‘But it’s Christmas soon,’ Amber says, peering out at the market stalls in the distance and stifling the guilt she feels at not opening the shop yet that morning. ‘She can’t be in that place for Christmas. What if she just went to Scotland of her own volition? Can anyone stop her?’
‘We can’t allow that, Miss Caulfield,’ the detective says in a stern voice. ‘If she’s under sixteen …’
‘Oh, come on! We have to try something,’ Amber says. She’s deteriorating before our eyes, she wants to add.
‘We need to have faith in the people treating her,’ the detective says. ‘Look, I have to go. But rest assured we’re doing all we can. Have a good Christmas if I don’t speak to you before.’
‘Yeah,’ Amber says absent-mindedly. She stares at the phone after she puts it down then she sinks back into her sofa. She couldn’t do anything for her daughter … and now she can do nothing for this girl. She stares at her injured hand.
‘I’m useless,’ she whispers.
Later that evening, Amber goes to her mother and aunt’s for dinner. They live together now in the townhouse they’d inherited from their parents, the same house Amber had grown up in. It has a vast garden leading out onto some fields. Her aunt Viv had tried to continue to live in the cottage she’d shared with her husband but there were so many problems with it that it eventually got too much for her. So Rita had invited her sister to move in. It was half hers, after all, as was the cottage. Amber liked knowing they were together.
As Rita cooks, Amber paces up and down, biting the nails of her good hand.
‘Any more of that and you’ll be drilling a hole in your mum’s carpet,’ Viv says.
Amber looks up to see her mum and aunt watching her with concerned looks on their faces. ‘Fine, I’ll sit down,’ Amber says. She sits on the sofa and starts jiggling her leg. ‘I can’t just leave Lumin in there. You should see her. Every time I go visit her, she seems to just fold into herself’
‘She’s in the best place, love,’ Viv says, leaning over to stroke Amber’s arm.
‘Is she?’ Amber asks. ‘She’s just having her mind poked and prodded, it must be so stressful. It is so stressful, I can see it.’
‘There’s nothing you can do,’ Rita says gently as she stirs a pot. ‘This is not your battle to fight.’
‘Why isn’t it?’ Amber says sharply. ‘What the bloody hell else have I got to fight for?’
The two older women look at each other in surprise.
‘Jasper’s right,’ Amber continues. ‘I’ve been so dormant these past few years. Just living one day to the next, battling memories, trying to pretend like I’m happy this is how my life has turned out. I detach myself from everything, from caring and wanting and needing, because it reminds me how it felt to care and want and need my darling Katy.’
Amber starts sobbing and her mum and aunt gather around her.
‘Oh, darling!’ Rita says. ‘What’s brought all this on?’
‘I think it’s good,’ Viv said, stroking her niece’s back. ‘Get it all out.’
‘I just feel so useless,’ Amber says through her tears.
‘Like you did with Katy,’ Rita says softly.
Amber looks up into her mother’s eyes and nods.
‘I felt the same with you,’ Rita says, taking Amber’s injured hand in hers and stroking the stubs. ‘Watching you in so much pain. I felt so guilty.’
‘It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have run out. Anyway,’ Amber says, pulling her hand away, ‘I survived.’
‘I know. But it still hurts to see you like this,’ Rita says.
‘What can I do?’ Amber asks the two women, looking at both of their familiar loving faces in turn, trying to find the answers there. Her eyes stray to the photos on the walls of the different countries her mum and aunt have visited in their later years. When people commented they were ‘too old for all that’, they’d retort: ‘We’re Caulfields. Nothing stops the Caulfields.’
Amber suddenly stands up, determination raging through her. ‘How long will it take to drive to the Highlands from here?’
‘Hours and hours,’ Viv says.
‘Why?’ Rita asks.
Amber gets her phone out, typing in Winterton Chine to Audhild Falls. ‘Ten hours,’ she murmurs. ‘I can do that, with breaks of course. No biggie.’
Rita looks at Amber in alarm. ‘That’s a massive drive, Amber! You can’t undertake a road trip like that on a whim.’
‘It’s not a whim,’ Amber replies, pacing up and down the room in excitement. ‘Lumin seems so sure she knows the place.’
‘What do you expect to do when you’re there?’ Viv asks. ‘Knock on each door and ask them if they know her?’
‘If that’s what it takes. Look,’ Amber says with a sigh, ‘just being there can trigger memories. It has to be worth it.’
The two women go quiet.
‘You really want to do this, don’t you?’ Rita asks eventually.
Amber nods.
‘Well then, we better get packing,’ Rita says resolutely, standing up.
‘Woah, wait a minute,’ Amber says, making her mum sit down again. ‘You are not coming with me.’ As much as she loves her mum and aunt, the idea of a ten-hour road trip with them sends shivers down her spine.
‘We can’t let you go alone,’ Viv says. ‘Especially with the snow coming. And you can’t take your car, it broke down only a few weeks ago! In fact, can’t you fly to Scotland?’
‘I got it fixed! Anyway, I won’t be alone. I’m taking Lumin with me, and she can’t fly without photographic identity.’
Their mouths drop open. ‘You can’t take her!’ Rita says.
‘Why not?’
‘You can’t just go marching in and taking a child to see a waterfall in a place that might not be her home. It’s against the rules. Especially if she’s a minor …’
‘Oh, come on, it’s obvious she’s over sixteen,’ Amber says. ‘And anyway, since when have you two played by the rules?’
Her mum lifts her chin up proudly. ‘You have a point there. But still …’
‘It’s no use, Rita. She’s got the look,’ Viv says in a reverent whisper.
Rita narrows her eyes at her daughter then nods. ‘She has, hasn’t she?’
‘What look?’ Amber asks the two women.
‘The Caulfield look,’ Viv explains. ‘Once you get an idea in your mind, that’s it. No changing it.’
‘Nothing stops the Caulfields,’ Amber says. ‘And this Caulfield is going to the Highlands for Christmas.’
The two women laugh. ‘It’s a crazy idea, darling,’ Rita says as she takes Amber’s face in her hands and smiles at her with tears in her eyes. ‘But it’s the first crazy idea you’ve had in a long time and that makes my heart sing.’
As they both hug Amber, she watches as snow falls from the sky. Maybe the idea is too crazy. But she needs to try. She has to. She thinks of the young, scared girl currently sitting in hospital and imagines her face when she tells her.
‘Scotland, here I come,’ she says with a determined smile.
Chapter Ten
Gwyneth
Audhild Loch
25 December 1989
Despite being solitary creatures, snowy owls will protect their young with a ferocity that seems out of place compared with their soft exteriors.
‘Heather?’ I turned to see Dylan standing in the open doorway of the house in tartan pyjama bottoms and a white T-shirt that accentuated his broad chest and arms. He pulled on some boots and jogged out, hands wrapped around his bare muscled arms as he shivered. ‘What the hell are you doing out here?’ he said when he got to the lonely figure of his young sister.
Heather continued staring out towards the frozen loch.
‘I heard her crying out here,’ I said.
‘Here, let’s get you in,’ he said, trying to steer his sister inside, but she shoved him off.
‘I don’t need your help,’ she hissed, eyes spark
ing with anger. ‘I don’t need anyone’s help.’ Then she ran inside, snow flying up behind her.
Dylan closed his eyes and sighed heavily.
‘I told myself I wouldn’t ask,’ I said, ‘but I can’t help myself … is there something going on with your family?’
He shook his head, teeth chattering. ‘It’s a long story.’
I put my hand on his arm. ‘I’m here to listen, if you need me to.’
‘Really? You want to stand out here in the freezing cold and listen to how fucked up my family is?’
‘Jesus, I was just offering a friendly ear, that’s all. Do what you want.’
I went to walk away but he softly grabbed my arm, pulling me close to him. I looked up at him, felt his fingers like ice on my arm. ‘I just don’t want you tainted with it all, do you understand?’ he said in a harsh whisper, eyes exploring my face. ‘You turn up out of nowhere, fucking beautiful and strong and clever, and I don’t want that all tainted.’
‘I’m not perfect, you know,’ I whispered.
‘I know.’ He reached down, stroking my cheek with his freezing thumb. ‘Neither of us is perfect, both of us have something inside we’re struggling with. But I don’t want my family’s struggle to be added to yours.’
‘Why is your sister so upset? What happened out there?’ I asked, staring at the lake.
‘We all have our secrets,’ he shot back. ‘And I can sense you know that as much as I do.’
I looked into his eyes, suddenly tempted to tell him everything. But I didn’t. Instead, I reached up and traced his beard with my finger. Ice was starting to fringe its dark bristles and his long eyelashes.
‘You’re cold,’ I said.
I moved closer to him and he to me. I placed my hand on his cheek, felt the arch of his strong cheekbones. Then I impulsively stood on tiptoes and pressed my cold lips against his even colder ones. He wrapped his bear arms around me and moved his lips against mine, the warmth inside me radiating out to him. In the distance, the loch shone beneath the moonlight, as menacing as it was beautiful.
I woke the next morning to the memory of Dylan’s cold lips against mine mingling with the smell of cinnamon and spice coming from downstairs. Had I dreamt the night before? It had that dreamlike quality, the snow and a mind blurry with sleep. I grappled with the fog surrounding my memory of the kiss. After, we’d both stepped apart from each other, shivering from the cold. Then lights had come on in the house and that was it. Dylan and I had gone upstairs, one brief look passing between us before we went our separate ways.
I stretched, turning over to look through the gap in the curtains at the snowy landscape. My room faced out towards the loch, but I could see a glimpse of mountain stretched to the right. The sky was puffy white with a hint of pink, promising more snow. I’d seen a lot of snow while working, but rarely had I been without a camera. I felt a sense of contentment as I pressed my cheek back into the soft pillow, taking it all in.
Then I remembered: it was Christmas Day.
I sat back up, hugging my shins and resting my chin on my knees.
‘Happy Christmas, Reg,’ I whispered. And as an afterthought: ‘Happy Christmas to you too, Mum and Dad.’
I’d woken up in hotel rooms or tents on the majority of my Christmas mornings. In the first few years after leaving my aunt’s hotel to work for Reg, Christmases were usually spent in different countries: from the Antarctic to Russia to Alaska and Norway. I loved it, even when I was climbing a snowy hill with Reg’s camera strapped to my back in a blizzard so intense that I could barely see. I felt like I belonged: to Reg, to his crew, to people I’d grown to see as a family of sorts. When I began getting camera jobs myself, Reg and I sometimes managed to find each other around Christmas: in London at his flat, where he let me stay sometimes, or even on shoots when he’d make a trip out to see me, or me him. There’d be the annual exchange of practical gifts – a wind-breaker, a lens cleaner, one year a book on the mating rituals of polar bears. It didn’t feel particularly festive, more a comforting nod to tradition.
Reg didn’t have his own family. He hadn’t had children and his parents were long gone. I liked to think he found some comfort in our little Christmas meet-ups when they occurred, not that he ever told me that. Even when he suggested I rent the room in his flat as a ‘base’ to save me paying for storage in London, it was delivered in his usual no-nonsense practical voice. ‘I figured out you’d save four hundred pounds a month so pay me two hundred and it’s yours. Throw in brewing coffee on the mornings we’re both here and we have a deal.’
That was five years ago. Looking back, maybe he was aware of his age – eighty-five then – and the need to have some kind of presence there. Or maybe I’m doing myself a disservice, maybe he just liked my company. Two years ago, we spent Christmas in the flat. I got a turkey, some potatoes, made a simple Christmas meal. We drank wine and I even convinced Reg to pull a cracker and put one of those silly hats on. In the back of my mind, I was aware it was ten years since I’d spent my last Christmas with my parents. Maybe that was why I’d made the effort, an attempt to prove to myself life goes on when your parents turn their backs on you.
And now here I was, in a strange family’s vast house in the middle of nowhere. What would Reg say? Would he say I was imposing? I think he’d be more interested in the wildlife that could be found in the mountains.
I got up, opened the curtains wider and gazed out at the mountains. I couldn’t impose on this family on Christmas Day. Maybe I could go and do some filming in the mountains as they had their Christmas dinner. I’d love to find some pine martens up there; I’d caught a glimpse of one on the drive here. I knew they liked places like that. I’d do some filming then I’d figure out a way to get home.
I grabbed a plush white towel and padded into the en-suite.
Half an hour later, I walked tentatively downstairs. It was a bit nerve-wracking, making an entrance on Christmas morning as a virtual stranger, especially to a family as close and as large as this one. And after the kiss Dylan and I shared. The living room was empty but I could hear laughter and chatter from the dining room. For a moment, I thought about just slipping out to do my filming but I was worried that might seem rude … and it would mean not seeing Dylan again. So I took a deep breath and walked into the dining room.
Everyone looked up as the door slammed shut behind me. The only person not there was Mairi.
‘Our guest finally wakes,’ Oscar declared.
‘I can’t believe you didn’t hear this one screaming the place down earlier,’ Cole said, smiling at his son.
I heard your sister sobbing her heart out in the middle of the night, I wanted to say. But as I looked at Heather now, it was like nothing had happened.
‘Come, I saved a space for you,’ Heather said, patting the seat next to hers. She seemed very jolly considering what had happened the night before, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with her soft white Christmas jumper. She was sitting across from Dylan, who raised his dark eyes to meet mine. I felt my tummy stir.
‘I sleep in tents on shoots,’ I explained to Cole. ‘So when I get the chance to sleep in a proper bed, especially one as comfortable as the one I slept in last night, nothing wakes me, not even your gorgeous son,’ I added, smiling at little Alfie. He stuck his tongue out in response as everyone laughed.
‘Come, sit,’ Heather said again.
‘Thanks, but I thought I might do some filming in the mountains and leave you all in peace to celebrate your Christmas Day together.’
They all let out protests, clucking and shaking their heads. Dylan stayed silent though, his eyes still in mine.
‘It’s Christmas Day!’ Oscar said, looking almost wounded.
‘I know,’ I said as kindly as I could. ‘But remember, for me, it’s just another day.’
‘Just another day,’ a voice said from behind me. I turned to see Mairi standing in the doorway with a large oval platter of scones. ‘It is most certainly not just another
day,’ she said, walking towards the table and laying the platter in the middle of the table. ‘Did you know Christmas was banned in Scotland until the 1950s by the Presbyterian church? That makes it even more precious. You must stay and eat with us, I insist.’
I looked at Mairi then at Dylan, feeling my face flush. It all felt so awkward, especially as Dylan didn’t seem too bothered whether I stayed or went. As I thought that, he stood up, walked around the table to me and took my hand in his, oblivious to everyone’s stares.
‘Please stay, Gwyneth,’ he said softly. ‘Even if it’s just today. I promise I’ll get your car sorted. Stay, spend Christmas Day with us, then I can help you do some filming in the mountains tomorrow on Boxing Day. How does that sound?’
Alison nodded enthusiastically. ‘We always go for a walk in the forest on Boxing Day anyway, it’s—’
‘Another family tradition,’ Glenn said, rolling his eyes. ‘Seriously though, Gwyneth, you should stay. We need help eating the feast Mum prepares for us.’
I looked at each of them, dark and tall and beautiful, all smiling up at me from this huge table laden with the most delicious Christmas breakfast I’d ever seen. My tummy rumbled and I realised Dylan hadn’t yet let go of my hand.
‘So?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I said, unable to stop myself laughing. ‘If you insist,’ I added.
Over the next hour, I tucked into breakfast, delicious stodgy scones and eggs, piles of pancakes and a huge juicy salmon which smelt amazing but I was resolute enough in my vegetarianism not to touch. Every now and again, I caught Dylan’s eye and we’d smile at each other. I wanted to kiss him again, feel his huge arms around mine. I wanted more than that too. I think he felt the same, the desire clear on his face.
After breakfast, we all went into the living room to open presents. Alfie was unbelievably excited, running around and screaming as everyone laughed. I felt awkward again, seeing the huge piles of beautifully wrapped presents beneath the tree. I had nothing to give and nothing to receive. I started backing out of the room, hoping to be able to go back to the bedroom unnoticed. But no luck – Dylan spotted me and beckoned for me to join him by the fire. I sat down beside him and he discreetly passed me something wrapped in silver tissue paper.
The Girl on the Beach: A Heartbreaking Page Turner With a Stunning Twist Page 11