Dave reached out for the photograph, pushing by its edge to slide it carefully to his side of the table, from where he picked it up.
“I don’t know. But I do know this. I don’t think you have any choice. We can go home now if you want, but one day we’ll have to come back here. You can’t just forget this. You’ll always wonder if someone here knows something. It’ll eat away at you. You need to be sure the answer isn’t waiting here.”
She didn’t look at him for a long time.
“Alright,” she said. She looked down at the river again, at how the murky brown water swirled and tiny whirlpools opened up and closed again. Then she turned back to Dave. “Alright. Let’s get it over with.”
This time they went up to the bar together. She saw that Dave was about to speak but she put her arm on his and pushed gently past him. She slipped the photograph out of his hand.
“Excuse me,” she asked of the woman serving, a young woman with tattoos showing on her shoulder. “This is going to sound strange but would you mind looking at this photograph and telling me if you recognise the man?” She spoke quietly so that no one else in the bar would hear, but no one seemed interested in them. “We think maybe was here some years back. Maybe something happened to make people remember him?”
The woman’s eyes widened a little, the only sign which showed she might be surprised, but she stopped what she was doing and held her hand out over the bar for the photograph. Natalie felt her unsettled feeling again as she let the photograph out of her grasp.
The woman studied the image closely, as if it made a welcome change from taking orders and wiping down tables. She took the opportunity to examine Natalie as well, then shook her head.
“No sorry, I don’t know him. But then I’ve only worked here a few months. You might want to ask her. She’s the landlady.” She pointed to the other end of the bar where an older woman was pulling a pint of dark beer for a man who sat alone on a bar stool. He looked to be a fixture.
Natalie felt a shiver of irritation, but nodded her thanks and she and Dave walked down the bar, and waited just far enough off the shoulder of the local that he wouldn’t turn around to them. The landlady noticed them right away and flashed a smile to show she’d be right with them. Natalie felt her heart beating fast in her chest.
“Excuse me,” she began again. “Are you the landlady here?”
“That’s right.” The woman cocked her head to one side then gave them a smile. She had a weathered face, blond hair turned straw like from cigarette smoke. “What can I get you?”
Already it was easier the second time around. “I wonder if you might have a look at this photograph? It’s my husband, he went missing some time ago. We think something might have happened to him here in Llanwindus,” Natalie paused. “Or maybe he might even still be here.”
An eyebrow shot up on the woman and she took the photograph without a word. Natalie felt the strange feeling again as she let it slip from her hands.
“Handsome looking guy.”
“Do you recognise him?” Natalie answered quickly.
“No.” She said at once, still looking at the image. Then she looked up. “When did he go missing?” The landlady made no sign that she was going to return the photograph.
“Eight years ago. November third. We know it’s a long time ago,” Dave stepped in to say this, as if he wanted to justify his presence there. The landlady looked across at him curiously, as if she was appraising the age gap between the two of them, working out where he might fit into the equation.
“We’ve been here twelve years. Before that in the city. Moved for a quieter life.” She looked back at Natalie and gave her an encouraging smile. “Some people have got a memory for faces, it doesn’t hurt to ask.”
“And you definitely don’t recognise him from the photograph? His name’s Jim Harrison.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t swear I’ve never seen him before. But nothing comes to mind. Why do you think something happened here?”
Natalie felt a slight flush of relief. If she didn’t know him, at least he wasn’t a regular, the crazy man with no memory who came in every day. Or the family man who came in here with his wife and kids.
“Well, it’s a bit complicated,” she said. “He was a surfer, he went missing in the water, originally we thought down in Cornwall. That’s where his car was parked, but we found out that maybe he was actually here. We think someone here might know something about what happened.” She tailed off and added limply, “but with his car so far away… It’s a mystery.”
The landlady frowned in a way that suggested sympathy, but mixed with confusion.
“I don’t suppose you’d have any records from that long ago? Like if he’d taken a room or something? Could you check for that name?”
“Eight years?” The landlady shook her head. “We don’t keep any records that long.”
“I didn’t… We just thought it might be worth asking.”
The landlady offered the photograph back to Natalie.
“I’m sorry I can’t be more help, but ask around, we’re quite a small village. You might be surprised at how long people’s memories are in a place where not much happens.”
Natalie smiled her thanks and was turning away when Dave spoke.
“One other thing, I don’t suppose you know about the team building the coastal path? It’s just that they found something. Something related to Jim, we’d like to ask them exactly where it was.”
She thought for a minute but shook her head again. “Sorry. I don’t know anything about it.”
Natalie was about to thank her again when she went on.
“A surfer you say? The man you’re looking for?”
“Yes.”
The landlady indicated the local who’d been sitting next to them for the whole conversation. “You should show that photo to young Darren here. He’s a local surfer. Has been for years.”
twenty-eight
ON HEARING HIS name the man froze, his pint of beer halfway between the bar top and his mouth, like he’d been listening but thought no one had noticed. He slowly placed his glass back down, a wobble in his hand sending waves of liquid up the sides of the glass. When he spoke he sounded unsure, defensive.
“I don’t know anything ‘bout that.”
The landlady’s eyebrows rose a little in familiar exasperation. There was a motherliness to her tone.
“No one’s saying you do Darren, but you could have a look. See if you recognise him. You might have seen him in the water? The lady said he’s a surfer. Like you.”
The man said nothing but his hand reached out for his drink again, still shaking. His hands were dirty too, black grime around bitten fingernails.
“Go on love, show him the photograph, you never know.”
It crossed Natalie’s mind that the man might be a bit slow, but she handed him the photograph anyway. His eyes flicked on and off the image before settling. Then he stared for a long time.
“So? Ring any bells?” The landlady said, but the man didn’t answer at first. Instead he stole a glance at Natalie, then at Dave, as if trying to place them as well.
“So, do you recognise him?” The landlady said again.
“I don’t think so,” he said.
“You don’t think so? So you might?” The landlady said, she sounded encouraged.
“I mean no. I don’t know him.” he said.
“Are you sure? You haven’t seen him maybe surfing somewhere?”
“Surfing? Here at Town Beach?”
“Well maybe.” Her patience seemed to be wearing thin.
“No, I definitely haven’t seen him surfing here. And I’d remember too, cos I got a good memory for faces,” he said, shaking his head. He glanced over at Natalie again as he said this, a little darting look.
“Well, it didn’t hurt to look did it?” The landlady tutted a little, then gave a sympathetic glance at Natalie.
“I thought it might be worth asking as the
surfers tend to stick together,” the landlady started saying. “The locals I mean…” But she was interrupted as the man moved suddenly. He slipped off his chair mumbling something about needing to get to work and was halfway to the door before Dave shouted after him.
“Hey, the photograph.”
The man stopped, then slowly turned around, and waited while Dave strode the couple of steps up to him and took the photograph from his hand.
“Sorry mate, I forgot I had it.” The man avoided looking at any of them, and when he saw they weren’t going to stop him, he started walking again, he was stiff legged at first, like he’d been sitting on that stool long enough to drink too much, or perhaps just to get stiff legs. When he got to the door he glanced back one more time before disappearing. There was a moment of surprised quiet.
“Well that seemed a little bit odd,” Dave said, then turned to the landlady. “Is he always like that?”
But she didn’t seem to share his suspicions. She reached over and picked up the man’s glass, still nearly half full of beer.
“To be honest, he’s a bit of a funny one is young Darren. In hindsight, not the best person to be asking about your missing fella. He’s…” She stopped and pulled a face, as if that was enough to explain what the man’s issue was. Then she smiled at Natalie. “But don’t worry, not everyone around here is like him.” She reached over and wiped the bar where the man had been sitting. Plenty of nice people around here.”
“You ask around dear. You never know, you might get lucky.” The landlady’s eyes slid across to Dave for a moment. “Listen honey, I just hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”
As they thanked the landlady a waitress walked out from the kitchen carrying their food. She went to their table and looked around, confused to see it empty, until she saw Dave signalling to her they were coming back. And the distraction of eating was enough for Natalie’s slight doubts about the way the young man had responded to settle. Whatever his problems she was glad he had no idea who Jim was. She realised she was hungry, and when she’d finished eating it was what they’d come here to do that she concentrated on. She wanted to get on with it, if only so that she could then leave, and get back to her real life.
They left the pub and worked their way up the small high street, walking together and asking everyone they came across if they would look at the photograph. They went into each business, each time asking the same questions, and as they did so Natalie’s unsettled feeling began to fade away. It wasn’t just the repetition that helped, it was because no one showed any spark of recognition. She looked into eyes that were filled with interest at being shown the photograph, but registered nothing on seeing Jim’s face. He was a stranger here. She began to feel that there was nothing here to find. No terrible secret to uncover.
They worked their way up one side of the high street, then back down the other. It was less than two hours later they were back at the car, still parked outside the Crown and Anchor. There had been nothing, no half-remembered sighting, no other leads anyone had suggested they follow.
“So now what?” She said, leaning on the car.
Dave looked pensive, more disappointed that her.
“That little newsagent had a photocopier. We could make copies of the photograph and put it up on noticeboards. Maybe in some shop windows.”
Something about this idea didn’t appeal to Natalie, but she agreed anyway.
It took another half an hour but they produced four small posters with Jim’s image and the words “Have you seen this man?” written in biro underneath. They gave Dave’s telephone number to call for information. The village was so small that with just the four posters it felt like they had most of the the village covered.
With that done Natalie was keen to leave.
“I don’t think there’s anything more we can do,” she said when they were back at the car once more. “And no one knows anything anyway. It’s like I said, it’s too long ago. At least we tried.” She smiled, relieved to be leaving, there was still something about the town she didn’t like.
But Dave seemed reluctant still.
“Have you got any other ideas, while we’re here?”
“No. I’ve got work tomorrow. Even if we leave now it’s going to be late before we get back.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything. He pressed the button to unlock the car door and Natalie climbed in, but before Dave could open the driver’s side his mobile rang, and she watched through the windscreen as he answered it, and then walked over to the river while he talked. The tide had dropped now and the water was much lower, uncovering thick greasy seaweed in greens and browns around the steep high walls of the harbour basin. It didn’t improve the view. Her mind toyed with how hard it would be to get out, if you happened to fall in there. When Dave finished the call he looked thoughtful, and then walked over to her side of the car.
“That was Damien,” he said, then noting Natalie’s questioning expression added, “He’s one of our pilots. He’s doing a drop off not far away from here. I asked him if he’d mind taking the car back, so we can take the chopper. It’s only a forty minute flight.”
Natalie didn’t understand what he was saying at first.
“You’re going to fly us back?”
“Yeah. Saves sitting in the car for three hours.”
It made sense, Natalie realised, but the idea brought back her unsettled feeling. She wanted Dave to climb into the car and shut the door and for them to put something physical between themselves and this place. She was on the verge of suggesting they drive away anyway, to get closer to wherever the helicopter was doing its drop off perhaps, when Dave spoke again, and it was like he felt the same thing.
“You know. I think I’ve seen enough of the village,” he said. “How about we take a walk on the beach, until Damien get’s here? I told him that’s the best place to put down anyway.”
She realised he’d arranged it all, so she nodded. Perhaps if they drove away they might not find a site to land, and they’d end up having to drive all the way home. Better to do what Dave said, and they were getting out of the village anyway. She reached for the seatbelt.
“Sure. OK.”
It was only about a mile down to the beach, but it felt much more open down there. The car park was empty but for three other cars, parked at the front, near where a wooden boardwalk climbed up and over a pebble embankment. It was so high they couldn’t see the sea, just the sky, slate grey and looking like rain wasn’t far away. They swung the car doors shut and climbed up to look, Natalie was surprised at how steep it was. At the top there was a strong breeze flowing in from the sea, making it choppy and rough. Down by the water’s edge a figure walked away from them, a dog sprinting through the water ahead of it.
They walked down and onto the beach. The boardwalk stopped a few feet short of the sand, and they had to hop from stone to stone, the largest the size of a pillow, the smallest a bowling ball, like giant grey-black eggs sculpted by the wind and the waves. Then they stepped out onto the firm wet sand. Natalie turned and walked backwards and watched as her footprints disappeared a few moments after she’d left them, water appearing from the sand itself to erase them.
“Look,” she said to Dave, pointing at them. “This place doesn’t give up its secrets easily.”
They walked down to the water’s edge, a long way with the tide so low, then turned left, away from the village. Occasionally they had to sidestep quickly to avoid the surges of water where the bigger waves that had broken far out to sea finally reached the land. It was fun, and with each step further away from the village Natalie felt more relief to be nearly done with the place.
“It’s a long time since I’ve been down to the sea,” she said to break the silence that had overcome them.
“Because of what happened to Jim?”
“Maybe. I guess so. When I was a girl we used to go on holiday down to Worthing. The beach there is all pebbles that you can’t walk on with bare feet. A
nd then the tide goes out and you have to walk out over a mile of mud. Then if you get there the sea is freezing. I never did see the point of it.”
“No one knows the point of Worthing.”
She laughed. “You know what I mean. It was different with Jim. He had this strange connection with the ocean. Sometimes he just needed to see it. At times I felt it was more important to him than I was. I guess I came to resent that a little.”
Dave said nothing but she felt him watching her. She swung her hair to keep it under control in the breeze. It felt nice to be there, walking on the beach, with Dave. A crazy image formed in her mind, the two of them walking barefoot on different sand. Turquoise water, palm trees, a different beach, a different world. She shook her head again, to clear the thought.
“For a while after Jim died I hated the sea.” Natalie continued. “I hated it for what it had done to me. I wanted to try and live my life without ever seeing it again. Without ever hearing about it ever again. But do you know how hard that is?”
He shook his head.
“It’s impossible. There’s always something on the news, or it appears in films when you least expect it. Someone takes a journey, or becomes a fisherman or something silly like that.” She laughed.
“What do you feel now? Do you still hate it?”
Natalie stopped walking and turned to face the waves. She took a deep breath of the wet, salty air.
“Maybe I don’t hate it anymore, but I resent it. I want to know what happened to Jim. I want to know why my life had to change like this, and the answer is out there, hidden by the sea. And it won’t ever tell us now. It won’t give us back his body now. The sea just took him, somewhere, somehow. I guess I resent that. But I don’t hate it anymore. I don’t hate being here.”
The Wave at Hanging Rock: A Psychological Mystery and Suspense Thriller Page 17