Knife Edge

by Fergus McNeill

  This morning, she’d left the house right after Graham, hurrying down to Coronation Road, walking quickly across the iron footbridge and glancing behind her as she disappeared into town. She’d spent the day in cafés, feeling safer among other people, trying to think. She wanted to tell Graham, wanted to be honest with him, but she already knew what his response would be, and she’d tried it his way before.

  If only they were somewhere else, somewhere far away from all of this.

  And that was how she had got the idea. A single, clear thought – a glimmer of hope – that had carried her through the morning.

  Now, wearily, she turned back to her blank laptop screen. She’d spent hours searching, thinking it all through. The only potential problem was Graham.

  Sitting up, she pushed her hair back from her face, then reached into her bag and took out her phone. Searching through her recent calls, she found his number and dialled it, then closed her eyes and held the phone to her ear.

  Let him be OK about this …

  There was a click and Graham’s voice said ‘Hello?’ There was a lot of background noise, as though he was outside somewhere.

  ‘It’s me,’ she said, trying to speak lightly.

  ‘Hey.’ He sounded surprised to hear from her. ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine. I …’ She hesitated, then decided to just get the words out as quickly as possible. ‘Look, I was just wondering if you could maybe take a couple of days off?’

  ‘Yes …’ he said, a faint note of caution in his voice. ‘I suppose so. When were you thinking?’

  ‘Friday and Monday.’ She tried to say it casually but her voice almost broke.

  ‘This Friday?’

  ‘Yes.’

  There was a long pause before he replied.

  ‘What were you wanting to do?’

  She leaned forward, one hand pushed up under her hair, staring at the long shadow of her coffee cup on the table.

  ‘Please, Graham, can you take the days off?’

  ‘Er …’ He hesitated then sighed. ‘I suppose so … Are you going to tell me why?’

  Her shoulders drooped and she breathed in relief.

  ‘Tonight. I promise. Thanks, Graham.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ he pressed her.

  ‘I’m fine. It’s just …’ She was at a loss. ‘I’ll explain tonight, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ he replied, still a little wary.

  ‘I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Yeah. See you tonight.’

  ‘Graham?’ She spoke quickly, not wanting him to hang up.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She ended the call and set the phone down carefully on the table. Her laptop had gone to sleep some time ago, but she tapped the power button to wake it and reconnected to the café’s Wi-Fi. Bringing back her web browser, she checked the payment page one last time, then clicked to confirm her booking.

  Somewhere else, somewhere far away …

  Staring at the screen for a moment, she yawned, then leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes.

  Stackpool Road was no good now. She couldn’t even go back there until she knew Graham was on his way home. The situation was impossible – something had to change.

  The noise of the street suddenly grew louder as the glass door swung inward; her eyes snapped open, but it was just a woman going outside. She took a breath, settling herself, as a couple of older men burst out laughing over some private joke up at the counter.

  She was almost done. Her hand reached out to pick up the phone. There was just one more call to make. Leaning her weary head against the wall, she dialled Sarah’s number and waited.

  52

  Harland knew something was wrong. Kim had been very subdued last night, and then there had been the strange phone call from her while he was at work today.

  Now, when he came home, she opened the front door and threw her arms around him.

  ‘Kim?’ He untangled himself enough to gaze down into her large, frightened eyes. ‘What’s the matter?’

  She smiled at him shyly, as though nothing was the matter, as though she could pretend and have him not notice.

  ‘I’m just glad you’re back.’ She stood away from him a little, suddenly conscious of his concern. ‘How was your day, Graham?’

  ‘Same as usual,’ he shrugged. ‘What about you?’

  ‘It was OK.’ She turned away from him, and he wondered if it was to hide her expression. ‘I spoke to the agency and they’ve got me two interviews for the tail end of next week.’

  ‘That’s great.’

  He followed her down the hall and into the kitchen, slipping off his jacket and draping it over a chair before going to the fridge and taking out a beer.

  She watched him as he closed the door and reached for the bottle opener.

  ‘Kim?’ He moved towards her, but she turned her body away from him slightly, her gaze going to the kitchen window. ‘What’s wrong?’

  She stiffened a little, doing her best to speak lightly, but he could hear the edge in her voice.

  ‘You took Friday and Monday off?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied.

  ‘Good.’ She seemed almost relieved. ‘I thought we might go away … a long weekend, somewhere quiet.’

  He was about to ask her what had brought this on, but something warned him not to.

  ‘OK.’ He spoke carefully, watching her across the kitchen. ‘Where were you thinking?’

  ‘I found the perfect place,’ she replied. Her body language was tight – an arm crossed over her chest, one hand in front of her mouth. ‘And I got an amazing deal on it.’

  ‘You booked it already?’

  He caught a brief flicker of anguish in her expression, but she mastered it.

  ‘It was a really good deal. And once I’m working again, we might not get the chance for a while.’ Rational arguments, guarded speech – he recognised the effort she was making to persuade him.

  ‘I …’ He shook his head, unsure what to say to her. ‘It’s a bit last-minute, isn’t it?’

  She looked at the floor, her hair falling forward to hide her face.

  ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. Then, before he could speak, she added, ‘Don’t be angry with me.’

  ‘I’m not angry. It’s just …’ His shoulders dropped and he sighed. ‘It’s OK. It’ll be fine.’

  She stared out at him through a gap in her hair.

  ‘Was there a problem getting the time off?’ she asked.

  Normally, there might have been. Normally, he should have given at least a couple of weeks’ notice.

  He gazed at her, reading the urgency in her eyes. She needed him, he realised. And it was a long time since he’d felt needed.

  ‘Graham?’

  Things were quiet at work just now. And he still hadn’t taken all of his annual leave for last year.

  ‘No problem,’ he told her.

  ‘Oh Graham, thank you!’ She sprang forward and kissed him, her face a mixture of relief and excitement. ‘You’ll love it, I know you will.’

  He rested his hands on her hips and gave her a thoughtful smile. His agreement seemed to mean so much to her … Was he missing something?

  ‘So,’ he asked casually. ‘Where is this perfect place you’ve booked?’

  ‘It’s an amazing little cottage, down on the coast.’ She dropped her gaze to his chest, but her eyes were staring at something far away. ‘It has the most wonderful views looking out over the sea.’

  ‘You’ve been there before?’ he asked.

  Just a trace of hesitation, but her smile hardly faltered.

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘That’s why I know it’ll be perfect.’

  She was restless that evening, busying herself around the house and adopting a determinedly cheerful smile whenever she felt his eyes on her. The following day was no better, but whenever he questioned her she shook her head and told him that everything was fine, that she was
just excited about going away. He arrived home to find that she’d already packed a bag for him.

  ‘I just got a few things together for you,’ she explained awkwardly. ‘I thought it would save you doing it. And then we can leave earlier in the morning and have more time down on the coast.’

  He had a sudden disconcerting vision of her alone in the house, peering into his wardrobe, opening cupboards, searching through drawers.

  ‘Great,’ he told her.

  He cooked pasta for them and they ate quietly at the kitchen table while Kim steered the conversation towards safe subjects over a glass of wine.

  ‘I spoke to Sarah again yesterday,’ she said as she moved her fork around the plate. ‘She reckons I should take the job with Heasman’s. Bigger company, more chance for progression.’

  ‘She’s probably right,’ Harland nodded. ‘A lot of senior positions aren’t even advertised if they can find someone to promote.’

  Kim smiled.

  ‘You sound just like her,’ she said.

  ‘Then she must be a very charming and intelligent person,’ he replied. Sitting back, he stretched, then got up and took the plates over to the sink. ‘It’d be good to meet her some day. You could invite her up one weekend … if you want.’

  Kim looked at him with a thoughtful smile.

  ‘Some day,’ she said quietly.

  They drifted through to the front room and watched the tail end of one film and the beginning of another, with Kim curled up against him on the sofa like a cat. At eleven o’clock, she sat up sleepily and asked him if he wanted a drink before she went to bed.

  He told her no and got to his feet, stretching slowly before making his way upstairs. The kitchen light was still on as he came out of the bathroom and walked to the bedroom, where he undressed wearily before turning back the duvet and dropping down onto the bed. Lying back, he closed his eyes and let his body relax, his head sinking into the pillow.

  He heard her enter the room, her footsteps soft and tentative as she came round to the other side of the bed, felt the pull on the covers and the give in the mattress as she got in beside him. He opened his eyes, turning to say goodnight to her, but she was already leaning across to him, her hair tumbling forward over her shoulders as her face came close to his.

  ‘Shh,’ she murmured, with a quiet little smile, and he felt her thigh sliding across his as she eased herself over to climb on top of him.

  Afterwards, she didn’t say anything. Just a single kiss, and then she nestled down beside him with one slender arm across his chest. He lay awake for some time, calm in the afterglow, listening as her breathing settled and she slowly drifted away. Staring up into the darkness, he wondered what lay before him that he couldn’t see, but he was still wondering as he slipped into a troubled sleep.

  He woke up alone, and for one awful moment he was back where he’d been for so long – on his own, a single man in a double bed. His body stiffened, but as he turned over, his outstretched hand felt the enduring warmth on the sheets beside him, and he smelled her scent on the pillow. The tension left him and he sank back down in relief – like waking from a bad dream and realising it was only that. His doubts from last night seemed hazy as he sat up and leaned back against the headboard, phantom thoughts that fled in the morning sunlight. A few days away on the coast were just what they needed. And the change of scene might help Kim to open up and tell him what was on her mind.

  He got to his feet and walked drowsily out onto the landing, smiling as he heard the clink of mugs coming from the kitchen. Yawning, he made his way downstairs.

  ‘Hey,’ he greeted her, moving close behind her and encircling her waist with his arms as she poured milk into the coffee.

  ‘Hi,’ she replied, wriggling her small frame around in his embrace and pulling herself free. ‘Don’t get yourself all distracted – just drink your coffee and get dressed before the morning’s gone.’

  Harland shrugged and let her go.

  ‘Whatever you say,’ he yawned.

  The bags were waiting in the hallway when he came downstairs.

  ‘Have you got everything?’ she asked him brightly.

  ‘I think so,’ he nodded, patting his pockets and checking for his wallet. ‘What’s the hurry?’

  ‘No hurry,’ she replied, handing him his car keys. ‘I just want to get on the road before the traffic gets bad. You know what it’s like heading down to the West Country.’

  He gave her a long look, then picked up the luggage and opened the front door.

  Outside, Stackpool Road was quiet. Kim stared out at the street as he locked up, her expression quickly softening when their eyes met – something was troubling her, but there would be time enough for talking once they reached the cottage.

  The car was parked a few yards further up the hill and he dragged the cases along behind him as they walked side by side along the narrow pavement. Somewhere just behind them, a dog started barking and they both looked round.

  ‘That’s one thing I won’t miss.’ Harland smiled at her. ‘Come on.’

  He unlocked the car and lifted the bags into the boot. It had been a long time since he’d been away and now that it came to it, he found he was really looking forward to the break.

  Sliding into the driver’s seat, he started the car, and pulled the steering wheel hard round to avoid the minivan that had almost boxed him in. Easing away from the kerb, they crept down the hill, past the house, and turned left onto Coronation Road.

  As they pulled out into the traffic, Kim glanced back over her shoulder, then seemed to relax down into her seat.

  ‘Thanks for this,’ she said as she lay back against the headrest.

  ‘You’re paying,’ he replied as they drove out towards the motorway. ‘I should be the one thanking you.’

  In his peripheral vision, he was aware that she had turned her head towards him, but when he glanced across at her she just smiled, then turned her eyes out to the road ahead.

  The M5 was already busy, but at least the traffic was moving when they joined it at Portbury, and they made good time on the journey south. Kim was asleep before they reached Weston-super-Mare, her head lolling to one side, her lips parted as she dozed fitfully. Harland gazed across at her for a moment, taking in her delicate features, those wonderful dark lashes that seemed even longer when her eyes were closed, then returned his attention to the road. It was going to be a great few days.

  After Exeter, there was no more motorway. The road climbed and they cut across the barren heights of Dartmoor before descending through a rolling green landscape as they approached the coast. They took smaller roads now – narrow lanes with occasional passing places, bordered on either side by high hedges or drystone walls, so they could only see where they were as they crested each new hill. Awake now, Kim watched the satnav on her phone, reassuring him that they were on the right route when she spotted familiar landmarks until finally, at the summit of a long rise, the ground fell away before them and they glimpsed the sea.

  ‘Wow,’ Harland murmured, slowing the car as he gazed out across the shimmering blue to the broad horizon. ‘That’s quite a view.’

  Kim smiled and put a small hand on his knee.

  ‘I told you,’ she said.

  It was the sort of place that made Harland think of period dramas – a rugged coastline, unblemished by the clutter of modern buildings or the ruinous stain of caravan parks. Even the road was free of signs and markings as it angled down into a slight valley before turning back inland, then ahead of them the ground rose up towards a grassy headland with rocky cliffs visible in the distant haze.

  At the foot of the hill, Kim indicated a break in the old stone wall and they turned aside, rattling across a cattle grid and onto a potholed track that wound like a muddy ribbon over the rough grass slope. Sheep watched as they made their ascent, and Harland had to drop the car into first before they crested the slope and finally saw their destination.

  The track widened here and came to
an end just short of a sturdy stone cottage with whitewashed walls, square chimneys and a dark slate roof. The gables, gutters and window sills were picked out in an old-fashioned shade of green and there was a good store of cut logs piled up against one of the side walls.

  But Harland’s eye was drawn to the lighthouse.

  A faint path led round the side of the house and away towards it, leading up through the tufted grass and the gorse bushes of the headland. Like the cottage, the lighthouse was built of whitewashed stone, a squat turret on a high precipice with a smaller glass chamber above it, topped by a white metal dome. It stood a few hundred yards beyond the cottage, stark against the sky.

  ‘So this is where the lighthouse-keepers used to live?’ he asked her as he pulled up and switched off the engine.

  ‘I think so,’ she nodded. ‘There’s nothing else around here, so I suppose that must have been what it was built for.’

  They got out, Harland stretching to release his muscles after the long drive before he walked a few paces away from the car to get a better view of the headland.

  ‘Does it still work?’ he asked, turning back to her. ‘The lighthouse, I mean.’

  ‘As far as I know,’ she replied. ‘I think it’s automatic now, but I remember it came on at night the last time I was here.’

  He gazed at her for a moment, then turned back to look along the coastline.

  The last time I was here.

  Something in the way she’d said it made him uneasy, and he wasn’t sure if it was her being guarded about something, or him not wanting to think about her coming here with someone else. But either way, this wasn’t the moment to discuss it.

  His eyes followed the horizon, past the cottage and on along the rest of the coast, where a bank of darker clouds were gathering.

  ‘Kim?’ he said, walking round to the back of the car and opening the boot. ‘Shall we dump the bags inside and go for a walk?’

  ‘Don’t you want to have a drink first?’ she asked, joining him and lifting her bag out.

  ‘I think we might want to go now,’ he said. Then, seeing the question in her face, he pointed past the cottage to the distant sky. ‘There may be a storm coming.’