The Three Day Rule

by Emlyn Rees

  Everything seemed safe. The walls were festooned with red and gold decorations and an electronic reindeer and sleigh leapt across the two front windows. Reams of thick tinsel adorned the low beams. A lino floor dotted with round wooden tables led to a roaring fire, beside which two locals were playing darts.

  She knew she was being paranoid, but then, she was less than a mile away from where Elliot was staying. It was still snowing outside, so at least he wouldn’t be on his way here now, she hoped. Would he freak out, she wondered, if he knew she was here? Part of her longed to bump into him, to fall into his arms, to explain what had happened and how frightened she’d felt, but she also knew he’d be furious with her and that he wouldn’t be sympathetic at all.

  And he’d have every right to be cross. She should have stayed on St John’s. She should never have climbed into that boat. She remembered Ben’s words to her as they’d accelerated away into the open sea. ‘Hold on tight,’ he’d said. ‘We’re in for a rough ride.’ She hadn’t known then quite what an accurate prediction that would turn out to be.

  Sally, the pub landlady, was wearing a black poloneck jumper with a flashing Santa badge on her ample bosom, and was polishing glasses behind the bar. A cigarette burned in a plastic ashtray on the bar in front of her. Smoke curled up towards a row of pewter tankards hanging from a row of hooks above her head. The sound of the radio playing the Christmas number one with its a cappella rip-off of a sixties Motown classic, which Kellie had so loathed yesterday, filtered through from the open kitchen door behind her. Today, she found it kind of comforting.

  Ben was standing at the radiotelephone at the far end of the bar. He smiled at Kellie tentatively as she came in, but she didn’t smile back. Despite what they’d been through, they were still strangers. Worse than that, she thought. He’d lied to her, about who he was, about what he did. She knew less than nothing about him and that made it seem ridiculous, them being here together. Ben confused her. She didn’t know whether to be angry with him, or grateful. He’d nearly got them killed, but he’d saved their lives as well.

  Sally smiled at her too, and stepped out from behind the bar. ‘Everything OK next door?’ she asked. ‘Feeling better? Clothes OK?’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, wondering how she could ever repay Sally’s kindness. Even if the velour sweatshirt top and elasticated jeans were possibly the worst fashion items Kellie had ever worn, they were warm and dry – and anyway, who did she have to impress with her appearance? She realised now that it was the first time she’d ever been to a pub without her make-up on.

  She smiled back at Sally, instinctively reaching out to kiss her cheek. The landlady smelled of cigarettes and cheap perfume. She reminded Kellie of her mother.

  Spending Christmas with her mum in Paris suddenly no longer seemed like such a bad idea, Kellie thought. At least she knew people there. Even if she and her mother didn’t always get on, she still loved her, and, just as important, Kellie could be herself with her. Which she couldn’t be here.

  ‘Roddy has made some tomato soup,’ Sally said, ushering Kellie to a small table by the fire. ‘It’s tinned, but it’ll soon warm you up. I’ll just get it.’

  Kellie wondered whether anyone in her local pub in the city would have been so charitable.

  ‘You’re a life saver,’ she said, taking a seat as Sally returned to the bar.

  Kellie felt so weird. The storm outside had been insane, but here everything was normal and eerily still, like a vacuum. It was as if the storm had never happened. Only, of course, it had – and now she was stranded here.

  Kellie and Ben had arrived freezing and sodden a few hours ago, falling in through the pub door, numb with cold. Sally had taken them in, rushing to get them in front of the fire. Kellie had been so angry with Ben, furious that he’d brought them to Brayner in the first place, furious that he’d got them lost and furious with herself for being such a fool.

  She’d tried to comfort herself that at least she wasn’t still outside, that they’d made it back without getting injured or needing medical help, but she’d been close to tears as Ben had explained to Sally and Roddy what had happened. Ben had still been intent on trying to get back to the boat to fix it, but Roddy had told him to forget it. It would be dark soon, he’d said. They’d try again in the morning. Ben had been upset, saying that he couldn’t encroach on their hospitality at Christmas and that he had to get Kellie back, but Sally had taken one look at Kellie and insisted. They could have the annexe, she’d said. Roddy had told Ben she was right: they had no choice but to stay on Brayner for the night. There was no way a boat was going to come out and fetch them in weather like this.

  Kellie had reluctantly agreed, not being able to face the prospect of going outside again and only wanting to warm up. The annexe had turned out to be a row of one-bedroom cottages, each with a tiny bathroom and kitchen. Sally rented them out during the summer, but there was no one here now and Roddy was in the middle of doing roof repairs. She had let them into the nearest one and switched on the plug-in radiator. Then she’d lent Kellie the clothes as well as thermal walking socks and old trainers.

  ‘Did you get through to your parents?’ Kellie asked Ben now, when he hung up the radiophone and joined her at the table. Here in the warm, it seemed incredible that they’d ever been in real danger, but they had, and he’d got them through it. They’d got through it together.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘and your hotel. To let them know you’re safe.’

  She wondered whether Elliot would get through and find that she was missing. Would he find out that she was on the island? Would he be worried about her? She supposed it didn’t matter. Even if he did know she was here, he wouldn’t risk seeing her. He might as well be hundreds of miles away.

  ‘Thanks. How are your hands?’

  ‘They’re OK now,’ he said, holding them up to her. ‘How about you?’

  ‘So much better,’ she said.

  She felt suddenly embarrassed. She wondered whether he was cross with her for having shouted at him when they’d got lost, and whether she should still be cross with him for having lied. She certainly had been after they’d arrived here. She’d barely been able to look him in the face as they’d been shown by Sally to the annexe.

  Ben was wearing what could only be one of Roddy’s acrylic jumpers with a multicoloured moose head on it. She felt selfish for taking the shower first and for not checking sooner that he was comfortable too.

  ‘Nice look,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, the jumper. Yes, well, it’s part of a new fashion range I’ve got planned out, called Yesterday’s Threads, or Vêtements d’Hier, as I’ve decided to title it in French.’

  Her lips parted into a smile.

  ‘I’ve already spoken to Jean Paul Gaultier about it,’ he went on, ‘and he’s considering featuring it in his winter collection, or Collection d’Hiver, as he likes to say. Come to think of it,’ he added, ‘in that get-up, you might be able to head up the women’s range.’

  So he wasn’t angry with her, then. Well, that was something, anyway.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Sally, coming towards them with two large steaming bowls of red soup. ‘This should sort you out.’

  She set them down and left Kellie and Ben alone. There was an awkward moment of silence.

  ‘Ben, look I’m sorry,’ Kellie said, ‘about being so cross with you out there.’

  He shook his head. ‘It was my fault. Everything. Bringing you here . . .’

  ‘No one forced me to get on that boat. I shouldn’t have been rude. And thanks for getting us here safely.’

  She watched him eat, but her own appetite had deserted her. She still felt churned up.

  Ben noticed her toying with her spoon.

  ‘Not hungry?’ he asked.

  She might as well tell him what was on her mind. There was no point in pretending it didn’t bother her.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me that you were from London?’ she asked.

 
‘Does it make a difference?’

  ‘No, not really. I was wondering why you didn’t say anything, that’s all.’

  ‘I thought you were one of those London-centric people and I didn’t want to ruin your tourist experience. That’s why people come here, isn’t it? For a bit of local colour?’

  ‘I suppose . . .’

  ‘And, of course,’ he added, ‘what with you being so enigmatic, too . . . about what you were doing here on your own . . . well, it felt like a bit of a game, so I thought I’d create some mystery about myself, just to even up the score . . .’

  She could see that he was watching her for a reaction, that he wanted some answers from her as well, but she wasn’t being drawn.

  ‘But I’m sorry,’ he went on. ‘I shouldn’t have deceived you. Not now I know a little bit more about you.’

  ‘And what exactly is it that you think you know?’

  ‘That you’re an Aussie with loads of pluck.’

  ‘Pluck?’

  ‘Something my mum says. You were very brave today. It was horrible out there, and I definitely believe what they say about you getting to see who people really are in a crisis . . . Have you forgiven me?’

  She shivered, remembering again how he’d risked his life for her, back there on the cliff.

  ‘I don’t know. How do I know that everything else you’ve told me isn’t a lie?’

  ‘It’s not. None of it.’ He smiled. ‘Although, of course, I could be lying now.’

  She flicked a bar mat at him in frustration. ‘I’m serious,’ she said.

  ‘And so am I. Everything else I told you is true.’

  ‘Everything?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Like, for example . . .’ – she said the first thing that came into her head – ‘I don’t know . . . like what you told me in the hut, about being divorced . . . is that really true?’

  But he didn’t have a chance to reply before a huge man burst in through the outside door, bringing a blast of cold air with him. He shook the snow off his hair and shoulders.

  ‘Fuck me,’ Ben shouted. ‘Someone get a camera. I’ve just spotted a yeti!’

  ‘Ben,’ the man shouted back, raising up his giant hands. His cheeks were ruddy and he was wearing an anorak and a fake Father Christmas hat. ‘Look out,’ he went on, ‘the unemployed millionaire’s back in town. Drinks are on you are they, rich boy?’

  Kellie stared on, uncertain whether she must have just misheard. Unemployed what?

  Ben rolled his eyes at her. ‘Hello, Jack,’ he said, standing up and allowing himself to be hugged.

  Kellie let the information sink in for a moment. Everything she’d thought about Ben – assumed about him – was completely wrong.

  ‘And who is this?’ Jack said, smiling at Kellie.

  ‘Kellie. A friend,’ Ben said.

  She was strangely flattered by his description.

  ‘And a very pretty one, too. Maybe there are some advantages to getting divorced, eh?’

  ‘See!’ Ben said to Kellie. ‘I told you I was telling the truth.’ He turned back to Jack. ‘Why don’t you let me finish this, OK?’ gesturing to the soup, ‘and then we’ll catch up.’

  ‘OK,’ Jack nodded, before extending his arms towards the bar. ‘Sally, my angel. Happy Christmas.’

  ‘Jack! I was getting worried that no one was going to come out. How is it going out there. Is it still snowing?’

  ‘It’s easing up and the wind has dropped. Everyone will be in soon. Now come here and give your best customer a kiss.’

  Kellie watched him for a moment more, then took a sip of soup.

  ‘You kind of get known around here,’ Ben said. He was blushing.

  ‘The unemployed millionaire?’

  ‘Ah, yes. That . . .’

  ‘More truth?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Sort of . . . ?’

  ‘My wife – ex-wife – Marie . . . we used to run a business. Anyway, we were quite successful and made some money, but to cut a very long story short, I wasn’t happy, and so she’s just bought me out. I only got the money through recently. Millions, though, is a bit of a lie, unless you convert it into rupees. It’s not enough to retire on, but it is enough to set up something else. Although I have no idea what to do. Anyway, I don’t know how Jack got to hear about it.’

  Marie. It was the first time Kellie had heard her name. It was like discovering a piece of a puzzle and it made her suddenly want to find out more. She couldn’t have got this guy more wrong if she’d tried.

  ‘What was the business? You said media, didn’t you? When we were out in the storm . . .’

  ‘It was just a little thing – taking people’s home videos and editing them into proper films, with music and stuff, but using the right equipment to make it all look professional.’

  ‘Sounds like a great idea to me.’

  ‘It was, except that Marie got bored with making movies of people’s kids. She got seduced by the whole business thing. She wanted to go down the corporate route. Make training videos. Dull stuff. I thought the idea was to keep it simple. I wanted to make people happy, put a smile on their faces.’

  ‘And she didn’t?’

  ‘No. Not on my face anyway.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘It’s complicated,’ Ben said.

  ‘Don’t you feel sad about it? About walking away from it all?’

  ‘Not really. It was never about the money. It was about me and Marie. Once we were over, so was it.’

  He drained the last of his pint.

  ‘Another one?’ she asked.

  At the bar, as Kellie waited for Sally to come and serve her, she glanced back at Ben, who was now being greeted by some more new arrivals. The weather must be slackening off outside, she thought. The village was finally waking up, and so was she – to what and who Ben really was.

  Everything about Marie and the business perplexed her. He’d made it sound so black and white, but Kellie didn’t buy it. She knew from bitter experience how complicated life really was. Was he really as over Marie as he was making out? Had it been that easy for him to walk away? She wondered how old Marie was and what she looked like. It alarmed her that she suddenly cared.

  Sally was on the radiotelephone. She smiled and held up her finger to Kellie to ask her to wait.

  ‘And Michael’s been OK?’ Kellie overheard her saying. ‘Good. Good . . .’

  Sally cupped her hand over the receiver and whispered to Roddy, ‘Gerry Thorne says Michael’s still there with Taylor, but he’ll be back soon.’

  Roddy smiled. ‘Him and that Taylor! Well, as long as he’s safe.’

  Sally returned her attention to the phone. ‘Thanks,’ she said.

  Kellie had tensed at the mention of the Thornes’ name. It was obvious that Sally and Roddy knew the Thorne family, and that their son was friends with Elliot’s daughter. Close friends by the sound of it.

  Kellie had always imagined Taylor in isolation, a solitary, meek little kid, but finding out that she had friends here unsettled her. Somehow it seemed to strengthen the Thorne family, to lock them to the island and to each other.

  For a fleeting and irrational moment, she wanted to blurt out her own link with the Thornes, but she quashed the urge. How would they treat her, she wondered, if they knew about her connection to Elliot? And what would Elliot’s family think if she was discovered here? How would they react if they found out who she really was?

  Worse, how would Ben take it, if she told him? Would he feel used or duped? He thought she was a hapless tourist, but how would he feel if he knew she’d come to the island because of Elliot? Just because she’d selfishly wanted to catch a glimpse of where her lover was staying?

  Kellie ordered two more drinks from Roddy.

  ‘Now, you are going to sing for Roddy aren’t you?’ Sally said, coming over. ‘He’s getting out the karaoke machine, since it’s Christmas Eve. There’ll be a few more in here any moment, now the weather�
��s eased, and you’ve to join in.’

  ‘Oh no. I really can’t sing.’

  ‘No one can. That’s the point. It’s just a bit of fun.’

  Despite the weather conditions, Jack was right. It seemed as if everyone in the village had battled through the snow to come and have a good time, and before long, the pub was filled with the sound of laughter and Christmas music. There must have been thirty or more people in the small bar. The room glowed with twinkling Christmas lights.

  Again, Kellie worried about Elliot turning up, but again she told herself that it wouldn’t happen. He’d come to be with his family. That was the whole point of his visit. The last place he’d be on Christmas Eve was in the pub, especially one that apparently specialised in karaoke. Elliot couldn’t stand anything like that.

  Kellie and Ben soon moved to a bigger table where a whole crowd of islanders were drinking. The conversation flowed in a steady stream of banter, and a while later, as Kellie queued at the bar for more drinks, she realised her cheeks were hurting from laughing so much.

  It all seemed so laid-back and non-judgemental, she thought, like parties in a pub should be, but rarely were. It reminded her of being a student in Sydney. People had just accepted each other for who they were back then. None of them had had anything to prove.

  She realised that she hadn’t felt this included by people her own age, let alone older people, for as long as she could remember. There’d been a time when she’d used to go out drinking with her peers after work, but since she’d been seeing Elliot, she’d stopped going out in groups. Things between her and Elliot had always been more intimate, not free-flowing and fast like this, and not – dare she say it? – nearly so spontaneous and fun.

  They were all talking about Christmas when she got back to the table with a full tray of drinks.

  ‘I like the presents and stuff and getting excited,’ Ben said, smiling up at Kellie before shuffling along to make room for her on the bench seat. She sat down next to him. ‘I can’t wait until I’ve got my own kids to spoil.’