Harbour

by Claire Boston

  “Mark has to be smuggling something,” Jeremy declared. “Going out on a day like today, forcing Alyse to go with him…”

  “Can the police trace the boat it came from?” Jamie asked.

  Jeremy shrugged. “My bet is Adam’s calling it in in case they can.”

  “I hope so,” Kim said. Mark behind bars was about the prettiest picture he could imagine. He grabbed two slices of pizza as Adam returned.

  “Any luck?” Elijah asked.

  Adam frowned. “Huh?”

  “Can you figure out which boat Mark got the stuff from?” Elijah clarified.

  Adam shook his head, colour tinging his cheeks. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He always refused to talk about cases. Instead Kim asked, “What can Mark be charged with? Assault?”

  “Yeah, if she charges him. We’ve only had one call out to her place since I’ve been in Blackbridge and Alyse wouldn’t press charges. So unless there’s evidence of escalation, or she asks for help, there’s not a lot we can do.”

  “I don’t get why she stays with him.”

  “Fear, love, nowhere else to go to,” Adam said. “There’re all sorts of reasons.”

  “I told her I’d help her,” Kim said.

  “So did I,” Elijah added. “If enough of us tell her, she may believe it.”

  “It’s hard to tell her when she never goes anywhere,” Jeremy said.

  Kim considered the options. “We all think Mark is involved in something illegal, right?”

  Everyone except for Adam nodded.

  “So what if Alyse could get the police the evidence needed to arrest him? Could the police offer her protection?”

  Everyone looked at Adam.

  He sighed. “Maybe. I’d have to ask Lincoln.”

  “Do you think she’d go for it?” Jamie asked. “She’s made no attempt to leave him before.”

  “I’ll convince her,” Kim said.

  Chapter 4

  Alyse hesitated outside the kitchen door of the football clubrooms. Inside, people chattered and pans rattled as they prepared for the annual Christmas in July fundraiser. Mark had volunteered her help after his mother had pulled out. She was grieving over her husband’s death less than a fortnight ago, and Alyse was happy to take her place. It was a rare opportunity to socialise. How many people inside would she know?

  Would they look at her in pity, or remind her how good life had been before her parents died?

  Anxiety gripped her, but she couldn’t walk away, no matter how much she wanted to. Mark would be furious.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed into the kitchen, the wave of heat from the ovens rolling over her. Her heart squeezed. Barbara stuck cloves in the ham, telling the other three women about the granny flat Jeremy was building for her mother. Alyse had barely seen Barbara since her parents died, but she’d been a constant presence in her life until then— Brown Owl leader at her Brownies group, and then coach of her basketball team. Alyse swallowed the lump in her throat. The other women, all at least ten years older than her, were strangers.

  Barbara noticed her and her eyes lit up. “Alyse! I was so thrilled when Mark said you’d volunteered to help.” She strode over and then realised her hands weren’t clean so she held them up. “Give me a hug.”

  Tears welled in Alyse’s eyes as she hugged the woman, pressed up against Barbara’s ample but soft bosom. A hint of rose scent reminded Alyse of her mother, of all the hugs she’d had and would never have again. Barbara wrapped her forearms around Alyse, as Alyse struggled to keep back the tears.

  “You’re nothing but skin and bones. I’ll make sure you eat plenty tonight.” Barbara stepped back and studied Alyse. She frowned. “That’s a nasty bruise on your cheek.”

  Alyse blushed and covered it with her hand. “I fell the other day.”

  Barbara narrowed her eyes but didn’t call her out. Instead she said, “Do you know the others?” When Alyse shook her head, Barbara said, “That’s Bec, stuffing the turkey. She’s the college coordinator at the ag college. Chopping carrots is Dee who works at the pub, and Juanita by the drinks fridge has a gorgeous new shop in town next to the bakery. Everyone, this is Alyse. She owns the apiary just out of town.”

  Alyse smiled. “Hey.”

  The women smiled back but Dee’s expression contained pity. She probably knew all about Mark and what he did.

  It was easy to judge, easy to say she could just leave, but no one knew the leverage Mark held over her. Alyse straightened her spine. “What can I do to help?”

  “We have a bucket-load of potatoes that need peeling.” Barbara showed her to the table and handed her a vegetable peeler. “Have at it.”

  Pleased to have something to do, she began her task as Barbara continued her story about the granny flat as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “Jeremy is a wiz,” she said. “Mum’s enamoured with him. If she was fifty years younger, she’d be after him, I’m sure.”

  Alyse smiled. Jeremy had regularly dropped around for honey when she’d sold from her shed. He’d been pleasant and told her about the house he was building, even took her on a tour of it before her parents had died.

  The conversation switched to children. “Do you have any kids, Alyse?” Juanita asked.

  Alyse shook her head, her gut clenching. “No.” She wasn’t bringing any child into a house where Mark lived.

  “Don’t do it,” Bec said. “They might seem sweet at first, but they turn into monsters.” The other women laughed.

  Alyse already lived with a monster.

  The kitchen door swung open and she was relieved by the distraction until Kim strolled in. Her heart lurched. He must have come straight from a shower because his short black hair was slightly damp, but the red hoodie he wore had no raindrops on it. The blue jeans and sneakers added to his casual look. He grinned at Alyse but directed his comments at Barbara. “What needs to be done?”

  “Shouldn’t you be playing?” she asked.

  “Just finished our game. Figured you’d need some help in here.”

  “Then you can start on the pumpkin,” Barbara said.

  Kim picked up the box of pumpkins as if they weighed nothing and brought them over to the table where Alyse worked. “Hey. Fancy seeing you here.”

  Had he known she’d be here? No, that was wishful thinking. Mark had told Kim to stay away and Kim wouldn’t cross him—not if he was sensible. Kim simply understood the work required to prepare a feast for over a hundred people. She stamped down her pleasure at seeing him. “I didn’t expect to see you.” At least she didn’t need to worry about Mark catching them together. He was playing football and he’d never venture into the kitchen. When his game was over, he’d shower and then get himself a beer until it was time to eat.

  “I like to help out. Seeing you is just a bonus.” He chopped the pumpkin.

  Her heart stuttered. That wasn’t good. She couldn’t let her heart get involved, couldn’t hope. There was no escape from Mark. It would only cause Kim and his family heartache. She should move to another table, but her body refused to cooperate, and plus it would be rude. Surely an hour catching up with an old friend was allowed if Mark never found out.

  “Did you enjoy the soup?” Kim asked.

  “Yes. It was perfect.” The lie was easy.

  He grinned. “Dad made it especially for you. He remembered you like it spicy.”

  She ached inside. Mr On had always been so nice to her at the markets. He’d slip her free dumplings and make the pho exactly how she liked it. Her parents hadn’t been as keen on spicy food as she was. “Please thank him for me.”

  “You can thank him yourself. He’s coming tonight.” Kim paused. “You’re staying for the dinner, aren’t you?”

  She nodded. Mark expected it.

  “That’s great. Maybe we can get a table together.”

  Was he crazy? Mark would never allow it. “Maybe.” She focused on the potato in front of her.

  “How are
you after yesterday?” Kim chopped through the pumpkin as if it was butter.

  Alyse shrugged. “Fine.”

  “Did Mark hit you for calling us?”

  Her hand halted as she reached for another potato. People didn’t normally ask her outright. But she was so sick of lying, of pretending everything was OK, as if her life was perfect. This was Kim and she’d always told him the truth. She checked to make sure no one was watching and nodded.

  “He shouldn’t have forced you on the boat in the first place.” Though he kept his tone mild, Alyse heard the undertones of anger.

  She shivered. “I left my boots on the boat. Do you have them?”

  Kim swore. “Yeah. Sorry, I meant to bring them when I brought the pho. I can drop them off tomorrow if you’d like.”

  Mark wouldn’t like that at all. “It’s Richard’s funeral, so I won’t be home. If you leave them at the restaurant, I’ll pick them up.”

  Kim changed the subject. “How are Bessie, Beatrice and Beyoncé?”

  She frowned. “Who?”

  His smile shone in his eyes. “Your queen bees. Weren’t they your favourites?”

  Shock speared her. “You remember that?” She’d forgotten. Once upon a time, before Mark, she’d given all her queen bees names, she’d indulged in silly stories about some of her colonies and had shared them with Kim during those long mornings at the markets.

  “Of course. The last I heard Bessie was planning to overthrow Beatrice. I’ve always wondered what happened.”

  Tears pricked her eyes and a lump formed in her throat. When had she last been so carefree? Her bees gave her solace and distance from Mark but she’d lost the childlike joy a long time ago. She swallowed hard. “They’re all dead now.”

  “Oh.”

  She dragged the peeler over the skin of the potato, revealing its white flesh. Just like how Kim made her feel—raw—exposing parts she’d long since hidden. If only she could go back to the days before her parents died, before she met Mark, and do it all over again. She wouldn’t make the same mistakes, including losing Kim as a friend. “What about you? I thought you were getting into graphic design.”

  Kim shrugged. “I dabble on the side. The restaurant keeps me busy.”

  She frowned. He used to love drawing and design, had talked about starting his own business. She’d assumed he had. “Do you work in the kitchen?”

  “I help with the prep.” He gestured to the pumpkins he’d finished chopping and stood. “Barbara, can I have a pan for the pumpkin?”

  “Of course.” She hurried over with one. “You’re so fast!”

  After he’d transferred the pumpkin, he picked up another vegetable peeler and took a potato from Alyse’s pile. His movements were confident and fast, his fingers wrapped around the peeler with firm gentleness.

  Alyse flushed. She shouldn’t be admiring his fingers, even if they were long and competent. When she’d leaned into him on the boat the day before, she’d felt safe and warm. But the teenager who had been her friend was now a man. And even further from her than before. Kim had filled out with lean muscles that made her think of fitness, not danger. His black hair was no longer the shaggy mess it used to be and he’d replaced the baggy T-shirts with fitted clothes that clung to his chest. No good would come from wondering how his fingers would feel on other parts of her body.

  She shifted, the tingling between her legs a sensation she hadn’t felt in years. She forced her attention back to the potatoes. Mark was jealous already. If he realised she felt anything for Kim, he’d do what he could to destroy it.

  “I haven’t seen you at the basketball courts in a while,” Kim said.

  Why did he insist on raising all these old memories? There was no going back to those days. She’d lost them by being weak, by trusting the wrong person. Kim waited for an answer. “I don’t play anymore.” But she’d loved it. The fast pace, the exhilaration of getting past someone and driving to the hoop, the elation of seeing the ball drop through the net. She clenched her teeth and forced the memory away. Peel these damn potatoes so she could get out of here, away from Kim and memories best left forgotten. “You’re captain of your football team?”

  He nodded. “And the cricket team. I can’t say no.” He grabbed another potato. “Jeremy tells me you met Zamira a couple of weeks ago. She arrived back today. She’s moving in with Jeremy.”

  Alyse’s movements slowed. Zamira had come onto her property chasing Jeremy’s dog. They’d only spoken briefly and Alyse had given her some honey, but it was the first time in a long time that she’d spoken to someone without Mark around. Someone her own age who didn’t know Mark and was unaware of the situation. It had been nice. She’d wanted to accept Zamira’s offer to go for coffee, but Mark had forbidden it. Didn’t want her to make friends of her own. Easier to control her if she was isolated. But maybe with Zamira living only a couple of properties away, Alyse could walk over. Mark would never know. She could say she was checking her hives, or simply out for a walk, getting some exercise.

  No. It was too dangerous. Why was she even considering it? It was Kim’s fault. He gave her hope when there was none. She forced a smile. “Is she coming tonight?”

  “Yeah.”

  She pressed her lips together. That wasn’t good. If Mark saw her with Zamira, he’d forbid her from seeing her again. She’d have to be careful.

  She picked up the last potato. “We’ve finished.”

  Kim nodded and called to Barbara. “What else do you need?”

  “We’re about done,” she called back. “The food needs to cook. Thanks for your help.”

  Disappointment washed over Alyse as she placed the potato on the pile and stood. It was for the best. Mark’s game was almost over. He’d brought clothes to change into, but she had to go home and make herself presentable for him.

  Kim touched her arm and a zing went through her. “I’ll see you tonight?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak and then strode out of the kitchen before hope overwhelmed her.

  It was pointless. Mark controlled every part of her life and if he saw her in the same room as Kim he’d be mad.

  Maybe she could fake being ill.

  Despair washed through her. She wanted this, one evening to pretend her life was normal. This afternoon had reminded her what it was like.

  Mark wasn’t taking that away from her.

  It was only one night.

  ***

  Alyse clenched the steering wheel as she drove straight home, her mind whirling. What was wrong with her? Mark had told her to stay away from Kim and now he was everywhere, saving her, smiling at her, making her feel things she didn’t want to feel.

  And what was wrong with Kim? She’d barely spoken to him in the past three years and he chatted to her like they’d seen each other yesterday. What did he want from her? Why was he taking an interest now?

  Too many questions and no answers.

  She parked in front of her farmhouse and let out a deep breath. Mark’s big ugly shed loomed behind it, reminding her she had no control. Her gaze drifted to the brown tiled roof of her house. The tarp no longer covered the cracked tiles where a branch had fallen onto the roof. She’d climbed up herself to replace them because Mark had broken his leg.

  She’d wished he’d broken more.

  Her parents had never approved of the relationship. What was a twenty-nine-year-old man doing looking at an eighteen-year-old? He could only want one thing and Alyse’s mother had given her the talk, handed her a box of condoms and told her to be careful. It had been mortifying, but she’d taken the condoms and tucked one into her purse just in case. She still had the box in her bedside drawer.

  She should have listened to their warnings.

  Her mother’s garden was full of weeds, and dead and dying plants, the upkeep too much for Alyse. She had the apiary to run, a house to maintain, a man to obey whose whims changed with his mood. She squeezed her eyes shut, her throat closing over. Why hadn’t her
mother swum free of the boat? Had she been trapped as the boat went down?

  Questions that would never be answered.

  But a reason she’d clung onto Mark, not wanting to be completely alone. He loved her, the redheaded farm girl who liked bees.

  She sighed and climbed out of the car, her attention drawn to the basketball ring mounted on the side of the shed, a deflated basketball next to it. Pathetic, like her. Her movements were slow as she pushed open the front door. Inside was no longer recognisable as the home she’d once known. Mark had moved in after her parents died and way before she was ready he’d started making changes. First the television, because how could anyone watch sport on a forty-inch screen? Then her mother’s round, comfortable couches. She’d come home from a conference to find a whole new lounge suite in its place. He swore he’d spilt coffee on the old couches and had to replace them, hadn’t wanted to upset her. She’d wept in his arms and he’d soothed her, but later she’d remembered him joking about how all the flowers and colour in the house sapped his masculinity.

  Alyse wandered down the hallway to the master bedroom. That had been their first big argument. She’d only had a single bed in her room and Mark wanted to move into her parents’ room, but the pain of losing them was still too raw, she hadn’t even cleared out their drawers yet. She’d put her foot down and said no, screamed at him she wasn’t ready. He’d cried, said she didn’t love him, asked her if she wanted to break up with him.

  How she wished she’d told him to go right then, the manipulative bastard.

  But she’d been so desperate not to lose anyone else. He was all she had. Her friends had stopped coming around, unable to cope with her grief. At least that’s what Mark had said. And fool that she was, she’d believed him.

  So, she’d begged him to stay, agreed they could move into her parents’ room.

  Her phone rang. Mark. Not answering would only make him angry. “Hello?”

  “Where are you? You’re supposed to be at the clubrooms.”

  She closed her eyes and forced a smile so he wouldn’t hear her annoyance. “I’m at home, getting changed.”

  “You should be in the kitchen.”