Lynne Collins.’
Tim saw the barwoman freeze. Like he had just done. He felt his legs shake.
‘I remember that name,’ the woman said. ‘Did the dirty on our Marie, she did. With Mike, that lighthouse bloke. I was working at the hotel at the time, chambermaiding. I looked for her name in the book after Marie told me she was leaving for good. Don’t remember anything about attempted murder though.’
The policeman took a sip of his beer. ‘Ah well, no crime in visiting a place twice, is there? Even if she did do the dirty on your Marie. As for the other stuff? Like I said, weird. I’ll keep an eye out, I guess anyway, see if she turns up.’
Tim couldn’t help himself. He was desperate to remain quiet, but it seemed like too much of a coincidence. The name was right, and the lighthouse keeper? He coughed loudly.
‘Er, excuse me. I heard you mention a name that’s familiar to me: Lynne Collins. That used to be my mother’s name, before she changed it.’
What on earth am I doing?
The policeman’s eyes widened, as did the woman’s.
‘And you are?’ the policeman asked.
‘Tim Collins. But I’ve no idea what’s going on. I’ve never been here before … but my mother is here to meet with Mike, the man who lives at the lighthouse.’
‘And she’s never tried to murder you before?’ The policeman raised his eyebrows; he was clearly joking.
‘I think I’d have remembered something so important.’
The policeman turned back to the woman.
‘There you go, no crime. Someone causing mischief, no doubt.’
‘Do you remember the name of the person who called you?’ Tim asked.
‘Hold on, pal, I’ll try and find out.’ The policeman dialled a number, spoke for several seconds. Thirty seconds later, he ended the call.
‘Loretta Reynolds. Ring a bell?’
Tim felt the colour drain from his face.
‘Yes, it’s my aunt. And she’s not prone to drama, or mischief. Hang on, I’ll phone my mum, see what this is all about.’
The call went straight to a default voicemail message. He didn’t leave a message.
The policeman asked the woman for his jacket and tie.
‘You’re not, seriously. Are you?’
‘I’ll just go check on Mike. He’s not so clever these days, you know?’
The woman snorted, then turned away. The policeman grabbed his coat, headed out into the rain. As Tim prepared to follow him, a teenage girl arrived with his dinner.
‘Would you mind if I came back for that?’ he asked.
The girl shrugged, wheeled around and disappeared with his dinner. He grabbed his rucksack, donned his waterproof coat. His hands shook now, matching his legs. NO! NO! NO! he screamed inside as he left the warmth of the pub.
Chapter Fifteen
Mike slept. Sara moved a rounders bat that was leaning against the cabinet. She placed it on the floor next to her knees. She removed the CDs carefully, using her good hand. She reached in for the box. She turned to look at Mike. Still asleep. She lifted the lid. She wanted an idea of how much, a glimpse for now, so she could settle in for the evening. She’d take it first thing in the morning. She’d need to time the tides.
Sara gently lifted the envelope. There were some banknotes laid out underneath. She clapped a hand to her chest. She flipped through the notes. Barely two hundred pounds. Her mouth was sand-dry. She removed the envelope as intense flashes of orange and white zigzagged across the sky. The sky seemed to explode, lighting up the bedroom. Thunder smashed all around. She turned as Mike jumped from the bed. He stared at the opened box.
‘What’s going on?’ he shouted across the din.
‘Nothing, love. I was just checking on our little nest egg. There doesn’t seem to be any money here though, only what I gave you.’
She covered one hand with the other, trying to stop them from shaking.
He stared at her as if she were a stranger.
‘You put that back now, d’you hear me?’ he bellowed. Lightning lit up his face. Twisted in anger, grotesque. Sara shivered.
‘But it’s ours, love.’
She lifted a hand to stroke his face.
‘But where’s the rest, you know, that you promised?’
He slapped her hand away.
‘Ach, I promised nothing. That’s all there is. Put the money back!’
‘But it’s mine, remember? I gave it to you earlier!’
He reached down to snatch the envelope. She tugged at it. It tore, spilling the notes to the ground.
‘Please, Mike!’ she cried out. Rough hands pushed her aside. She fell, grabbing the bat. It was her bad hand, her weak hand. She rolled the bat, managed to get to her feet. He was collecting the notes, cursing to himself.
Her rage bubbled over.
She swung the bat in a wide arc. It whistled as it hurtled through the air, cracking him on the side of his head. Another lightning flash lit up her arm. She stared at the bat. Part of it was covered in blood.
Mike lay still. She daren’t bend down to see if he was still breathing. There was no choice now. She’d search the bedroom, quick as she could, see if he’d hidden his money somewhere else and forgotten. She’d have to leave. Tonight. Any train, however far it went.
She kicked the notes away from his body, stooped to collect them. She wanted to scream.
All this, for nothing!
She took several deep breaths. She still had the money from Tim. It would have to do. And if they caught her before she got to the airport? She’d say he attacked her, that it was self-defence. Or even better, that she’d already left to go back to the B & B, and he must have fallen, hit his head on the cabinet. She’d throw the bat into the sea. She was calmer now. She searched the bedroom.
There was nothing else. She grabbed her clothes, which were now dry, and dressed quickly. She stood still, listened. There was only the roar of the sea, the occasional thunderclap. Less than perfect weather but at least it would provide some cover.
She hurried down the steps. He’d left the key in the door. To take the key or not? No, a missing key would throw suspicion on her. But they’d find the body quicker. He was too heavy for her to drag all the way down. But it would have been better, to throw him into the sea. Yet no one would look for either of them tonight. They were on a date. They’d be left alone. She pulled open the door. The salty wind whipped her hair and slapped her face.
The sea churned but the causeway looked walkable.
After she’d slammed the door and started to walk, she realised she’d left the bat in the lighthouse.
Wet cold clagged Tim’s throat as he tried to follow the policeman. He jumped at the first thunder flashes he encountered. The electricity split through a bank of black cloud, like a crack through a giant anvil. Above the storm’s roar, the sea pushed out with a ghostly hush that started as a serpent’s hiss and ended as a giant’s whisper. He kept his vision straight ahead, imagining the sea as a natural, calming force but the overriding feeling was of a terrifying malevolence. It frightened him, but what he might find at the lighthouse concerned him more. And if there was nothing? If his aunt was mistaken? Then it was still a mess, his relationship with his mother probably ruined forever.
Through the gloom, he watched the policeman’s advance onto the causeway. Tim was a hundred metres behind. There was no point in him shouting out, the storm would swallow his words as soon as they left his mouth. Tim increased his pace, and soon he too was on the causeway. The wind knocked him from side to side. He was grateful for the rails on either side but the sight of the waves cra
shing around the lighthouse caused his chest to tighten. The sea raced in swirls, forcing its way past the huge rock mantel on which the lighthouse stood. A light briefly appeared from the foot of the lighthouse. A door opening and closing, he thought. He heard raised voices. He cocked his head away from the hard rain. One of the voices was female.
‘NO!’
It was a man’s shout, the policeman, no doubt. It sent Tim’s legs to jelly. It was like wading through mud, but he stumbled on. Less than fifty metres, he reckoned. Water crashed over the causeway, soaking his feet and the bottom of his legs. He heard another voice, from the direction he’d come, but the words were indecipherable; it might as well have been a whisper.
He thought he heard screams now, but in fear, or anger? He’d almost reached the lighthouse door but there was no one on the causeway.
As he reached for the door handle, he saw two figures, their heads barely above the water. Tim’s mind went straight into panic mode. The sea seemed to throw the pair around. Sometimes he could see them, sometimes not. He was on the verge of tears. The sea churned faster now, the bodies, arms waving, pulled farther away.
Is this it? Is this where I die? Or walk away, never to hold my head aloft again, knowing I left two people to die, one of them my own mother!
He threw off his jacket, kicked off his shoes. He glanced up into the black sky. A full moon seemed low, as if it had come down to watch. A huge rock glistened in the distance. From the causeway’s height, he estimated the water to be only a few metres deep, but enough for them all to be in serious trouble.
He climbed over the rail, took a huge breath and jumped.
The water was freezing cold. He immediately went under, but his feet hit the bottom. He sprang up, sharp stones piercing him as he went. He gulped a huge lungful of air before he threw his arms forwards, towards the spot where he thought he’d last seen the policeman and his mother. In what seemed like seconds, he came upon the policeman, his arms waving furiously around as he struggled to keep his head above the frantic sea. Tim smashed the water aside, swimming on instinct rather than knowledge. As he reached the man, he saw a lifebelt perhaps ten metres away. It was being thrown about, like he was, waves punching him. The man’s face was panic stricken; Tim knew that he wouldn’t hold out for much longer.
When the next wave lifted him, he searched for his mother. He couldn’t see her. Heart heavier than the trousers weighing him down, Tim grabbed hold of the man, pulling him closer till he wrapped an arm around his neck. The action dragged him down while the policeman floated.
Tim’s strength waned.
He kicked his legs, scooping the water away till he had some sort of rhythm going. Each time his face had a respite from a wave, his took in the deepest breath he could. He heard shouting. He knew he was near the shore, and when his feet scraped the bottom and he could still breathe, he knew the policeman would live.
He scrambled to a sloping ledge where a pair of arms appeared, helping the policeman out of the water. Tim swung his legs over. It was Steve, the man from the beach.
‘I threw a couple of lifebelts.’
Tim could hardly breathe never mind speak. The policeman was coughing and spluttering but otherwise seemed unharmed. Steve placed a blanket around his shoulders.
‘I phoned the police, ambulance, and coastguard. They’re all on their way.’
‘It’ll be too late for my mother. I have to go back in.’
‘Are you crazy?’ Steve said. ‘After what she did?’
Tim gave him a hard stare.
‘I didn’t see her do anything.’ He motioned towards the policeman. ‘You’d better get him inside before he freezes to death.’
Tim sprinted along the causeway, not thinking now of the blowing gale or the spray slamming into his face. The water struggled to reach the top now. He stopped halfway, peered into the darkness.
Torchlight illuminated parts of the sea. He guessed Steve must be back, but where was Mike, the lighthouse guy? As the beam floated across, Tim caught sight of a bobbing figure. He shouted out.
A lifebelt floated a good twenty or so metres away. He dived in, his hand scraping the bottom before he propelled himself away from the causeway. It felt like swimming through treacle, his lungs threatening to burst. As he came up for air, the lifebelt hovered in front of him. A wave lifted it, but Tim hooked his arm through, wrapping rope around his wrist. He kicked his legs forwards, crawling his arms towards what he prayed was his mother.
She was moving away, rolling over as the waves tipped her, as if she’d not surrendered to the tide nor fought against its natural pull. She swam across it, a strange motion, one arm acting differently, as if it were pounding the water instead of parting it.
He went right under as he swallowed too much seawater, his lungs sore, threatening to burst, but his instructor’s words came back to him. Don’t surrender to it, work with it, just like we practiced. You’re in control. He forced his way to the surface, still gripping the rope. He was within reach of her now.
Her eyes were wide with, what: fear, or surprise, or both? She didn’t look as if she were struggling. In fact, what Tim saw was defiance. Her arms reached towards the open sea, towards the huge black rock. He threw the lifebelt over her head, reached for her, pulled it down over her arms. Her rucksack was still strapped to her back.
‘He attacked me!’ she yelled above the sea’s roar.
Tim didn’t respond. His legs scissor kicked as he propelled them backwards, one hand on the lifebelt, the other scooping the water aside.
‘I can swim, you know! Can’t stop interfering, can you?’ she spat.
He continued to ignore her, his whole body crying out for rest. A large wave lifted them high before dropping them hard. She turned, raked her nails down his head, grabbed his hair, pushed him under the water. He surfaced, gagging. He shoved her round, placed an arm around her neck. She squealed and cursed.
As they touched land, crumbled sandstone scraping his feet, sirens split through the sea’s parting swoosh, quieter now as the last waves slapped lazily against the town’s protective wall. There were people around. He was helped up while a couple dragged his mother out, covered her in blankets.
Tim sat to the side, wrapped in a foil coat, the type given to runners upon finishing a marathon. He was physically and mentally exhausted. Rain pelted down, illuminated like thousands of tiny arrows. There were congratulatory slaps on his back. The air around him smelled of brine and damp wool.
He turned towards his mother. He stared at her, too tired to even open his mouth. Bile rose to his throat. She’d got up, started to walk off. As he stared after her, Steve intercepted a couple of the newly arrived police officers. They rushed over to stop his mother. Flashing lights seemed to be everywhere now, including around the foot of the lighthouse. He squinted towards a boat. Its lights cut through the waves. He shut his eyes and lay down on his back. There was blackness and then there was nothing.
The hospital ward was almost empty. Tim turned his head. In the next bed, the policeman sat up reading a newspaper. He grinned at Tim, then thanked him for saving his life.
Tim waved a hand dismissively. He noticed a sign on the wall. He recognised the town, knew it was many miles from the coast.
‘How come we ended up in here?’
‘Observation. Looking out for hyperthermia. I swallowed a lot of water, that’s about it. You passed out.’
‘What happened to my mum?’
The policeman sighed. He explained that they’d taken her to another hospital, that she was under guard, that she’d given old Mike a proper bash round the head. And with a bat, of all things. He’d been knocked out, had concussion, and was in a side ward nearby.
Tim couldn’t believe it, any of it. It was like a nightmare. He shook his head.
‘So, she’d actually known him for a long time,’ he said, more to himself.
‘Aye, well my lassie came to visit earlier, when you were in the land of nod. She’d been to se
e Agnes, her old employer, up at the home. Mike had sent her packing, thirty odd years ago. Sorry, pal, I know it’s your mother and all.’
‘I never really knew her. We’d only recently got back in touch.’
‘She’s claiming self-defence, by the way. And that I pushed her into the sea.’
‘She’s not that strong,’ Tim said. ‘She only has full use of one hand.’
‘You only need one hand to swing a bat.’
The ward door opened. A nurse ushered Steve in.
‘How’re you feeling?’ he asked Tim.
‘Bit sore but fine. What brings you all the way out here?’
‘Go on, tell him,’ the policeman said.
‘Tim, what your aunt told the police, about when you were a kid. It’s true.’
Tim narrowed his eyes. There’d been enough shocks already.
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I was there, Tim, standing at the bedroom window. I saw her push you into the sea.’
Tim sighed, leaned his head back. He was still dog-tired.
‘You’re probably mistaken. Could have slipped, wind could have caught her, anything.’
‘As you wish, mate. But I saw her face, and trust me, it was filled with a rage I hadn’t seen before, or since.’
Tim looked away. He willed the accusation to be false, but in his heart, he knew it to be true. He chewed the inside of his mouth, something he’d never done before. He was worried. Not for the repercussions of his mother’s actions, or the inevitable breakdown of their fledgling relationship, but for the change in himself that he knew was coming. He didn’t know if he’d like the new Tim, if he’d be a better man, or worse.
Chapter Sixteen
A nurse placed a telephone onto a table in a large, communal room. Women slouched drowsily on overstuffed armchairs. Sara Palmer, aka Lynne Collins, asked for some privacy.
‘It’s against the rules; this is only a holding unit for you,’ the nurse said. ‘We don’t usually allow long distance calls, but, well, you don’t seem to have anyone else so just this once, eh?’