The Wave at Hanging Rock: A Psychological Mystery and Suspense Thriller

by Gregg Dunnett

  As she spoke the first few spots of rain splattered onto their jackets.

  “See, why would you come to the beach? It’s always cold or raining or horrible! Let’s go back.”

  They both turned and looked up the beach looking for the nearest shelter. They’d walked a far way and they were past the end of the pebble embankment by now. Up above them inland was a low grass ridge, studded with bushes, and at one point a large sign, its orientation blocking the worst of the rain. It was the only shelter in sight.

  “It looks like it’s just a shower,” Dave said, scanning the sky. “We’re best off waiting behind there and heading back when it’s passed.” They broke into a run.

  Natalie reached it first and stood with her back towards it. The wind had picked up with the rain, blowing it more sideways than downwards so that the sign made a pocket of protection. When Dave got there too she moved over to give him room. He was puffing from the effort of the run and began to wipe the rain from his head. The water had plastered his hair down, it highlighted how he was thinning, and for some reason it made her think of his wife. So she turned away, examined the sign instead. It showed a large map of the area with a red dotted line indicating the line of the new footpath being opened up along the entire coastline of Wales. Grainy pictures of men in suits shaking hands accompanied a short text explaining how the funding had been won for an unbroken route around the coastline. There was information on the wildlife that visitors could see, puffins, guillemots, dolphins and porpoises, and wild flowers. She read it absently before making the connection.

  “This is it. This is the footpath.”

  Dave looked lost then understood her meaning and read the sign with her.

  “It’s two hundred and fifty miles long,” Dave read. “That’s going to make it pretty difficult to find the guys building it.”

  “Maybe. But we could always just phone them?”

  “What?”

  “Look there. Where it says ‘for information ring this number’.”

  Dave looked at her with a small smile of satisfaction then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Ok then,” he said as he keyed the number in. Natalie leaned in when she heard the ringing tone.

  “Ceredigion County Council?” The woman who answered had a thick accent. Behind it they could hear the telltale sounds of a call centre. Dave explained how they were trying to trace the team building or repairing the coastal footpath around Llanwindus. At first she had no idea what they were talking about, but after more explaining she understood.

  “So why do you need to speak to them?” She asked. It was clear that not many people had taken up the opportunity on the sign to call.

  “One of the workers making the path found a bag that was lost, and returned it to us. We just wanted to thank them personally,” Dave explained.

  This seemed to satisfy the woman, in fact more than satisfy - she was suddenly enthusiastic to put Dave in touch with the ‘footpath team’ and she asked them to hold on. They waited with the rain blowing around them while the tinny sound of Tom Jones played from the speaker of Dave’s phone. Tom got through almost a whole song before she came back on the line.

  “So. I’ve spoken to the team in footpaths. They said it’s a commercial contractor but they do believe they’re still in the area. I can’t actually reach them myself, but I do have a mobile number if you’d like?”

  Natalie nodded her head. She pulled a pen from her bag and held it ready to write on her palm.

  When they had it Dave hung up and immediately dialled the number now written on Natalie’s hand. After a moment though he held his hand over the phone to mouth “answerphone.” She shrugged and mouthed back “leave a message.”

  Dave quickly explained why he was calling and left his number, asked for someone from the team to contact him at their earliest convenience, then hung up again.

  “Well that was a good find. Now what?”

  It had nearly stopped raining by then, but it looked more like a short break in the bad weather before things got worse.

  She shrugged. “Isn’t that helicopter of yours due pretty soon? We could wait in the car before that lot unloads on us?”

  They walked, more quickly now, back along a footpath which gently climbed the pebble bank, giving them a view over the beach on one side and the countryside inland on the other. But as they neared the car park Damien called again, and this time Natalie got the gist of the conversation from what Dave said. It seemed the pilot had been delayed, only by an hour, an hour and a half at the most. She worked out while they were still speaking that it still wasn’t worth their while driving home, but this time she felt much less concerned. It was only irritation she felt at the delay. Then she noticed it. When Dave hung up and started explaining the call she waved him away.

  “I’m sorry Natalie…” Dave began, then stopped. “What is it?”

  “There. Look at that.”

  “What?”

  “That there. That’s a campsite,” she said.

  She was looking behind the car park where a low wall marked off a few fields. Some were dotted with caravans, dirty and abandoned, grass and weeds grown thick around them. There was a building too, a house, a scruffy road leading up to it through the grass.

  “He was camping. Jim was camping. I’d almost forgotten. And we’ve tried everywhere else. Come on.” Natalie cut away from the path, working her way down the pebble bank and into the car park, but instead of walking towards their car, she walked towards the back of the car park, where a gate was drawn closed across a gap in the wall. It led to the house. Dave followed behind her, struggling to keep up.

  The gate was half off its hinges. At first Natalie thought it couldn’t have been opened in a long time, but then she noticed a small bronze padlock that chained it to a post. It looked too shiny to have been there that long. She shook it, confirmed it was locked shut, then looked for another way in. It didn’t take long, the wall next to the gate was low and easy to climb. Even so she didn’t climb walls much these days and she felt awkward swinging her leg up, her hands slipping on the wet rock.

  She jumped down on the other side and her feet sank into the boggy earth. She was surprised at the length of the grass, it reached her knees.

  “Where are you going? It’s obviously abandoned.” Dave called to her, but she ignored him and pressed forward. Behind her she heard him muttering something about a café in the village, but when she glanced back he was climbing over as well.

  Closer to the house now she could see green paint peeling off the walls. The windows downstairs were boarded up, upstairs the curtains drawn shut. For a horrible moment she thought she saw a face at one of the upstairs windows.

  What are you doing? She thought to herself.

  She stopped, certain that it was just a trick of the light, but it broke her enthusiasm. Dave was right. The house was clearly derelict. So what if Jim had been camping? Even if it was open a campsite would never keep records. And this one didn’t look like it had been open in years.

  She gave up. Instead of the main house she walked over to what must have been the shower block. She moved closer to investigate. In front of her stood four shower stalls, three of them had no door, the final one was creaking as the breeze moved it on rusty hinges. It sounded like a child crying, or an animal in pain. Inside each cubicle she could see a layer of mud and slime on broken tiles with a scattering of litter. There was the sharp tang of urine. Dull silver pipes hung in the air where they had been ripped from the walls. She sensed Dave arrive beside her and was glad of it.

  “Looks like it’s been closed for a while,” he said. “I’ll never understand why some people want to take a shower in a field anyway.”

  She turned to him and smiled.

  “Not everyone can afford five star hotels and private helicopters you know.”

  “Surely there’s a reasonable middle ground though?”

  She laughed.

  “Anyway, there’s no one here
.” Dave said. “How about we find a coffee in the village?”

  Dave must have thought she didn’t hear him, and said it again.

  “Let’s go and get a coffee… Natalie?”

  She stood dead still.

  “There’s someone there. In the house watching us.”

  Her hand was at her mouth and there was fear in her eyes. She grabbed Dave by the arm.

  “I think it’s him.”

  twenty-nine

  “WHO?” DAVE ASKED, and she could hear the sudden tension in his voice.

  Natalie looked down at her arm, gripping Dave by the wrist. She let go quickly, as if the limb had acted on its own accord.

  “Nothing. No one,” she said, reddening despite the coolness of the air. She wondered if he knew who she meant.

  “Who?” he said again.

  “No-one. I just thought I saw someone in the house. It’s nothing. I just find this whole place a bit creepy. It’s been a strange day.” She was about to turn away and lead them back to the car when she stopped again.

  “There! Up in the top window.” The colour drained out of her face.

  “I saw him again. Someone I mean. Up there watching us. He’s hiding behind the curtain, look you can still see their outline against the curtain.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. Look, there again!”

  Dave was squinting over at the house.

  “Man or woman?”

  “I don’t know. Man I think.”

  “Well we’re probably trespassing on his land.”

  “Then why not tell us to leave? Why hide behind the curtain? Why be in a derelict house with all the curtains shut in the first place?”

  Dave didn’t answer at first and they both stood looking at the house, feeling suddenly exposed.

  “Well let’s go and find out.” He stepped towards the house.

  “Find out what?”

  “Well we’ve asked pretty much everyone in the village already. Let’s see if this guy knows anything. Have you got the photograph?”

  But Natalie didn’t move. “I’m not sure Dave. I don’t think I want to.”

  “Why not? It’s probably just someone wondering what we’re doing in their field. Come on.” Natalie wondered if Dave really felt as breezy as he sounded.

  “I don’t know. Maybe this is why no one in the village recognised him. What if he’s been hiding out here all alone?”

  Dave took her hand. “Come on. We’ve been through this. If we don’t ask you’ll only wonder if there was more you could do.” Gently but firmly he pulled her forwards towards the house, until she accepted. Then they both saw the curtain twitch again.

  As they neared the house the state of disrepair become more obvious. There was a small sign above a doorway which read ‘Reception’ but the nearby window, the only one not boarded up, had several cracked panes. All the glass was covered in grime so that without putting their faces right up against it they couldn’t see anything inside, and neither felt comfortable doing so. A second sign hung on the inside of the window, its thick red letters just visible: ‘CLOSED’.

  Further round the house was another door, this one accessed up a flight of wooden steps. It looked like it was, or had once been, the main entrance. There was a doorbell at the top of the steps.

  “You know, if this was a horror movie, this is where you’d suggest we split up,” Natalie said.

  Dave gave a dry laugh. “That’s a good idea. You ring the bell, I’ll wait in the car.” But he put a foot on the first step, was about to put the other on the second step. But then there was a sharp crack. The rot in the wood gave way and the step collapsed under him. He stumbled backwards, only just managing to stay on his feet.

  “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  The humour they’d just managed was swept away.

  “Are you OK?”

  “Yeah, just.” He bent over and swept wood splinters off his trousers. “Guess no one’s been up those steps in a while.”

  Natalie took a few steps back, giving her a better view of the back of the house. “There’s another door around here.”

  She led the way this time. Around the other side of the house they saw a lean-to shed and the nose of a vehicle inside, a red pick up truck, battered and muddy, but looking like it could still run. The side door, when they reached it, also looked in better condition, like someone still used it. Dave glanced at Natalie as they both stood before it.

  “Are you ready?”

  He nodded.

  She knocked twice, loudly, and more confidently than she felt.

  She saw his feet first. Dirty brown boots, heavy boots that looked like they could do damage. Trousers with a grey and white camouflage pattern. A green knitted jumper, tight enough to see he was slim, skinny even. Tall too, about Jim’s height. But he looked younger than Jim would be now. And the face was wrong. Dark brown, nearly black eyes stared out from narrow slits in a face where the skin was pulled back hard on the bones. The hair was long and greasy, the chin bore patches of stubble, but unkempt dirty growth. It wasn’t Jim.

  “What do you want?”

  “Hello sir. We’re sorry to bother you,” Dave started. “I wanted to explain, I think you just saw us wandering around your grounds…”

  But Natalie interrupted him. It felt appropriate as the man was staring directly at her, he appeared to not even have registered that Dave was speaking.

  “My friend and I are looking for someone who went missing some time ago. We wonder if he might have stayed on the campsite?”

  “Campsite’s closed.”

  “I can see that. This was some time ago. A long time ago actually.”

  “Closed a long time ago too.”

  “We’re not here to go camping.”

  The man smirked a little. Then he shook his head.

  “I’ve not seen anyone.”

  Natalie realised she’d been holding her breath. “Perhaps if I could show you a photograph?” She quickly fished out her image of Jim and held it up for the man to see.

  He glanced at it quickly, but instantly took his eyes of it. He fixed his eyes back on Natalie.

  “Don’t know him.”

  “You didn’t look very hard.”

  The man sniffed. He snatched a quick glance at Dave, the first time he’d shown any interest in him.

  “It’s better you don’t show that around here.”

  “What? What do you mean by that?”

  “Shown that around a bit have you?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I said, who you shown that to?” The man spoke with a flat voice, something nasal in his accent different to the lyrical norm of the village.

  He scanned the empty field around them. Then he turned away from them and seemed to swear under his breath. He seemed to consider what to say next for a long time before speaking.

  “Look, if you’re here. Maybe it’s better you come in.”

  Natalie glanced over at Dave but his face gave little away. She could see his hands screwed up into fists.

  “OK.” She said. There seemed nothing else she could say.

  thirty

  I KNEW EXACTLY who they were when I saw them from upstairs. I didn’t know what they were doing, poking around in the shower block but I knew who they were. A man and a woman, it had to be them.

  I’d only just got rid of Darren half an hour before that, stinking of booze, panic in his eyes, telling me this wild story about the guy’s wife being here, asking questions in the Anchor after so long. And Darren said they knew things. He said they’d found something on the coast path, or someone had, and they were looking for us. A body, he said, it had to be a body. I told him not to be so stupid. If they’d found a body the police would already be involved and then we’d be proper fucked.

  At first I thought it might be just another of Darren’s drunken nightmares. He got them sometimes, especially when he’d been spending too long in that fucking pub. But it was a bit early even for Dar
ren to be proper pissed, so I kept a watch out. And here they were. A man and woman just like he described them. Actually standing at my door and asking me about that man. And somehow they did look like they knew. Or maybe me and Darren just both had the same fucking nightmares.

  I sometimes wonder what made me ask them in. They showed me this photograph and I could have just said I’d never seen him before. I nearly did too. But then where would I have been? They could have talked to anyone, and I wouldn’t have known anything about it. So I don’t think I ever really had a choice. I asked them in because I had to.

  And if I’m being honest, I guess I was curious to meet her, the guy’s wife. I wondered what she looked like, what she was like to talk to. From how the man had been I thought she’d be a bit coarse. I’d pictured her as a blond. Obvious looking, red lipstick and big tits. But she wasn’t like that. She was pretty, with these green eyes and long dark hair. But not pretty in a common way. She looked refined.

  I guessed the man with her must be her new husband. She looked over at him like she was saying this is strange and then she led the way in when I opened the door. I thought he must be rich, cos he was bald and a bit fat. A woman like her could do much better than that.

  I was trying to think as I led them towards the kitchen, but it was hard because she was asking questions the whole way. “Do you recognise the man in the photograph? Can you tell us anything about him? His name was Jim Harrison.”