by Amanda James
Frank couldn’t see why he had to book into a hotel. ‘It’s not a fucking holiday, lad. Just get down there, do the deed and get out.’ How stupid is he? Newquay isn’t a massive place, but it might take a day or so to find Imogen. There are quite a few beaches in and around and he’ll have to go to each one. How else could he find her? She’d not told her father anything about where she’d be staying. A hotel is better than a B&B, more anonymous. There’d be no landlady chatting to him, trying to find out about his life.
Nathan told Frank he needed to do it his own way; more planning meant less chance of him getting caught. Frank had to grudgingly agree with that reasoning.
It’s mid-afternoon and there’s been no sign of Imogen on any of the beaches so far. He started with Fistral, the main surfing beach, and then wandered all the others in Newquay. Now he’s back at Fistral sitting on the beach near the breakers in a wetsuit, pretending to relax, but he’s surreptitiously scanning every female surfer that takes to the waves. The photo Frank gave him of Imogen is in his room and he’s memorised it well. She isn’t here. She doesn’t appear to be on any Newquay beach.
Nathan had looked on the Internet and noted down all the beaches. Perhaps Imogen meant just outside Newquay when she told her dad. Mawgan Porth looks to be a popular beach for surfers, but it’s about four miles out of town. Should he search there? On the sand to his left a seagull worries at a shell. Perhaps its name is Ransom and the creature inside the shell is called Nathan.
Flopping back on the sand he stares at the gap in the clouds, a glimpse of blue brightened by a lazy sun. It looks set to clear soon. On a cloudy day, his mum always used to say that if you can see a bit of blue sky big enough to make a man a shirt, then it will brighten up eventually. Where is she now? His poor, poor mum. It would kill her if she knew what he was here for. The thump of feet nearby on the packed sand vibrates through him, draws his gaze. A young woman … with red hair in two pigtails. He sighs. Nope. Not Imogen, or Masters for that matter.
Nathan closes his eyes. Shit, all this is so hopeless. He could have easily missed her on any of the beaches. As soon as he’d left one of them, Imogen could have arrived. What would be the point in going to Mawgan Porth? She might appear on this one later. Needles and haystacks. Nathan shoves his hands through his hair and strokes his stubble. He is surprised to find it’s more than stubble, but then he supposes it must be a few days since he’s shaved. A subconscious attempt at a disguise? There’s a false name waiting on his tongue, a hometown too. If he does manage to speak to either woman, she’ll ask about his northern accent of course. Bound to.
Nathan sits up and watches the surfers for a bit. Surfing is one thing he’s never tried before, but it looks like it could be fun under different circumstances. Perhaps he should hire a board, try it out while he’s looking for Imogen. At least he would be less conspicuous. Some of the people out there look so graceful. There are a few obvious experts, cutting through the waves, riding confidently into shore. It looks dead easy, but he can see that it isn’t from the efforts of the less seasoned boarders. He imagines he will make a fool of himself until he gets the hang of it and decides that he’ll wait until later, once the beach is a bit emptier. It will be easier to try out without the fear of bumping into loads of other surfers too. Remembering that there’s a surf hire shop near the car park he sets off to investigate.
There are considerably fewer people on the beach late afternoon as Nathan drags his board to the water’s edge. The sky did clear earlier, but now the wind is up and the clouds are huddling together in its wake. He loves the wildness of the scene and fills his lungs with salt air. Nathan considers just taking the plunge, but then he ought to get a feel for the water first shouldn’t he, before he takes the board in? One or two surfers are off to the left struggling in a few angry breakers, so he decides to swim away from them to a nice smooth bit of water to his right first. Once he’s had a swim he’ll come back for the board and tackle the waves.
At first he cuts through the water no problem, and he’s glad he’s been doing the running lately because he feels about as fit as he’s ever been. But after a few minutes he notices that he’s much further away from shore than he thinks. The surfers he was watching are tiny now, bobbing up and down on the swell, and he’s being dragged ever further out to sea. Panic rises in his belly and his heart thumps in his chest. Nathan knows he needs to get back to shore and fast.
It’s as if the water is a solid wall. He’s making no headway, no matter how much he tries … he’s in some sort of current and he feels like he’s about to go under. Nathan focuses his eyes on the shore. Then there’s a woman on the beach, he hears her voice before he sees her. She’s yelling something at him, pointing to his right. He can’t make it out … then her voice carries on the wind.
‘SWIM TO YOUR RIGHT. SWIM TO YOUR RIGHT. PARALLEL TO THE BEACH, NOT TOWARDS IT.’ She yells this over and over and Nathan does what she says. Almost immediately he finds he can make headway. He takes huge gulps of air and powers along until he feels sand under his feet. He’s close to the beach now and drags himself upright, wheezing, spluttering, and shaking. An RNLI lifeguard truck is speeding towards him and he kneels on the beach on all fours, gathering his strength.
A pair of feet come into view as he kneels, spitting bile on the sand, and a woman’s voice says, ‘Thank God you’re all right! I wasn’t sure if you could hear me yelling.’ His eyes follow up from the feet to the legs and then along her body. And then … and then … he’s staring into the face of Bryony Masters.
18
The poor guy looks like he’s seen a ghost. Must be in shock. No wonder, he could have easily drowned just now. I note the muscular torso, broad shoulders. Someone less fit might well have. He’s still looking into my eyes. He’s a bit spaced out, but the colour’s coming back into his cheeks, which warms his deep green eyes, lends animation to his face. I pat him on his back. ‘You okay?’
The guy coughs, looks back at the sand. ‘I am, thanks to you. God knows what would have—’
‘Hey, mate. Let’s have look at you.’ A lifeguard is hurrying over to us from the truck. ‘Thought we’d have to get the boat out before this young lady did her stuff.’ He looks at me with respect. ‘Must be a local to know rip currents so well and how to get out of them.’
‘I’m not actually, but my mum is. I spent most holidays in my childhood and adolescence here though.’
‘What’s your name, bud?’ he says to the guy and hunkers beside him.
‘Jacob.’
‘Right, Jacob, sling your arm round me and let’s see if we can get you to your feet.’
Jacob does as he’s asked and I realise he’s over six foot and built like an athlete – a swimmer, funnily enough. He leans against the lifeguard for support for a moment then stands apart from him, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. ‘I’m fine now, thanks, mate.’
‘You might feel fine, but I’d advise you to rest. Sit down over on those rocks for a bit.’
For some unknown reason I say, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll stay with him for a while, just ’til he’s feeling himself.’
Jacob looks at me. ‘No, honestly. You’ve done enough …’ Then to my surprise he blinks a few times and draws his hand down his face. ‘You saved my life.’
The lifeguard slaps him on the shoulder. ‘She did, for sure. We were up the other side of the beach with someone who’d hurt his ankle. We saw you eventually, but … chances are …’ He shrugs. ‘Right, I’ll be off then.’ He grins at me and says to Jacob, ‘Make sure you find out about rips.’ Then he jumps in the truck and drives off.
Now it’s just me and Jacob I feel a bit awkward. Why did I offer to stay with him? It’s as though I’m after some hero crown or something. The smooth rocks halfway back up the beach give me a starting point. ‘Let’s go and sit on those rocks, eh? I know you said you were fine, but a rest won’t hurt. You will have expended a huge amount of energy in that rip.’ Jacob looks
hesitant and can’t hold my gaze. ‘Come on, I won’t bite. I’ve got an energy drink in my bag over there too.’
He nods and we walk slowly up the beach. I leave him seated on the rocks and dash over to my bag and board just as Imogen jogs up to me dragging her board behind her. ‘Sorry I’m late. I’ve been chatting to your mum. She’s so knowledgeable about the coast round here, isn’t she?’
‘Well, she ought to be.’ I smile and hoist my bag onto my back.
‘Where you going? Thought you were going to teach me how to surf?’ She looks out to sea and then expectantly up at me.
‘The water’s a bit grumpy just now. Let’s leave it until tomorrow.’ I hesitate, wondering how to say what I’ve done without sounding a big-head. ‘That guy over there.’ I raise a hand in Jacob’s direction. ‘He had a brush with death just now, I had to help him.’
Imogen shields her eyes and looks. ‘Oh. My. Word. What a honey! And what, you saved him from drowning?’ She looks back at me, face shining with excitement.
‘Er, yes, I guess.’
‘How clever. Did you go in, get your arms round his gorgeous body?’
‘Immi, for goodness’ sake.’
‘But did you?’
‘No. He was in a rip current, and if I’d gone in we both might have drowned. People tend to panic when they’re in one and if he’d grabbed on to me …’
‘He could grab on to me any day.’
I give her a withering look. ‘This is serious.’
‘And he’s seriously fit. Come on, introduce me.’ Immi has her board under her arm and is off up the beach before I have time to draw breath.
When I catch up to her she’s already rabbiting on and Jacob is doing his best to answer her rapid-fire questions. ‘So she’s a hero then, really?’ she says as I chuck my board down and rummage in my bag for the drink.
‘Immi, just leave the poor guy alone. He needs to rest and recharge his energy.’ I hand him the bottle which he takes gratefully. Immi and I watch him drink, his head tipped back, throat muscles downing the liquid, and I realise she’s almost drooling. I nudge her and she mouths ‘what?’ at me.
Jacob stops when the bottle’s nearly empty and wipes his mouth. ‘Sorry, I almost drank it all. I’ll get you another from the shop.’
‘Don’t be daft. Finish it off. You need it more than me.’
‘You’re not from these parts, are you?’ Immi says and perches next to him on the rock.
He smiles at her and she blushes. Dear God.
‘Nope. You’re not either by the sounds of it.’ Jacob smiles at me too. ‘Either of you.’
‘No, we’re from Sheffield. Though she’s half Cornish. We’re down here on holiday and Bryony’—Immi points at me, as if that’s necessary—‘might even stay here to help out with her mum and auntie’s surf school. Isn’t that great?’ She treats him to a dazzling smile.
‘Er, yes. That’s a refreshing way to spend a day’s work.’ He finishes off the drink and Immi takes it from him, carefully making sure she brushes his fingers with hers.
‘Yes, because at the moment her job is—’
‘Imogen. Can you please leave my life story alone? Jacob needs to rest and I’m sure he isn’t interested—’
‘So where are you from, and what do you do?’ My jaw drops as she completely shuts me down.
Jacob dusts sand from his hands and says to the ocean, ‘I’m from Wakefield and I work in a shop selling electrical goods. I thought I’d pop down here for a few days, learn how to surf.’ He does a sheepish grin. ‘It’s not going well so far.’
‘Wakefield, that’s amazing, my dad’s in …’ Immi realises her mistake and corrects herself. ‘Umm, business there.’ She flushes again and babbles. ‘Wakefield isn’t far away from us, is it? What a small world. I bet selling electrical goods is interesting too.’ She jumps up and points towards the café. ‘Would you like to get a coffee with us, Jacob, warm yourself up?’
‘No thanks, Imogen. I think I’m just going to go back to my hotel and get some rest if you don’t mind.’ He takes my hand and looks straight into my eyes. ‘Thank you so, so much for saving my life, Bryony. If there’s anything I can do for you, just name it.’
‘Ooh, now that’s an offer,’ Immi says and giggles.
I give her daggers and say to him, ‘Well, I’d like to make sure you never get in that situation again. Come to the surf school tomorrow. I’ll teach you about rip currents and perhaps help you stand up on that board.’
I can feel Immi’s eyes on me so I don’t look at her. Jacob says, ‘No, I honestly couldn’t put you to that kind of trouble. You’ve already done the most anybody could ever do for a fellow human being.’
Immi links her arm through his, leans her head on his shoulder. ‘Aw, what a lovely thing to say. Isn’t he lovely, Bryony?’
I ignore her question but say, ‘You asked what you can do. This is it. Be here at noon tomorrow, okay?’
He twists his mouth to the side, looks at us both for a moment and then nods. ‘If you insist. Thank you, I’ll be here.’
‘Hurray!’ Immi yells, doing a little dance and giving him a quick hug. ‘See you soon then, Jacob.’
I grab her elbow and steer her up the beach. ‘See you soon,’ I say as we go past. Out of earshot I say, ‘For goodness’ sake, Immi, could you have been any more obvious?’
She stops and plants her hands on her hips. ‘Obvious or not, my efforts went unnoticed, dear one.’
‘Eh?’
‘Well, when we were young you used to complain that all the hunky guys went for me.’
‘Yeah, well that’s because they did,’ I say and push my tongue out at her.
‘But not with this one. You might have found the most gorgeous man on the planet, rescued him from the sea, no less, and he cannot take his eyes off you.’
Stunned isn’t the word. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just grateful to me for saving him, that’s all. He gave you a lovely smile.’
Immi wags her finger side to side in front of my face and affects an American accent. ‘Smile or not, it’s you he’s smitten with, girlfriend.’
I tell her she’s talking rubbish and lead the way up the beach. A tiny part of me wonders what I would think about it if she were right. He is pretty gorgeous, that isn’t in question, but there’s no way anything can come of it. There is far too much on my plate at the moment without chucking Jacob onto it.
19
The complimentary fluffy white bathrobe feels like a warm hug – he could do with one of those. Nathan pulls the belt tight around him as he leaves the shower room and pulls a chair up to the floor-to-ceiling window. The beach is empty now and he can barely distinguish the ocean from the sky as night draws in. He pours another whisky and downs it in one. He needs to blot the day from his mind, but Bryony Masters is all he can think about. You couldn’t make it up, could you? He comes down here to take her life, and she ends up saving his.
A knock at the door freezes his whole body. Has Ransom somehow found out that Bryony is here, and he’s sent a thug to tell him to get on with it? The knock comes again.
‘Room service.’
Of course it is. Tension evaporates and he calls himself all sorts of names as he opens the door, takes the tray and bungs the guy a tip. Chicken in white wine sauce with roast potatoes and seasonal vegetables, and strawberry cheesecake and clotted cream for pudding. Nathan’s mouth waters at the smell and within ten minutes there’s nothing left on either plate. Funny how a near drowning can make you feel so hungry.
Nathan turns the lamps off in the room and sits back at the window. Without the artificial light he can see the beach as a swathe of grey, upon which a charcoal ocean allows its white horses a gentle gallop. As a full moon gradually rises through ragged ink clouds to the west, his mood does too. There’s no way he would ever kill Bryony Masters now. If the truth were known, he never could. Honestly? He could never kill anyone in circumstances like this, even though his mum is at risk. Per
haps in war, or to save his own life in self-defence, but not because a guy like Ransom had decided that she was to blame for putting him away.
There must be another way. He’d already considered telling Dawson and Ransom that he couldn’t find her, that she wasn’t here – they would be none the wiser, would they? In the end she’d go back to Sheffield, though, and then they’d be onto her again, so that would only delay things. It might buy him some time to find his mum though – that’s an option. Okay, a long shot, but he needs to think positive. He could get her away, get himself away. Nothing is impossible. Before today that would have been the perfect solution, but how can he leave the woman who’d saved his life at the mercy of another ‘Nathan’ being forced to do what he couldn’t?
There must be a way to let her know she’s in danger without giving the game away … but how? Although used to being a loner, mostly, at times like this he really misses having someone to talk things through with. In the past he’d talked to one of his siblings, and there had been Hannah for a while too. Hannah was involved in most of the stuff he was. He’d met her through a friend of Ransom’s and they’d started dating. She was lovely, but never had any ambition to break free, break out of the vicious circle they were trapped in. Like him, she’d grown up in it and it was all she knew. He had moved in with her for a year or so, but he was kidding himself that it was enough … that she was enough. He wanted a new life and someone to share it with, someone who had a normal job, a normal life. So he’d left, become a loner. No girlfriend, no friends and, at the moment, no family. It would be so much easier if he could just accept who he had become and get on with it, but a little flame of hope burns deep within him and refuses to be extinguished.
Nathan picks up the whisky bottle and then sets it back on the table. If he is going surfing with Bryony and Imogen tomorrow, he’ll need a clear head. The craziness of that thought makes him laugh and he pictures Dawson’s and Ransom’s expressions if they knew.